“He’s with Bill,” Scotty answered.
“Fuck. Where are they?”
“In your guys’ room. Ohmigod! What do you think they are doing?” He said excitedly.
“Dude, shut-up, I have to go see what they are doing.”
“Can I come?!”
“No. Hey, Jeffree, this is Scotty. Scotty, this is Jeffree, have fun.”
Frankie ran up the spiral staircase across the room. When he got to the top of the stairs, he ran to the room him and Bert shared. He threw open the door to see Bert and Bill on the bed in full make-out mode.
“What the fuck are you doing, Bert?!” Frankie said madly.
“Umm, I think I should leave,” Bill said with his heavy German accent as he ran out the bedroom door.
Bert, what the fuck? What about us?”
Frankie looked at him.
“Were you fucking being Mr. Sympathetic to Bill just like you were to me?”
“That’s kinda how it started, but-.
“You know what, Bert? I can see, you don’t fucking give a shit about me now. If I go and kill myself, it’ll be all your fucking fault,” Frankie interrupted.
“Frankie, you’re not gonna kill yourself, I know you.”
“Yeah, sure you do. I thought I fucking knew you but, yeah, I guess I don’t.”
“Frankie….. Don’t fucking do this to yourself.”
“Shut the fuck up, Bert. I’m calling Gerard, and I’m leaving.”
So he found his cell phone and went outside and called Gerard.
“Hey, Gerard, it’s Frankie.”
“Frankie? Frankie! Fuck, dude, I’ve missed you! God! Like, what’s up?”
“Oh, well, not to be all Mr. Depressing but I caught Bert cheating on me.”
“Aww. I’m sorry Frankie. Don’t get mad at me, but who with?”
“That stupid German, Bill Kaulitz from Tokio Hotel.”
“That little pussy?”
“Yeah, I know. But I’m leaving him and I need a place to stay.”
“Frankie! Of course you can stay with me! I’ll be over in five minutes.”
So Frankie went back to the house and started to pack his clothes.
“Come on, Frankie. Don’t fucking do this to me, I love you,” Bert pleaded.
“Yeah, well I don’t love you, and I’m leaving.”
Right then, Gerard walked through the door with a smirk on his face.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Bert snarled.
“Picking up Frankie, you asshole. I don’t know how you could have done this and not died of guilt. He’s so fucking innocent.”
“Stop, Gerard, please. Come help me with my stuff.”
So Gerard went over and grabbed Frankie’s bag and was heading down the stairs. Frankie, with a second suitcase in his arms, turned to Bert and said, “I’ll come for the rest of my stuff in a couple of days. Oh, and have fun at my fucking birthday party.”
When he got down the stairs, Jeffree and Scotty were still talking but when they saw him with a suitcase Jeffree said, “Hey, love, where are you going? You shouldn’t be leaving your party.”
“Go fucking ask Bert,” Frankie replied.
Jeffree looked at him with confusion on his face, and went over and started to climb the stairs as Frankie went out the door towards Gerard’s waiting car.
“Got all of your stuff?” Gerard asked as he got into the passenger seat.
And with that they drove off. About 15 minutes later, they got to Gerard’s house. Gerard helped Frankie bring his bags into the house and then into the guestroom. Frankie could see that Gerard was tired so he told him to go to bed and that he would get situated by himself, and Gerard obeyed. After Frankie got dressed for bed and got his bed all ready, he went out to the kitchen to get a drink of water. On the way back to the guestroom, he saw Gerard’s light go out.
Good, he thought.
He turned out his light, turned on his ipod, and went to bed. All of a sudden, he heard a muffled yell. He got up and went into the hallway.
“It all looks normal,” He said to himself. He saw the light on in Gerard’s room and went up to it and knocked.
“Hey, Gee, you okay?”
“Yeah, Frankie. Go back to bed,” he replied hastily.
So he did what he was told and went to bed. In the morning, he woke up and Gerard wasn’t up yet. So he raided his fridge and found eggs. So he made himself some scrambled eggs, and ate them while waiting for Gerard to wake up. Two hours, and three cups of coffee later, Gerard still hadn’t woken up. So he started to walk to the hallway and noticed a jacket lying over the back of the couch. That’s not Gerard’s, he thought.
“Oh, God! That’s Bert’s!” He yelled aloud. He rushed down the hallway and barged into Gerard’s room.
Gerard was lying on the bad, wrists cut, and bleeding still. He ran to him and tried to wake him, all while crying. He screamed in frustration. He ran to the phone, dialed 911 and told them to hurry. He jogged back to Gerard, but stopped in the living room. He saw the jacket again and screamed, this time in anger.
“Bert did it. I swear he did.”
He jogged passed the front door and it swung open.
“He’s in here!” I gasped.
They put him on a stretcher and ran outside with him; it was all a blur to me, though. All of a sudden it was all over, I was standing alone, in the middle of the hallway. I leaned against the wall and sunk down, sobbing.