Ummm… hello, I'm not really use to publishing my work anywhere or even showing it to anybody, so it feels kinda weird. After few days of non-stop reading Frerard stories I decided to finally post something. I'm hoping for some criticism so I'd learn how to write better stories. I had a very insomniac night and wrote this on my phone.

Here it is, it's more of a prologue, so I'm hoping to continue the story

I cover my face with hands, not knowing if those tears are real. I think I feel my fluffy pillow, I think, maybe the warm metallic liquid in my mouth is blood, I think I still exist... I think, I don't know if it's true or am I just still this high. No, I didn't felt anything, my life was gone… so this is now, I just hit the rock bottom. I can't see even the most blurred line between reality, and what my precious pills and powder, so badly want to show me.

Now I'm hidden, at least I feel hidden with my arms above my head and this fucking pillow protecting my stomach from the hard wall of our bus. Hidden from whole world, hidden from my little brother, from Ray, everyone else from our crew, from Frankie... Especially Frankie. I said so many weird things; I did so many stupid things to him. I can't look into my own eyes in that tiny shitty mirror on wall, not even talking about his. I'm half asleep half high. Not thinking 'bout my fucking existence. I could really use a drink now, yeah I need a drink. Standing up is painful. I spotted a bottle of Jack Daniels. I can't remember if I like this shit! But I really need a drink. Not bothering to find a glass I drink directly from the bottle. I try to focus my eyes on anything, so I'd stop feeling like on a gigantic -and way slower than a real one- carousel. I stop my eyes in the right corner of my bed, something eye-hurting-red is there. I slowly, trying not to fall, move in that direction. I sit down on the middle of my bed, my legs are relived. I can feel the blood going through my veins, even the smallest ones. My heart is going to explode any second, it's beating too fast. I need to find out what is this red piece of shit. Those few seconds I use to reach it, those centimetres, are like hardest fuckin' journey of my life. It's cold, the thing in my hand is cold. Oh, gotta lie down. I lay down, I'm lying on my back with hands up, over my head, so I'd see what was the reason that made me do such an exhausting movement. Skittles, a red pack of skittles, must be Frankie's. Opening that pack is harder than I remember. Few of colourful like rainbow candies find their own way out of the bag which was their jail since they were produced. Do I seriously feel sorry for candies which I'm going to eat anyway? Oh god it must be really fucking bad with me. I pour all of candies on my bed and begin my search for the green ones. I like the green ones. If I swallow them like pills will I get a placebo effect? No, no the purpose of candies is to taste they sweetness or sourness, if I swallow it, I obviously won't taste it. It's bad to make someone or something do what they weren't meant for.

"Don't eat all the green ones by yourself" huh? Who said that, whoever it is he must be very far away. But whose voice was it? I take another green candy and close my eyes. "I mean it, others like those green too" whose voice is it, it's driving me crazy. I guess I wouldn't recognize my own mother right now. But it's a man's voice... Who is in the bus now? Mikey? Ray? Frank? Oh fuck, mysterious voice, don't you dare be Frankie's voice! "Hey, listen! And they're mine anyway" For fuck's sake why does it has to be him? I slowly open my eyes to make sure. I see a hand right in front of my eyes. My heart starts pumping my blood even faster, if it is somehow possible. That's it, enough. I open my mouth trying to say something, unsuccessfully, I try again, again, again... Fifth time it worked
"Frank? Have you seen my pills?" I say slowly.
"Yes, I have"
"Good... can you tell me where they are?" I'm sitting up; trying not to lose balance
"I have them here" I move my hand forward, waiting for him to give me my utopia makers.
He makes those big eyes and says "You won't get any"
"Oh, can you make me some coffee?" I need those pills, NOW. He walks out of the room. I stand up; I know I have just a minute or two. My hands are shaking. I start searching; there should be hidden few, somewhere here. I look through every drawer, in every corner, the mattress! I pull it up; there are they, my little treasure... But the rest of skittles fell on the ground making noise. Enough noise to worry Frank and make him run to check on me. I put them in my mouth as fast as I can. He sees it, he grabs my throat and tries to force me to open my mouth. He slapped me, he really fuckin' did! But no; no no no I can't do the same, no no no I won't do it, I cannot hurt him.
"Spit it out! Gerard! Spit it out!" He wouldn't be stronger than me if I wasn't so fucking stoned and drunk. He forces his fingers into my mouth and tires to somehow get those pills out of there. I don't know how he succeeds, maybe I gave up? I don't know. He slaps me again; my chin is red from those two slaps. "You cannot do this anymore Gerard, you can't..." His face is blurry, but I hear that his voice is sad. "I need some kind of drug Frankie, I NEED" his face is closer, I can see his sad eyes, he closes them, no, no I want to see them! I must tell him to open his eyes! But he doesn't give me a chance. After all I did and said to him... He kissed me, he really fuckin' did.