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His eyes shot open as the alarm rang out. A small groan escaped his lips, as he blindly reached out to stop the source of the noise. Gerard sat upright for a few moments, trying to cool down a bit. The recent heatwave meant he woke up every morning with a sticky back, made none the better by the amount of fabric on his bed. He placed one foot over the edge of his bed, trying to find an empty space in between all the rubbish on the floor. Granted, Gerard wasn't the tidiest person ever. Or as he calls it - "A real artist's habitat." His younger brother, Mikey, would always scoff at the saying. "Pizza boxes covered in cigarette ash is more appropriate for a monkey, nevermind an artist." He'd say. Gerard mindlessly hobbled down the stairs in nothing but ripped underwear and mis-matching socks. He passed the living room into the kitchen, where a faint; "Someone's looking sexy" could be heard from the other room. As per usual, Mikey was already awake.

"I swear to you that boy's nocturnal." Donna exclaimed, with a giggle. "Like a bat, or something."

"With that hair, you'd probably believe it if I told people he slept upside down" Gerard replied, followed by another feminine chuckle.

The two way brothers were very different, but very alike in the same sense. Gerard was the older, messier, more mature brother - while Mikey was the younger, more "stuck up" (Gerard's words), more outgoing brother. "Well, it's hard to be an outgoing 17 year old artist, Mikey" Gerard would say. Having said that, they both shared a passion for the same bands, and the same movies.

Gerard hobbled back upstairs, throwing on his uniform and carrying the tie in his hand.

"Gerard, if you don't wear the tie you'll get in trouble." donna stated. "Why can't you be more organized, like Mikey?"
"Because I'm different." Gerard replied.
"You got that right," Mikey joined, creeping up behind the two to put his empty bowl in the sink.

The brothers argued for a moment, before hopping into their mum's SUV to get to school. Mikey took the front passenger seat, leaving Gerard in the back, alone. Gerard placed his elbow on the edge of the door, to hold his head up while he stared out the window. Every day it was the same sights - same houses, same trees, same anonymous stretches of road. Gerard sighed, turning his attention to the opposite window.

That's when he saw it.

He thought it was just an eye trick, but no. There on the ground lay a lifeless, bloody body.

"Mom! Stop the fucking car I need to get out!" Gerard screaming, while unbuckling his seatbelt.
The shock from his scream forced Donna to stop the car to a halt, jerking them all foward violently.

Gerard opened the door as fast as he could, and ran over to the body. At first, he had no idea what to do. "Should I poke it?" he thought. He looked at the clothes the person was wearing. The fallen boy was wearing the same uniform as himself and Mikey, but he didn't recognize the male.

"Mikey!" he shouted. "Mikey, do you know who this is?"
Mikey grunted and stepped out of the car. He examined the body once, followed by a loud; "Oh god what the fuck is that I am getting back in the car." and "I'm not a murderer!"

Gerard was left alone with the body. HIs mum still in the car, blissfully unaware of what had happened. Gerard bent down on his knees to face the person's face. He ran his eyes over the boy's whole body, trying to find some sort of identification, or injury wounds. The boy's head was bleeding heavily from the left side, his nose and from a cut above his eye. His face was turned away, as if he was hiding.

"Hey..." Gerard whispered, timidly, getting his phone out of his pocket. "Hey em, are you okay? Can you hear me?"

No response.

Gerard dialled 911 as fast as possible, and explained everything to them. He turned back to his mum's window of the car. "Mum, bring Mikey to school. I need to wait for the ambulance." He pleaded.
After a minute of sighs and arguing, Donna drove off with a worried Mikey. Gerard examined the cut above the boy's eye for a moment, without actually looking at it. His eye was instead drawn to the injured boy's perfect eye.

"Wow. What an amazing shade of brown." He thought to himself, with a smile.


Everything was silent as Gerard waited with the body. "What if he was dead?" He thought, quickly shaking off the idea. Time passed by slowly, all the while Gerard was staring the body down. To this day, he still dosen't know what possessed him to do it, but he instinctively held the boys hand. Tight. He didn't care if the boy could feel it or not, he just wanted to protect the boy. Protect him, no matter what. Gerard's hand rubbing was abrubtly interrupted by a cold hand on his shoulder.

"We'll take it from here, lad. Go over there and tell the policeman everything that happened." A paramedic said.
Gerard nodded his head, and let go of the boy's hand reluctantly.

And hour or two passed, before Gerard was being escorted to school in a police car. He hadn't seen the boy since he had to let ho of his hand. The policeman walked with Gerard to his class, explaining to the teacher why he was late. The teacher scoffed and pointed Gerard to his desk.

Days passed. None without Gerard thinking of the boy. "Was he okay? What if he died? What if I never find out?"
All these questions raced through Gerard's mind each day. After a week, he couldn't take it anymore. The stress of not knowing was driving him insane. After he got home from school, he raced up the stairs, flipped open his phone and dialled the police. At first, he was greeted with an annoyed officer, clearly annoyed because it wasn't an emergency. Gerard didn't care though. He needed to know what happened to the boy. He was put through to another officer. After describing the boy to the man, he was put on hold. His heart was pounding as he was forced to listen to some sort of old, classical song. After what seemed like forever, the officer returned to the phone, with the boy's file. He gave all the details to Gerard. Hospital, room number, address - everything. Gerard thanked the officer, as he went to hang up, but his mind reminded him of something, and he quickly managed to say;

"Oh, sorry, what's the boy's name?"

"His name?" replied the officer.

"Frank Iero."