FicWad

I know how lame the whole plot is XD I mean, they both work in a comic store and some dude who calls himself their manager retires and they get some homophobe. Unlikely huh?

For a few months all was fine. You got better pay from the manager we both loved as a brother. He’d been good to us – making sure we were fine during a rough period of depression we’d both experienced. But he was getting on a bit – and 4 months after you became assistant manager he retired. There were numerous manager’s after that, and just like patients in A&E, the next one was worse than the last.

The first gently joked about your sexuality when you proudly declared you were gay. You’d always been so proud about it, and defended it when no-one else did. I admired you so much for it Frank. I could never do that. The second laughed in your face when you, still proudly, declared your sexuality.

You liked people to know. And you didn’t take no shit from anyone. You almost got fired. I was so scared for you. But when the third manager came in 3 months came I was reduced to a nervous wreck.

You swore not to tell him your sexuality because with each manager, homophobia seemed to spread. Just like a disease, an epidemic. But some other staff member told him.

And he was a violent, homophobic guy. And made threats against you. And me. So you stood proud and tall as always, pronounced your sexuality and got punched in the gut for the effort. And had insults, threats and more punches thrown at you. It built up. Day after day, week after week. And it was done in such a way that no one outside of the store (except me) knew. They made you lie to anyone that asked about the bruises.

And you thought you’d left childish bullying behind.

And as the beatings and bullyings increased the depression that once plagued you returned. You came home silent and simply sat while I cleaned you up. Sometimes you came home high, sometimes pissed senseless. Either way I’d clean you up and put you in bed. And in the mornings you’d snuggle up to me and apologise for being useless.

Eventually I made you resign form the comic store. I resigned at the same time and immediately went to find work as you were in no fit state to do so. I left you for 3 hours.

When I came back, triumphant at finding a decent job drawing for some company I found you sprawled on the bathroom floor. Blood steadily leaking from your wrists. I took you to hospital. You screamed so loud when you woke up there they put you back to sleep. They pumped you full of anti-depressants and all sorts of other shit and let you go. I tried to make you take your pills. But you were, are, stubborn.

And the only time I saw you smile was when you were high or those sleepy moments when we lay in bed together, forgetting our lives and the homophobic people in them. Just enjoying us.

I went to work full time and so you were left to your own devices all day. I came home at lunch on Sunday (I had to work weekends ‘cos that was there busiest time and took Monday and Tuesday off instead) to find you, yet again, sprawled on the bathroom floor.

But this time there was more blood. Deadly scarlet poison seeping from your wrists and arms. And scattered across the floor was the deadly potion of puke, vodka bottles, anti-depressants and sleeping pills. And clutched in your small pale hand was a note. Written in your curvy hand, in deep green ink. It explained why. I can’t read it again to tell you. But I do remember the last line.

“I always said I’d leave you first. Remember that when I leave you its for mine and your wellbeing. Much love, Frankie xoxo”

It hurts to much. And on your face was the biggest smile I’d seen for years. And written on your cheeks was the phrase “homophobia is gay”.
I broke in to rough sobs. That was our phrase. Always and forever, homophobia is fucking gay. I remember nothing from then on. Police came and went, cleaned my bathroom. I told them what happened and gave them the notes Frank had written about work and kept the others to myself. They were private – containing things I shall never ever speak of again.

So here I am. By your grave. Wondering. Reading your headstone. I chose it.

Here lies Frank Anthony Way. Husband to Gerard Arthur Way. Rest In Peace Forever. Always remember Homophobia Is Gay.

I love you Frank. Always have, always will.