Forget About The Dirty Looks.

Gerard's POV.
I'm still lying face-first on the ground when Mikey finds me, fifteen minutes later. I'm still crying, and all I can think is how useless I am, and what could be happening to Frankie. Ray is with Mikey, as usual, and I try to stop the continuous tears, because I don't want them to see me like this. I curl my head more into my chest, trying to hide it, trying to hide the horrible, puffy, red eyes and how drunk I still am. I've forgotten about the bottles littered around me, though, and when Mikey sees them, he sighs and shakes his head. He crouches down to be able to see me better.
"Gee? What's wrong? Is it Craig?" His voice is soft, and worry is clear in the tone.
"N-no.. It.. It's no-not Craig. We-well, it probably wouldn't of hap-happened if it wasn't for him. Mikey, It's.... It's..." I can't finish because I'm overcome by a fit of sobs. My whole body trembles, and I can barely breathe.
"It's what, Gee? Try and calm down... Um.. Take deep breaths?" It seems like neither of the Way brothers can comfort anybody successfully, but I try and do what he says. I squeeze my eyes shut, and take as deep a breath as I can manage. I will the tears and horrible noises leaving my mouth to stop, and slowly but surely, they do. Now, I can talk, kind of, and the tears have stopped flowing as freely.
"Okay, good. Now, Gee... What's happened? I'm sure we can sort it, whatever it is.." I almost laugh at this, knowing that we can't sort it, but I'm still too distressed about the phone call.
"It's.... Uh, it's Fra-Frankie.." Mikey's face sets into the 'angry expression' and I know he's taken my words the wrong way.
"What the fuck has he done, Gee? I haven't seen you like this in a long, long time.. I'll beat him up; I'll fucking kill him, okay?" I frantically shake my head, terrified at the thought of Frankie dying.
"No. No, no, no! Don't touch him!" I'm overcome by thoughts of a dark figure with a leather belt in his hands, cigar's on a table, hovering over My Frankie. Of the figure hitting him, making him bleed, knocking him unconscious. Killing him.
"Well, what then, Gee? What's he done? You've got to explain it to me, otherwise I can't help!" Images still flicker through my head, horrible pictures. I try to keep my breathing under control, the tears unshed, but it doesn't work. I'm crying again, and my breaths are going faster by the second.
"His... His dad got him, Mikey! His fucking dad got him, and all I did was sit here, drunk as fuck, crying! I'm useless... Frankie could be... He could be.. dying now, and it's all my fault! All... All my fault..." I'm sat up and Mikey's arms are hugging me, and I'm rocking.
"Hey... Hey, shush now... It's okay, it will all-"
"Don't you fucking dare say that it will all be okay! You don't know what Frankie's dad did to him, he barely got out of there with his life, and now he has him again? No, Mikey! No, it's not going to be O-Fucking-Kay, okay?" I push him off me, and stand up. I pace the floor, breathing heavily. My sadness is starting to give way to anger, but I still feel like fucking curling up on the floor, a few bottle of alcohol around me and crying like a little bitch. But I can't, can I? I have to think of a way to help Frankie, and my brain isn't giving me any input.
"Gerard, have you called the police? It's a stupid question, because of course you have..." I don't hear the rest of the sentence, I just scramble for my phone. I dial 911, and ask for police.
"Hello? How may we help you?"
"Uh, hi.. I... I, uh.. My name is Gerard, and my boyfriend has been possibly kid... kidnapped by his abusive, homicidal father.... Plea... Please help, I need help.." I stop, not able to talk through the lump in my throat; the tears in my eyes.
"Where are you, Gerard?" Her voice is still the professional calm she's been trained to have, and I feel like the only one that's freaking out by this.
"I'm at a park.." My voice shakes.
"Okay, and have you got anybody with you?" She's still fucking calm...
"Yeah, I have, my brother and a friend." I hear fingernails tapping the keys on a keyboard, and a slight hum.
"Uh-huh.. Who is your boyfriend, and how do you know he's been taken?"
"He's called Frankie... I mean Frank Iero, and I was on the phone with him, and I heard stuff over the phone, like, screaming and slapping and... and pleading.. and I'm so worried about him.. I just... I just can't..." I cry again, my already swollen eyes, starting to sting like hell.
"Gerard, I need you to calm down, okay? Can you do that for me?" I nod my head, forgetting that she can't see me, and take slow, deep breaths.
"That's it.. Now, explain it to me, slowly and calmly." Her tone has changed from that of a calm, professional one, to a motherly one.
"Okay, so... I, uh, got upset and came to the park.. to, uh, calm down? And my phone rang. I answered it, and me and Frankie talked for a bit, and then we heard banging, and he went to take a look. I hear louder banging, shouting and voices. I shouted into the phone, trying to get... trying to get Frankie to answer, but he didn't, his dad did. After we talked, him being pretty threatening, I heard him... hit Frankie... and I put the phone down." I cry a little, my voice brakes a lot, and I am constantly shaking and fiddling with the hem of my shirt.
"Okay... Where do you live? I'm going to send some police down there, to talk to you, to check out the situation, okay?"
"I live at.. 102 Skyline Drive..." She says okay, and that somebody will be over soon, and hangs up. I slide the phone back into my pocket. I just stand there, my head toward the ground, tears slipping down my face.
"Gee?" I had forgotten that they were still here, and wipe my eyes, spinning around to face them.
"Yeah?" My voice is hoarse, and gravely, like I'd just swallowed a load of rocks.
"Do you want to go home? We should tell mom.. and the police are going to be here soon, so we'd best get going.." I nod and follow them to the car. To my car.
The ride home is silent, the mood somber. We get out of the car, and the police are already here, talking to my mom in the doorway. As soon as they see us, my mom runs over, crushing me to her in a much needed embrace. I hug her back with as much strength as I can, and feel the stupid saline solution leak out of my eyes again. I will myself to stop; to be strong, for Frankie. The tears sort of stop, a few still escape every now and again. We all head inside, and I take a glance at Frankie's house. A window has been smashed, and the door has a gaping hole in it, but apart from that it still looks like it is inhabited by Frankie and his mom. His mom... What happened to her? Is she still at work, oblivious to everything, with the police about to break the news to her? Or is she with Frank, in a personal hell?
We sit down in the living room and stare t each other, not knowing what to say. Finally, one of the police officers breaks the silence.
"We checked out the house, Frank and his mom's house, and we didn't find either of them. All we found was a broken phone, some blood and a note. The note is addressed to a Gerard Way?" I snap my head up when I hear my name, and stretch out an arm to get the note. I snatch it out of his hand, getting a dirty look out of the man. The note is written by Frankie. There's a spot of dried, slightly brown blood at the bottom, right next to where he's scribbled his name.
Dear Gerard,
I might not get out of this alive, so I just wanted to tell you some things...

Gerard Arthur Way, I love you.

I wasn't certain of it before, but I am now, and before I die, if I die, that is the last living thought that will be in my mind. I don't care if you don't love me, I don't care if you think it's too soon for even wistful thoughts of love, I just care about how brilliantly colored my once black and white world is, after spending time with you. I was depressed, and had nobody except my mom, and then I had you.
I'm at my happiest when I'm with you, you are my happiness. You are beautiful; you are perfect. You don't hear that enough, so if we ever see each other again, I'm going to tell you every single day of your life, even if we aren't together anymore.
Another thing, Gerard, is that I want to marry you. I want to spend every moment of my life with you, and that is a felling I don't think will ever completely go away. It might fade, but it will never go away. I want to put a wedding ring n your finger and look you in the eyes while saying 'I do', loudly, so everybody can hear. Sadly, I can't, at least not yet, so my imagination will have to be good enough.
Gerard, promise me one thing. Don't go back to drugs or alcohol again. Don't turn into a lifeless blob because of me, because, I swear, that if you do, I will track you down and make you regret it. Don't let them take the light behind your eyes, Gee, never let them do that.
We will see each other again, whether in the after-life, or someday in the future, but we will see each other again, I promise.
I love you with every fiber of my being,
Frankie xo

I'm crying again by the first sentence. It's not fair; It's not fucking fair! Why can't we just be happy for a change?
I fold up the letter, after re-reading it about ten times. Parts of it are slightly damp from my tears, and I take care not to rip it. I lean into whoever is next to me, and let myself cry, wetting their shirt. By the smell of the perfume, it's my mom. She hugs me, almost pulling me onto her lap. We rock there, and the rest of the people in the room vacate, giving us some privacy.
It takes about thirty minutes for me to be to exhausted that I can't cry anymore, even though I want to.
"Gerard? Do you love Frank, too?" My mom breaks the silence, just as my eyes start to droop close. I let the question hang in the air for a while before finally answering.
"I... I think I do. I get these feeling whenever he's around, and I can't help but smile at him, want to do anything for him. I've never felt this way about anybody; not this strongly. I... I love him, mom, and this hurts so fucking bad, y'know? So fucking bad, and all I want to do is cry and scream and murder Frankie's dad for even thinking about laying a hand on him, but I can't, and I can't help him now, because I'm a stupid weak boy... I feel so.... So useless, and it's killing me. What if I don't see Frankie alive again, only while he's in his coffin, or when they pull him out of an abandoned warehouse, bloody and bruised and battered. What then, mom? What will I do?" My speech gets faster and faster, and I can't seem to stop it, just like how I couldn't stop Frankie's dad, and how I couldn't stop Frankie from hurting and having nightmares, just like how I couldn't stop myself from taking drugs, or the alcohol I had today..
My breathing has picked up in speed, too. The room spins and I think I'm about to throw up. My hands shake way too much, like how they used to when I'd overdosed a little on the drugs. I need air, the room and my mom's arm around me feel like they're suffocating me. I stand up, shakily and try to make it through the door. I fall, my knees buckling. I can't hear anything clearly, and I feel like I'm underwater. I pick myself up and reach for the door knob. I open it, take one looks at Frankie's house, and collapse.

Notes

Ta-da! Another chapter, albeit a slightly short one. I hope you like it! Comment and shit... Thanks for reading, I hope you have/ have had nice days...xo