[Electric Erratic][Gerard Way][.06]

"Charlotte!" My mom exclaimed as she opened the door. Her expression was a mixture of shock, happiness, and blankness. "What are you doing here?"

I wanted to hug her. I hadn't seen her in so long. It had been years since I'd visited. It's not that I hate my parents or anything, but whenever they'd been in town I was gone and whenever I was in town... Well, I was never in town.

But my mom was not the hugging type. I could only remember two occasions when she'd hugged me since I turned 11. Once when I graduated with honours, once when I finally convinced her to trust me when I was 16. Both times it was awkward and staged. We'd drifted when I'd hit puberty, unable to talk to her about pretty much everything. So life sucked at the time.

"I just wanted to visit." I'd forgotten how cold my mother was. And suddenly I wished I'd never come. It was just a reminder of what made me what I was.

"Well, come in!" I followed her into the kitchen, where everything was spotless. When she'd still had 4 kids in the house, it was always a disaster zone. She always wanted a clean house. Something to do with messes hurting her brain.

She pushed a cup of black tea towards me, knowing it was my favourite. I took a sip and we stared at each other in silence before she spoke.

"So who's the boy?"

I was surprised. I'd forgotten how well my mother knew me, although in my head she didn't know me at all. It's a lot less complicated than it sounds.

"What are you talking about?" I was still determined to keep her out of my social life, like before I moved out.

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about." She got up and started to wipe the already glistening counters. "I know you. The only reason you ever come to visit is either to ask for money, from me guilting you, or when a boy bothers you."

This was a lie. I didn't visit when she guilted me.

"You'd be surprised how little you know about me." I had to argue. It wasn't possible for me not to.

My mom and I had always kind of clashed. When I turned 13 we fought constantly, usually ending in my swearing and screaming and her crying. Then when I turned 14 I learned how to stay out of her way, and she learned to stay away from me. We were distant until I moved out, and although we talked less, I considered our visits more comfortable than living with her.

"Can we skip the dramatics today?"

I sighed and gave in.

"I like him a lot, mom."

"Just like every other boy you've ever 'loved,' isn't that right?" Eye roll. The tool of the intelligent.

"It's kind of different this time."

"That's what you say every time." I wasn't going to lie. She was right.

I contemplated what to say next. I didn't really want to explain the whole situation. If I'd told her that he'd tried to kill himself, she'd jump to the conclusion that he was an idiot, and it wouldn't matter what I said after that. But if I didn't tell her, then she'd think it was because I was hiding something from her. Crap. Cornered.

"I guess you're right. It's not that big a deal." She scrutinized me from across the table. Will she buy it? Will she buy it?

"Exactly." Success.

I ran over all the things I should have told her. I'm totally in love with this guy who I barely know. I'm not even sure I'm in love with him. His girlfriend dumped him for unknown reasons. He tried to kill himself. He's pretty screwed up. His brother's a dope. I've smoked since the ninth grade. I once thought of killing myself for attention. His name is Gerard. I have no idea where I'm going in my life. I regret not taking your advice. I had a crush on my English teacher in middle school. I want to go talk to Gerard. I want to make him feel better. I want to admit something to myself, but I don't know what yet. I hate flowers.

I think I need a shrink.

"Well, it's been nice seeing you." I started to get up, wondering if I should finally take the chance and hug her. She rolled her eyes again, and got up. She picked up my mug and placed it in the dish machine.

"Come back sometime." She said sincerely, patting me awkwardly on the hand. "And decide what you want to do with your life before it's too late."

It was my turn to roll my eyes.

"Bye, mom."

"Bye, dear."

Well that had been fairly useless.

-----

Somehow I found myself in my bedroom, slumped against the wall, eyes closed, hood up, and headphones on. The big kind that covers your ears and ensures that you will most definitely be deaf in the future. Yes. Third Eye Blind is my friend at times like this. My old, constant friend.

I don't know why people think that music helps them think. It doesn't really. Nor does it help them to concentrate. It merely provides a focus to work your thoughts into. It just shows how hardcore everyone has ADD now in our technological society.

But maybe that all wasn't true. Maybe it did help. I don't really know. All I know is that when I'm listening to music, I'm not thinking. I'm feeling. Mostly in my head, my neck, the majority of the upper half of my torso. A big central music station.

I am just this cool.

Amidst all this feeling, something reaches in from reality and touches my shoulder. This is unexpected. Instead of opening my eyes, like a normal person, I have a full body spasm and almost smack my head on my nearby bookshelf. My heart races, and a small yelp escapes my mouth.

It's Mikey. Jerk. I lower my headphones onto my shoulders, but don't turn off my old school Discman.

"What are you doing?!" I almost yell. I can seriously feel my heart pounding like a fucking hammer.

"Sorry. Scare you?" He smirks a little.

"Yeah." I say sarcastically, then prepare myself for some serious news.

"So... how is he?" He looks away. It's almost soap opera-like.

"He'll be fine, physically." But not mentally, is what I'm waiting for. "They're keeping him overnight for observation. They've referred him to a psychiatrist, and he's going to meet with them. Other than that, I have no idea."

I'm trying to be that perky friend who says to look on the bright side, but I can't think of any reason.

"Well... that's pretty shitty."

"Yep."

Silence settled. I held up an unopened pack of cigarettes.

"Want one?" He slid beside me and opened it, bringing out a lighter from his pocket. We're not supposed to be smoking in the apartment. It is a "health zone", as our landlord puts it.

I myself had "quit smoking" a few months ago. This basically meant that I would stop for a few weeks, then chain smoke a pack.

When upset, self destruct.

The smell of burning filled the room as we burned away our sorrows.

"Want to talk?" This came from Mikey. I was somewhat surprised. He didn't seem the type to ask this kind of question. But then again, Gerard didn't seem like the type to kill himself. It was a topsy turvy kind of world.

"About Gerard or life in general?"

"Your call." I thought about letting him know that I really liked his brother. Really liked his brother. But this seemed hardly appropriate for the time.

"I really don't like death metal." He raises an eyebrow. Nothing shocks this boy.

"What?"

"Slayer. Iron Maiden. Cannibal Corpse." I listed a few of them. "I really don't like it. I can't stand it."

"GASP!" Mikey always yells "gasp" instead of actually doing it. I don't care what people say. Gasp is not an onomatopoeia. Or maybe I'm just damaged.

"IRON MAIDEN IS GOD!"

"I'm sorry, Mikey. I just don't like it." He looked as if he was going to argue, then shrugged. My mouth dropped.

Silence. Silence. Silence.

"Why do you think he did it?" I had a pretty good idea. And as painful as it was, he deserved to know.

"His girlfriend dumped him."

"That's not so great."

I wanted to ask why she'd never been mentioned formally as his girlfriend before, but didn't really think it was the time or place.

"Is it Serena?" I asked carefully.

"Yeah." He took a long drag, inhale, exhale. "You know, I think that's not all. Serena, yeah, she was great. But they always had issues. I dont know. They seemed like the typical high school couple. In love, grew up, fell out. They both realized it. Even Gerard admitted it would end soon. There's probably a lot more than that."

What else would there be? He seemed like a good guy. Although the news about his apparent serious girlfriend was a shock, so I guess I didn't really know him as much as I thought I did.

"Do you want to talk, Mikey?" He nodded.

"Gerard's always been the dramatic type. Never thought the little bitch would try and kill himself, though." A small, bitter, chuckle. "I wish he told me. It's so cliche, but you don't ever know. He didn't even seem empty."

"Are you sure it wasn't just Serena?"

"Dead promise." He shut his eyes, put out the cigarette, and leaned back.

I don't know how long we lied there, slumped against the wall, like two drug addicts after a fix. But we didn't talk. We barely moved.

And we would never sleep.
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I hope you enjoyed it, and forgive me for the long wait.