Photograph That I Gave You

Its been a several days since the murder. I have no idea how Jamia is handling this I haven't seen her since. I've only received a few texts from her as confirmation she's alive.
I've seen dead bodies before. I grew up in fucking Jersey for Pete (Wentz) sake. Corpses were found in the pond in the park clode to Rays house. When Gerard was sixteen he had to lie on the floor with a gun to his head. None of us had a particularly safe or sheltered childhood. But it was never anything this fancy, those people were usually shot in gang or mafia related crime. Shot to kill. This-this thing, whatever it was that did this, was meticulous. Cut until they were dead and them kept cutting. As if it wasn't just to kill, but to satisfy some sick need. As if I doesn't matter who it is. As if anyone could he next.
And that's what really rattled me.
Fuck, the first day I didn't even leave my bed. All the shows were canceled. I felt bad for the fans but I wouldn't have played anyway.
All the blood, and those organs and bones and muscles. Its all inside me. And they could come spilling out at the sligthest suggestion of a knife. I never used to look at a mirror and wonder what's underneath....
"Are you ready?" He asks.
I focus on a piece of string hanging off my sleeve guiltily. This is the only suit I've owned and it shows. "Yeah, well almost, I gotta find my other shoes," I don't think the other grievers would be pleased if I showed up in my worn converse.
Today is the funeral. I've been dreading this day.
"Okay," he nods slowly, "Do you uh, need any help or..?"
"No I got it."
"O-oh ok, I'll be in the car so..." He points awkwardly to the door.
I give him a waning smile "Thanks for asking,"
"Yeah uh its nothing," he mumbles walking away.
I can tell he's unsure of how to treat me. I feel like the second older brother he's scared of being consumed by grief. He never talks about his grandmother's death, but it really struck Gerard. I don't want to break in front of him.
I toss old shirts and Misfit CDs aside searching for the pair of shoes i was saving in case if an award ceremony. I guess this is a kind of award ceremony.
Congradulations Jay amd Dahvie, you win most gruesome death.
I hear the door creak open,"What are you doing?"
"Looking for my damn shoes, " I reply frustratedly "I need a better pair for the uh, the, y'know, the funeral,"
Gerard fixes me with those hauntingly beautiful hazel eyes, "Are you ready?" He asks me.
"No," I admit biting my lip ring and trying to keep the tears from falling.
He touches my arm and rests his forhead on mine, "I know,"
The words.come spilling out "I just can't do it, I can't. I'm one of the last people the ever see them alive. You know how much responsibility that is? They aren't letting many people see the bodies because if their condition. Their families and friends will be there. They'll ask me all the stupid questions, did they look peaceful? No just in fucking pieces. I can't do it. People want to know why I ran in their bus. What if people think I did it. I can't stand that. I shouldn't even be going, I didn't even know them, but I can't not go and fuck I'm not making any sense am I?"
He wraps his arms around me and holds me close, "No, you're making perfect sense."
"Maybe to you," I mutter.
His arms drop and he looks down at me worriedly, with wide eyes and jet-black strands of hair falling in face,"What do mean?"
"I don't know, " I sigh "You understand things no other human being could or should understand. I can talk to you about things other people would send me to the white room for. I'm just so comfortable with you, I don't think anyone else gets me like you do." The speech is confusing but honest.
"Oh," he says relief washing over his voice, "I thought meant-aha never mind," He laughs for a moment then looks at the floor like it was a mistake.
I shrug, "I dont know what I mean,"
"You mean, we're both fucked up."
I laugh, "Thanks Gee, I don't know what I'd do without you,"
Suddenly he looks fearful and confused.
"Y'know as a friend," I add quickly. God damn it Frank what was that?
"Yeah," he says but the looks stays.
"There they are!" I exclaim rushing over to the microwave. My brown leather shoes are crammed inside it. I slip them on, "Who the fuck put them there?"
He doesnt respond so I guess the question is rhetoritcal. He leave the trailer and as he locks the door I swear I hear him say, so quietly I almost miss it "You'd be better off Frankie."
I'm not sure what he's talking about but it still fixes a concerned frown on my face as I walk behind him.

Notes

Sorry for the short update but I didn't want to leave u with nothing in three days. I'm gonna continue this chapter tomorrow and hopefully have another full one. But on the other hand I went to a Fit for Rivals, Icon for Hire concert last night!! It was awesome!!