"He was pain swallowed in a smile, a nod and a quick, 'I'm fine, don't worry.'" A sad little oneshot. Kind of a I'M BACK AND NOT DEAD!!!! OMGWTF!!!! Well, read and review. I don't think there's ...
A/N- I know that ya'll are waiting patiently (okay, maybe not) for updates, but my head's been all...distracted and shit. So here's a slashy lil' one-shot for all ya'll out there. Okay, this was written 'cause I was talking to aiIenzo and I jokingly mentioned a contest, a battle of the depressive to THE DEATH!!!! (Ha, I was serious! MUAHAHA! ...just kidding.) shakes head and tries to concentrate Oh, and when it switches to first POV, it's Frank's. Did that make sense? ANYway, enjoy...
He could honestly say that he knew there was a problem, but he could also say that he didn't want the attention a confession would have brought upon him. He had always been unable to accept help, feeling that a plea for help would only prove that he was weak. So, he remained silent, braving the headaches which slowly grew in magnitude with every passing day.
He was pain swallowed in a smile, a nod and a quick, "Of course I'm fine. Don't worry."
He barely noticed the worried glances shot his way as he sat there silently, his pale face a mask of pain as he bowed his head in silent and lonely agony.
No, he wasn't alone. They were always with him, by his side through thick and thin, always willing to listen or lend a shoulder to cry on. But he was stubborn...unwilling to tell of his silent suffering.
He couldn't even remember when it all started. All he knew was that the pain was blinding, a crippling pain that started behind his eyes and shot down his spine and through his arms and legs to the very tips of his fingers and toes. Sometimes it got so bad that he couldn't speak. Sometimes the pain got so bad he had to sit down. Sometimes it got so bad he'd just curl into a little ball and wait for it all to end.
But it never did. He'd lose consciousness and then wake up again, the headache still there, always there, like a predator crouching in the shadows waiting to pounce on its prey. Hiding. Always there, just throbbing gently on his good days.
It was unbearable, living like this. But he continued on, his past brushes with death and the many people looking up to him keeping him for ending it all.
Even though he didn't want to end his life, it didn't mean that he didn't want to stop living. He wanted to stop touring, to quit the band and hide from the sun and loud noises. But he couldn't. He had to keep touring, to keep going on.
So he had, albeit reluctantly, agreed to go on the Take Action Tour, a tour to help prevent teen suicide. It only made sense, considering his past, anyway.
He never considered that it would get to this point. He never thought that the consequences would be this awful, this painful on his band-mates and family and friends.
I walked across the small stage, plucking the strings of my guitar, not really concentrating on what I was doing. I was mostly watching the others prepare for the seven o'clock show we had tonight.
Ray was talking to a roadie, gesturing madly to the speakers and then back to himself and then to his microphone. I smiled to myself. They were still having problems with that microphone...I didn't understand why they didn't just buy another. I mean, it's not like My Chemical Romance is huge or anything. It's not like we're making millions or anything...I'm not sure why I found that funny, but I was still chuckling as my eyes fell on Mikey.
The tall and thin Way was leaning against a stool, talking on his cell phone animatedly while clutching a water bottle in his free hand. His bass was at his feet, and I knew that if Brian walked in right now Mikes would get yelled at. He should be getting ready and blah, blah, blah...Mikey was obviously talking to Alicia, which he pretty much needed to do before a show in order to have a good show.
I smiled, turning to Bob, still messing with my guitar strings. The blonde and blue-eyed man was sitting in place at his drums, all business as he tapped his cymbal repeatedly, his face set in grim concentration. Ah, that's our Bob. All work, no play.
And now, where was my personal favorite lead singer? I looked around, not spotting my boyfriend anywhere. I bit my lip. Maybe he had another headache. He always denied that his head hurt, but I could always tell from his eyes that he was in pain. I mean, he cried himself to sleep sometimes. I know he thought I didn't hear him, but I didn't say anything. In fact, tonight I was planning on forcing him to the doctor's. Seeing him in pain made my heart ache. I really loved Gerard.
He had proposed to me a few weeks ago, and we are to be to be married on my birthday, Halloween. (We didn't choose the date because of my birthday, but because of the whole Halloween thing. When we announced that to the band, Mikey just shook his head and called us freaks.)
I don't know how we fell in love, or when we realized that the feelings were mutual, but my God...life is friggin' /good/.
If only I could find him!
I was about to turn and ask Mikey, who would certainly know where our sexy singer was, when I spotted the all-black clad man walking towards the stage slowly, his head lowered. I smiled, my heart jumping and moving faster, because, well, that's what happens when I see Gerard.
Yes, I get fan-girlish over my fiancÃ©. Have you never seen him? You'd fan-girl, too.
So, anyway, he got to the stage and climbed on, not using the stairs because that's rock-and-roll. He looked at me, a slight smile gracing his lips and I beamed back. He chuckled, before turning to the microphone and tapping on it. As the sound resounded throughout the large venue, he winced, his hand coming up to his forehead before he caught himself and lowered it sheepishly.
I furrowed my brow, making my way over to him.
"You okay, babe? Do you have another headache?"
He looked at me angrily, before turning his head away from me and staring at the microphone, sliding it in and out of its stand mindlessly.
"I'm fine, Frank. How many times-?"
"Don't make me quote one of our own songs," I interrupted, trying to look firm. He shook his head, rolling his eyes.
"You don't have too. Because I'm /fine/," he said, hissing the last word. I bit my lip, trying to figure out a way to convince him that there might be a problem with him. But, Gerard was always a stubborn one. So, I shut up, going back to my place and testing the microphone there.
About twenty minutes, sound-check ended and we were allowed to do what we wanted until the show tonight. We went back to the bus, and Gerard disappeared until ten minutes before the show. Which is what Gerard does, because he's Gerard and that's that. Besides, he enjoys going off to his own to contemplate life...and shit.
So, we were all calm up until he walked in, already in costume but no make-up done. That's Gerard for you. He was probably out around town in costume, confusing the shit out of the people. Brian walked forward, grabbed his arm and threw him into a make-up chair, his face red from anger.
"Dammit, Gerard! I get that you need your alone time, but please. Can't you at least get in here a half hour before the show?" Brian exclaimed, waving his arms around. Gerard flinched, his action going unnoticed by all but me. To everyone else, Gerard was calm, cool, and collected as ever.
"Can we not yell?" he asked softly. I blinked, my thoughts in a whirlwind. What the hell is he going to do onstage? It's going to be thousands of times louder in there...
Ray chuckled from his spot on a table filled with food. I was slightly confused as to why he was sitting on the table, but I just dropped it. There was no point in asking questions.
Mikey said, "Gee, Brian is right, though. You leaving and then coming back right before a show isn't cute anymore. You can't keep doing this."
"I have my reasons," Gerard replied calmly. "And it's not like I do it often. I don't see what the big deal is, as long as we give a kick-ass show. That's all the kids care about."
Brian bit his lip, his face the correct color now. "Just try getting back sooner, then. I don't care if you leave, just get here earlier. Or get your hair and make-up done before you leave."
Gerard smirked, "Yes, Mom. Will do."
Brian narrowed his eyes, and spat, "Diva," before turning on his heel and leaving the room. Gerard blinked, lowering his head in surprise. He bit his lip, before sitting up and becoming the faÃ§ade of calm that is Gerard.
I smiled as the lady leaned up to Gerard with an eyeliner pencil, and his eye automatically twitched and closed. He always had a problem with letting other people do his make-up.
With a slight smile, I took a sip of my water. I was trying to get hyped for the show, trying to get excited so that tonight we'd prove to everyone that we're here, we're now, and we're not going anywhere.
I knew Bob was talking to some random tech, because, well, old habits die hard. And Mikey was talking to Alicia again (such a cute couple), and Ray was still on the table. Gee was now getting his hair done, which really was him just messing it up so he'd look crazy.
And then, the tech came in, said, "You're on," and we turned into different people.
The concert was going great. The crowd was amazing, screaming at nothing and everything. It was beautiful really, seeing their lips moving along to Gerard's lyrics, their bodies synching to our music.
Gerard was doing well, it seemed, not as into it as he would usually be, but still moving with the music and jumping up and down and grinning and singing.
Ray was going back and forth across the stage, pounding out the riffs and being the rock god he was born to be. Bob was, like always, all business, slamming down beats and every once in awhile, shooting the crowd a grin. Mikey actually moved from his spot way in the back, up to the front. You could almost feel the fan-girlish shrieks shake the venue.
I, like usual, was being a straight-out animal, losing myself in the music. I wasn't paying attention to anything, falling into a different mind-set and jumping around, rolling on the floor and automatically playing the riffs without even thinking.
We're like a machine, a well-greased machine that no one can stop. Don't get in our path, 'cause My Chemical Romance will. Take. You. Out.
Ray had just began the starting riff to "I'm Not Okay", and I watched Gerard's smile falter, his eyes closing, before reopening, his face slightly confused but mostly covered up in a smile.
I furrowed my brow, resisting the urge to walk over there and ask him if he was okay. (Irony, anyone?)
We all joined in, and Gerard began, "Well, if you wanted honesty..."
He kept singing, his eyes closing again, but this time in concentration, I think. I narrowed my eyes, watching him sway with the music.
"The photographs y-your boyfriend took," he sang, and my eyes widened. He was slurring the lyrics now, and I looked at Mikey, fear seizing my chest. Mikey was also watching his brother, concern and confusion covering his face. Ray and Bob didn't notice.
I took a step towards Gerard, when the microphone slipped out of his hands. He stared at it in confusion, before looking at me. I can't even describe the expression on his face. It wasn't pain, it was this innocent confusion. Like, he didn't understand that he had dropped the microphone. It was almost like he didn't know how it got on the floor.
I stopped playing, and ripped the guitar strap from around my shoulders. Tossing the guitar aside, I ran over to him. He just stood there, that utter confusion still there. I barely noticed the crowd screaming in confusion, and the security guards forcing them all to leave, and the rest of the band joining us, just as confused as I was.
It seemed that everyone was confused, even Gerard.
"Gerard?" I asked, raising my voice over the noise. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder, but he didn't reply, still staring at the microphone.
"Gerard, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Mikey asked from beside me. Gerard didn't reply, but he did gasp. The second he gasped, I was supporting all of his weight as his knees buckled. With a cry, I went down with him, but I was able to make sure we went down slow.
I cradled him in my arms, my eyes welling up. Looking up at the three terrified men still standing there, I choked out, "Go get an ambulance. There's something wrong." Besides the obvious, idiot. Why didn't you get help in the beginning, when you first noticed something was wrong? I couldn't help but berate myself. I should've done something, and I knew it.
Bob nodded, before jogging off the stage. The crowd noise had lessened as security forced them out. Brian was on the stage now, and I was wondering where the ambulance was. Mikey and Ray were kneeling next to us, and Gerard just lay completely unresponsive in my arms.
His eyes stared up at me, wide and scared. He wanted to say something, I know he did, his mouth was opening and closing but no sound was coming out.
Suddenly, he squeezed his eyes shut, a spasm shaking his body. I gasped, clutching him tighter as the tears flowed down my cheeks faster.
"Where the hell is that ambulance? He needs help, dammit, he needs help!" I cried, looking around wildly. Mikey was crying softly, his face buried in Ray's shoulder. Ray was just staring wide-eyed at Gerard, with no clue as to what was happening.
Gerard's legs and arms were twitching, his fingers digging into the floor. He was in agony, and I knew it. His face was contorted in pain as he whimpered continuously.
"Shh...baby, shh," I cooed, figuring that if I couldn't ease his pain, I could comfort him. Brian kneeled next to Mikey, his face white. I knew that he was regretting the last thing he said to Gerard about him being a diva.
"I'm sorry, Gee," he mumbled. Gerard opened his eyes at the new the voice, before nodding slightly, conveying that he accepted the apology.
Gerard opened his mouth again, this time managing to choke out, "I....l-lov-ve....y-ou....ah-all."
And then, his head lolled to the side, his eyes still open.
It took me a second to realize what had just happened, and then I realized that I could no longer feel his back expand and contract as he breathed.
My eyes widened, a scream tearing from my throat as I realized that he was dead. Gone.
I wouldn't get to marry him. I wouldn't get to have kids with him. I wouldn't get to buy a house with him, I wouldn't get to settle down with him, I wouldn't get to grow old with him.
I'd never wake up to a childish grin and sparkling hazel eyes again.
I'd never kiss him again.
He was gone.
The ambulance came a few minutes later, but a world too late. They had to pry me off of him, tears pouring down my face as I screamed. I'm not sure who was worse, me or Mikey. Probably Mikey, because it took Ray, Bob, and Brian to keep him from attacking me after they took Gerard away.
I don't know why Mikey blamed me, maybe because I was the one who held Gerard as he died? I still don't know, and Mikey...mentioning anything to do with Gerard is an awful idea. He'll get angry, and lash out, or get depressed, and cry.
And I can't bear to look at Mikey. It's nothing against Mikey himself, it's just that they have the same eyes. The. Exact. Same. Eyes.
It hurts to look at Mikey and see all the resemblance. Sometimes, I want to be with Mikey because they were related and they look kind of the same and...it's an awful, sick idea, I know that. But it hurts. It hurts so badly.
I want my Gerard back, right now. But I'll never get him back, and it's only because he was so goddamn stubborn.
Those headaches? They weren't headaches. They were a cancerous brain tumor, destroying his brain. Eating away at his brain stem, pressing against his skull, and ultimately ending his young life. The completely unfunny thing is that if he had gone to the doctor when the first sign of abnormality appeared, he would've been fine. They would've been able to fix it, and he'd still be with me.
Damn you, Gerard.
I hate him. Oh, how I wish I could say that and actually mean it. But I can't. I love him, still. I'll never hate him. But, I'll always hate cancer.
Beast of an affliction, vile monster of diseases.
It took away a fiancÃ©, a brother, a friend, a son, an idol, a singer, a genius, an artist.
My Chemical Romance has broken up, because we're nothing without Gerard. He was our songwriter, our reason for getting together in the first place.
Besides, Mikey freaks when relatively anything reminds him of his brother. I knew that the two were close, but Mikey's /nothing /without Gerard. I feel bad for Alicia, because she has to deal with that shell of a man. But I guess she loves him, because they're still together. But I'm not sure how much more she can take.
Bob and Ray? They're okay. Not great, but okay. Moving on with their lives at least. Bob's gone back to being a tech, and Ray...I don't know what he does. We've kind of lost contact.
And me? I'm just alone. Broken, and alone.
But I won't take my life. Gerard would hate me if I gave up. I have a job interview tomorrow.
I guess I'll follow his own advice and carry on.
A/N- That wraps it up nice, yes? No? Well, why don't you tell /me/? REVIEW!!!!! (Please?)
Anyone else think that Cute is What We Aim For lead singer Shaant is absolutely gorgeous? Don't lie, and you know that his voice adds to the equation...
Oh, and I've hit twenty stories! YES!!! dances Give me reviews to celebrate!