FicWad

Gerard squinted into the bright sunlight, studying the sky for just a few moments. Just as he thought. There were no clouds anywhere in the brilliant blue field. He smiled. It hadn’t been sunny in almost three weeks, and he was relieved that the weather had finally changed. He knew he should have been used to the constant rain - it was normal for his home state, after all - but lately it seemed to be just one more thing causing him anguish.

He tipped his head back and poured the last of the liquid down his throat, earning confused looks from the people he passed on the sidewalk. He smiled to himself. Drinking coffee in the middle of the day probably surprised a few of them, but he was beyond caring. Little things like that never bothered him anymore. They never used to, really. He had stopped caring what people thought of him years and years ago, ever since-

No. He wouldn’t think about it. This day was perfect so far; he hadn’t been so happy in weeks. For once it felt like he could smile, really /smile/, without fear that some heartbreaking news would come and snatch it away. Even the sky was happy.

He continued down the sidewalk and glanced around at the small, quiet neighborhood. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, and the light seemed unnaturally bright because of it, but it didn’t bother him at all. His eye caught a street sign nearby and ran across the letters, and he nodded to himself. Frank’s house wasn’t more than a block away by now. His friend had called just a few minutes ago, interrupting his trip to Starbucks, and asked if he would come by and visit.

Gerard could understand. It had been nearly a year since he had last seen Frank; he had tried to see him once in a while, especially since he had decided to move the family back to New Jersey, but every time he did, the memories overtook him and he found himself unable to think, let alone visit a friend who had been so much a part of it all.

But today, things were different. Today he was happy, and nothing could hurt him. He almost felt invincible, on a high. High without the drugs. High on happiness.

He never would have thought it possible. Not during that time over two decades ago, when he nearly killed himself because he hated being so dependent on those horrible poisons. Not nineteen years ago, when he thought the darkness of that Godforsaken house would drive him insane. Not ten years ago, or even one year ago, when his two closest friends were taken from him.

Not even the day before, as a matter of fact.

But it wasn’t yesterday. It wasn’t that day a year ago, that day ten years ago, or any of those days scattered throughout time that he thought he would be overcome by darkness and his own depression. It was a bright, sunny day, a day on which nothing could go wrong. A fresh start, a break from the pounding, pressing, frigid rain that seemed to diligently hammer away at his mind as well as the windows.

He could see the house now, and with a smile he walked across the grass and to the front door. There were no cars in the driveway, but he knew Frank had to be home. He usually liked walking places, anyway. There was no answer, so Gerard opened the door and poked his head inside.

He was immediately met with a wave of darkness that temporarily blinded him, causing him to blink rapidly to help his eyes adjust. He walked into the living room and shut the door behind him, sealing off the house from the bright light of the outside world. Glancing to his left, Gerard could see sunlight filtering through the blinds in thin, golden slats, reflecting off of dust particles floating in the air. He walked deeper into the house.

“Frank?” he called in a loud voice. A soft sound filled the air around him, and he immediately fell silent to hear it better. He suddenly found himself waving one hand through the air in a fluid, familiar motion. Down, left, right, up. One, two, three, four.

He was conducting music. His music.

“…what are you gonna do?”

It wasn’t him. It was Frank, singing along to the song from a place at the other end of the house. Gerard followed the sound of his voice and the familiar path of hallways to his friend’s room, or at least the room where he spent most of his time. The door was just barely cracked open, and Gerard pushed it with the palm of his hand.

He was immediately hit with a horrible collection of smells; they seemed to attack the very air and crack the lining of his lungs. He recoiled from the strength of it in disgust. Clamping one hand tight over his nose and mouth, he gingerly pushed the door open further.

“Hey, Gerard,” Frank called lazily, turning the music down to a reasonable level. He was surrounded with so many empty pizza boxes, beer bottles, and Twinkies wrappers that Gerard wondered if he had settled in for the winter.

“What the hell happened to you?” Gerard asked in a mixture of shock and morbid disgust. “You look like you haven’t moved in days. And what is that smell?!”

“Probably the pizza,” Frank said with a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You’re drunk, aren’t you,” Gerard said flatly, voice becoming distorted as it filtered between his fingers. It wasn’t a question.

“Not right now,” Frank said with a yawn. “I’m tired, though.” He brushed some garbage off of himself and stood, practically falling onto Gerard and clumsily hugging him. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Frankie,” said Gerard. He wrinkled his nose at Frank’s wretched smell, but didn’t pull away. He knew they needed each other. He let Frank back away first.

“Listen, why don’t you let me shower first…I didn’t really expect you to be over so soon.”

Gerard frowned at him. “But…you called me.”

“I know,” said Frank, nodding vigorously. He cracked a smile. “But you’re infamous for being at least 15 minutes late for anything but award shows.” Gerard took this into account and smiled, then gratefully retreated to the Iero family living room.

He took a quick detour through the kitchen to grab a snack, but when he opened the fridge door, another strong smell hit him, this time one that burned the inside of his nose. His eyes flicked wildly around the inside of the fridge, looking for something that might have been the source-

And then he saw it. A glass bottle, just a few white remnants of its label still glued on, seemed planted in one of the compartments set into the door. It was colored a dark, opaque brown and was topped with what looked like the rubber top to an eyedropper. Gerard leaned closer to examine it, but his eyes began watering from the fumes, and he quickly shut the door and gagged.

He quickly ran out of the kitchen and into the living room. He rested on the sofa with his head tilted back, conforming to the couch’s shape flawlessly, and tried to breathe slowly to soothe his scalded airways.

Gerard was quickly becoming afraid, but he told himself to remain calm- especially since deeper, hyperventilating breaths only made his throat and nose burn more.

Frank finally reentered the room, no longer radiating the smell of rotted food. He sat down next to Gerard. A flicker of worry flashed across his face as he realized something was wrong with his friend.

“Are you alright, Gerard?” he asked, pausing just before saying his name. He still missed calling Gerard by his nickname, but he knew better.

“Th…the fridge…” Gerard breathed. His face scrunched up in pain. Frank immediately ran into the kitchen and soaked a nearby dish rag with cold water, then carried it back to the living room and gave it to Gerard.

“Put this over your nose and mouth,” he said firmly. “It’ll help.” Gerard eyed him warily, but took the cloth and pressed it against the lower half of his face, trying to breathe slowly. The pain was eased within a few seconds. Gerard sighed in relief.

“What was that stuff?” he asked Frank. His voice was muffled through the rag, but Frank could still understand him. Frank did not answer; instead he walked over to the door, looked out the peephole for a few seconds, and locked the door.

“What is it?” Gerard asked.

“Oh, there’s been some shady guy hanging around my house recently,” Frank replied. “I’d rather not have him burst in here.” He sighed and returned to his place next to Gerard. A red-tinted stain was working its way through the cloth. Gerard’s nose was bleeding lightly.

“What’s going on here, Frank?” he asked. There was no other way to put it. Frank sighed deeply.

“You’re probably wondering what I was thinking,” he said slowly. Gerard almost nodded.

“Yeah. I’d like to know why my nose is bleeding just from opening the fridge,” he said sarcastically. Finally tilting his head forward and sitting normally, he caught sight of Frank’s face and immediately regretted speaking. Frank looked wounded from the force of his words. Gerard knew he had looked and felt the same way so many times before, too many times. Before he could apologize, though, Frank spoke again.

“I knew it was hurtful to you,” he said shamefully. “I knew it. So I had to do something to change it.”

“Hurtful?” Gerard asked in complete confusion. “What-”

“I hated seeing you such a wreck like that,” Frank continued. “Our lives completely fell apart, didn’t they? Especially you. You were broken, Gerard. You were…” His voice dropped to a frightening, guilt-laden whisper. “…/shattered.”/

Gerard could only stare at him in disbelief. His mind began to pick out pieces of old memories, like shards of the fragile, shattered glass of his mind. The jagged edges flew together and clicked perfectly into place. And Frank knew.

“So I had to get rid of it.”

“You…” Gerard mouthed the word, but no sound escaped his lips. He swallowed once and ignored the burning pain. It was nothing compared to the scorching anger bubbling up inside of him like lava from a volcano.

“Please let me finish,” Frank said placidly. Gerard pressed his lips into a thin line and ground his teeth against each other. It took all of his self control not to lash out at the man seated next to him.

“I knew it had hurt you. But I got to do something I hadn’t done in eight years, Gerard.” Frank finally lifted his gaze to meet his friend’s eyes, and for once Gerard saw the desperation in them. “I got to see you.

“And that made it all worth it.”

Gerard suddenly found himself unable to speak. His mouth had gone dry; his tongue felt like a wad of sandpaper. The anger still threatened to spill over, like a pot left to boil over the fire for too long, but he remained still. He couldn’t let this bother him; he couldn’t let it ruin him. This was a perfect day. Today he was happy, and nothing could hurt him. Nothing.

“And then…” Frank seemed to be filled with his own rage as his small, smooth, tanned hands curled into threatening fists. “And then…he went after my /daughter/…she almost chose him over /me/…”

“That was just-” Gerard yelled, halting mid-sentence, going through the memory again so he could be certain he was not wrong.

“Yeah? Just /what/, Gerard?” Frank shot back with a heavy glare.

“It was just- just nothing!” Gerard shouted. “Just a kid’s game! She was just a child, Frank! It didn’t mean anything!”

Both of them sat there in the awkward silence, the weight of the atmosphere seeming to grind into their shoulders. Their eyes met in a spark-filled, angry glare. Frank was the first to break it, resuming his pacified state.

“And it still meant I got to see you again,” he said in a tone so inaudible, so soundless, that the words nearly missed Gerard’s ears. Nearly.

And again his anger began to wash away as he realized how torn Frank sounded. It was as if his emotions were part of a giant wave, cresting and falling, ebbing and flowing, changing more constantly and drastically than those of a hormonal teenage girl.

Their screams seemed to take the place of oxygen in the air. There were so many people, mostly girls, so many girls. They had to be endless; it was the only explanation for the immense amount of noise reaching his ears. So many, thousands, maybe even tens of thousands, he couldn’t tell.

And they were all for him.

“I can’t hear you!” he said into the microphone with a tone of warning, placing a hand against his ear for added effect as the screeches swelled in volume. He could hear Frank bursting into laughter nearby, and he wasn’t surprised. Something hit him in the back of the head. He looked to the ground behind him and saw a thin drumstick lying on the ground. He picked it up and looked back at Bob, who was doing his best to look innocent.

“You guys are hopeless,” Ray shouted over to them. Gerard flashed an evil smile and tossed the drumstick into the crowd, where hundreds of hands shot into the air in hopes of catching it.

“You’ll start a riot, Gee!” cried Mikey with that same goofy smile he always had. Gerard mirrored it perfectly.

“Mikey,” he croaked, no longer even looking at Frank. It was the only thought on his mind. A sick, dreading feeling settled over him.

He jumped to his feet and ran back to Frank’s room. He hit the walls along the way countless times, and knew it would leave bruises, but the thought and the pain and everything else in the world was shoved to the back of his mind. “Mikey-”

And Frank knew. Frank sat quietly, unmoving, without emotion. His facial expression was one of cold indifference, even as he heard the door being thrown into the wall, even as he heard the scream of anguish and agony, even when the heart-stabbing sobs began to echo throughout his home, never fading, never changing, never leaving-

He stood. He slowly walked around the sofa, towards the hallway, around the corner, to the flung-open door whose handle had left a lovely dent in the wall, all with a placid, abnormal calmness no one should ever possess.

That song was still playing in the background as he entered the room. He had it on single repeat; it was the only one he wanted to listen to at the moment.

“Mi…Mikey…” sobbed Gerard, gripping the black-clad form with arms of the same color. He didn’t care about the sickly-colored liquid oozing from his brother’s swollen face and onto his shirt. He didn’t care that the smell was nearly overpowering him. He slowly rocked back and forth, cradling his brother, begging, wishing, praying that things were different, that somehow, some way, Mikey would hug him back, that he would wake up and wipe off the disgusting, morbid makeup, and it would all be just a prank, and Bob and Ray would come out of hiding, and it would all be just a silly game-

And suddenly a cold-faced Frank was casually leaning against the doorway. And Gerard looked up at him with every ounce of pain, mistrust, and betrayal in his body, allowing the unthinkable torture to show itself on his face. None of it was forced.

“He came to me four days ago,” Frank said icily. “He begged, he /pleaded/, to know what secrets and fears you were telling me. And I told him nothing, because we hadn’t spoken in exactly a year. But he didn’t believe me. He said that maybe there was something I knew that no one else did, that maybe I was in on it all…” He glared down at the two brothers, both with liquid-coated, almost unrecognizable faces.

“He was right. He always was too smart for his own good.”

The scream that followed could not have been human. It was deep, demonic, and laden with heavy rage and betrayal. No human had ever made such a terrifying, horrid sound, because there was no chance that any human had ever felt so much pain and lived to speak of it. The pain from the scream itself would likely have sent many to exhaustion.

No one would ever have guessed that it belonged to Gerard.

He was on his feet in an instant and slammed into Frank, pummeling his frail body furiously with his fists. Frank knew Gerard was stronger than him and whimpered from the force of the punches, but almost as soon as the whirlwind had descended upon him it faded away. Gerard was quickly reduced to nothing more than a sobbing, sad mess of tears and a broken, shattered voice.

Frank embraced him, for it was the only thing he was capable of doing at the moment. He was not crying; in fact, he held no remorse at all. But he did hate it when Gerard was upset. He knew it would pass, and until then he planned to be the silent, caring friend, the one that would always be there to pick him up after he fell…even if Frank had been the one to trip him in the first place.

Frank stood and pulled Gerard with him, dragging the non-functioning older Way brother towards the kitchen. As soon as Frank’s touch left his arm, Gerard crumpled to the floor, still filled with tears. He smelled of morbid sickness, and he felt like throwing up, but knew there was nothing in his stomach but acid. He still had the image of Mikey’s bloated, sagging, destroyed face in his mind.

“He was trying to take you away from me,” Frank broke in suddenly. He opened the fridge and removed the ominous jar from its place, tilting it forward to take it out of the deep shelf, and gently set it on the counter. The cold air wafted over to Gerard, flittered around his face, and caused him to look up with terrified, wondering eyes. Frank shut the door and helped pull Gerard to his feet, seating him in a chair just as quickly. Gerard didn’t bother fighting any of it.

“Do you know what this is?” Frank asked him as if speaking to a child. Gerard shook his head one time. “It’s hydrofluoric acid.” The words slipped out of Frank’s mouth so fast that all Gerard heard was a jumbled mess of syllables. But the word acid was still painfully clear. “Not very strong stuff; pretty weakly concentrated.” Frank picked up the bottle and began turning it over in his hands, thoughtfully, purposefully.

“You could spill it on your hand, and you wouldn’t get a burn. But then time begins to pass, and you feel like something isn’t exactly right in the center of your wrist, but you see nothing, so nothing must be wrong.” Gerard tried to swallow to regain some hope of speaking, but it felt like a mix of peanut butter and dirt was clogging his throat. He was shocked enough that he could even breathe. “And slowly, very slowly, that feeling becomes more noticeable. Then it starts to hurt, but there’s nothing you can do.”

A savage gleam had glazed over Frank’s eyes, turning the soft hazel into a wild, untamed color Gerard had never seen before. It terrified him to the very core of his heart.

Something broke near his brain, and blood began pouring out of his nose and down the front of his black shirt. He did nothing to stop it, so Frank grabbed a towel hanging by the sink, soaked it with cold water, and pressed it against his friend’s face. Gerard could not look away from Frank’s eyes. They were so soulless, so stone-cold, that he wondered if they even belonged to the same person.

He continued speaking as if nothing had happened, tending to Gerard like a mother, but speaking to him like a psychopath.

“And it’s because the acid seeps through your skin and dissolves your bones from the inside out. And everything collapses and falls apart. Then slowly, very slowly-” He was murmuring now, almost whispering. “-the millions upon millions of bacteria living beneath your skin, living inside you, then they get to have their fun. They eat you from the inside out, just like the acid.” Now his face held a perfectly balanced, sadistic smile, as he continued to wipe the fresh blood from his friend’s face.

“And then- do you know what happens then, Gerard?”

Gerard did not respond. The shock had robbed him of all senses, of all feeling. He could do nothing on his own. He felt like a lost puppy again, only this time, he had done nothing wrong.

“Then…you just…/die,”/ Frank whispered. It looked like he was trying to contain his excitement. There were so many things Gerard wanted to do, but suddenly having lost part of his life supply, he didn’t even feel like living. It was too much.

“I…I did it wrong, though,” Frank added suddenly, glancing away and giving a small pout that reminded him of Leila. “The song…the song said ten years…but I only waited one…because I didn’t want you to leave. I didn’t want you to be taken away from me.” Frank stared directly into Gerard’s frightened eyes now. Their faces couldn’t have been more than three inches apart. “I need you.”

Suddenly Gerard realized what Frank was talking about. And the energy pooled inside him and made him run, not for safety or freedom, but back into the depths of the house where his life had been shredded and shattered. He heard the song playing, but it was quiet, too quiet for him to understand. It seemed unfamiliar, as if he was hearing it for the first time. He turned the volume up, just enough to be normal, but his hand kept moving, and suddenly it was pounding in his ears, filling every one of his dissolved senses with sound.

It started over.

“Well you can hide a lot about yourself, but honey, what are you gonna do? …And you can sleep in a coffin, but the past ain’t through with you.”

No. It was too similar. Too close to what had happened. He couldn’t have written that…could he?

“You wrote this a long time ago, Gerard,” Frank said with the sick, sadistic grin still hanging on his face. “And I knew it was because you wanted it to come true.”

“‘Cause it’s tragic with a capital ‘T’, let it be, let it be, let it be!” Frank joined in on the chorus, singing horribly off key, but Gerard said nothing to correct him. It was impossible.

“‘Cause we all wanna party when the funeral ends…and we all get together when we bury our friends…it’s been eight bitter years since I been seein’ your face…and you’re walking away, and I will die in this place.”

Something wrapped a fist around his fallen heart and wrenched him to his feet. He knew a long-unfamiliar feeling was growing inside him, and it brought him immediate peace of mind knowing what would happen. He hadn’t felt it in years, but he knew it was exactly what he needed. He could almost hear their voices shouting it at him now, screaming it, wanting it, needing it-

Revenge.

And Gerard did something else he hadn’t done in years. He opened his eyes - two hazel orbs full of burning fury - he opened his mouth, and he began to sing.

“Sometimes you scrape and sink so low, I’m shocked at what you’re capable of!” he sang, pointing an accusing finger at Frank. “And if this is a coronation, I ain’t feelin’ the love.” He began to step towards Frank, who automatically backed away. “‘Cause we are all a bunch of animals that never paid attention in school!” Gerard shouted. Before he could continue, though, Frank took over the situation.

“So tell me all about your problems; I was killing before killing was cool!” he yelled back with equal emotion. They had never been in a shouting match quite like this before, and it was awkward to both, but both were also feeling its power. Gerard thought of Bob, and the strong, powerful person he was; of Ray, with his usually nonviolent ways, unless someone insulted his friends; and of Mikey, sweet, sweet little Mikey, who was only looking for a friend and instead found a murderer.

Gerard took deliberate steps toward Frank, who began to back away instinctively. Gerard’s steps were in time with the music, and though Frank knew it was over, he refused to quit. Maybe there was still a chance he could reason with his friend, talk sense back into his deranged mind-

“‘Cause we all wanna party when the funeral ends.” Gerard was speaking now, not singing. Frank had backed himself into a corner and had no means of escape. “And we all get together when we bury our friends…it’s been nine bitter years since I’ve been seein’ your face-”

Frank spotted the jar of acid nearby and grabbed it before Gerard could notice it. And suddenly their singing, shouting, intimidation match was over.

Frank carefully unscrewed the little rubber lid of the bottle. He lifted the eyedropper portion out of the glass and tossed it aside, not really caring where it ended up. Gerard remained frozen in place, determined not to let Frank free.

“You killed my friends,” Gerard said slowly, without blinking. “You murdered my brother. And now…now you’re going to pay for it.”

Frank suddenly began to snicker.

“You’ll never take me alive.”

He shoved the brown bottle to his lips and gulped down the liquid before Gerard could wrench the object away from him. It fell to the floor and shattered into countless shards of nothing. Just seconds later, Frank went into convulsions, writhing in pain on the floor like a creature of darkness brought into the light.

Something that bothered Gerard was that Frank did not let out a single cry.

About thirty seconds later, Frank emptied the contents of his stomach on the kitchen’s white tiled floor, sending him into a state of weak bliss as small, red-filled cuts began to congregate on his pale skin. Gerard knelt by his side, feeling horribly guilty that he wasn’t helping, that he didn’t want to help, that he wanted Frank to suffer…maybe even to die.

He propped Frank against his own folded knees, watching as his friend coughed and spit up blood all over his black jeans and the floor. But seeing Frank so helpless made him forget about things like that. He suddenly wished he had done something to change it all.

“A-and you’re…w- wa- walkin’…away-” Frank tried to splutter the words, but they were completely obscured by the red liquid filling his mouth.

“I’m not going anywhere, Frankie,” Gerard said softly, forcing back the burning feelings of revenge that threatened to conquer his mind. “I’m right here.”

“And I…I will dr-”

A small puff of air escaped Frank’s parted, bloodstained lips, and his eyes went dull.

Gerard sank to the floor, feeling the last shard of glass from the shattered window of his life fall past him, landing in the form of a particularly large, deep amber fragment near his right hand. He knew what to do.

“I don’t know why you did it, Frank,” he croaked softly as he decisively pushed back the sleeves on each of his arms. “I don’t know, and I…I don’t think I really [I]want[/I] to know. But I guess you were right, after all.”

The shard found a new home, buried deep in Gerard’s own left forearm, having carved through flesh and tendons and blood, oh, so much blood, and coming to rest in broken pieces that embedded themselves closer to his wrist. Five pieces, to be exact.

And as the dizzying feeling overtook him and the warm, red life flowed out of him and pooled around his fingertips, he gave a soft smile and thought of his brother’s face.

“It’s useless to stop halfway. You need to kill all your friends.”
-
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