Gerard sat up quickly in his bed. His eyes were wide and wild with the fresh knowledge of a bad dream. He looked around, noticing his comforting surroundings: his bedroom. He flopped back down on his bed, thinking of what happened back then. It was so long ago, and he still wasn't over it.

Like he always did when he had a bad dream, Gerard reached his slim fingers under his pillow grabbing at the picture. It was worn out and faded from Gerard running his finger over the other man's face. He sighed as a fresh round of tears came into his eyes, ready to spill out already.

He missed his Frankie. It had only been a summer fling to him at the time, but after he said goodbye to Frank, he realized it was love. But it was too late. As he drove up to Frank's house, there were police cars out front, and the paramedics were zipping up a body bag that was not quite empty. Frank's mother sat on the curb, sobbing. She looked so hallow, as her sobs echoed out through the street. Neighbors looked out their windows with faces of pity for the woman.

Gerard immediately understood what was happening. He stumbled out of his car, and ran over to the crowd of police who were hopelessly questioning Frank's poor mother. The police pushed him back. He couldn't see straight. Tears were surely flying out of his eyes, along with a string of jumbled up words about how he loved Frank flowing from his mouth. The words that left his chapped lips were words about how it isn't true and how it can't be true. But it was.

Frank had left the world because Gerard left him.

Notes

I WAS CRYING WHILE I WROTE THIS SO YOU AREN'T ALONE IF YOU CRIED OKAY