Making It Up

Gerard's POV
my feet were stumbling, tripping, pathetic. Useless. No more than I deserved, but I couldn’t afford for them to give out on me now. If he caught me…. Oh god I couldn’t let that happen.
I locked the door the second I got into the poorly lit bathroom. White tiles reflected my wild eyes. Soon, too soon, Frank was there, banging, knocking, and screaming incomprehensible words. I assumed they were threats. I had nothing, no blades or rope, nothing to do it, they were going to break down the door before I had a chance to -
Then, out of the corner of my eye, a yellow bottle came into focus.
Bleach.
It was worth a try.
Closing my eyes, I took a long draught of the acidic fluid and gagged instantly. Oh god it burned, it burned so much. It made my tears feel like acid rain. I was crying, I realised that now. Maybe the burning tears would carve away my face, leaving only bone and broken strings of what used to be Gerard Way. With that comforting thought, the room slowly went black….
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Not dead.
No, I wasn’t dead. At least, I was pretty sure. But how would I know, I’d never been dead before.
However I was pretty sure being dead wasn’t lying in an uncomfortable bed, in a room made up of blinding light
Oh god, too bright. I had to close his eyes as soon as I opened them. my throat was on fire. And I had failed. Slowly, I worked out that I must be in some kind of hospital. Which meant that someone had found me. Not frank, or I wouldn’t be alive. Pete maybe? He seemed slightly too drunk for that. It was probably Patrick. Patrick, the living embodiment of a fucking angel.
Ughhhhhh. Movement was not my friend.
As my eyes began to adjust, I registered that I was in fact in a hospital bed, attached to lots of complicated and scary looking machines. Which probably meant needles. my favourite thing in the whole world. Fantastic. I also worked out that I hadn’t eaten for a while, judging by the gnawing pit of emptiness in my stomach rather than my heart. Okay okay that was pathetic, there was no need for that level of dwelling.
I contemplated this inner monologue so deeply infact that I only heard the second set of breaths in the room after about half a minute. But when I heard it, he froze.
Someone was there.
Probably a nurse. Almost definitely a nurse. So why was I so instinctively afraid to turn and look?
Slowly, cautiously, I turned. And my eyes were met by the tired, sad, worn eyes of –
You guessed it.
I started screaming.
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I screamed, and screamed. I wouldn’t stop. I needed someone, anyone to come and find me here. Patrick, Pete, even Mikey. Especially Mikey. I couldn’t run, I was attached to too many things. I was caught like a fly in a technical medicinal spider web. It would have been poetic if I wasn’t so terrified.
Frank, considering the fuss that I was making, remained remarkably calm. He just stared. And inside those eyes that hadn’t changed in all those years, I could see something. Something familiar. Malice? No. This was heartbreak. Sheer heartbreak. The slump of his shoulders and soft tremble of his hands agreed with this impossible conclusion. He didn’t look like a teenage bully anymore. He looked like an old man, and a broken one at that.
My screams slowly tailed off, and as they did, maybe because they did, Frank started to cry. I thought my eyes were deceiving me at first, but there were the tears splashing on his lap as proof. Frank Iero, my tormentor, was weeping. And then he fell to his knees before the hospital bed.

In a low, tear stained, wrecked voice he spoke.

Notes

message : hi guys! ren here. man I have missed this story. hopefully we'll make up the time with longer chapters and more updates. thankyou for sticking with this story, and we will endeavour to give you all the feels. please go ahead and comment, I read them all and it inspires me to write!