Anonymous

I could tell from the way your eyes remained green, you were sorry for punching me in the face, but you were too afraid to say you were sorry. Sometimes you were open your mouth to say it, but when I glared at you…you quickly shut it. I was angry- beyond angry even. I wanted to scream from the rooftops that I hated your guts- I hated what you had become. But something called love, I guess, kept me from uttering those words. Sometimes I really just wanted to quit. Quit you and the band. Go back to New Jersey, ask Jamia to marry me, and settle into a mundane lifestyle. I wanted that…

But I think I wanted you to fuck me more, so I never quit. Sounds like such a stupid reason to stay. But the want for you in me had been growing ever since the night you punched me. The further away you got, the more I needed you. It was unhealthy. It was going to end in disaster.

You had become violent- shoving, pushing, punching- mostly towards me. Mostly cause I was the one pushing those buttons with you. Everyone else, they stayed away from you. I could see them getting fed up with your cold behavior. Rolling their eyes every time you would pass by with that mean aura. Sometimes they would talk about ending the rest of the tour and taking a break from one another- but that would never happen because we cared about our fans more than our health and sanity. Well, me, Ray, Bob, and Matt did. We weren’t so sure of you though.

You were on the phone with Eliza, half interested in the conversation. She was rambling on about cutting hair and shit that didn’t interest you; but I guess you were so “in love,” with her, you dealt with her bullshit over the phone. You even sometimes tried to laugh at her jokes, smile at her funny stories, and even-gasp- talk about your life. But did she even try with you? No, she never laughed at your corny jokes. I did, even if you weren’t directing them to me. I would smile and laugh at how confident your voice was when you told them to her. Then I would get sad when she didn’t laugh how you expected.

I walked passed you as you were talking to her. She was blabbering about something so stupid, it isn’t even worth repeating. Our eyes met…but neither were sad glances, happy glances or even wanting. Both were glares. Like we both knew what was coming out of my mouth…

“Blablabla,” I mocked, “Is that all she fucking says.”

I continued to walk towards the bunk area when your phone made contact with my head.

“You’re just fucking jealous you little shit,” you growled.

I picked up your phone and threw it back, “Oh yeah, I’m so fucking jealous of that bimbo.”

I walked towards the back area of the bus, you on my heals…stomping. Luckily no one was in the bus to see this display, but on the other hand, too bad no one was there to stop us.

“Yeah, you’re jealous cause she gets to fuck me!”

“Oh you are such an egotistical jackass,” I spat, swinging around to look you right in the eyes. They were filled with lust. “I don’t need thirty year old cock!”

“You made not need it, but you sure as hell want it!”

I rolled my eyes at you and laughing right in your face. It was funny that you had to reduce yourself to this, acting like you were something big. Sure you had a big cock, but it doesn’t matter how big you are if you don’t know how to use it. And from her fake orgasms, I could gather you didn’t know what you were doing most of the time.

But you saw right through my laughter, didn’t you. You knew I wanted it, needed it, whatever the fuck it was.

“You’re such a liar,” you were seething.

“You know what, yeah,” I shouted, “I want you to fuck me. Whoopy fucking do. Add me to your goddamn list of ‘People who want to fuck Gerard Way.’ Go ahead. You can have that little satisfaction, because if it wasn’t for me, this band, or our fans, you would be nothing more than a fat, ugly, nerd living in your mother’s basement like a sad sorry fuck!”

I guess…that was one below the belt huh? And I guess…

You took my arm and swung me against the wall of the bus, so my back was facing you. You put all your weight on me so I could hardly move. No one was in the bus; they weren’t even in the parking lot. They had all gone out to eat somewhere, leaving us alone. Like idiots, leaving us alone.

“Oh yeah, how about I add you to the list of assholes I’ve fucked,” your voice had changed. It was deep and sharp. It ripped through my body. Not like love, like fear. Fear. I was never afraid of you.

You pulled my pants down- and I cursed myself for wearing sweat pants with no boxers. With one hand you managed to get your jeans off. I guess I suddenly realized what you were about to do to me. You were giving me exactly what I asked for, right?

“Gerard wa-“ But I was cut off by the agonizing pain that shot from my ass, to my heart, to the rest of my body. Tears fell from my broken eyes…I think I felt my world shattering.

I clawed the wall, as if trying to crawl away from the situation, but I was pinned- stuck. With every thrust it felt as if my body was ripping apart. I can’t even explain it. I don’t even want to. Did it count as rape? I couldn’t even admit it. You were raping me- no it isn’t rape when you asked for it, and I did. I said I wanted you to fuck me and so you did. That was fucking. Fucking. Such a disgusting word; only a word like that could make something, like sex, feel so painful.

“Gerard…stop,” I whispered, but you couldn’t hear me over your grunts. “Gerard, please stop.”

You went faster…I could feel the blood drip from the wound you were creating. I tried thinking of anything else. But all I could think about was you- you back when you were you. That’s a lot of yous. Ha. Because that’s all I really think about. I think about your face, your eyes, your mouth. Even your nose and how oddly shaped it is. I think about your hair, how I like it short because I can see your face. I think about your body. I think about your soul. I thought about you while writing every part of a song. Sometimes you let me write. Words never came as easily to me as they did for you, but sometimes…I get that stroke of genius…

“I see you lying next to me,” I whispered…the part of the song I wrote, “with words I thought I’d never speak…”

You suddenly stopped.

“You’re hurting me Gerard,” I think…no I know…I meant that in more ways than one.

You pulled out of me; the pain so intense I couldn’t even stand. I slid to the floor- defeated. This was the end of us. I was so convinced already. You were going to run out and leave me broken on the floor; my pants around my ankles. I was going to look pathetic, shameful. And you were going to look like a monster. A villain. I was never going to forgive you…no…that’s stupid. I’m stupid because I would.

But you are…still…full of surprises aren’t you? You bent down next to me, your eyes filling up with tears as if you finally realized what you did to me. You were shaking- scared…I hated it when you looked scared…my hero shouldn’t look scared.

Yes, after everything…you are still my hero.

“Frankie,” you whispered, touching my sweaty hair, “What have I done to you?”

I couldn’t talk. Everything was numb, I couldn’t even feel you touching me. I wanted to scream though- tell you to get away from me and never come back. Then a tingle…a tingle. I started to feel a tingle dance in my stomach. You gathered me in your arms and cried into my hair. I held on and wouldn’t let go. The feeling of your skin against mine caused more little tingles to erupt into full blown butterflies. Skin to skin, that’s what we wanted. No, we wanted something real. Something that made sense.

“You want to hear something so stupid,” you cried, “After we kissed that first time, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I didn’t do anything for two days- I didn’t drink, I didn’t smoke, I didn’t even eat or sleep. I just though about you. I drew you all over my sketch book. God, you are so perfect to draw. And I realized half way through the second day that…I was in love with you…I was insanely in love with you, Frankie Iero.

“So without even thinking, I bought gold rings that had ‘demolition lovers’ engraved in them. I was so sure about asking you to be with me forever, that I didn’t think about how crazy it all was. And when I did think about it, I realized how stupid I had been to think…someone as perfect as you could love a fuck up like me. I am exactly what you think I am: a fat, ugly, nerd who just got lucky. Ha, no worse. I’m a monster…I hurt the only person I ever loved. The only person.”

You kissed my head and surprisingly, you soothed my pain. My tears stopped long about for me to arch my neck to look into your apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry Frank,” you choked, “I’m not a hero.”

“Gerard,” my voice was almost gone; I could feel my eyes start to close. “Even heroes can be human.”