Execution.

It’s all about putting a big exclamation point at the end of your life!

That's what he used to say, all those years ago when we were happy, together and facing a future we could look forward to. He used to say that when he wrote comics and goofed around with his brother. He used to say that when he wrote me love songs and sang them in his band. He said it before he got heavily involved in drinking and doing drugs - before the Xanax triggered the mental illness that ruined not only his life, but mine.

Schizophrenia killed four people brutally. Schizophrenia stabbed a man and a woman in their thirties, punched an elderly man and left him on the floor to choke on his own blood and vomit. Schizophrenia killed a four-year-old girl by hitting the tiny body over and over again with her father's golf-club. Schizophrenia did all of that, but they blamed a man, an entirely innocent man that would never ever hurt a fly! They blamed the man who would cuddle me close every night, sing me to sleep and wake me with kisses so he could watch the sunrise with me. They blamed the man who smiled all the time and helped old ladies over the street because it was 'Scout's honor'. They blamed the man who spent five hours doing posters of his brother's missing cat and then putting them up all over town, not even getting angry when the brother realized the cat was sleeping in the laundry basket.

The man they blamed for such horrible crimes was the sweetest, most loving and lovable man in the world. It was the man I intended to marry, the man I couldn't spend one day without and not feel a burning ache in my chest. They blamed him for the crimes his illness committed, and now they were punishing him, punishing me, by taking his life away.

He had been in there, in prison for almost a year already, but the day had finally come and I found myself outside the huge, intimidating building which I had never dreamed of going to myself. Not even for a visit. It was with a horribly bittersweet feeling inside of me, that I opened the door and walked in, hating that the only time I got to see him would be the last day of his life. I didn't want to think about, didn't want to see it as something real, something that would be happening within just a few hours. When the night came, when the sun set, I would no longer have a soul-mate, somebody to call my own. They were trying to eliminate the Schizophrenia and didn't care that they were killing an innocent man in the process. They thought they had locked the illness away by putting it in jail, but the truth is that it was already gone because of the medication he got for it. He was absolutely fine all the time in there, and yet he got that punishment. He was getting killed although he had done nothing.

I walked in through the doors, saying my name and who I was there to see, and was immediately let in, after giving the guard basically everything I had on me, except for a photo that I was giving to my love. Then I walked through the longest corridor I had ever seen, and it felt as if I was never going to reach my goal, that I was going to be late and that he was going to have disappeared already. Just as tears started to appear at the corners of my eyes, the guard showing me the way stopped and unlocked a door to the left and stepped aside to let me in.

He was there, beautiful as ever, waiting for me and, when I stepped in and the door had closed, he embraced me. He hugged me tightly for what felt like an eternity, but was really only a minute, and I felt like I had found home again, in his heart and arms. His hands found their way to my face and then my hair, and as he pulled away and looked at me, fingers lost in my hair, my own hands slid up to his face and his clean-shaved head. I missed his hair, the beautiful long locks of black hair, so soft to touch and to tangle your fingers in. So many times had my fingers been lost in his hair as he made love to me, so carefully as to not hurt me.

I love you, he whispered, and with a tear rolling down my cheek, I whispered the same words back before leaning in to meet his lips. They were dry and chapped, tasting a little salty from the tears he had already cried, but I didn't care. I loved kissing him too much. His tongue slipped in between my parted lips and my arms wrapped around his neck as his arms crushed me against his body, large teardrops falling from both pairs of eyes.

He was the one who pulled away, to breathe, and I didn't deny him that. It was his last day of breathing oxygen, after all, and I wanted to make that day the most amazing of his life. I told him that and he said that every day he spent with me was the best day of his life, no matter what we did together, or why.

He held me close during the entire day, and when he wasn't holding me I held him, and when no one was holding the other we were both holding one another, clutching the other hurting body against our own. There was a bed in the room and we lay on it, my arms gripping him tightly as his naked head rested on my chest, silent tears disappearing into my shirt. He was muttering things, so silently and softly that I couldn't make much of it out, only the occasional, I love you. Every time I could hear those words I'd say them right back, feeling afraid that he wouldn't know how much I really did love him when the final moment came. Fresh batches of tears left my eyes every other minute, and my eyes were red, swollen and hurting, but I didn't care. The hurt in my heart, and in his heart, were a lot sharper and made everything else seem blunt and insignificant.

When they, a few hours later, brought in his last meal, he looked at the plate of lasagna swiftly before he hugged me close and whispered into my neck, I'm sorry. Not understanding what he was sorry for and why he had asked for lasagna of all things when he has always said that he hated lasagna, I asked him this is a soft whisper. His reply was simple, I love lasagna, just not yours because you do it differently. I'm sorry.

Smiling, yet with tears running down my face, I hugged him closer and whispered, It's okay, in his ear and was soon met with a kiss on my lips. I wasn't angry or even upset about him lying to me for over ten years, not about something so small and insignificant as lasagna. I held him in my arms as he ate his dinner and then drank the large mug of lukewarm coffee he had also gotten. We didn't speak as the food was devoured, we were just there with each other, helping one another through the indescribably sad day. Just thinking about why I was there and what was going to happen within hours made me heartbroken enough to want to throw up, to break down and beg for them not to kill him or to kill me too. I was so heartbroken I just wanted to give up.

Bert, promise me you'll be happy after today. Not tomorrow, not next week or even next year, but be happy at least one day in the future, he said, staring off into space. I kissed the top of his smooth head and tightened my grip around his torso as he leaned into my chest, letting our bodies melt into one. I felt him grasp my hand and squeeze it tightly as tears started falling down my cheeks and on top of his shaved head, but my tears didn't cease. I love you, please don't cry, he whispered, turning around in my arms to hold my face gently in his large, strong hands.

I just couldn't stop crying, and soon drops of moist appeared in the corners of his beautiful hazel eyes as well, and as I reached up to wipe them away he attached his sweet tasting lips to mine. His hands wove through my tangled hair, lips dancing with mine so carefully and lovingly, but the tears just kept falling from both pairs of closed eyes. The kiss wore on for a few minutes, but soon my silent crying turned into heaving sobs, and I could just gasp for air as I buried my face in his shirt. Th-they c-can't k-kill you! You d-didn't do a-anything! I d-don't want t-to live without you. I love you! I love you. I love you... I sobbed, and he held me closer than ever before, and it had never meant so much to me to be close to him like it did that day. To feel his touch and warmth, to look into his loving eyes, to smell his scent, to taste the unique flavor of his kiss and to hear his soft, angelic voice whisper sweet little nothings in my ear.

He's my world and he's being taken away from me, far too early.

We stayed like that, holding each other close for an hour, until one of the guards came in with the clothes Gerard had to wear for 'later'. He just threw one glance at the disgustingly white, unworn clothes that lay on the table and tears started seeping out of his eyes, just as the door closed again. I caressed his cheek, wishing to distract him from that and for him to focus on me again, but as he did, the little safe haven we had built came crashing down. I don't wanna die, he whispered, gazing lifelessly into my eyes. I'm too young to die. I was supposed to live with you, grow old with you, and die with you, old and sleeping peacefully in our bed. His eyes shut as his face was contorted in pain.

Gerard... I started, but was silenced by him placing a chaste kiss on my lips.

That would be a way to end your life, right? Leaving earth with the man you love would surely put a large fucking exclamation point at the end of your life. He opened his eyes again to look around the room with an angry, no irate look in his eyes and jumped up, out of my arms. Unlike getting your fucking brain fried, wearing a goddamn diaper! he screamed, kicking a chair and the table where the clothes were lying, before dropping to the floor in a sobbing mess. I got off of the bed and crawled over to him, gathering him in my arms as he sobbed heavily, and I just cried silently. I-I d-don't wanna d-die. I l-love you, I h-haven't done a-anything wr-wrong. He clung to me desperately as his tears soaked my shirt.

I know, Gee, I know. You were sick and that's not your fault. It's not your fault that the stupid doctors didn't fucking help you! At this, he just sobbed harder, picking at my shirt weakly with his sad fingers as he cried in my neck. Coming to terms with dying too early, way before your time, only thirty years old, is close to impossible. Accepting that you'll lose your love within an hour and never see him again, never hold him and kiss him again makes your body ache and you don't ever wanna move again, you don't wanna let go. Letting go means forgetting. I love you, Gee. I need you, here, with me, I whispered weakly.

I know. Just, don't forget to move on when I'm gone. He moved his face out from my neck, and cupping my face with his hands, he gently pressed his lips to mine, and even if the gentle, tongueless kiss lasted for several minutes, it felt as if it ended too soon. Like our relationship. Like Gerard's life.

After breaking the kiss, he had to get up off of the floor and change into the clothes he had been assigned to wear to his execution. I remained sitting on the floor, watching him as he changed in front of me. It pained me to know that it was the last time I would ever see his beautiful, glorious body, but I couldn't bring myself to touch him, to just let my fingers trace the curve of his spine or to travel over his warm chest. The thought of it made my fingertips itch, but I was hurting too much to move. Bert, c'mere, please, he said quietly, sitting down on the small bed with his clean-shaved head in his hands.

Sitting down next to him, I wrapped one arm around his thin waist as my free hand held one of his. Resting his head on my shoulder he said, I don't want you to be there, to watch, he whispered quietly, squeezing my hand, but before I could respond he continued, It's too humiliating, I don't want you to see me like that. I don't want you to see me die.

Shifting so that I could look at him properly, I held his face in my hand as gently as I could, gazing into his empty face. Gerard, I wanna be there. I wanna be there for you, I wanna be there, when you... I tried to swallow and ignore the lump in my throat, but I simply couldn't get the words I wanted to say out without having fresh tears pouring down my face. Smiling bravely, he wiped away the tears on my face and pecked my lips, ever so softly.

I don't want you to remember me like that. I don't even want you to remember me like this. Just... He paused, looking away from me with a pained expression on his face. Please, don't stay. I want you to be able to remember the good days, before any of this shit happened. Eyes brimming with tears, I leaned in to kiss him softly, but our lips had barely touched when we heard the door open and two of the prison officers stepped in. I didn't need to hear them say the words, or even look at them, I knew it anyway.

It's time.

That is when the real desperation kicked in. Gerard didn't move for a few seconds, but as he did, my fingers clung to him and his clothes, not intending on ever letting go. No... N-not yet, no! I cried out, ignoring his almost inaudible whispers saying that it would be alright and that I'd be fine. With my face pressed against his neck I felt him stroke my hair, tenderly, softly and slowly, savoring every last second of the last time he had with me, the last chances he had to touch me. Not being ready to look at him for the last time, to meet his magical eyes for the last time, I pressed my lips to his soft skin and pushed myself closer to his body, needing to feel his heartbeat against mine.

I love you Bert, I love you so, so, so much. Don't you ever forget that. Don't forget me, he whispered, and my lips tingled as I suddenly pressed them hard against his. My eyes remained closed, but my lips moved and danced with his as my tongue carefully slipped inside his mouth, tasting and feeling him for the last time. Wet tears fell from my eyes, and from his, and they mingled on our faces like our hearts mingled in our kiss and in the love we had shared for what felt like a lifetime. But it wasn't a lifetime.

Way, you gotta go now. Say goodbye. A sob made its way out of me, and as I pressed myself closer to the love I was about to lose, he carefully pushed me away slightly, so he could stand up, but still hold me. I opened my eyes reluctantly, and almost immediately collapsed against his body in a sobbing mess.

Don't- Please, d-don't leave m-me! I pleaded, but my words were instantly muffled by the fabric of his shirt, as he gripped tighter with his arms around my waist to keep me up. The prison guards repeated their words, but still let us be for another few minutes.

I l-love y-you, he stuttered out as he cried and crushed my smaller body against his warm, strong chest. I'm scared, he cries, and if possible, I tighten my grip around his body further. I wanted to tell him that I was scared too, but at that moment no words were willing to leave my vocal cords, and I could just sob in his arms. I'm gonna miss you, he whispered, and I attached my lips to his for what turned out to be the last time. My arms wrapped around his neck as tightly as possible and his hands clung to my hair in pure desperation, lips moving so carefully, lovingly and slowly that they seemed to not move at all.

But then the officers ran out of patience and, without warning, we were pulled apart. Cuffs were placed around Gerard's wrists and ankles, and our eyes stayed locked the entire time, hearts screaming out for each other in silence. Tears were still pouring out of my red, puffy eyes as they led him out of the room and stopped just outside where a third guard stood. I'll lead you to the observation room, just come with me here, the new one said and took a hold of my forearm to lead me in the opposite direction where they would bring Gerard.

He's not watching, came his immediate words, and the man let go of my arm, giving me an opportunity to once again hug the love of my life close to my body. I love you, I love you so much! he cried, and kept crying as we were once more broken apart, and him led away from me, down the dull, gray corridor. The corridor leading to the end.

Gee... G-Gerard... I l-love you, I sobbed, falling down to my knees as I watched him disappear. Come back, give him back to me! I cried out, loudly, and the one remaining officer who had intended to take me to the observation room, grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up. I love him so much.

Still sobbing, and barely able to stand up on my own, I was half-led, half-carried out to the same entrance building I had entered with that bittersweet feeling earlier that day. It wasn't sweet anymore, it was just a horrible emptiness that I felt in my chest. A cab was called for me, and as I was on my way home, the only thing I could think about was the last time, the last time he kissed me, touched me or said he loved me. As I entered the apartment that used to be ours, I had no idea what time it was, whether it had happened yet or not. But I knew that my heart had been very successfully executed.