The Light Behind His Eyes (Frerard)

I wasn’t able to sleep very well last night. I spent the whole night (or at least what remained of it) tossing and turning on the futon, barely able to get comfortable while my mind kept on racing with thoughts of what happened between me and the Way brothers that very same night. The bruise on my chest kept throbbing and hurting like hell the whole time, constantly reminding me of the person that gave it to me in the midst of his psychotic rage, as well as his dark, yet still mysterious past that’s been revealed to me by his younger brother.
Despite all that Mikey has told me, the puzzle that is Gerard’s backstory still remains unfinished. There’s still some pieces that are missing, and finding them is what I’m gonna do when I eventually get my tired ass outta bed. I’m not gonna piss away my whole day off laying in bed, as much I feel tempted to. I want this day off to count. I want to spend this day off learning more about the man in the basement that’s not a lost cause, like his brother says he is. I also want to call Ray to make sure everything’s alright with him. It’s the right thing to do. After all, if it hadn’t been for him, I’d still be sleeping on a cold bench in the middle of a park instead of a futon in a home. I also would have never met that aforementioned man in the basement. I need to ask Ray where the local library is, so I can start searching for more answers about Gerard. I just hope that when I do call him, he doesn’t bring up anything about last night, if Mikey told him anything about it. God forbid that he told him anything...
After taking a shower and eating breakfast, I dialed Ray’s number as I sat at the kitchen table with my fourth (and definitely not last) cup of coffee in my hand.
“Hello?” He answered.
“Hey, man. It’s me, Frank,”
“Oh, hey there,” he replied, his usual upbeat and peppy tone absent from his voice. “What’s up?”
“Not much. Just took a shower and ate some breakfast, getting the day started. You?”
“Same, pretty much. Mikey told you what happened, right?”
“Yeah, he did. I’m really sorry. How’s your mom?”
“She…” Ray sighed remorsefully. “She’s okay, but...she’s got a lot of recovering to do. She broke her shoulder, as well as a couple ribs and her left leg. She also had a concussion, but her doctor said it’s nothing serious, thankfully.”
“How long she gonna be in the hospital?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee.
“The doctor said after a little less than a week they’ll let her go. She’s gonna be sent to a rehabilitation facility where she’s gonna get physical therapy and all that other stuff. I’m gonna be seeing her again today, actually,”
“Oh, alright. I hope that goes well. I hope she gets well too,”
“Thanks, Frank,” Ray said, his voice a little less sullen. “I really appreciate it,”
“No problem,” I said, suddenly remembering what I’ve been wanting to ask Ray. “Hey, I got a question,”
“What’s that?”
“You happen to know if there’s a library around here? I wanna stop by there for a while,”
“Really? No work today?”
“Nah. Got the day off. Kinda figured I would pick up something to read, you know?”
“Really?” Ray’s voice rose suspiciously. “Since when did you start reading, Frank? I thought you hated reading?”
Damn it. I can’t tell Ray why I really wanna go to the library. Of course not. Plan A has already faltered; I don’t like reading, and I never did. Not even in high school. I always hated it, and my hatred in reading really came out when I had to read and do a stupid book project on John Steinbeck’s East of Eden in my freshman English class. God, I hated that book so much…
I really hate English class too.
And anything written by John Steinbeck.
“Well, I did…” I said, thinking of plan B last minute. “Until recently. I started to get into reading when I started college. Started reading a lot of Stephen King, you know?”
I honestly don’t even really know who Stephen King is. I know he’s written a lot of horror novels, but I of course haven’t read a single one. I’ve only seen a few of his film adaptations in the past, but that’s it. It’s just the first name of an author that popped into my head, other than John Steinbeck, of course.
“Oh really? I love that guy!” Ray exclaimed, his happy-go-lucky self returning. “What books have you read from him?”
“Oh, uh…” I stuttered, trying to remember the names of the film adaptations that I’ve seen several years ago. “The Shining, Carrie, and Pet Sematary-”
“Oh, The Shining is really good! Don’t ever read that one alone at nighttime,” Ray sang.
“Yeah, definitely. Got any suggestions?” I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing my backup plan is working.
“I’d go check out It, if the book’s there at the library. It’s a long read, but it’s so good. It’s about this killer clown. Really spooky shit,”
“Oh, alright. I’ll see if I can find it,” I lied. I hate clowns, and I definitely wouldn’t wanna read a whole novel about one. Clowns scare the living shit outta me as much as spiders. I really fucking hate spiders…
“Cool beans, Frank. The library’s about ten or so minutes away from home. It’s on Liberty Street, across from the post office. Hard to miss,”
“Alright, got it. Thanks, man,” I grabbed a pen and paper conveniently placed close to me on the table and wrote down Ray’s directions.
“No problem. I’m actually gonna have to go right now. I’m gonna start driving to the hospital,”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later, I guess,”
“Will do. Later, Frank,” Ray hung up as I read over the directions he just gave me. I set the phone down, feeling so relieved that Ray didn’t mention anything about what happened last night. I really don’t wanna get another earful from him, and I certainly don’t wanna be reminded of what happened between me and Gerard…
I can’t help but think what Gerard could be doing right now downstairs, all alone once again. What did he do after I ran out of the basement in the midst of his psychotic episode? Does he regret what he tried to do to me? Is he even thinking of me? Does he even miss me? Because I’m thinking of him...and this may sound crazy, but…
I really miss him. A lot.

After arriving at the public library and registering a card (which I know I'll never use again after this), I checked myself into one of the computers in a private conference room to avoid any suspicious onlookers. I don't want anyone to think something's up if they see me looking up information on a known murderer and (maybe) escaped mental patient. I also wanna see if I can find more information on the murder of Gerard and Mikey’s parents, as well as the cunts that were responsible for it.

After opening up the internet browser, I decided to just start with the basics. I took a deep breath before typing his name…
Gerard Way
I tapped the Enter button, only to be greeted with a plethora of results, much of it being what I expected to find-news reports. I clicked the first one that popped up, which took me to a website that contained the whole news article, as well as a title:

“Gerard A. Way, 18, taken in police custody for alleged murder of 3 Monroeville teens”-- Monroeville, New Jersey--Gerard Arthur Way, an 18 year-old high school student, has been arrested by police this Sunday (April 9th) after the alleged murder of three high school students (William Walsh, Craig Kinkle, and David Connor). Officer Cole claims that he and fellow officers found Way at the scene of the crime (in Monroeville Park, near Monroeville High School), near the bodies of the deceased victims. Officer Cole says that when he found and tried questioning Way, he was “uncooperative and silent, yet not resistant when confronted. He was lying on the ground near Walsh’s body, with his severed head wrapped in Way’s arms”. Way was taken into police custody, where he will be further questioned about the murders, as well as undergo a psychiatric evaluation to determine if he’ll be fit to stand trial-”

Mikey was definitely right; Gerard did murder those three kids after all. I don't know why Mikey would ever lie about such a thing. He did also mention that these kids all used to bully Gerard though, if I'm not mistaken. What if this really is all true? What if those bullies tried physically attacking Gerard? If they did, then Gerard obviously fought back...but took it a little too far, clearly. What did these supposed bullies do to Gerard? Did they just keep terrorizing him until he eventually snapped and had enough of it all?
I need to stop asking myself so many questions. I'm only starting to touch the tip of the iceberg here. I scrolled down the article, skimming through more information about how the murders could have possibly went down, and how “grotesque” it was to the people unfortunate to stumble upon it, and so on. Then, something caught my attention-some photographs. They're pictures of people. The first three are what appears to be photos of the victims. The first, William Walsh (the kid whose head became Gerard’s fucked up version of a teddy bear) is a tall, masculine kid sporting a school football jersey and an expensive-looking haircut. Clearly the jock type. The one thing about him that really throws me off (other than the unpleasant “popular ass-kissing jock kid that's probably captain of the school football team” vibes he gives me) is the pearly-white toothed shit eating grin on his tanned face, similar to Derek Groell’s.
Wow, this kid seemed like a real jackass.
The next photo is one of Craig Kinkle, a shorter guy, with looks that reek of as much hoidey-toidiness as William, sans the football jersey. Neatly-combed blonde hair, light skin, pearly-white teeth, and designer-brand clothes. Nothing out of the ordinary, but just as cringe-worthy. Next.
David Connor. Tall, but not as well-built as Walsh. In fact, he's on the more heavier side, but still isn't shy of the yuppie look, just like Walsh and Kinkle; dressed in clothes that just screams “I'm a rich schmuck with a chip on my shoulder and long list of friends at school that are also rich schmucks”.
I really don’t find it that hard to believe that these guys bullied Gerard. They really seem to be the type, honestly. I say that because these were the same kinds of assholes that picked on me and Ray in high school; kids with as much money and popularity as their egos. However, what I wanna know is how Gerard managed to kill all three of the guys, considering the fact that he was outnumbered and he’s clearly not the athletic type, and he of course was (supposedly) confronted by three guys that clearly are. From what this article reads, there’s nothing about him wielding a gun. In fact, it says that his weapon of choice was a hunting knife (which obviously was the same thing he used to cut off William’s head). Who knows.
I scrolled further down to find one last photo; it’s Gerard’s mugshot. It’s a younger Gerard, his hair a lighter color and a little shorter than it is now, his face a little fuller and not as pale. What’s no different are his eyes; his hazel eyes are as vacant and lightless as they were when we first met that fateful night in the basement. His gaze is void of even a hint of emotion, almost staring at me through the screen. He’s just so young. He’s still beautiful, but the look in his eyes tell a story that’s far from that; it’s a story that tell how he’s been wrongfully robbed of so much; his parents, his youth, his innocence, and so much more; and it was done at the hands of some awful people.
I exited out of the first article and stumbled upon another one; it’s one stating Gerard being declared “mentally unfit to stand trial” and confined to Trenton State Psychiatric Hospital, just like Mikey said. It has the same photo of Gerard’s mugshot. It goes on to say that due to his past history of mental illness and his incapability to recall what happened on the night of the murders in Monroeville Park that Sunday night, that he’ll be staying in the state hospital to receive psychiatric treatment; again, just like Mikey said. The article concludes with saying that the murders may as well have been in self-defense, due to new “staggering” evidence that has appeared after further investigation of the crime scene.
After more searching, I stumbled upon yet another news article; one that really caught my attention after reading the headline:

Trenton, New Jersey (Thursday, August 5th, 1999)--Gerard Way, a 22 year-old mental patient and convicted killer of three Monroeville teens, has escaped Trenton State Hospital last night on Wednesday, the 4th. Police are-

So he did escape! A part of me knew that really was the case. He wouldn’t have been discharged at all, not when he still had a trial to stand. But how did he do it, despite Trenton State being such a high-security institution? The article doesn’t seem to go into much detail. It just goes on to say how police are out looking for him, as well as describe the murders Gerard’s committed four years earlier. It also depicts the very same vacant-eyed Gerard’s mugshot. Still young. Still emotionless, yet still so beautiful...
What would Mikey think if he found out that his brother did indeed escape from the hospital? Surely he didn’t believe what Gerard told him, how he was discharged. I honestly don’t think he’d be surprised. But, I could be wrong. Dead wrong, in fact. Would Mikey change his mind about not turning his brother in? If so, then there’s just a part of me saying that I really shouldn’t tell him the truth...
So now that I know that Gerard definitely escaped, it just dawned on me- we’re housing an escaped mental patient, and that’s why he doesn’t wanna leave that basement; because he’s afraid of getting caught. He decided the best way to stay off the radar was to hide in someone’s dark basement, only to never again come out. He just lives in his own little world, living his life away drawing, cutting himself off from the world outside of him, as well as the people in it. That is, until he let me into his world, a world so dark and desolate and unknown, yet also stunning and fascinating and breathtaking.
There’s one last thing I need to look up before I can finally put all this to rest (at least, for now. I don’t think the internet is gonna tell me everything I wanna know about Gerard). I need to find what I can about what tragically happened to his and Mikey’s mom and dad. It honestly doesn't feel right Iooking up information about someone's dead parents, but I need to know what happened to the people that killed them. I hope to God they got caught. I hope that they got what they deserve.
After searching high and low on the internet through article after article, I think I finally found what I've been looking for-

September 17th, 1985 (Newark, New Jersey)-- Police are out on the search for two possible suspects for the burglary and murder of Donald and Donna Way. The married couple were found dead in their home last night when police arrived after a 911 phone call from a neighbor, who complained of a possible domestic dispute that was taking place next door. Officer Johnson states that when he and fellow officers arrived on the scene, he found Mr. and Mrs. Way's bodies had both been stabbed and strangled, indicating that there was indeed foul play involved. Police also found two survivors of the incident, the Way family’s two sons (Gerard, 8, and Michael, 5) who were both locked in the closet. They have both been taken into custody for treatment.
After much investigation, the two suspects are indicated to be Cecil Jones (32), and Irvine Bagninski (39). They are both felons that have both been previously convicted of a slue of crimes, from armed robbery to grand theft auto, amongst others.
I looked at the two mugshots of the two murderers. They look like shit. Cecil is a big, burly guy with a beard that looks like it hasn't been kempt in a long time, while Irvine is a scrawny, shorter guy with a scarred, sunken face.These are the two fuckers that have ruined the lives of the Way brothers, especially Gerard’s. I sat there, cussing them both out in my mind, feeling my blood boil.
I tried searching some more to see if I can find out if the two culprits have been caught. As it turns out, they have, and only one of them is still serving his sentence to this day. They were both caught in the midst of an attempted armed robbery, and were both sent to federal prison after both being found guilty. Cecil got the life sentence, while for Irvine, for some fucked up reason, got a mere twelve years with a chance of parole. Why, though? I don't know much about how the judicial system works, but if he really was responsible for the murders, as well as other previous crimes, he should have gotten a much heavier sentence.
I did the math in my head; it's 2004 right now. It's nineteen years after the murders, as well as Cecil and Irvine getting caught.
Irvine is now free. After he murdered someone’s parents, for fuck's sake! What strings did he have to pull to get out with such a lenient sentence? After searching high and low how something so ridiculous came to be, I came to a dead end with almost no results. The only thing I can really find out about being him released was because of something along the lines of “a lack of evidence” and “good behavior”. But aside from that, I think I know enough now. Gerard and Mikey's parents were murdered by these two scumbags. They broke into their home, and just killed them in cold blood, and probably also took some valuables with them as well. Gerard and Mikey at the time were both little kids, barely able to comprehend what was taking place right in front of them. Their parents died saving them, locking them both in the closet, out of harm’s way. Both of their lives changed dramatically that night, especially Gerard’s. They were separated, only to never see each other for several years. I still have no idea what happened to Gerard growing up in the foster system, but something tells me it was far from a walk in the park. Aside from all that, I think I’ve found everything I’m looking for, for the most part. Slowly, but surely, I’m starting to learn more about Gerard, and what made him the way he is today. With all that being said, I now know what to do when I return home. I need to see Gerard again. I need to apologize to him for my sheer ignorance. I need to make sure he’s okay…

When I got home from the library, I went around the house to make sure that Mikey wasn’t home from work yet. When I saw that the coast was clear, I made my way down the hall and stopped in front of the basement door. I’m shaking. I’m sweating. My chest is pounding. I shut my eyes.
Come on, Frank. Get your shit together already. You have to do this. All you gotta do is breathe. Just breathe.
I took a deep breath with my eyes still shut, then let it all out, feeling my body ease up a bit. I’m still scared, but I can’t just stand here and waste my time. Gerard’s waiting for me.
I opened up the door and entered the void, greeted by the familiar pure darkness and stench of mildew. I once again made my way down the stairs, with the light of my cell phone as my flashlight. I stepped over countless piles of garbage and turned down the hall, with Gerard’s bedroom door in sight. I made my way to it, then suddenly stopped. I hear something, and it’s coming from beyond the door. I crept up and pressed my ear against it, trying to hear the noises better. I hear sniffling and sobbing…
Someone’s crying.
Gerard’s crying…
He’s crying for me…
I felt my heart begin to break into tiny pieces. I was right. He was waiting for me all along. He regrets what he did. He pushed away the only person that was there for him, and now he’s all alone, waiting for that person to come back to him, like a lost puppy searching for it’s owner.
“Gerard?” I said, tapping on the door. “You alright? It’s me...Frankie,”
No response.
“Gerard?” I called out again, knocking. “Come on, open up. It’s Frankie,”
Still no response.
I don’t wanna be rude and barge in, but I can’t bear to stand here, painstakingly waiting. I just wanna see him again. I wanna tell him I’m so sorry for what I said. I wanna tell him that I forgive him for what he did last night. I wanna hold him and tell him everything’s okay…
I turned the knob, and opened up his bedroom door.
“Ger-”
I froze, my eyes barely able to take in what’s in front of them. His room’s a mess, but not like the mess outside of it. It isn’t just a mess of garbage. It’s a mess of art all over the walls, but not the same artwork he’s shown me before. This artwork plastered all over the walls isn’t of superheroes, or horror icons, or anything like that. Instead, it’s drawn and painted pictures of dead bodies, each one being horribly mutilated in different ways. Some of the bodies are dismembered or disemboweled, or skinned alive, or burned alive, or however else someone can be brutally slaughtered. One picture that came to my eye was a picture of someone being boiled to death, while another one showed someone’s body being sawed into two, with his body being hung upside down and sprawled out, with two people sawing him in half, starting in between his legs, and making their way down, tearing through him with his guts spilling out. Another particular one that caught my attention was a picture of someone’s head being crushed to death with a baseball bat-which would have easily happened to mine last night, had I not made it out alive from the artist’s rageful frenzy. The head in the picture is so smashed and disfigured that it barely even looks like a head, and more like roadkill, it’s entrails splattered all over the place, with the baseball bat above it dripping with blood and brain matter.
I stepped back and covered my mouth, my insides recoiling out of pure disgust and devastation. This is nothing like it is in the movies. I have seen some really nasty stuff on the t.v screen, but none of that comes close to what’s in this room. These grotesque and detailed pictures look so real, like they’re actual photos of people being brutally murdered. What’s worse is that I know the person who made all these pictures, and they were all made by a complete madman. This was why Gerard didn’t want me to see his bedroom that one night. He was hiding something from me in here, something I wish I can have erased from my memory.
After regaining myself, I stepped back into Gerard’s bedroom, keeping my eyes away from the ghastly art on the walls. I still need to find him.
“Gerard?” I called out weakly, still gagging a little. “Where are you?”
I turned around and found another door in the back corner of the bedroom. It appears to be a closet door, riddled with peeling paint and scratch marks.
“Mikey…” a low, shaky, and familiar voice erupted from it. “Mikey, don’t look. Please, little brother...please don’t look,”
Mikey? What is he talking about? Mikey’s not here…
“Gerard?” I called out again, now knowing where he’s hiding. I walked over to the closet door, tapping on it. “Are you okay?”
“Mikey, please!” the voice cried out. “Don’t look! Daddy...mama...they’re...oh, god-they’re-”
“Gerard!” I opened up the door, my whole body beginning to shake again. “Gerard, are you-”
I stood there frozen in dismay when I saw Gerard. He’s on the floor, curled up in a ball with his hands clawed into his legs. His sunken eyes are wide and raw with tears, bound by psychosis. His hair is once again a complete mess, very tangled and obscuring his pale, newly bruised face. He sat there shivering and ranting, telling his little brother to look away, who’s clearly not here. I don’t think I could ever stop the tears that began to well up in my eyes.
“D-don’t look, little brother,” he stuttered. “Don’t look at daddy and mama. They’re...th-they’re-”
“Gerard!” I yelled, kneeling down to him. I waved a hand in front of his face, trying to get him to snap back into reality. “Gerard, snap out of it! It’s me, Frankie!”
“Don’t look, Mikey…” Gerard muttered, ignoring me. “Don’t look, Mikey….Don’t look, Mikey….Don’t-”
“Gerard!” I cried desperately, putting my hands on his shoulders and shaking him. “Come on, Gee! Wake up! Please! Gee!”
Gerard’s head snapped up as he gasped, his eyes still wide and frantically scanning his surroundings. He stopped and looked up at me, his body still in the same shaking and helpless fetal position.
“F-frankie?” He stuttered, sniffling. “Is that you?”
“Yes,” I replied, pushing his bangs away from his face. I put my hand on his cheek, feeling his cold skin against my fingertips. “It is. I’m here, Gee...”
“Frankie…” Gerard reached a shaking hand out to me, touching my face. He shook his head, his eyes scanning my face. “Frankie...oh my god…”
Gerard leapt up and wrapped his arms around me tightly, nearly making me fall back. He buried his face in my shoulder, his cries muffled in my jacket. I held on to him, accepting his embrace as well as the tears that continued to soak my eyes.
“Oh, Frankie...I’m so sorry! I thought I lost you forever!” He cried.
“No, you didn’t,” I said, my voice choked by my own tears. “I’m right here, Gerard. You won’t lose me,”
“Do you swear?” Gerard asked, his hands tightly gripping my shoulders.
“I swear on my fucking grave, Gerard. I should be the one saying sorry, though. Not you,”
“But why, Frankie? I’m the one that’s responsible!” Gerard exclaimed. “You shouldn’t be apologizing, I should be! I’m the one that tried to hurt you! I could have killed you!”
“I know, but…I know you didn’t mean it,” I sighed, looking down out of guilt. “I’m the one that triggered you because I was so ignorant...I didn’t know…”
“Frankie,” Gerard cupped my chin in his hand, bringing my head up. “That’s no reason to blame yourself. There’s no excuse for what I tried to do to you. It’s all my fault,”
“But Gerard, I-”
“No butts, Frankie,” he interrupted. “Sure, you didn’t know anything...but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault. It’s mine. I’m the one who couldn’t control his own fucking emotions…”
I honestly don’t know what to say. What Gerard did was irrational, but I can’t stand sitting here watching him blame himself for everything. His parents were fucking murdered in front of him and his brother, and I foolishly made him look back at a memory so horrible. He’s clearly still haunted by it to this day, seeing how he was just minutes ago…
“Frankie,” Gerard said. “I don’t know how in the hell you can ever forgive me for hurting you, but...I’m happy you came back…”
Once again, Gerard smiled that same genuine smile that I just love so much. Slowly, but surely, the Gerard that I know is coming back to me, and damn it, it needs to stay that way.
“Don’t worry, I do forgive you,” I smiled back, despite starting to feel uncomfortable sitting in this dark and cramped closet. “How about if we find a place to sit, if you don’t mind? I’m not a big fan of tight spaces…”
“Oh, yeah...sorry,”
Gerard and I stood up and left the closet. Before I could ask him where we should relocate, he froze right in front of me, standing in the middle of his room that’s covered to every corner in the violently graphic and obscene drawings.
“Gerard? You okay?” I asked.
“No,” he replied hesitantly. “No, I’m not...I’m not okay,”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Gerard hung his head down. “I didn’t want you to see my room...and I think now you can see why,”
“I don’t mind,” I said, saying only half the truth. I’m no stranger to seeing people’s bodies being mangled and mutilated so viciously, but the only time I’ve seen stuff like that was in horror movies. This stuff here in Gerard’s bedroom is way different, and much darker…
“Sure, you don’t,” he replied, his voice clearly sarcastic. “You see this shit...and now you must think I’m some kind of wacko, huh?”
“I don’t think you’re wacko,” I pouted. “It’s okay, seriously. I’ve seen much worse. Besides, there are people out there that cover their walls with much more fucked up things,”
“I know, but still...this was why I prefered us staying out in the living room instead. I was just scared that if you saw all this that I’d scare you away or something…”
“Well, you didn’t. Really, Gerard. It’s fine,”
Gerard just stood there with his head still hung down, looking guilty.
“Frankie…” He looked up, his back still facing me. “Did Mikey tell you anything about me?”
Oh, no. I should have known he’d be asking me that. I can't just lie to him. I have to tell Gerard that his little brother did in fact tell me things about him. I need to be careful, though. The worst that can happen is if I say something wrong and I make Gerard have another episode like he did last night. I swear, talking to Gerard is like walking on eggshells, sometimes.
“Yeah, he did…”
“What did he say?”
“He…” I paused, thinking carefully of how to put all the words together without sounding too…well, triggering I guess. “He told me that you...ah, well-”
“Just spit it out, Frankie” Gerard interrupted.
“But Gerard-”
“What did I tell you about butts, Frankie?” Gerard smirked, turning back to me. “Trust me, I won't get upset. I just need to know,”
“You promise you won't get upset?” I asked.
“I promise. Cross my heart and hope to-”
“Alright, alright,” I laughed. “Gotcha,”
I really hope he's right. I still feel awful for upsetting him so much on that dreadful night. I never, ever wanna see him like that again.
“So…” I started. “after what happened between us last night, Mikey and I had a little talk. Ever since I moved in here, him and Ray kept telling me to not come down here to see you, but of course I didn't listen…”
“Why did they tell you that?” Gerard asked.
“Because...they told me you didn't like being bothered, and that you were...dangerous,”
“Oh,” he frowned. “I see,”
“Yeah...so last night when Mikey and I talked, he pretty much opened up to me about your guys’s past…”
“Like what?”
“About…” I paused, still hoping to God that Gerard is right. “...about what happened to your parents when you were little…”
Gerard stood silent, looking down at the ground. Time seemed to drag on for eternity the longer we stayed like that in complete silence, standing in Gerard’s room. Finally, he looked back up at me, his face lacking any expression.
“Let's go sit down in the living room,” he said.
“Okay,” I replied, following him to the couch. We both sat down, our eyes immediately regaining contact with each other.
“So...now you know about what happened to them, Frankie?” Gerard asked.
“Yes. You two got separated afterwards. Mikey told me that you guys grew up in different foster homes, and you didn't see each other until years later…”
“That's true,” Gerard said flatly. “but I was in so many different homes. So much, that I’m surprised I haven’t lost count,”
“Really? How many?”
“Do you really wanna know?” Gerard chuckled cynically.
“I guess so,”
“I was in fifteen. In a span of nearly ten years,”
“Seriously?” I almost gasped, hearing such a high number. Higher than I expected. “Jesus…must’ve been pretty crazy going through so many,”
“It was,” Gerard sighed. “But hey, it’s all over now. It has been when I turned eighteen…”
“Right,” I said, suddenly realizing what happened on Gerard’s eighteenth birthday; it was the same day he killed those three bullies in Monroeville Park. Should I bring that up to him? Would that even be a good idea-
“Did Mikey tell you what I did on my eighteenth birthday?” Gerard suddenly said smirking, ironically coming off as charming, despite hinting at something he did that’s far from that. Just the way he’s looking at me with those radiating hazel eyes and that...fucking seducing smile is making me blush before I could even realize it…
“Yeah,” I said under my breath, my eyes unable to look away from his strangely hypnotizing stare. “he did…,”
Gerard stayed silent for a few seconds, until he suddenly bursted out in laughter, throwing his head back. He glanced back at me, the smile not vanishing from his face.
“Oh, so he did?” He said, still cackling. “I see. It was honestly the best fucking birthday gift I’ve ever got, Frankie…”
Is he serious? Gerard has killed three people, and used one of the victim’s head as his bedtime buddy, and he’s laughing? Sure, they were all assholes for bullying him and attacking him, but does he really think fucking murdering three teenagers is a laughing matter? This guy doesn’t just have a dark sense of humor, he has a twisted and very fucked up sense of humor.
“They tried to hurt me…” Gerard whispered, the laughing gone. His glare suddenly grew ice-cold, much unlike the arousing grin he had just seconds ago. “They ganged up on me while I was all alone in the park, drawing in my sketchbook. They took my sketchbook...and they destroyed it. Just took it and ripped out all the pages, and tore them up to pieces right in front of me as they took turns beating me up, like they always did to me at school. They destroyed all my fucking work…”
Gerard looked down remorsefully, his eyes full of tearful woe, as if mourning over the loss of his desecrated sketchbook. I really feel bad seeing him like this, knowing that I went through a pretty similar dilemma as Gerard in high school, getting harassed and beat up constantly. But something tells me that Gerard got it much worse than I did, and this is coming from someone that constantly got called a fag and was shoved into lockers on an almost daily basis…
“I’m really sorry,” I said. “That was a really shitty thing of them to do,”
“It fucking was!” Gerard shot his head up, his eyes brimming with pure hatred and rage. “They took the one and only thing I ever had that made me happy! I didn’t have shit growing up! Zip. Nada. Zilch. Nothing but me and my sketchbook! It was the same sketchbook my grandma gave to me before she died right in my arms! It was the one thing that made me express myself without being ridiculed...and it was taken away from me and destroyed right in front of my eyes, Frankie!”
I genuinely do feel bad for Gerard, knowing what kind of hell he must’ve been through growing up. But he’s honestly really fucking scaring me right now. The fact that he just seems to constantly be having all these dramatic mood swings is very unsettling; one minute he’s all laughs and smiles, the next he’s all somber and forlorn, then right after that he’s fuming with anger. I really hope this isn’t a sign of another oncoming psychotic episode. I’m really starting to doubt what Gerard said earlier about not getting upset talking about his checkered past. What’s worse is that I can’t do much about it. All I can do is sit there and watch him come undone. It’s like watching a trainwreck that’s about to happen right in front of you, and it’s honestly really fucking heartbreaking to see…
“I just couldn’t take it anymore…” Gerard continued, his anger starting to simmer down. “It was a living hell for me every single day dealing with those guys. Just that same shit on a different day. I got shoved into lockers, given swirlies, tripped in the hallways-you name it, I’ve had it done to me. But after what they fucking did to me that day...after they destroyed my sketchbook, my outlet for expressing all my anger and frustration...I’ve had enough…”
Gerard slowly turned his head back to me, with a wide and wicked smile smile slowly stretching ear to ear.
“See, I had this hunting knife that I stole at a pawn shop...and I had it on me that night in the park. So after those...teenagers took turns terrorizing me...I knew what I had to do. I took out my knife...and I just gave myself the best fucking birthday gift ever. I wish I could remember every single fleeting moment of it...oh I really wish I could, because now it’s all just a blur looking back at it almost ten years later, but I just remember it feeling so fucking good, like the best feeling you could ever have; better than any high, better than sex, better than anything else in the whole fucking world! It felt so good to hear them scream and cry! It felt so good to see them suffer and bleed! It felt so good to feel someone’s severed head wrapped around your arms while you slept at night! Hell, it even felt so good to taste their blood, too! It doesn’t even matter if I killed them! I didn’t care if I got caught! We all go to hell anyways, don’t we, Frankie?”
I swear to God that at this point, Gerard is only inches away from going all-out batshit hysterical. The way he just laughs and fantasizes over murdering someone-let alone three people-just really sets me off. What’s also really bizarre and unsettling is the fact that he pretty much killed these three people all over a sketchbook…
“But you know what?” Gerard whispered, the bloodlust that was in his eyes just seconds ago now gone. “The only way I’m ever gonna feel anything like that again...is when I get sweet revenge when I find them...and hunt them down…”
“Who?” I asked, trying my hardest to not sound like I’m almost scared shitless.
Gerard sat there silently, his face again devoid of any emotion whatsoever, as if dreading to say the words that are on his mind. His eyes stayed focused on the wall, gazing over his artwork that’s in lieu of the mangled bodies.
“The two men...that k-killed...d-daddy...and-and mama…” he said shakily, his voice seemingly shifting to almost like that of a young child’s. “They hurt daddy and mama...and they...killed them!”
“Gerard,” I said, feeling half-tempted to hold Gerard tightly in my arms. “I’m really, really sorry about what happened to your parents. Those men deserve to pay for what they did,”
“They do, Frankie,” Gerard replied, the child-like voice gone. “They fucking do. They don’t deserve to even breathe the air in this ugly world...they deserve much worse than that. It’s such a disgrace that they’re even still alive after what they fucking did to me...and Mikey...and-and…”
Gerard shook his head and buried his face in his hands, shaking so much as if he’s trying to contain the demons inside of him. He began to rock back and forth frantically, just like he did last night in the midst of whatever nightmare was taking place in his mind.
Oh no...oh, dear fucking god...coming down here again was a grave mistake, wasn’t it?
“I can’t talk about it anymore, Frankie!” Gerard yelled, running his hands through his disheveled hair. “I just can’t take it anymore! I don’t want to do it again! I don’t want it happen again! I don’t wanna lose it all again and hurt you again, Frankie….I’m so sorry!”
“No, Gee! Please don’t be sorry!”
Without even noticing it immediately, I grabbed Gerard and pulled him into me, holding him tightly. I am shaking so much, as much as he is, and for the life of me, I don’t know why I am so close to crying now…
I want him to stop.
I want him be calm.
I want him to be okay!
“It’s okay, Gerard. Don’t speak anymore,” I said. “It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay!”
Gerard buried his face into my jacket again, still shaking helplessly. I can’t tell if he’s hyperventilating or if he’s crying. Whatever it may be, I’m not ever gonna let him go. I’m gonna stay down here as long as he wants me to. I don’t care if I get caught by Mikey or Ray. Gerard needs me, and goddamnit, I want him to be okay! I want him to be o-fucking-kay!
“You...you promise, Frankie?” Gerard asked, his voice muffled in my jacket.
“Yes, Gee...I promise,”
I laid myself down on the couch, taking Gerard with me. He laid right down on top of me, still holding on to me for his dear life with his arms wrapped around my neck. He rested his head right over my chest and shut his eyes, looking so peaceful, much unlike how he was just minutes ago. I could just let Gerard fall asleep on me right now. I wouldn’t mind at all. I’d fall asleep too, my arms still wrapped around him. He’s my friend, and I’m very likely the first friend he’s made in a long time...or maybe just ever. Whatever it may truly be, I wanna stay with him all night. He’s still so warm…
And still so fucking beautiful…
“I’m sorry if I scared you, Frankie,” Gerard whispered, his eyes gazing up at me. “I’m sorry if you think I’m some kind of fucked up freak…”
“I’m not scared of you, Gerard. I don’t think you’re a fucked up freak either. You have every right to be angry. Those men deserve to pay for what they’ve done to you and your family,”
Gerard stayed silent, shutting his eyes again. He smiled a little, then moments later, opened them back up.
“Thank you, Frankie,” he whispered. “Thank you for understanding. Thank you for staying here with me. Thank you for saving me from losing myself. Thank you...for everything, Frankie,”
“You’re welcome...Gee,” I said, smiling. I just feel so warm inside and out. He feels so warm…
“You know what, Frankie?” Gerard lifted his head off my chest, gazing at me once again, the light behind his eyes radiating. “You’ve got really pretty eyes. You know that, right?”
“You think so?” I said, laughing he would bring up something so random yet so sweet at the same time.
“Yeah, just thought I’d say that…” he smiled, making butterflies flutter in my stomach.
“You do too, Ger-”
And suddenly, at that fleeting moment as I spoke, was when Gerard shut his eyes, leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine, kissing me softly…

Notes