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Hurt. Everything hurt. It hurt in his body, pain worming into his muscles, stinging his skin. It hurt his brain. He could almost feel the organ crying out in agony, in desperation, pulsing and throbbing like some sort of dying monster. It hurt in his soul. That strange, abstract place between his stomach and his chest felt vacant, empty, as if something that had once been there had been ripped out from inside him.

Why. Why, God, WHY did this have to hurt so much? Hurt with the pain of envy and lonliness and anger and that sweet, sad feeling of losing what you love most. And, dear God, it was so painful he couldn't stand, couldn't get off his knees as he let the tears so hot that his eyes stung flowed down his face and hit his jeans. He could hear himself sobbing, the dry, cracking sound of hitching breath that was so broken and childish and it hurt and it Hurt and IT HURT...

"No more..." He gasped out, hugging himself tightly with his arms around his chest as if to hold himself stable. "Please, God...N-no more...It hurts...It hurts so God damn much..."

Alone. He was going to die alone. He was going to die alone and afraid and wanting-NEEDING- more time in this world. No. In truth, he didn't want more time. If he backed out now, two days, maybe a day, later he would be wishing for another end. This was just a sudden last-second squeamishness. Once he began, it would end. Everything would end.

That's why he was doing this. That's why there was a glimmer of metal on the floor in front of him. That's why he was going to use that stupid, sharp piece of metal to cut and slash and bleed out every ounce of pain in his life. Pain that he couldn't control, pain that would never go away. That no amount of

his

embraces or kisses or words could fix. He was shattered beyond repair. But this was the cure. A simple, sweet cure.

Gerard picked up the knife. A kitchen knife. It was large and clean...perhps too large. No. It didn't mater. He was dying anyway. He quickly looked beside himself to make sure the suicide note was present. It was.

Then he was ready.

One cut. He let out a sob as it stung and the blood flowed free.

Ready for release.

Another. It didn't hurt as much this time...

Everything's gonna be okay now.

And another.

I'm so sorry.

Nothing hurt anymore.

------

Frank didn't make a sound. Inside his head her heard a scream but on the outside it was silence. A sudden wave of fear overwhelmed his body. The muscles in his legs became weak, the way one's leg feel after a very long run. They threatened to give out. Nausea burned in his stomach.

"G...Gerard?" He stuttered out in a whisper. The word was to no one. His own voice sounded alien, as if it belonged to someone else. He looked at the floor.

There was an enormous pool of blood. Forget what you've think you know about seeing someone dead. They don't lie there all pretty. The blood doesn't pool out in a perfect little circle. No, Gerard was lying on his side, his hair matted to his face with what Frank suspected to be tears and sweat. One leg was kicked out awkwardly as though Gerard had been trying to make himself comfortable before he died and hadn't quite got there. The arm with the cuts was stretched out and exposed. Frank couldn't stop staring at them. He was transfixed by those red, ugly marks on that beautiful man's body. The blood had gotten in Gerard's hair. That long, ebony hair that he used to stroke and play with and bury his face in.

Frank's legs gave out. As he fell to his knees, he felt tears spill out his eyes and roll down his face, collecting on his chin, dripping to the ground.

"Oh-Oh GOD!!" He cried, throwing up his hands and pulling at his hair. "Oh my GOD! Ger-Gerard! Oh my GOD!" He was sobbing now. Loud, animal-sounding sobs that shook his body and filed his chest. He couldn't stop. He couldn't stop crying and shaking and screaming Gerard's name and screaming to God, to someone, to ANYONE for help. He saw the note by Gerard's non-bloodied side and, still sobbing uncontrollably, picked it up and unfolded it. The handwriting was an almost illegible scrawl, stained wih tears and smudges of pen.

Dear Frank,
I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. I love you. I love you so much. But it just hurts too much. Please tell everyone I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I love you.
Gerard

Frank sobbed again. He could have helped. He could have stopped this. He could have tried and tried to help Gerard but he didn't, he didn't help, he couldn't save him.

"P-Please, Gerard..." He gasped. He said it as if it might bring him back, as if it might turn back time to where he could save him. He knew it couldn't. "...I'm sorry...I-I love you...Please, please, oh, God, please come back..."

Frank bent over and pull his forehead on the floor as he cried. His chest felt so heavy, so dense. Everything hurt.

Then he saw the knife.

Gerard must have thrown it when he was done because it was several feet away. Frank saw the gleam of it out of the corner of his eye. He crawled sluggishly towards it ad picked it up. There was half-dried blood on it. Frank suddenly felt a wave of calm permeate his sadness. It was as though he had gone completely numb inside. He frantically rolled up his sleeve and glanced at Gerard.

"I-I'll be there with you," Frank cried softly. "I-I'll f-f-follow you. It's gonna be alright, Gee."

Frank closed his eyes and swallowed. There was a terrible sting as he cut into the flesh of his wrist. He opened his eyes and let out a sound caught between a cry and a yelp. The gash was ugly and red, the warmth flowing out of his body and down onto his arms, into the crease of his elbow, dripping onto the floor. He had to make two more. Then he and Gerard would be the same, as they had always been.

The next two didn't hurt as badly. But now he was getting tired. His brain began to move more slowly. A sleepy, serene feeling came over him. He layed himself down next to Gerard, pulling the hair out of the other man's face and gently, quickly pressing their lips together. He clasped their hands together and squeezed as tightly as his weak body would let him.

"I love you," Frank whispered as his eyelids became heavy. "I'll be there with you. I'll follow you."

And nothing really hurt anymore.



Love of mine
Some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark
No blinding light
or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark

If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I will follow you into the dark

-Into the Dark
Death Cab for Cutie