Frank kind of just left. He didn’t say anything. Hell, he didn’t even remember his lighter. I went back into the diner, talking about stupid things with Ray and Mikey and their families. We stuck around for about twenty more minutes, and Frank never came back. All of us left eventually, even though Christa wanted to take her and Ray’s son to the park across the street. I felt guilty, guiltier than I felt when he found me on the floor in my shitty apartment, guiltier than when I married Lindsey a week after having sex with him.

I knew that I fucked up, and so when we went back to the tour bus, I planned on saying sorry to him and cleaning myself up without his help, and I found all my stuff was no longer in his bunk and his eyes were swollen and puffy. His engagement ring was on a ribbon tied to his backpack and not on his left ring finger where it used to be, and I couldn’t feel anything.

I decided to go to sleep in my own bunk for once, which was cold and didn’t have enough blankets. I pulled my pillow up to my chest and looked for the pils I’d hidden inside, and I poured ten out of the baggie, tossing them into my mouth and swallowing them, only to realize I hadn’t closed my curtain.

Thankfully, no one else was in the bunks besides me and a sleeping Frank, which means no one else knew. I wanted to die, because I had no other way out of this mess. The Xanax started to kick in, and for some reason it made me dizzy, forcing me to pass out in my cold bunk.

---

“Gerard. Get up!” Mikey yelled, shaking me. For some reason, I couldn’t respond and he couldn’t hear me. He was hyperventilating. “Kristen! Ray!” He was yelling, and I heard footsteps walking towards me.

“Maybe he’s just tired. It’s been a long week, just let him sleep for an hour.” Ray suggests. “He’s still breathing, just give him a while.”

“Yeah, don’t stress it Mikey.” Kristen agreed.

I couldn’t stand this. I was yelling, screaming for their attention. Why couldn’t they hear me?

Frank’s voice interrupted the others. “Check his pillows, if you see pills, we all know what he fucking did.” His voice cracked halfway through, and even though I couldn’t see him, I knew how disappointed he must’ve looked. My pillow was taken from my side, and I could hear the bag rustle as it fell out, and I knew how disappointed they all looked, so I groaned.

For the first time, they actually heard it.

“Gerard?” Mikey asked, his voice cracking.

“Hmm..?” I sighed, barely opening my eyes.

“You need to go to rehab. You’re going to kill yourself and I obviously can’t help.” Frank spat.

I was jolted awake by Frank’s comment. “You’re constantly smoking weed, and popping pills, and drinking. Stop being such a hypocrite, Frank. Maybe if you sobered up, it’d be easier for me.” I responded. “Maybe if you didn’t take off your damned engagement ring, I wouldn’t feel the need to do this.”

His eyes were still swollen, but he’d hidden the redness under makeup and eye drops. I decided to just leave the tour bus. I pushed Ray and Mikey out of my way, ignoring Frank’s questions and leaving with nothing but the clothes on my back and my wallet. I walked off the bus, and I walked toward the nearby bike path— it reminded me of the walks I’d take in New Jersey when Mikey and I got into fights.

I talked to myself while I was walking. I debated my engagement, I debated my decision to be in My Chem again, and I debated my reasoning to stay alive. My cell phone rang in my pocket, I didn’t even think I brought it with. I decided to answer it after it rang three times, just because it was pissing me off.

“What do you want?” I shouted into the phone.

“Gerard, I love you, please don’t do this.” It was Frank calling from Mikey’s phone.

“I loved you too, but look where that’s gotten me.” I spat back. “Why should I come back?”

“Because, I’m going to kill myself.” He responded, his voice was hoarse.

“No, Frankie—”

“All of this is my fault, and I’m an idiot and you need to come back so that you can tell the guys what happened.” He started crying.

“Frank, where are you?”

“I’m about a mile from Fremont bridge. I love you.” And with that, he hung up.”

I turned on my phone’s gps, trying to figure out where I was in comparison to Fremont bridge and realized I was three miles away and I was already dehydrated and exhausted from running away.

I dialled 9-1-1 into my phone, waiting a few moments until someone picked up.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“My fiancee just told me he’s going to kill himself.”

“Where is he?” The woman asked.

“The Fremont bridge in Seattle.” I start sobbing after finishing my sentence.

“Sir, we have police on their way, stay on the line.”

Notes

Second chapter in one night! Sorry if this is too sad+cliffhanger.
I'm debating what's going to happen next, new chapter will be up soon!