The Aftermath Of Death

Frank wasn't sure how he got there or even if he actually was there because he questioned everything now. Nothing was real and everything was a false sense of life. How could he be totally and utterly sure that he was standing in front of his grave. The grave that only a weeks previous he had visited. How could he be sure that the half bottle of Jack Daniels was actually gripped in his right hand and how was he even going to know that it really was raining and he really was shaking from the cold. Because nothing could be real.

He had worked it out. Everything. The alcohol dependency and the hallucinations. He knew that this urge to see Gerard again was all brought on by his need to self destruct. His underlying addiction to self harm in a way that only a fucked up mind like his could crave.

Because this was all in his mind. The alcohol made him hallucinate his dead lover and because of this he was addicted to the alcohol. It was a viscous cycle of dependency and self loathing. He could hardly bare it anymore. He wanted to just disperse into the atmosphere like ashes into the air. Dead and gone, but with no remains because that was just messy. It wasn't beautiful or poetic. Nothing in his life was like that. Except his need to pull himself apart because he wanted to die, but he didn't want to commit suicide because that was messy. So a slow and painful death of alcohol and mental decapitation was what he was left with.

Sadness wasn't the word to describe how he felt. He was numb and he didn't cry, not while he was sober anyway, because he didn't understand it. Why was he thinking of him why was he standing in a grave yard for the second time in the past week. A graveyard he'd spent 10 years avoiding. Why?

Because he wanted to and all he wanted was to die.

Dead in the ground like Gerard. Even thinking about him, his name, made him want to drink and so he did. He downed the entire bottle along with another and some more and now he waited patiently to be visited by Gerard. One more time before he killed himself because that's what he wanted.

To see his lover one more time before he truly ended it all. He didn't care if it was messy now, maybe his subconscious did, but he didn't he just wanted death.

The air was weirdly warm for a rainy late winters day. It was like the world knew that this was the penultimate day for Frank. The build up to the grand finale. He took another swig from his bottle and laughed.

'What a pathetic little life.' He slurred still staring down at the grave. 'I'm 29 years old and what have a done? Drank myself to near death and destruction.' He stated quietly to the head stone. He gulped down the rest of the bottle. 'All done.' He stuttered dropping the bottle onto the grass. It bounced slightly, but didn't smash.

Frank couldn't feel anything anymore. He couldn't feel the alcohol or the depression or the over arching guilt that seemed to follow him around like a black rainy cloud over a cartoon character. Nothing felt real anymore.

'So when do you come and see me then.' Frank chirped happily at the grave. 'When does little old Gerard pop into my head and pry?' His bitter tone escaped his still smiling lips. 'Little old Gerard.' He was looking at the cuts on his wrist now. The red lines. He didn't feel anything. Not even the stinging as he covered the fresh scars with the sleeves of his cardigan. He didn't feel the guilt he usually did after he self harmed. He didn't feel the tears that were streaming down his cheeks.

Numbness. Frank lay down next to the grave. Waiting for Gerard to appear. His breathing began to slow to nearly nothing as his head swirled and his mind was dulled to nothing. He quickly threw himself off the ground as he vomited next to the grave. It was just a chemically liquid as Frank hadn't eaten in a while. His breathing had totally changed quick and uneven. Close to hyperventilation. He was shaking from the cold and his entire body was shutting down as he lay on the wet grass next to the grave as he fell in and out of consciousness for moments until finally his heart beat became too slow and his breathing became barely a whisper and his mind switched off and his shivers came to a stand still.

~~~~~~

Lindsey hadn't seen Frank in a while and since there altercation at his flat she hadn't even tried to contact him. He needed time. Time to cool off and get his head sorted. She needed time to.

Lindsey had watched her best friend fall apart slowly over the past week and be able to do nothing about it. She didn't understand one moment he was just Frank. Gorgeous, happy, quiet Frank. But now he's refrained and cautioned. He seems unsure of everything and he'd been drinking a lot more. Lindsey knew what triggered it the anniversary of his ex's death. Gerard. Lindsey did some research on the guy. Gerard Way committed suicide on the 13th of February 2006. He was found dead by a passer by walking their dog through the local woodland in the early morning. Everyone thought it was a murder. But soon after a while it was revealed to be just a desperate mans attempt at finding peace.

Lindsey decided to pay the guy a visit. She had no idea why she'd even thought this would be a good idea. Going to grave of the man who was slowly destroying your best friend. But she was there already and there was no point in turning back now. She walked up the winding path of the small cemetery. Looking. She knew that the chances of her being able to pick out his grave would be difficult, but she still wanted to try. She still didn't understand why.

She hated graveyards, they gave her goosebumps and made her feel sick, and she hadn't been in one for her entire life she had somehow been able to avoid them. Only walked past them or see them in movies, but even then they freaked her out. She stepped cautiously up the path feeling like she could wake the dead from their eternal rest. She shivered pulling her leather jacket closer to her body. The wind was whispering as it whipped the leaves from the dead ground and twisted around the graves. She kept looking scanning every grave she could before walking some more and repeating the process, but it was no good. She couldn't see the entrance anymore and she had been walking for around 30 minutes aimlessly trying to find the grave of a man whom she'd never met. She laughed pitifully.

'Lindsey you have had some idiotic ideas before. But this was just plain stupid and hopeless.' She put her face into her hands and sighed. She was tired and cold and she wanted to see Frank. But not the Frank she'd seen the night he screamed at her to leave him alone. No. The Frank who would dramatically sing Morrissey when she was sad or who would eat ice cream in bed with her when she was ill. Or the guy who danced with her when she was stood up at a club. The guy who stole her heart years ago and never gave it back.

She didn't want it back. She just wanted Frank to smile again like he use to. She was about to turn back when she heard it. The wrenching sound of someone throwing up. She whipped her head around to where the noise had come from. She moved further up the path towards a tree which sat directly in the centre of the graveyard. Tall and old and overlooking every lost soul. She walked around it and clapped eyed on the person making the sound. There curled up in a ball shivering and mumbling beside a grave was Frank.

'Frank.' She gasped clasping her hands across her mouth as she ran to his side sliding on her knees slightly as she went to kneel beside him. She pulled him up onto her thighs her cold hands pressing into his back. 'Frank!' She called desperately pulling his closer. He opened his eyes and recognised her almost immediately.

'Lindse...' He hiccuped pushing his hand up to cup her cheek. 'Beautiful Linds. My Lindsey. My best friend.' He slurred his words and smiled at her through obvious pain he felt shooting through his body at that moment. 'I missed you...' He trailed off closing his eyes again and shivering erratically.

'Frank. Frankie?' She whispered trying to get him to open his eyes, but it seemed like a lost cause when he stopped shivering and his head dropped slightly. She panicked and grabbed her phone from he pocket and called for an ambulance. Her hands shook whilst she held him close to her muttering her pleads to him to never leave her or to just make it through. She pulled him into a limp hug as she stared at the grave he had been lying beside.

'Gerard Arthur Way, beloved Son, Brother and Friend. Forever missed. 1984-2006.'

Lindsey let a tear slip from her watering eyes as she pushed her face into the crook of Franks neck and waiting for the ambulance to come.

~~~~

Frank looked so pale and vulnerable lying on the hospital bed. His small frame overpowered by the thick white sheets which surrounded him and soothed him in his induced sleep. His tattoos stood out against the blank canvas and even though his skin was as pale as boxwood is seemed almost a yellow colour compared to the crisp white sheets. He hadn't moved at all. No sound had escaped his lips as he and Lindsey sat in silence throughout the night. The only movement was the rise and fall of his chest as he slept peacefully, for the first time in a while, and unknowingly of what had happened the night before.

Lindsey stayed awake for the whole night, but as the minutes ticked by to 6am she felt as if even coffee couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. A nurse informed her that if she went home the hospital would call her first when Frank awoke. She agreed to go home for a few hours and sleep, but that she'd be back as soon as she could to sit at franks side again.

Those few hours turned into eight and by the time Lindsey awoke she had 3 missed calls and a banging headache.

Frank awoke at 8am to the blinding lights of the hospital room. His mind was too frantic and loud with worry that he barely noticed the silent buzz of his room as his chaotic thoughts trampled through his mind. He sat up straight but soon regretted it as his head rejected any movement and his stomach lurched feeling like he was going to throw up he leant over the bed. But to no avail. His stomach was empty.

A nurse bounced into the room with the weight of a hundred deaths on her shoulders evident and the smile plastered over her face obviously fake. Her eyes rimmed and her petite frame so tired and drained. She flicked over franks charts as she tried to make light conversation with him.

'How are you feeling Mr Iero.' She pronounced it wrong, everyone did, but for some reason this time around it irritated him. He huffed and shuffled in his spot before speaking.

'Iero.' He said dryly his lips sticking together and his mouth dry. She looked up at him strangely and he realised that to her he had just made a noise at her unprompted. 'It's pronounced Eye-Ear-Oh.' He said slowly and grumpily, not meaning to but the unpleasantness of the situation make Frank glitchy.

'Oh.' She giggled blushing slightly at him. Frank groaned and rolled his eyes. 'You were found my your friend we are about to call her to...'

'I'm sorry?' He was interested now in what had happened.

'Oh, your friend found you and brought you in. You had your stomach pumped from over consumption of alcohol.' That explained the stomachaches and nausea. 'You are fine now though, just don't be doing it anytime soon.' She giggled moving over to his drip that was being fed into him. He assured her he wasn't, but in his mind he could already taste the alcohol on his tongue and feel the cold glass bottle in between his lips. He shivered from his need for the alcohol. He mentally worked out where the nearest liquor store was and was already starting to crave it again. 'Who was she? The friend?' He looked up at the nurse and questioned her. He knew who it was. The only person it could be. Lindsey.

'I can't remember her name off the top of my head, but she was very pretty, tall, pale, blonde.' Frank nodded in an attempt to show the women that he knew who she was describing to him.

'Lindsey.' He said quietly more to himself than the nurse she nodded at him and smiled about to leave the room when Frank stopped her. 'Don't tell her I'm awake.' He said slightly sitting up more in the bed in urgency.

'We've already been trying her. She hasn't picked up.' She said sadly to the frail man. He nodded looking around the room for his clothes which were placed next to his bed on a seat.

'Don't phone her again. I don't want her to worry.' He said simply smiling up at the women. The nurse nodded and left him in peace. He scanned the room for an escape of some sort. He needed to get out. He needed to run away. He needed to breathe something that wasn't this chemical hospital air.

He needed a drink.

Notes

I'm sorta just feeling ugh. But writing kinda helps. Do have this it isn't very good but it's something. Sorry about all the crappiness, but it'll get better! :) -C