I remember walking through your house that day. I'm not going to lie; I was scared.
I hadn’t heard from you in three days. You weren’t picking up your phone, you weren’t texting me back. Nothing. Of course, I was worried sick. You weren’t yourself lately. You weren’t talking to me like you used to. It was like part of you disappeared and all that was left was your body, but you just weren’t in it.
“Frank, you home?” I called, once again.
I remember walking through your house that day. I’m not going to lie; I was scared. Scared for you. Worried about you. I needed you back. I needed the Frank I fell in love with. The one who always giggled randomly, but no one knew why because you always laughed at something in your head. The one who denied he almost tripped over, even though it was obvious you did. The one who jumped on me and kissed me whenever he saw me and didn’t care who saw it. I missed you. So much.
Word can’t describe how I felt when I knocked on the bathroom door, thinking it was locked. It wasn’t, and it opened slightly. So, I looked through the open space. I only had to see your pale hand laying motionless on the floor to burst in as fast as I could to see if you were okay.
You were not okay.
My heart felt like it exploded when I saw you lying there on the ground. Your eyes were wide open, but there was no life in them. Or in you. At all. I knew then that you were dead. I remember searching for what had caused it and finding the razor next to your other arm which was covered in dry blood from the gash you carved in it.
I screamed your name, hoping for a response, even though I knew I wouldn’t get one. I collapsed onto your unmoving chest and cried until I could hardly breathe anymore. I couldn’t believe it. You were my reason of being, Frankie and you were gone. As I cried, I tried to make sense of it. Why you did it. Why I wasn’t enough to keep you going. Why you left me all alone like that.
I spent a good hour or so crying my heart out, holding your corpse close to me, imagining you were still there to hold me just as tightly.
But you weren’t.
After a while, I found the piece of paper you left next to the sink. I still have it. I still read it. I still cry…
I’m sorry. I can’t do it anymore. Life, that is. I don’t know what happened. I wish I did.
I’m sorry to do this to you. I love you so fucking much. I’m sorry.
I almost fainted. I couldn’t and still can’t believe it.
You see, Frankie, when you died, so did I. We promised each other we’d be together forever, but that promise has been shattered because you’re gone. You aren’t with me anymore. Thinking of you, dreaming of you…it’s just not enough, anymore. I need you here with me. I’m dead inside without you.
I visited your grave today. It’s been a whole year since I did. I was afraid to go back. To be haunted of the day I found you because I was haunted enough already. Oh, you should’ve seen me cry. I knelt before the stone that had your name carved in it and cried knowing that your body was several feet beneath me. That’s when I decided.
I can’t do this anymore either.
So, I sit here now, writing this letter. Even though your gone, I want my final message to be to no one but you. I know someone will find this letter eventually. Maybe it’ll be my family, maybe it’ll be a total stranger. I don’t know. I don’t care. I want to be with you again, and I’m going to be.
Someone will find my body just like I found yours.
On the bathroom floor, blood surrounding my arm; dead.
I won’t say I’m sorry, because I’m not. I get to be with you forever now.
So, I’ll see you soon, Frankie.
I love you.
Yours for eternity, Gerard.