Summertime (Frerard)

7: Welcome To Insanity

From the moment I stepped foot inside the forest today, I knew something was wrong. Something was very wrong. The trees didn't sway, the leaves didn't crunch under my feet and my voice didn't bounce back to me as it hit the surrounding tree trunks. It didn't feel real. It felt fake and as if I was in some sort of dream world, or more likely nightmare, because my life seemed to retain this sadistic and rather Gerard-like approach to taunting me. But try as I might, no amount, no godforsaken amount of pinching could wake me and I was stuck in this nightmare. I walked on, into that clearing - he wasn't there.

Of course he wasn't there: we hadn't planned a time, or a date, or anything, but it just felt right. I felt that he was there. But he wasn't. The clearing was empty - no flash of red hair, no puff of cigarette smoke, no excessive amount of black clothing... nothing. I didn't quite imagine myself being able to miss someone like him, but guess what - here I was.

It felt like it was supposed to happen - a fixed point. The reality surrounding it melting and fading to compensate for the gravitational vacuum whirring into life in the sheltered spot that dew lay on. Dew lay on the leaves and bark, because he wasn't there to shelter them. He wasn't there. He wasn't there. Despite how many times I repeated those three words that seemed to snap my entire being in two as they faded into reality, I could never quite believe them; they'd never quite sink in. I'd look to the left and dart my eyes back again, expecting him to just visualise back into his spot with too much effort to make me anywhere near sane.

I began to think I'd imagined him - Gerard Way, my sort of friend. Mikey's complete ignorance to the fact that he existed even supported my theory and of course hallucinations lead to the conclusion that I was mad. Mad as hatter; cart me off to Wonderland mad. Gerard looked mad, he looked psychotic and bloodthirsty in a terribly endearing manner he looked like the Mad Hatter himself, but no - maybe he was just my white rabbit, ready to lead my down the rabbit hole. All he needed was the pocket watch, but somehow he looked like the kind of guy who might even own one and simply consolidated my growing mess of insanity and god knows what else that lurked in the darkened corners of my mind.

No. I was Frank Iero and he was Gerard Way. There was no Wonderland; he was just a guy who likes cigarettes, gore, being a douchebag and apparently disappearing completely for days at a time. And I was just Frank, who should grow up and stop caring. Maybe Miss Craw was right. Maybe I did need help, because who just imagines a friend and who just imagines a friend like Gerard Way. He was far from friend material, far from human material, in fact; he was just weird, he was terrifying and he was just Gerard.

I even considered sucking up to Mikey, just for some godforsaken answers - I needed to know, did Gerard Way really even exist, it was eating me up from the inside, churning my stomach in an unspeakable manner that made me want to hurl. I wanted to physically remove every memory of Gerard Way from my being, pull his soul out from where it had taken up a rather too permanent residence inside me. He didn't belong here: this was Frank's body, not Gerard's, yet thoughts of him seemed to take a higher priority than thoughts of myself these days and that, I reckoned was the most troublesome factor.

Despite, whether I thought I needed counselling or not, I was going, because otherwise I doubted that I'd survive his reaction. I didn't need my father coming after me, hurling insult after insult like breaths of air. Maybe Miss Craw did notice something else under the 'self-harm', under the abuse and under the kid who sat in the corner of the classroom consistently for every lesson. Under the kid who was watching his back all the time, under the kid who was constantly in fear of them. Under the kid that still had his sanity. Maybe she noticed the cracks, the shatters, the way each smile faded as she looked away, because everything was only here to keep up appearances now. I didn't even feel real inside most days; my heart could stop beating and I wouldn't even notice.