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Gerard’s POV

“Funny,” I said aloud as I took another drink from the bottle of liquor I was holding. “There’s someone on my street.” Usually, no one walked on my street. I paid no attention to the person and continued into my house, dumping the contents of my jacket and bookbag onto the floor in my bedroom. “Ha,” I said. It was a lot more than what I brought home yesterday, and I was proud of myself.

Stuffing most of it in my closet, I opened one bottle and drank half of it without stopping to take a breath of air. Ah, that was better. I heard grandma come back from her bridge club a little while later, and I went to go say hello.

“H-hey, Grandma,” I said, having to hold on to the couch to keep from falling over.

“Hi, hon. You sound like you just woke up. Did you get all of your homework done?”

“I did juss wake up,” I lied, avoiding her last question. I was trying not to slur my words as well. “Didja win?”

“Yes, I did! Victory to Ms. Rush!” she beamed triumphantly, not noticing my slurring speech.

“Gudjob, Grandma,” I said, practically falling onto the couch.

“You sound tired, sweetheart. It’s late; why don’t you go to bed?” Bed sounded like a good idea.

“’Kay,” I said, turning around to go back into my room. But instead of making it into my room like I’d intended, I took a sudden left to the bathroom, where I threw up.


I couldn’t go to school the next morning; my head hurt way too much. I was also throwing up a lot, so Grandma said I could stay home (I told her I ate some of the vegetarian lasagna for dinner while she was at her bridge club, and that’s why I was throwing up. Thankfully, she believed me). Thank God she didn’t notice the smell of alcohol anywhere, or I would be in deep shit.

I couldn’t seem to help my drinking, though: Mikey was coming soon, and my life was about to be over as a result. I still hadn’t told Grandma yet, and I wasn’t sure if Frank even knew Mikey was moving. Never mind, forget Frank. It was going to be hard to, but I had to. He used me; he hurt me. And as a result, I accidentally hurt him.

I stayed home all day, thinking about Frank. I didn’t need him, and I certainly didn’t want someone that was going to lie to me, backstab me, or betray me. From then on, I was going to be more cautious as to who I tell stuff to, and I was going to trust no one.

I also didn’t need this alcohol. That was one nightmare that I was not going to dream again; even if it meant never going to sleep.

Frank's POV

Gerard wasn’t in school today; I noticed before the school day even started. I wanted to apologize for yesterday, if he’d even listen.

“Mr. Iero, why weren’t you in detention yesterday?”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, hoping Mrs. Smith wouldn’t make me answer. She didn’t; the classroom phone rang, and she went to answer it.

“Mrs. Smith’s room. Yes, Principal Briggs, I already turned those papers in. Thank you. Oh, by the way, did you talk to Gerard Way yesterday? You did? Good. Thanks for calling.” She hung up the phone and turned toward the class to start the lesson.

Why did she want to know whether or not the principal talked to Gerard? Oh, right: he was supposed to be suspended. But he didn’t talk about being suspended; I remember him telling me that the principal only thought he forgot where his homeroom was. Lucky.

But why then was he not here?

After failing a make-up pop quiz, the bell rang and the rest of my school day carried on as normal. Well, not exactly normal, but you know what I mean.

I had to endure Eric’s stares and smirks all during my free period. I was pretty sure he threw a couple of things at me when the teacher wasn’t looking.

History was the worst. Turns out that now Eric and Alex are suddenly best friends, and Alex kept getting text messages from Eric, who was in another class down the hall. I thought he was too involved with his phone to mess with me that class period, but I was wrong.

In the middle of class, I heard a very loud, “What the hell?! Frank Iero is gay?!” I turned around, face turning bright red. Alex, still holding his phone, was looking at me, mouth hanging open. The class looked at me and laughed.

I put my head down on the desk for the rest of the period. It didn’t bother me that everyone now knew I was into guys; it hurt because I knew I didn’t have the one that meant the world to me anymore.

Mikey’s POV

“Mikey?” I heard my mom call from down the stairs.

“Yeah?” I yelled back. I was still in my room, finishing off what was left of my packing. My room was now completely barren, except for the brown boxes that decorated the floor. My room seemed a lot bigger now.

“Bring down some of your boxes, the moving van’s here,” my mom continued, still downstairs.

“Already?” I shrieked. I didn’t think it was supposed to come for another three days.

“Yes, so bring down what you have. We’ll be leaving a little earlier than we expected.”

Gerard’s POV

Three-fifteen. School let out about this time. I hoped Frank wouldn’t come over here; I couldn’t take seeing him. It nearly killed me to know I hurt him, but the other half of my conscience told me he deserved it. I hated thinking like that, but it was semi-true: he had lifted my hopes from the very bottom of my black heart—something that I didn’t think was humanly possible—and made me feel like I had a chance at starting over with life.

But then he threw all my hopes and wishes to the ground and stomped on them, leaving them in a little pile of bloody pieces for everyone to see and step on.

I didn’t see why this was such a big deal for me. It had happened multiple times before: with Bert, with Mikey, with my own parents; not to mention my earlier years. And to think: the only person who ever wanted to help me, who ever did help me, was no longer among the living.

Now didn’t that make dying sound like fun?

Frank's POV

Going to bed that night was difficult, since I couldn’t get to sleep. I stayed awake, thinking about Gerard. I felt bad for saying something about homosexuals, but I needed him to know that I hadn’t meant to. I loved Gerard, and I wanted him to know that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.

Much like he did me, I couldn’t help but think. But it was an accident, right? I mean, he was mad and confused; anyone would forget about someone else’s contusions when he was angry, right? Hopefully he hadn’t meant to hurt me; he probably just forgot. But God, it did hurt.

Part of me wanted to go apologize to him, but the other part was afraid of what he’d do. It seemed a little absurd to be afraid of the one you loved; Gerard would never be abusive to me if he wasn’t angry. But anger is no excuse to hurt someone else.

I guess I’d just have to wait until I saw him tomorrow at school.