A short, simple story I wrote about Gerard changing. It's from Frank's point of view, but thats not so obvious in the story.
They own you now. You're their god. Screw the other four, we want you. But all these devoted fans, where were they when you were laying in a pile of your own vomit and piss after ingesting too much alcohol, begging to die? They weren't there when you had that bad drug trip when you first tried coke. They didn't have to hold you, console you, as you screamed and cried and nameless terrors tormented you. And when you came down from that high, in the mere couple of seconds before you passed out, they didn't see the grateful and relieved look in your bloodshot eyes that you hadn't woken up alone. That you had me.
And that first kiss? That earth shattering, hungry, beautiful kiss? I was the one who received it, not them. Weren't told you loved them; that you owed your life to them.
I'm afraid you're leaving me. Trying to live up to how they perceive you. But thats notyou Gerard. I hope you're not changing, pray every single day.
But you keep slipping away.