The Next week was rather. . . Interesting to say the least. And Remember, interesting isn't always a good thing. I actually have gained some slight insomnia, only sleeping about 4 hours each morning. Also, Dr. Deathdefy has been a little bitchy, saying I should be thankful to him. Hes gotten slightly...aggressive. I dont mean to piss him off, I mean he's hella scary. I'm not even doing anything. I don't know, maybe hes getting into his own drugs. It really would make sense. He looks like a druggie already. I mean, Right now, he's yelling at me about "Miss Murder", Another one of my facades and how it worked a lot better than Party Poison.

"...Party Poison makes you look so much older!! You need to dye your hair after your show tonight. Got it?" I like my red. Its so fun! I don't wanna get rid of it.

"But sir, please. It seems to attract plenty of men!" I plead standing in my show clothes. I feel a sharp, quick pain to my face as he slaps me hard. I fall to the ground meekly from the force of the blow. You know those 'pimp slaps'? Well they are real, and hurt like fucking hell when from a real pimp. I whimper out a small noise, feeling so small and minuscule. This was one of the worst feelings ever. The feeling of being worthless. Pointless. Insignificant.

"Dye it you fucking slut. When I say you do something, you fucking do it. You Understand me?" I nod softly, muttering a "yes sir." But that wasn't enough for him. He kicks me in the side of my stomach, hitting a tender spot on my body. I groan in pain.

"I said, Do You Fucking Understand Me?" He clenches the words out in sudden anger, his saliva flying from his lips onto my face as he leans to look in my fear filled hazel eyes.

"Yes, S-Sir. I understand" I say shakily, bowing my head away from his frightfully piercing Green eyes. He stands straight again, looming over my frail body.

"That's right. I'm In charge. I own you, Bitch." He says in a growl. I try to get up, pulling myself to my hands and knees, only to be shoved down again by an expensive shoe. I fall onto the floor, my face slamming into the tiled black and white floor. Pain surged through my head and back from the blunt force.

"Did I say you could get up, Slut?" he kicks me in the tendered spot again, making me groan and not want to get up anymore. The pain is from the inside aswell, burning from under my skin. I could feel his anger through the painful blow.

"How 'bout I help you up" he mutters, gripping my red hair and yanking it upwards and backwards. I feel the individial strands of hair pulling, stressing itself to be free of its bondage to my skin. He pulls me up to my knees, tugging his hand out of the now knotted scarlet locks. The pain comes from three pin pointed places on my body. my back, my face, and my side.

"I said, Get Up."

I Scramble to my feet, rushing to get out of another painful injury. The current ones I have sting, his steel toed shoes surely left injuries on my body. "Good Puppet" he says. calling me the nickname he made for me about 4 months ago. Once He started "liking" me. I can't help but fear him and how many links he has. I wouldn't be surprised if he has links to some sort of Mafia. He's friends with many gangs, the ones he supplies to.

I hate this life. Hate it so much. Why can't I be a normal teenager, who loves video games and takes Trigonometry and tries to fit in. I just wanna live a normal life. I just want to be what I didn't want to be a year ago. It's so foolish to want to grow up. I want to be a kid forever, so I can never have to stress like this just to survive. Fuck my parents, They don't deserve to Have happiness. They stole my life away, and I'm scared everyday that they will steal Mikey's too. Why they left, I'll Never Know. But they didn't go discretely. No, they would never. They packed up they're stuff in front of our eyes, packed a Moving truck, and drove out of our lives. But not without me yelling a fuck you in their faces. Mom looked slightly hurt, Dad was pissed.

"Now get dressed, It's almost time for the show" He growls, bringing in a big breath in his mouth and breathing it out into my face, leaving a foul smell around me. I nod as I follow him out of the room and into the dressing room. I pull on my ordinary attire, disgusted by the view in the mirror. I look like a ....slut. Because thats what I am. A disgusting little slut. I hate myself so much. I slip my yellow mask over my eyes as I step out of the room.

I notice the darkness outside while walking down the hall. I should go sneak a cigarette without DeathDefy noticing. I step out, pulling a cigarette out from my shoe. I pull out my lighter from the same place, lighting the cigarette in my mouth. I drag in a large puff of smoke, blowing it free when I feel the slight sting in my throat. I don't know why this gives me so much pleasure but it does. I pull in another burning cloud of smoke. I see a person passing by on the street, walking angrily. they notice me and groans in disgust. The person looks slightly familiar, but I have no fucking clue anymore with faces and names. I've always had a hard time with this. And plus, it was in the darkness, making it tougher to see.

"Fucking Faggot" He mutters in distaste. I stop in shock and anger. I haven't heard that voice in 4 fucking months. Man, those months were so great without him. The Homophobic prick who would put me down every fucking day. This was Fucking Jonathan Hales. My Tormentor, The person with the large charade. The one who was my first crush, My first Fucking Kiss. Fuck Him. I'm So sick of this, I've been called slut,whore, anything you can possibly think of. But the one I haven't heard in a while was faggot.

"What did you just say?" I say, suddenly standing up in anger. How fucking dare he. My cigarette was now on the ground, discarded in the rush of teenage angst and anger. He looks at me with a sudden rush of thought, but soon drops it, going back to anger. I don't think he recognizes me yet, But Damn, Do I remember him.

"I called You A fucking faggot. Got a problem with it, whore? Why don't you just drop dead, Its not like youre worth anything" he says, his pissed off attitude building up. I smirk in a daring fashion, Picking up the still lit cigarette from the ground and sticking it in my mouth. I lean against the building crossing my arms.

"You don't know who I am, Do You?" his face contorts to confusion, His shoulders relaxing slightly and his eyes digging to try and summon memories what won't come without reminder. He doesn't reply for some time, making me chuckle. He loses the confusion and returns to anger. I push off the wall and step towards him.

"Let me remind you then, Jonathan" His confusion returns with slight fear, backing up and hitting the wall of the building next to the club. I put my hands on either sides of his head, smirking into his fearful eyes. I lean in, placing my lips on his, kissing him with the force I would have when we were together. Scratch that, When he used me. He kisses back quickly and eagerly,almost begging for more. My tongue soon explores his mouth, I feel him moan into my mouth. I soon pull away, making it look like I were going to kiss his neck. I lean next to his ear, feeling his breath sharpen from the long breath I take on his ear.

"How's That for memory, Johnny Boy" The words slide off of my tongue like acid as His body turns rigid. I was the only one who called him that. Ever.

"G-Gerard?" He asks in a shy voice. I suddenly grab the collar of his shirt, throwing him on the ground.

"That's Right! Gerard Way! Fucking Faggot Extraordinaire!" He looks at me with pure shock.
"What? whe-when did this-why are you-"he manages to stutter out, still panting out large breaths. He looks as if he'd seen a ghost.

"A Prostitute? Because It's the only way to stay alive. I am what you implanted into my brain. I'm a Faggot. A Slut. How do you feel now? I'm exactly what you thought I'd Be. Aren't you just fucking Overjoyed?" I sarcastically say, almost yelling in anger at him. I hate him.
"I-I thought You killed Yourself. Most of us did. Mikey wouldn't say anything to anyone but Ray and Bob." He says."Why? Why did you drop out!?"

"Because my parents left Us to starve. They left us to die. How has your life been though, Johnny, I sure hope its been swell. I'm sure you've had it rough with all that tough homework and those terrible video games. You know what I've been doing!? I've been selling my body just to keep Mikey in school. I have given up my life to give to him. So don't ever call me a Faggot or a slut again. Got It?" I yell it into his face, making sure he understood every word. He nods, still wide eyed. He's in pure shock.

"Why didn't you get help!?" not this again.

"I don't Need help. I'm fine" I say starting to get shaky. I need some pills or something, I don't want to remember. I could ask Dr.Death later. He likes to give us drugs sometimes to...uh...enhance preformance. He stands up, brushing his fingers under my eyes and around my frail face in a gentle way, but I flinch away when he brushes over my now forming bruise thats covered in make up.

"Gerard Look at you. You must have lost a ton of weight, and not in the good way. You're so thin, like extremely. You look like your walking dead. You look like a fucking Ghost or a vampire, Gee"

"You don't get to call me Gee anymore, You had that privilege when you actually treated me like a human and not like some mutt. Do you know how that made me feel, Jonathan? It killed me thinking that I wasn't worth shit." He hugs me, but I just stand there with a plain face.

"I'm Sorry, Gerard. I'm so so so sorry. I shouldn't have hurt you. I'm such a terrible person, Gerard" I almost felt bad for him. He looked so pained from knowing this. I shouldn't have told him.

"Listen, You can't tell anyone. Not even Bob. No one needs to know. God, I prefer for them to think I'm Dead." I say, actually wrapping my arms around his waist. "I don't want everyone to know I'm a slut" I say in sadness. He looks at me in irritation.

"Don't Ever Fucking call yourself a slut again. You did what you needed to do. Don't ever think otherwise. I'm sorry for saying that earlier, It wasn't right." He says, looking away from my gaze and down to the ground. I put my finger under his chin and lifted his head to see the sparkily eyes I had once thought I loved.

"I'm Okay Johnny boy. I'm not the same Pansy as I once was. I'm stronger now, okay?" He chuckles coldly, Humor void of the laugh. He sighs afterwards, still looking at me with a dazed look on his face. My head tilts at this look, wondering whats on his mind. I'm still holding his hips gently.

"Gerard, can I get one more kiss? I don't know If I'll ever see you again, and you were the first person I loved, whether I denied it or not." He speaks it in a soft voice, nervously questioning.

"Of Course, Jonathan. Anything for you." I slowly lean my face in, slightly puckering my lips out. He rushes it, taking my lips with his and pushing me backwards to the wall. He Slips his tongue into my mouth discretely, getting into the kiss even more. This kiss feels so different than the every day ones, theres usually not that much kissing anyway. He kept one hand on the wall next to my head as he slipped the other softly down my face, to my chest, down to my waist. He held it tightly, not seeming to ever want to let me free.

Eventually that one last kiss had to end, And once it did, he said goodbye and began to walk away.

"Wait, Johnny?" I call running towards him. He looks back at me with slightly dazed eyes. "Could You keep Mikey safe? Please don't let anyone fuck with him." he nods.

"I hope I see you again, I hope you get out of this shit hole and be what you were meant to be, The amazing singer that you are. Gee, please don't get trapped here." I blush and nod, running up and hugging him once more. It seems there were a lot of once mores in this world. And it was never once. I rub his back up and down in a caring way.
"Thank you"
"For what?'
"For caring"
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Later that week, After my hair was back to black, if that wasn't shocking enough, Guess who I saw when I chose to splurge a little with some coffee from Starbucks I had apparently done exceptionally well that week, making plenty more than an ordinary week. I had to do something, and damn had it been a while since I had coffee from Here. The slightly familiar jingle of the bell above the door made me smile. I step up to the counter, seeing a girl with a plastered on smile at the register. You could easily tell she was faking it, not wanting to work right now.

"May I take your order?"

"Um, Can I get a caramel Frappe? The large one." she nods and grabs a cup, but fumbles and drops it, muttering shit. She then throws away that cup and mutters a sorry.

"You seem like you hate this." She scoffs dropping the act of happiness.

"You would think that they would give you one day off after two straight months of no off days. I mean I have been working here for a year."

"I know how that feels." I mutter. She picks up a sharpie, checking what boxes she needed to for my order.

"Whats your name?"

"Um, Its Gerard." I say slowly, rubbing my face from being so tired. I hear her scribbles and the cup sliding over to the other people behind the counter. I scoot over to the serving bar, waiting for my order. I hear someone mutter their order, the voice feels vaguely remembered. I look over to see, realizing It was the cute guy, Frank.

"Oh Hi Frank" I say, feeling overly happy today. He looks over, his feauhawk staying down from the gel that holds it. He smiles at me, making me feel slightly tingly. I don't like this feeling nor do I understand it. But I know one thing, I Kinda like it. He smirks at my hair, but notices the bags under my eyes and his smile falters.

"Hey Gerard. You look dead." He says, growing a smirk again. I scoff and lightly laugh at the funny but sincere statement.

"Wouldn't that be cool? Then I'd be a vampire." I say, already getting into a conversation with him. I feel comfortable around him, but at the same time I don't, if that makes any sense.

"Oh that reminds me, Nice new hair, I suits you" He says, looking like he wants to play with it. I kinda want him to too, But its not like I'm Gonna shove my hair over to him. That would be awkward. I grab the coffee that is slid towards me, noticing a note written on it. I'll check that later. "Wanna Have a coffee with me?" he asks Grabbing his coffee cup from the counter. I nod and walk over to a table far in the back, snuggling into the booth seat as I sit. He sits too.

No, I believe My eyes do deceive me. That's impossible.

Notes

HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY TO GERARD FUCKING WAY, MISTER 37 YEAR OLD BAD ASS HERO.

Thanks for reading guys, I hope you like it.