Forgive Me

I rolled over in my bed, waking from a deep sleep. A feeling came to me, that feeling that there was something on your mind, but you couldn’t quite remember what. Then it hit me – Gerard Way. Our brief meeting hadn’t left my thoughts since it happened.

I reached for my phone on my bedside table. A notification blinked on the screen – a facebook message. I could feel the colour drain from my face. It was a message from Gerard Way. I gulped, putting my phone back down. I couldn’t deal with this before a cup of coffee.

Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the living room, fully caffeinated, yet still not prepared to read this message. I inhaled sharply, and unlocked my phone. I clicked on the message and read it.

Hey Frank. I know I was a dick back when we were kids, but I’m not that person any more. I’d really like it if we could meet up and talk. I know I have no right to ask this, and I won’t blame you if you say no. Thanks.

I read the message over and over again. Am I dreaming? I thought incredulously. He couldn’t be asking me this. He couldn’t have the fucking guts to do this when he tortured me so much
when we were young.

I didn’t know how to deal with this. I switched off my phone, and spent all day trying to take my mind off him, unsuccessfully.

Later on, as night had just begun to fall, I switched my phone back on. I opened the message, and deliberated on how I should answer it, aside from fuck you.

I thought for a long time. I decided to simply send:

Why?

Why what? I didn’t know. Why does he want to talk? Why did he do all those things as kids? Why did he think he’d changed? People never do.

I put my phone back down and heaved a sigh. Within seconds, a reply came through. I raised my eyebrows. The only reason he’d reply so fast would be that he actually cared. I’d consider that option if it wasn’t such utter bullshit.

I want your forgiveness.

Well, that wasn’t exactly the answer I had expected. I didn’t suppose I’d known what to expect, if I was being honest. For what had to be the hundredth time today, I sighed heavily. I clicked on his profile, deciding to see what he seemed to be like.

Upon opening his profile, I selected his photos. I viewed the first one. He was a dick, but damn. He had hair like fire, locks of scarlet bursting from his head.From under the wisps of vibrant flames were orbs of gold, green, and honey, his beautiful eyes shining like polished stone. And the smile on his face, it was one of pure happiness, the type that can only be described as joy bursting to escape.

‘Maybe I should meet up with this guy,’ I thought. I jolted myself. ‘No. You are not meeting up with the guy who ruined your childhood just because puberty did him well.’

I weighed my options. Continue to be stubborn and refuse to move on from this, or forgive him, lift this weight from my life, and get to look at a pretty face for an hour or so. I chose what anyone would choose.

Sure.

I hit send, and hoped to god it would turn out to be the right decision.

Notes