The World is Ugly

I stayed up with Gerard that night, us talking back and forth about what we wanted to do with our lives and what we wanna do with our lives. We somehow got onto the topic of family.
"What happened with your dad?" Gerard asked. "Like, why did your parents divorce?"
I was reluctant to talk about him after my encounter (that I was still not sure about whether it was real or not) earlier, but I replied. "Shortly after I was born, he started an affair with one of his students. He was a professor of science in college. I actually knew about this affair from the start, he talked about the girl all the time. I never said anything, though. I still loved him, despite knowing he was a cheating bastard. My mom and I fought a lot at this point in time because she thought I was hiding something, along with just stupid lectures. My mom found out on my 13 birthday. Filed for divorce immediately. That lasted a year, they had to go to trial. Joint custody. They tried for about a month to have set days to see me but my dad, who started drinking at this point, wanted full custody and went to court again. His drinking deemed him an unfit father. My mom won. I didn't like my mom, but I had to get close to her."
He was silent for a minute. "I'm sorry."
"No need for apologies. Now, since we're on this topic, may I ask where your parents are? I've never met them, and no one mentions them."
He gulped. "They, uh... They left when I was two and almost right after Mikey was born. Ran away when Mikey was two months old and completely dropped off the grid. There were a married couple of robbers that matched my parents' description to a T, but the blood didn't match. They were shot twice in the back of the head. Found dead in a hotel..." He cleared his throat. "Anyways, my grandma Elena took care of me and Mikey until I was 15. She was old and fragile and couldn't do it anymore. I became the legal guardian of Mikey."
I felt like crying on his behalf. That's fucking terrible compared to an affair. Before I could say anything, he continued.
"Mikey thinks they died while we were young."
I couldn't form words. Your parents left you and your entire life you've thought they died? I found myself actually crying on his behalf instead of just feeling like it.
"Babe, what's wrong?" he asked, petting my hair.
"That's... terrible. To not know where your parents are."
"Shh, it's okay. Don't cry for me. You have family problems yourself you should cry over."
I sniffled and focused my breathing for a few minutes. I eventually calmed down.
"Gerard? Will you sing to me?"
He seemed a bit off put by the question. "U-U-Uh, okay..." He reached over to the nightstand, pulled a notebook out of a drawer, turned on a lamp, and sat up. "Which songs would you like to hear? House of Wolves, You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison, The End., or Honey, This Mirror Isn't Big Enough For The Two Of Us?"
"Kinda pulling a Fall Out Boy with the last one. The prison one."
"Could you keep a beat for me?" I nodded and kept beat by patting my hands on the bed. He cleared his throat and started.

In the middle of a gun fight...
In the center of a restaurant...
They say, "Come with your arms raised high!"
Well, they're never gonna get me,
Like a bullet through a flock of doves...
To wage this war against your faith in me,
Your life...will never be the same.
On your mother's eyes, say a prayer...say a prayer!
Now, but I can't
And I don't know
How we're just two men as God had made us,
Well, I can't...well, I can!
Too much, too late, or just not enough of this
Pain in my heart for your dying wish,
I'll kiss your lips again.
They all cheat at cards and the checkers are lost,
My cellmate's a killer, they make me do push-ups in drag!
But nobody cares if you're losing yourself...am I losing myself?!
Well, I miss my mom,
Will they give me the chair,
Or lethal injection, or swing from a rope if you dare;
Ah, nobody knows...all the trouble I've seen!

"That's all I have so far," he said when he finished. I didn't care that he hadn't finished the song. I was absolutely mesmerized by his voice. It was absolutely wonderful. I can't even begin to describe it. I smiled a bit and hugged him.
"Gee, that was wonderful!"
"I just... sang for you, that's it..." he replied, struggling to talk with me squeezing his chest and squirming about.
"No one's sang for me before!"
"Really? I'm surprised you haven't been serenaded by some lucky guy yet." I started blushing. "You're quite pretty, you know."
"Psh."
"You really are."

I fell asleep to him singing me unfinished songs and lines.

Notes

DUUUUDE i wanna start a tribute band for mcr
the problem is my only musical talent is singing and my voice is like. super fluttery and feminine and nothing like gerard's. i can't do the beginning of the sharpest lives without sounding like a smoker with chronic lung problems. but mcr is really fucking important to me and it would be so fun.

also the thing about the couple being shot twice in the head is a reference to "i never told you what i do for a living" (...never again and never again/ they gave us two shots to the back of the head), one of my all time favorite mcr songs

i'm super bad at thinking of names for the chapters orz