Things Fall Apart

That day, Poison woke up thirty, and helpless. He wasn't meant to live this long already. When younger he had decided he would not live past that age, and now, for some reason, he found himself still alive. The truth was that he had never felt that defeated before. He simply had ran out of ideas of dangerous situations to propel himself in. But then, maybe life had been the most dangerous situation that could ever happen.
It didn't matter much anymore. He knew this would be his last day.
He looked at Kobra, still asleep, snuggled against him. And his heart ached from love for him.
And, without really knowing why, he whispered his secret name. A name he hadn't pronounced in seven years.
That was it. He had found it again, the key he had once lost. He had unlocked the pandora box. He had never entirely forgotten, after all.
His brother's eyes fluttered open immediately, and Poison felt something weighing down his chest. He had forgotten how heavy a heart could be. And the look on Kobra's face, that look of hope, it struck Poison in the deepest place.
So he hadn't forgotten, after all.
Kobra hadn't talked in seven years. But, lurking inside of him, Mikey was yelling. Poison knew he was craving to be heard. Mikey knew secrets, secrets that nobody was ready to hear just yet. Secrets that Kobra himself couldn't understand. Secrets that had been hidden under a mask and a new name. And maybe some things were never meant to be said, after all.
But now Mikey had been summoned, and it felt like he had just woken up from a seven years long coma with a soul too old for his bones and words too big for his mouth. These Words Poison wasn't brave enough to hear just yet.
And maybe the reason why Poison was so afraid was because, deep down inside of him, he had always known.
"Kobra..." He whispered, and he saw that look of hope fading away, as quickly as it had come. Silences were filled in and eyes lighted out. And his life became muffled again.
It had always seemed quite amazing to him, how his whole life could fit into such a little box.
That little wooden box Poison and him had once found by the seaside.
Maybe Poison was aware of how he had denied his own brother's identity, torn him away from home, captured his dreams and redreamt them, bottled up the air from his lungs and lighted out his voice, kept his heart locked in a secret place in order to keep it safe and then lost the key. And maybe he didn't like at that much after all because he knew he was slowly killing him from inside, but, even though he wouldn't admit it to himself, he was afraid. Because maybe it was all His own fault from the start, after all. And he wanted love to be easy. And he wanted to forget. And he wanted to ignore the fact that, under the many layers he had wrapped his brother's life in, Everything was Falling Apart.
It was still dark when they prepared their guns and got into Trans AM.
Everything was calm except for them.
They were like bombs about to go off.
They all trusted Poison when he said the Girl was special and needed to be saved. Trusted him enough to give up their lives.
And that was beautiful.
And that was unity.
And that was "We".
Because "I" never mattered.
This was "We" and Fun Ghoul knew it. It felt just right. He looked at Poison, wild, dangerous, powerful, and he loved him so much it hurt. He loved him with all his self.
And when Poison saw his glance, he knew exactly what it meant. He probably was drunk with adrenaline, though, because he suddenly took a leap towards Ghoul and kissed him. And Ghoul kissed him back. They didn't care if anyone saw anymore. And nobody cared much anyways. And maybe they could have been Something but it was too late to think about it now.
It was their last ride, and they all knew it. Mad Gear and Missile Kid were playing over the radio. And maybe the music was a little too loud, and maybe Poison drove a little too fast, but it felt just right. Their hearts did feel a little heavy and their legs a little shaky, knowing they would die, but they were so many people living in the Wasteland now! They didn't matter as much as before anymore. Life would carry on. People would keep on fighting. The Girl had to be a part of this. And their Death meant something now.
And not one of them cried. They all knew. And they were ready.
They entered Battery City through the tunnel. Black and white publicities flashed by through their windows as they drove by. Everything was silent in the car now. Poison was driving, and Kobra looked at the blank walls outside the window. He had always liked tunnels. Like a building up of tension before an explosion.
Swift, quiet, monotonous.
The car crashed through a Draco's guard post without even slowing down.
And suddenly there they were, in Battery City, wind blowing through the windows, rain pouring from the sky, city lights bursting through the windscreen.
An explosion.
Home.
Poison stopped the car in a screeching of brakes. Before them stood the BL/ind's headquarters. White, faceless, reaching the sky and outshining the stars.
They all knew what they had to do now.
They marched towards the entrance, guns in hand, Rage in heads.
Together.
They weren't wearing any masks this time.
The few Dracos and S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W agents didn't hold them back for long. They shot them passing by, and entered the building without encountering any difficulty.
There they were, now, marching through the corridors, killing and killing and killing again and again and again. Rage powered their hearts and led their hands. Unless it was despair. That last spasm of life shaking up the deadman. That last heartbeat of a bird hopelessly trying to break away from its ribcage. They felt dangerous, powerful, infinite.
They eventually found the Girl, abandoned in a huge office, crouching on the floor.
Poison ran to her as soon as they entered the room and took her in his arms, holding her tight. He would never let her go again.
The Girl responded to his embrace, relieved to finally recognise a known face amongst all these black and white masks.
Kobra watched bitterly through the door.
"You don't have to worry anymore..." Poison whispered. "We're here, now. We'll get you home..."
Only Kobra knew they already were Home.
"I knew you'd come get me back." The Girl replied in a clear almost grown-up voice "I wasn't scared much. I'm glad you're here."
Still holding onto Poison, she threw a look at Kobra through the door. Kobra looked at her with insistence, almost anger. How much he wished Poison held him like that. The Girl knew. She understood.
And maybe some things were never meant to be said.
She took Poison by the hand and gently led him to Kobra. Kobra looked helplessly at the both of them.
And how he looked at Poison. He should have known.
But Poison didn't understand.
Poison never understood anything.
And his heart ached from love for Kobra.
But Kobra didn't understand.
And Kobra didn't want to be Kobra anymore.
And Kobra didn't want Poison to be Poison anymore.
And how Kobra wished that Poison would take him Home.
But there was Silence.
A thick wall through which their hands could not reach each other. A superposition of layers under which their hearts were suffocating.
They didn't understand each other anymore.
And now wasn't the time to think anymore.
Now was the time to fight.
It was too late, awfully too late.
Nobody could do anything about it anymore.
They turned around and went back to where they came from. Swift, powerful, dangerous.
But where where all their opponents, now? They were alone, terribly alone. And this couldn't have been good.
They had almost reached the exit, their freedom, their way back home, when, suddenly, they heard laserguns being fired from behind them.
And they all knew now was the time.
The four of them turned around anyways, towards a multitude of experimented killing machines, led by the cruellest of them all, -Korse, their named arch-enemy, because all stories needed a Good Guy and a Bad Guy, right? because all story needed a final battle- towards certain death.
They would die with their heads up, facing the enemy, the Fabulous Killjoys.
And only now, on the verge of the end, did they understand the meaning of it:
Killjoys Never Die.
"Don't turn around!" Poison screamed. And so the Girl didn't. She stared at the Wasteland in the background, far away. The Wasteland. The sun was beginning to rise. Sunrises in the Wasteland truly were the most beautiful sights. Maybe they could be home in time not to miss it. She tried to ignore the sound of fight to focus on her own heartbeats. Because they were the only sound she could hold on to. She was alive.
Kobra wasn't here to tell her that their hearts was the most locked in thing out of them all. Like a fragile bird in a cage made of bones.
No, the Girl's heart, her heart, her heart was loud, her heart was free. As free as a bird.
And her heart belonged in the Wasteland.
She tried to ignore that, behind her back the Fabulous Killjoys, her only family, fought for their lives. For her life.
And there was Rage.
And there was that outgrowing will to live even though they all knew they would never get out of there alive.
And there was love, too. Incommensurable love.
And they all fought. Not for them, but for her. For the future they wouldn't live.
Even Kobra.
He fought back to back with Poison, like an unbreakable death circle that neither the Dracos nor the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W could reach.
And he could feel his brother's heart beat through his skin. Because he's had one all along, after all.
A Draco threw himself against Poison. He shot him, of course, without the shadow of a doubt. It was a life for his own. And maybe it was fair, maybe it wasn't. He didn't have the time to think about it. Or maybe he could have.
He pulled off the Draco's mask swiftly, even before his corpse fell to the ground.
And he saw. He saw.
A man.
Just like him.
And Poison remembered.
He remembered his skinny brother who wore glasses and always laughed too quietly.
He remembered the latter had had a voice, once.
He remembered that, when aged sixteen, he had decided he would not live past thirty. Thirty was not old, not young. A diable-viable age. And he had known life wouldn't get any better.
He remembered that, as a result, he had started propelling himself in the most dangerous situations he could think of, hoping he would die by a fortunate turn of events. Because he had not been brave enough to take his own life away. Not brave enough to live it either.
He remembered he would be thirty today.
He remembered his name once had been Gerard. Gerard Way.
Korse took advantage of his hesitation to back him up against a wall, printing the extremity of his gun into his enemy's jaw. There was nothing Poison could do to save himself now, except maybe for firing his own gun into Korse's bare chest, but he didn't do it.
Because too many men had perished already.
Because Love had replaced all his Rage, now.
Because he had turned thirty today.
Because now was his summertime.
Because he had never really wanted to die old anyways.
"Look at me!" Korse screamed. "Look at me!"
And Poison looked at him, a mix of hatred and pride in his bright eyes. Poison would die as Poison. He smirked lightly.
And maybe this was fair. Maybe that's what he had wanted all along.
And Korse fired his gun.
Kobra's rib cage burst open and the bird flew away on his breath. He threw himself against Korse but it was too late. And he yelled. He yelled until his breath went out, until his heart stopped beating, until the bird disappeared behind the skyline.
A Draco shot him down the back and it was over.
Bye-bye bird.
It was the first and last time the Girl ever heard his voice.
She never blamed him.
Poison fell against the wall and Korse smiled.
"Come on, come on!" Jet Star screamed, as he pushed open the headquarter's door. She could see the Radio's van, right behind the bridge, waiting for them.
It wasn't that far.
And suddenly Ghoul pushed them both roughly outside, closed the door and laid back on it as to protect them with him own body.
"What are you doing?!" Jet Star screamed through the glass pane.
"Save yourselves, I'll hold them back!" Ghoul mouthed through the door.
"Ghoul..." Jet Star whispered, tears in his eyes.
Maybe he was crazy but gosh, how big a heart he had.
Maybe a life without Poison just wasn't a life for him. He didn't have much to hold on to anymore, now.
"Just go!" Ghoul screamed. And he turned around, firing his gun like crazy. Because he was crazy, wasn't he?
There was his wife, there were his three children, and now Poison.
He didn't care much about anything anymore.
He was pissed. He was loud. He didn't want to die without making a sound.
But he didn't hold on for long.
The black and white men stepped on his corpse on their way out. They never noticed how red his blood was compared to theirs.
Jet Star died on the front of his car, protecting the Girl with his last breath.
She was right next to the van, now. He had almost made it, but not quite. They all had.
Show Pony grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into the moving van before she could think of anything.
Only now did she notice she had been screaming. Tears were streaming down her face.
Tears were streaming down Cola's face as well while he fired at will, with Rage and Rage and Rage and Rage.
Because Cola couldn't help but watch. And nobody was there to cover up his eyes.
Words weren't big enough to describe how he felt.
And he felt Nothing.
There was no longer Him.
No more "us".
Everything was Wrong. Everything was Wrong.
He had never known His Name.
Kobra's body lied like a broken puppet on the floor.
Empty of breath.
Empty of life.
Of Silences.
Of "I will love you."
And, to Cola, it felt like there, for once, was a definite Good and a definite Evil, after all.
The van drove away from Battery City. Away from Them. Forever.
And, suddenly, everything got quiet. There was nothing to fight for anymore. How could something this important only end up with Silence? Why was the Time still ticking by? Why was Life still carrying on around them? Didn't they matter? Wasn't all of This worth remembering? Hadn't all of This been worth saving? The Fabulous Killjoys no longer were. And yet, Life carried on. How could that be? Only Mikey remained. Using his last forces, and ignoring the pain, he turned around and scanned the ground for his brother.

He was lying on his back, a bit farther away, looking up at the sky with his eyes wide open like two marbles. The look on his face was almost hopeful, as though he expected something from it. That last look of hope, gone before he even hit the ground. The rope had snapped and he had dropped like a dark star out of the sky that he had painted, lying broken on the hot ground, blood spilling from his skull like a secret. Maybe he had noticed that even here, the sky wasn't entirely grey.

Mikey knew that if he moved, the Black and White men would notice he wasn't quite dead yet. But he had nothing to lose anymore. And so he started crawling towards his brother. He looked at his handsome face, his life spilled on the floor like a brighter echo of his Poison-red hair. His black roots were beginning to grow over it. He'd have to dye it again soon, he thought.

And he looked at him, and how he wasn't Poison anymore now, but Gerard, just Gerard. Not a hero, just a boy. Just a bird fallen from the sky. Just a heart that broke away from its rib cage. And maybe, if even from the darkest places the sky still was blue, maybe it meant that things would always be alright in the end.

Mikey saw, at the corner of his eye, that the bald man, Korse, was approaching them, his gun still steaming in his hand. He carried it in a way that looked as though it was a bit of his own soul.

Gently, Mikey closed his brother's eyes with the tip of his thin fingers. He looked tenderly at his face. He almost could have been sleeping. Almost.

There was something cold on the back of his neck, but he wanted Him to be the last sight he'd ever behold.

"Don't look..." he said "Things Fall Apart."

Notes

epilogue coming up