So pretty sinking [Frerard standalone]

I had thought he was everything to me-- but he was nothing compared to the ecstasy.

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He was waiting for me when I got home. I didn't speak to him, and he didn't speak to me; we both knew what was going on. There was no point in talking. Glassy eyes watched me as I walked straight upstairs, and Frank forlornly traipsed after me. He followed me to the bedroom door but stopped there.

He had tears in his eyes as I took the ziplock bag of coloured pills out of my sock drawer. I couldn't think anymore. I needed the rush. I needed the drugs.

"Gee, please," Frank said in a small voice. "Don't. You don't need this."

"This is all I have," I said numbly, tipping three little pills into my hand.

Frank looked hurt, eyes rimmed with red. "You have me."

I said nothing. I could feel my heart beating in my throat, the pound in my ears. Everything tasted metallic and my limbs were heavy and cold and empty. I needed the rush. I needed the drugs.

Frank snatched my wrist when I tried to bring the pills to my lips. The chalky blue and white tablets fell to the floor, my happiness fell to the floor, and my heart dropped.

"Gerard," Frank said, voice shaking. He kissed my cheek softly. "I love you," he said.

I didn't reply.

He kissed my other cheek. My nose, my forehead, my jaw, my ear. "I love you so much," he whispered. "I need you."

"I need..." I trailed off. Everything was going a bit blurred. I needed to be happy. Frank could– (could he?) –Frank could make me happy.

But Frank couldn't give me the ecstasy. The escape. The rush. I needed the rush.

"I need the pills," I said in a low voice, and stepped away from him. He let go of my arm, the most heartbroken expression on his face. He pressed his lips together and tears slid down his cheeks, sticking his dark eyelashes together and leaving damp trails of my destruction down his face. I was destroying him. I didn't care.

I needed the pills.

I knelt down on the floor unsteadily to pick up the lost tablets. I tipped two into my mouth, swallowing them dry and feeling the powdery bitterness coat my tongue. They caught in my throat. It hurt. I didn't care.

Frank was crying. He was sobbing now, grasping my arm again and pleading me to stop. He looked beautiful like that. Well, he always looked beautiful. I wished I could stop, just for him. But I needed to be happy.

"I love you," I said quietly. "I'm sorry." It sounded quiet in my ears but I could have yelled it for all I knew. Everything was blurring and brighter than it should be. I could feel the rush already. Finally. Finally.

My whole body felt warm and lit up, and I was happy again. I was smiling. Frank was still crying.

I felt heavy but lighter than air. I was elated, and everything bad was disappearing. I wanted more of this.

I fumbled with the plastic bag and tipped another two pills into my hand then into my mouth. I could feel them going down my throat, down to my stomach, and it was all horribly sickening all of a sudden. I was shaking, too hot and too cold at the same time, and the rush was dissipating. I felt ill.

"Gerard." Frank took my arm firmly, suddenly more worried than angry. "Gerard, sit down."

I didn't want to sit down. I wanted my happiness back. I tried to pick up the pills again but my hands didn't work properly and everything was defocused and going white at the edges. I crumpled to the floor limply.

My chest hurt. I don't think I was breathing very much. I was vaguely aware of Frank sobbing and clutching at my shirt, telling me that I was a fucking idiot and he loved me.

I wanted to tell him that I knew I was an idiot and I was so sorry it hurt. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, and I wanted to go back to five minutes ago and flush the pills away and kiss Frank and apologise over and over and possibly cry.

The ecstasy was intense but fleeting, and sometimes it was horrible. Frank was always there, always perfect, never hurting. I was so stupid.

I couldn't see at all anymore. I could barely feel Frank shaking me and trying to wake me up. I was lost.

Frank was lost too now. I had wrecked him.

I was destroying him by destroying myself, and now I was done with destroying myself, he was falling to pieces. I had broken the man I loved, broken him down to an empty, wretched shell of a boy. I was horrible. I felt horrible. I wanted to go back and change everything.

But even more, I wanted the ecstasy.