FicWad

When Gerard heard the bad news from Leslie, he didn’t cry. Leslie did, but Leslie was piss drunk at this point and didn’t really care.
“He was happy, most of the time. But fuck him, fuck him, he was only like this for a day, and we could’ve just, y’know, talked!” Leslie screamed, voice bouncing off the walls of the Dorm.
Everybody else was shocked into silence.
“How’d he do it?” Ray asked from the back of the room.
“Million Dollar Baby style. He bit his tongue and choked on the blood. Oh, God. Oh, God,” Leslie sobbed, wiping his eyes on his sleeves.
Gerard could barely hear himself saying, I think I need a walk. He left without a jacket.
Maybe he’d just freeze to death. Wouldn’t that be great?

Walking through the snowy quad, everything seemed too quiet. He’d only known Sidney about four months, why did he care so much?
“Alright, fags, listen up...”
He couldn’t be dead.
“I just want you to eat each other while I watch and laugh.”
Doctors make mistakes all the time.
“I am the bad guy.”
Gerard broke into a run. No, Sidney couldn’t be dead. But he was. Yesterday, he’d promised, he said he’d see him tomorrow.
“It’s tomorrow! Where are you, Sidney?” he yelled.
“I was your friend! I WAS YOUR FRIEND! YOU DIDN’T CARE! YOU NEVER CARED ABOUT ANYONE BUT YOURSELF!” Gerard screamed, kicking a snowdrift.
“AND NOW YOU’RE DEAD! YOU’RE DEAD! THAT’S GREAT! I HATE YOU, SIDNEY GUMB!”
Gerard shouted, pounding his fists into his thighs.

Hearing footsteps in the snow, he turned around. Apple Corleone was standing behind him, eye makeup smudged around her face and nose bright red.
“So it’s true? He’s dead?” she asked, looking at Gerard.
“Don’t be fucking dense. Of course he is. Tragic motherfucking Hamlet had to do it to himself,” Gerard snapped, folding his arms.
“Hey, watch your fucking mouth.”
Gerard snorted in derision. “Really? This coming from you? Like I care what you think.”
“What the hell ever. Listen, you know who else didn’t care? Sidney. He probably used language like that at your age, too,” Apple said, digging in the pockets of her jacket.
“Whatever. He’s an asshole, you’re a bitch, and I probably need therapy.”

Apple shrugged, lighting up a cigarette.
“How close were you two, anyway?” Gerard asked.
“He split your dorm more often than you know, kid. We spend a lot of time together, although he didn’t up and goddamn recognize me half the time,” Apple said, taking a drag.
“That shit’ll kill you before you’re thirty,” said Gerard.
“So will suicide.”

When he returned back to his Dorm, shivering cold, Gerard found everyone in the same spot he left them.
“What’re we gonna do?” Mikey asked.
“Easy. We’re gonna go to Sidney’s fucking funeral in the new year, watch them put a dead boy in the ground, pray, and go home,” Frankie answered.
“What about Troupe?” Mikey responded.
“There is no Troupe. Whatever it was, it died with Sidney. He was the Troupe. Then he chose to slice open his tongue and die. End of story!” Ray snapped.
“Easy, dude. It’ll all be okay. Everything’s gonna be alright,” Leslie said, who was lying facedown on the carpet where he had played twister with Apple and Sid a few days ago.

~*~
Gerard stayed for the funeral, but he barely remembered it. He remembered hating the fact that Sidney’s dad was there, he remembered it being bitterly cold, but that was it.
“Can I kill myself too?” he asked Leslie after the service.
“No. You can be a power ranger when you grow up, but that’s about it.”

At Midnight, on New Year’s Eve, Frankie was woken up by Leslie and was told to gather everyone else for one last meeting.
When he got down to the basement, a few guttered candles lit up a pile of spray paint cans.
“Tag whatever you want. Just don’t talk bullshit. If Sidney beat you up, say that. If you hated him, say that too!” Leslie commanded, tossing spray paint to random kids.
Gerard picked up a red can, and in big letters wrote, SIDNEY GUMB WAS A FRIEND OF MINE.
Following suit, Frankie picked up a blue can and wrote, SIDNEY GUMB WAS HONEST TO ME.
Ray rolled his eyes, picked up a yellow can and wrote, SIDNEY GUMB WAS AN ASSHOLE.
Mikey, who was last, picked up a can of purple spray paint, and wrote, SIDNEY GUMB PUNCHED ME ONCE.

When everyone was done, the whole room was cluttered with spray paint. Floor, ceiling, walls, everywhere, were small things.
“He would’ve thought this was so cool,” Leslie said, grinning.

~*~

“Mr. Way, we’re all very worried about you,” Father Starnes said.
“Okay.”
“We know you had a close relationship with Sidney.”
“Okay.”
It had been two weeks after Sidney’s funeral. Gerard folded his hands in his lap, not breaking eye contact with Father Starnes. Father Starnes had a long, beaky nose, dark eyes, and a mouth that always looked like it had said too much bad news. He was known as the Eagle, and right now, Gerard could see the resemblance.

“Mr. Way, do you know of any sort of....absence? Would Sidney ever sneak out? We think he might have been running some sort of...underground...fighting ring. Do you know anything about that?” Father Starnes asked, leaning forwards towards Gerard.
Gerard shrugged, feeling the bruise in between his shoulder blades protest.
“I’m sorry. But I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

(A.N. I CANNOT BELIEVE I AM FINALLY DONE THIS MONSTER. Ended it just the way I wanted to, sort of. I didn't want it to be as horrible as it is, but still, killing my own character has to count for something, right? Thanks to everyone who read it, it's really nice of you to do so seeing as I'm not well known and I don't have solid cred. Thank you so much!)