They were never supposed to be no matter how much and how badly they wanted it. They were sucked into a game, a game of life. The worst game we play, day by day.
Just over a month ago Gerard caused a huge fight, a fight over who they really were. It made Frank question himself, he questioned his soul, mind, and being. He was not satisfied with who he had become. Frank laid in his bunk for several days straight, thinking of all the ways he could end the treacherous hell he sunk into. The night he decided when and how, he took the razor blades into his shaking hands and slit his wrists. He thought of how he deserved to suffer into the dark end, but the blood he had drawn did not satisfy him enough. He cut and cut until he could see more red than his own skin. It oozed from his desperation that this was right. It wasn't right at all, though.
That morning the band members woke to a iron sort of smell, they noticed Frank had not woken. The curtain to his bunk was drawn, the sheets tucked in tightly, and he had made completely sure they wouldn't think that he had bled to death the previous night. As they pulled back the curtain, the tour bus remained silent and astonished. The bunk was soaked through with blood and its inhabitant was pale, lifeless, nothing but dead weight, a sight to cause the sorest of eyes. They had been far too late, and Gerard was left knowing it was all his fault for raising the fight "are you sure you know who you are? Because I don't know you..."
Words. That's all they were. Words. And those words, they caused an innocent man to snap and let go of the fight. Gerard knows now, but its far too late to go back. Just as it was far too late to save him. Everything is far too late.
Here in rain, now where he stands, outside from the cemetery he wonders if he wants to do the same as Frank. The urge to lie next to Frank in the peaceful yet dying earth causes an abundance of feeling to overtake his weakening soul. His eyes water from the pain of leaving, body shakes from the fear of what happens after, lips quivering from the question "are you sure you know who you are?"...
But as he pondered this foul question, he became drawn into the dark cemetery. He was pulled deep into the darkness of the wooded area, not far bound from Frank's lonely grave. He took a step towards the huge old tree his eyes magnified to. There in the branches he noticed a wispy figure... familiar in it's frail shape, short size, and somewhat dangerous exhaust that wafted from it. No, he thought. It's far beyond impossible for the ghastly figure to be his temptation, Frank. He had killed frank with the question slowly drawing him to death, that is not Frank.