Part three - the final episode.
"Frank? Oh God, Frank, you've got to help me!"
"Frank, please, you've got to come round! It's Mikey! He's finally.. He's finally managed, Frank! He went to the bathroom and whilst I was upstairs and he... Frank, his pulse is slipping! Please, please come quickly. I'll call 911."
Gerard stared down at his unconscious brother. Why didn't he submit him to an asylum? Why didn't he tell him that.. that he didn't die?
"Mikey, Mikey please wake up!" he spluttered, his voice raising an octave as tears leaked down his face, eyes burning with the shuddering skeletons of gloomy regret. He dropped his phone to his side, sniveling, as he let himself become overcome with grief. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I thought you were over this, Mikey! Please wake up!"
Gerard grabbed Mikey's pale hand, skin cold beneath the warmth of his palm. He fucked everything up, didn't he? Why did he and Frank agree to this? It wasn't best for him! It just made him suicidal! And now he'd finally succeeded with the deed... oh God.. why didn't he get him to a professional therapist sooner?! Like, years sooner!
"Oh, God, Mikey. I'm s-so sorry! Every.. everything's g-gonna be o-okay."
The older brother looked to his phone next to him and quickly picked it up, one hand still squeezing Mikey's. He kept his breathing as silent as possible in order to hear Mikey's, which was still there, but faint. So faint Gerard had to strain to hear it.
"911 emergency - which service do you require?"
"Ambulance," Gerard replied stiffly, throat clogged as he gripped Mikey's hand harder. "I need an Ambulance!"
"We are connecting you now. Name, age and address please, sir?"
"Gerard Arthur Way, 26, 23 Cemetery Drive, Newark, New Jersey," he replied hurriedly. Tears crawled down his face as his heart thumped and thumped, his brothers life slipping away before him and there was nothing he could Goddamned do!
"Alright, Gerard. Are you okay Does this concern you or a family member?"
"M-my brother! He's tried to commit suicide and.. Oh God! H'he-s dying! How can I help him? Please?! What can I do! This is-"
"Please calm down, Gerard. It will be alright. It is loss of blood, strangulation or overdose?"
Gerard gulped, and looked down to the scarlet staining his skin. It was leaking from his brothers list onto himself - dark life leaking out, bleeding dry, his heart soon lonesome by itself like Mikey had felt for 7 goddamned years.
"Loss of blood," the boy gulped, now sobbing. His words were barely understandable, the woman had to strain to hear, but she did, and started instructing Gerard on how to help.
"Block the stream and make sure there's even blood-flow throughout his body. Try calm yourself down and relax, deep breathing. He'll be okay."
"How will he be okay?! He's spent goddamn years thinking his boyfriend killed himself when he's alive and-"
"I've g-got to go, they're here!"
He cut off the line, dropped the phone and bolted for the front door. He was shaking, trembling so much he himself couldn't believe it. His heart was bared for the world to see and as even more tears started building in his sorrow-drowned eyes again, and dripped off his face, Gerard let out an almighty sob that would shatter the hearts of thousands and millions and billions. He rubbed at his eyes and tried to recompose himself - he couldn't.. he had to..
No. Right now he had to open the door. So, he did.
What met him was not paramedics and police. What met him was a broken soul, travelling endlessly through the veil of torrential rain and fluid misery, trying to find himself and to convince himself it wasn't true. What met him was a boy who, years ago, had lost himself. What met him was a boy who reconstructed himself and had to live away from his love. What met him was a boy who had everything, lost everything, and was left with coarse remains.
What met him was Frank Iero, a man made of broken spirit and mismatched lies.
As salty tears leaked from his hazel eyes, Gerard was unable to hold back his own, unable to distinguish the real tears from the pounding rain. He couldn't tell the thunderous paeans from his sobs, and as Frank let out a hiccup of sadness himself, his heart more than broke.
"Is he.. G-Gerard, is he..?"
Frank looked torn from what he wanted to hear and didn't want to hear, but he knew either way he'd find out.
His voice broke. "D-Dead. Is he dead?"
Gerard shook his head. "He's not dead," he replied, voice flat and weaker than ever.
They both knew that sentence wasn't finished. He's not dead yet.
The rain clapped against the pavement, wind howling, slamming against the glass. A door slammed within the house, but neither man flinched. They just stared at each other. The eyes in both of them looked broken - trapped, incredulous souls whirling in their eyes, thoughts lost in the deepest pits of misery, the abyss of perpetual pain they'd been locked in since they'd found out about Mikey's suicide attempt trapping them in a spinning-world of unbelievable hurt. Hearts stood still, thoughts whizzing at an inhumane speed.
Gerard coughed, trying to clear the painful lump of swollen desolateness that gathered at the back of his throat. "We'd.. We'd better.." he started, voice hoarse. But he couldn't finish it; he was at a loss for words; misery had a hold.
Frank nodded, understanding. "Where.. where is h-he?"
Gerard didn't say anything, but nodded in the direction of the bathroom.
And, as quick as a flash, Frank sprinted there, not waiting for Gerard.
This was all his fault, he knew. He was a horrible person; after trying to leave and being unsuccessful in doing so, he rang Gerard and told him.. told him to act like Frank was really gone, so if he tried again.. Well, Mikey could be saved the relief of the same pain and trauma a week later. He went into daily therapy in an asylum and overcame his depression, but when he was completely cured the lies were far too deep to escape.
And Frank wasn't allowed to burrow himself out, to see the love of his life.
And now, knelt before him, sobs suffocating him and smothering his chest, Frank wished he had told Mikey the whole truth.
He wished and prayed and hoped, burying himself in the familiar musky scent of the love of his life, letting the wails and cries escape him, never-ending, as his hands bawled up into fits, nose tucked into Mikey's belly, his fists collecting crumples of his boyfriend's top.
"I'm so sorry, beautiful," he gasped, voice raspy and desperate as he dragged Mikey's body on top of his legs, tears obscuring his vision and never allowing him to see the perfection of Mikey Way.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so goddamned sorry. I'm such a bad person, honey, but I didn't wanna let you know I survived only to have you.. to have you.."
Frank couldn't take it, he broke down. He let the misery drown him as the noise in the back of his head grew heavier and louder and unbearable. His tangled heart, a knotted abyss of ebony pain and suffering, wheezed and spat and cried out in pain, thumping ever so slowly, in time with his boyfriends fading pulse.
"I'm so sorry, baby, honey, beautiful. I'm so Goddamned sorry!"
He kissed the bleeding cuts of Mikey's wrists and didn't bother to wipe away the blood.
"I love you, I love you, I love you and I always have and you can't leave me, sweetheart, you can't."
No sound emitted from the bleeding beauty in Frank's lap, but his eyes flickered every-so-slightly.
A stifled sob.
"Please, honey, please wake up! I love you so much and I can't live without you. I called Gerard every fucking day to know you were okay and were alive and living and breathing and.. and still loved me, honey. And you.. you d-did!"
The boy spluttered and bent over as if he'd been kicked in the gut, his heart thumping, only once, so hard Frank could feel it almost exploding from his chest. His sobs broke and grew so loud they were liked agonized screams, and Gerard, who had been stood behind him this whole time, erupted into silent tears.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so so so sorry. you're so beautiful and perfect and I wish I could take back the years I s-spent apart from you, honey. I love you so much and-"
A loud, urgent knock at the door. Frank knew Gerard would answer it and kept Mikey close to his chest, waiting as he wailed out his heart. He expected it, as the organ rose and clogged his throat, to be thrown up, spill and spew out his mouth like the salty tears from his sorrow-swollen eyes.
"F-Frank?" came a feeble, almost silent rasp from the lap of Frank.
The weeping boy gasped and looked down, met by Mikey's twinkling eyes. They hadn't possessed that twinkle in years, and no one had heard that voice in years, but Frank was all that was needed from them to resurface.
Frank's eyes clogged with tears as a trembling cupped Mikey's face. He noticed the paramedics had gathered behind him, but were obviously waiting for the moment to pass.
"Am I in heaven?"
Frank smiled softly, the tears leaking over the lids of his eyes in thick, watery tracks. "No honey, this is real life."
"Y-you're.. you're alive?" The younger asked, blinking slowly and wearily, smiling softly. "All this time?"
Frank's eyes filled with more tears, regretful, happy tears. "Yes, honey, yes I'm alive and I'm so sorry I didn't tell you-"
"My wrists," the younger boy mewled. "They h-hurt so much, F-Frank.."
Heavier blinking. Limper muscles.
"No, no! Mikey Way, you stay awake, okay? You stay awake!"
Mikey didn't reply, and the medics rushed around, performing a number of acts Frank wasn't paying attention to as the boy was ripped from his lap.
Oxygen masks, needles, bandages.. All of it, surrounding Mikey and worrying Frank beyond belief.
The rush, the panic, the urgency, the gurney. The cries, the wails, the tears, the shouts. All of it suffocated Frank to a point he burst into louder, more desperate sobs, cursing to himself, still kneeling in the center of the bathroom floor, blood staining him like taints of bleak sorrow.
He stayed there whilst Mikey was taken away to the Ambulance. He didn't move when asked to. He didn't speak when asked if he was alright.
The only thing that got him moving, got him talking, were five little words.
But, during his silence, during his stillness, he understood, all those years, why Mikey did what he did, how he felt.
He would have done the same, because to live without your love is to not live at all.
"Son?" a paramedic asked, voice deep and comforting above him. He placed a hand on the younger's shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
Frank didn't even remotely respond.
It was tragic; this was Frank's birthday. They committed suicide on the same day, same night. It wasn't the best present he'd ever received. It was, by far, the worst.
But at least Mikey was back in his life.
Perhaps that made it the best present.
However, Frank couldn't think anymore, because just then the paramedic spoke those five little words that let Frank's life begin again.
"He's going to be okay, yo'know."
Frank looked to the paramedic, tears shining, building in his hazel eyes.
Yes. It was by far the best present Frank had ever received.