He stared at the previously white wall with black and dead eyes, the reds painted a pretty picture. the paint brushes lay in the corner, the bristles stuck together and stiff from the dried blood. the tinny little horse hairs that had came loose were stuck to the giant gash across his stomach that had been sloppily sewn together with fishing wire.they had been torn out a couple of times, only to be replaced. some times he wandered what happened inside Gerard's head, because one minute he was oh so sorry and begging for forgiveness, they he fucking did this. he wasn't paying attention to the switchblade making sloppy work of his back anymore. he DID notice when it dug so deep into his hip it hit the bone. but then again, the blade probably wasn't a fifth into him he was so skinny. He was skinny before, bordering on anorexic even, but now it was to the point of Gerard being able to trace around his each and every bone of his body with a scalpel he found outside of a hospital. his pale skin was scared and looked like it belonged in a horror movie, his face was skill perfect though, the one place Gerard dare not touch except with gentle touches. If his face was fucked up and by some miracle he escaped away from him, no one would go near him, give him time to show his gloriously feisty yet sweet personality. and then when you got to know him well enough he was gentle as a newborn puppy. Well, now if anyone met his and got to know his personality he would just be a petrified wreak of a man, the scraps of a boy he used to be. the broken shards of a person and no matter how much glue, and tape, and how hard you try to sick him back together he just fall back apart again. but that's okay, because he's not getting out, he doesn't need anyone else and no matter how broken he is, he'll always be perfect in Gerard's eyes.

Mikey slammed the car door and marched into the shitty apartment block his brother called home, for now, because pretty sure his brother would be taking up residence in a grave. or a river bank, or maybe his basement where he could writhe in pain on the floor as cyanide worked its way through his system. two weeks. two mother fucking weeks, and no one had found Frank Mikey didn't want to check Gerard's apartment, but he had to, if he didn't there was that slim chance Frank would just rot away on the dirty hard wood floors or the coffee stained carpet. He needed him back in his arms, where we was safe and Mikey could have his wicked way with little Frankie's full consent and they could cuddle in some cottage on the outskirts of some little French town where the weather was perfect and some freaky way Frank would get pregnant or some weird shit and Gerard's funeral would be taking place all the way over in NJ while they made out on the beach in Mikey's prefect little French town where they never had to leave the house and they could just be weird and perfect and together. Mikey though about his little world inside his head as he marched down the hall to the door, as he kicked it down and as he head the fucking screams of pain and the cries for mercy.

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