Summertime (Frerard)

40: Nothing's Wrong But Nothing's True; I Live In A Hologram With You

And this was the first night that Gerard and I slept together and despite the very obvious company in the sheet with his arms curled haphazardly around my waist, this was the first night Gerard and I slept together and I still felt so alone.

He was supposed to be that one thing; that beacon of light in a world surrounded by darkness, but today, he just wasn't, and tonight I felt like the only arms in the bed beside me were ones clasped tightly around my throat, because with the knowledge of his sins weighing down on my shoulders and plaguing my mind, it felt like nothing more than a simple death wish.

He certainly hadn't been wrong to call this all complicated, that was for sure.

I let out a deep sigh; cold breath into the cool air - the window still slightly ajar and the early morning breeze drifting into the room.

It wasn't quite dark, yet it wasn't quite dark either, it was that time just before sunrise when the objects in the room were illuminated with shadows, when the first ray of sunrise - the yellows, pinks, and reds, still hadn't made their way over the horizon yet.

When the whole world is waking up and I still haven't slept, and of course as I'm handled with the situation I just can't ignore, I know this is of course nothing more than a terrible idea, but some thoughts just won't go away for anything.

I can't help but think about what very easily could have happened. I can't help but think about how easily Donna Way could have ended up with one dead son, and then I think about also how easily she could have also ended up with two dead sons.

I think about the worst things at night, and I think about how Gerard was going to end himself, and I think just how different my life would have been if I had never even met him and I consider the possibility that I would have been dead too.

It sounds sickly and almost disgusting to think of co-dependency to an extreme like that, and I don't think that Gerard and I are like that as such, but then I turn and glance at his peacefully sleeping figure beside me - red haired splayed out across the sheets as the only colour bright and visible in the low light, and his mouth parted slightly with fucking stupidly tiny little teeth and that vacant little smile.

He looks happy like that.

And I can imagine that after finally telling me what had been pulling away at his soul now for months on end, and then for I to take it absolutely fine, was perhaps just heaven for him.

And I imagine him gone - I imagine myself in his bed alone, I imagine him dead, I imagine him, but I don't, like he's only a face from a family photograph on the Way mantel piece and I pretend I'm staying over as Mikey's guest and I pretend I drew the short straw with Pete and I have to sleep in his dead brother's old bed, and I sniff the bed sheets and I'm perplexed with how they still smell of cigarette ash and I can almost feel the ghost of who had once been there beside me, just as real as the tears that had found themselves splashing against the sheets.

"You're crying..." His voice emerged from under the sheets, the two arms pulling tighter around me as I felt myself pushed against his chest with no ability to complain. "Why are you crying?" He pulled my face up to meet his, scanning my teary eyes for any sign of anything at all.

"Nothing, nothing important." I promise him - my words spoken all too fast and without the need to make them sound at all convincing and that of course has the predicted effect. Skepticism from Gerard Way is skepticism at its finest - he doesn't take any bullshit, and as I think of Bert and what happened, I hate it, because for once I wish I didn't know why. "Just a bad dream."

"You've been awake for hours now, Frankie." He told me, and with what knowledge I couldn't comprehend at all, leaving me looking at my perhaps boyfriend in the bed across from me and pondering just how different my life would have been if I hadn't happened to be kicked out of my house by my father that one morning, and perhaps just how empty I would have felt inside without this all.