FicWad

A/N: This isn't really anything, just drabble. Actually, you could consider it a miniature (although slightly different) version of that other story I've been sitting on.

Either way, I was just in that kind of mood.

An Apology by Frank Iero

I remember the day he first met Shawn. His eyes lit up for the first time in months; since the time she left him.

I remember when they first began to date: Gerard had called me, ecstatic and nervous when he asked him out. I congratulated him. I was happy for my friend.

For many months after that night, Gerard wore a smile on his face.

And I remember the first time I had caught Gerard crying after a show, hiding in a dark corner by his lonesome. I asked him why. He merely spoke Shawn's name and shook his head, tears raining down his pretty face. I assumed they had a fight. Normal, I figured, and I let it be.

I remember when the crying became more frequent. Gerard would try to hide it, but I'd always see him. He was bad at hiding it. Or maybe...maybe some part of him wanted me to see.

I remember when the bruises started appearing.

Why?

Why didn't I do anything then?

Why didn't I stop this before it started?

It didn't take long, before I realized these were more than just silly arguments. I don't know if the other guys didn't see it, or if they were just too busy to care. I'm horrified to think that I'm part of the latter. I know I am. I feel more anguish over that then anyone can ever know.

Mikey should have seen it. Although Gerard and I were best friends for many years, we did drift in recent times. I eventually became closer to Ray, and Gerard to his brother. Why didn't he see it?

The answer is that we were all caught up in our own lives, while Gerard was losing his.

I continued to watch it happen. I think he knew that I knew. He would look at me sometimes, after he had come back from seeing Shawn, and there would be this sense of pleading in his eyes. He needed me to help him, but I think...I think he was too scared to ask.

I hate myself for turning away.

I remember when he collapsed backstage. We took him to the doctor, and he had two broken ribs and a broken ankle. His excuse was that he fell down some stairs.

Well, that was almost true. He did fall down stairs, but only because Shawn pushed him down them, kicking him as he went along.

Gerard, I'm so god damn sorry. I wish you knew how I cry a little every day, wishing I could have done something.

Yet I didn't, did I? The truth was that I didn't want to get involved. Shawn was a dangerous man, although that should have been more of an incentive for me to protect you from him. I ran off like a fucking coward, partly scared for my own family. Because I still had one, and you didn't. So we let you fall while watching from a distance.

I think I was hoping that you would fight him on your own. Of course, I should have remembered that you were never a fighter -- not physically anyway. It wasn't in your character, that character that I loved for so many years.

I failed you, Gerard.

And I remember the last day I came into your room.

You weren't breathing anymore.

A few tear drops slide down Frank's face as he writes that last sentence. His heart feels ready to burst with ache, his lips twitching. He sets down the paper in his hands on the cement square before him. Seeing that it's late, he stands up and concludes his daily visit to Gerard Way's grave.

END.