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Say Anything: Part Two
Swan Song

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I've had this uneasy feeling all day. Insecure about my relationships. Insecure about myself. That night I go to bed with Gerard still racking my brain. There is nothing that I want more than to forgive and forget. Forgive I can manage. I think I forgave him the moment I saw tears in his eyes. After all, I'm not perfect either. He accepted me as a flawed human being, and I owe it to him to do the same. So forgive I can do. It's the forgetting that is giving me trouble. How can I forget that he chose another guy over me? That he needed drugs to get him high? I guess I was too busy floating on his intoxication to notice he was floating away.

He said he was scared. But what I don't get is that my own fright pushed me into his arms and his love, while his just seems to push him farther and farther away from me.

I climb into bed and then turn out the lights. A good night of sleep can only do me some good.

The fumbling of a doorknob.

A click of the lock.

The smooth sliding-open of the bedroom door.

I am never alone.

Owen's face does not show its usual sly cruelty. A single glance at his bruised smile shows that tonight is not about his own pleasure; it is about revenge. He means to do me harm.

"Owen, what are you doing?" I ask. My voice is eerily calm.

He grins with an extra dose of menace. "Your little boyfriend isn't here to save you this time," he chuckles, oh so cliche. He takes a step closer.

I freeze. "He'll be coming in a few minutes," I lie. My hands are shaking beneath the bed sheets, but I won't let him see how much he's scaring the fuck out of me right now.

For a moment Owen seems hesitant. Then he grins and shakes his head. "I doubt is. You guys had a fight, he won't be coming tonight."

I imagine him lying awake in bed nearly every night, listening through the thin walls to whatever Gerard and I happen to be doing. When we fought. When we laughed. When we...Oh, Jesus. He can hear that too.

My facial expression causes him to chuckle, a low chuckle that seems to ominous to be real humor. He steps up to the bed and reaches out for me. Trails a couple of fingers down my face in almost gentle affection.

"You have always been so beautiful. So real. And always mine," he murmurs under his breath.

Man, he sounds mentally unstable. The crazed glint in his eyes seems to agree with me.

"Do you hear me?" he whispers, "You are mine and only mine. You are not his. So I guess I'll just have to get rid of him."

"No!" I shout, pulling away from him. I get out of bed and cross over to the bathroom. Put some distance, put some distance, put some distance. "Please, don't touch him," I beg.

"What, you love him?"

My throat feels raw and scratchy and dry. I'm almost panting. "Please, just leave him alone. Not him."

"You weren't supposed to tell, Frankie. It was supposed to be out little secret."

He takes another step closer, I take a step back, pressing myself against the wall. My eyes dart around, and I'm trying to look for a way out. He's blocking the doorway.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. It's all I can think to say.

Owen's eyes flash with dark humor. "No, you're not." His smile spreads like a flickering white light. "But believe me, you will be."

The next thing I know I'm being tossed up against the wall with a force that knocks all the breath out of my lungs. My head knocks into the corner, sending black spots spiraling through my vision. I gasp as Owen's teeth clamp down on the curve of my neck, drawing blood. Tears spark int my eyes as I squirm, trying hopelessly to get away.

And then I stop struggling. I don't know what nightmarish things will happen tonight. All I know is that there's nothing I can do, because this is the only thing that will save Gerard. And it's about time I return the favor.

I don't try to stop the flow of tears running down my cheeks. My nose gets all stuffy and I can't breath, and my face is getting red and blotchy, but I don't do anything about it. I cringe as his fingertips spread across my stomach, slipping lower and lower. I close my eyes and sob as they slide inside my pajama pants. I try to pretend that I'm somewhere else, someone else, someone who is far away and happy. But all I can think is how this is probably why Gerard won't have sex with me. I'm just a filthy fuck and nothing more.

There's a loud 'thwack' against the window, making me jump. Owen ignores it as he fumbles with his belt while keeping his own mouth on my neck. I crane my neck around his shoulders, getting the smallest glimpse of the window above my bed.

Oh my, I must be hallucinating. I read somewhere that terror does that to a person. Like those people who claim that they can see Jesus Christ or God in the minutes before they die in their death beds. But I swear, when I look out that window, I can see Gerard, his palm flat against the glass and his face molded into an expression of complete horror.

And I wonder, am I going to die? Maybe this is it. Maybe I'm just too damn fed up with all of this, this shitty situation, and my heart is just going to give out on me. This could be my end, and Gerard is my swan song. At least I did one thing worthwhile in this life.

The next few moments are somewhat of a blur. I feel Owen being ripped away from my body, and then my legs giving one final shake before giving out. As I slide to the floor, I get a quick glimpse of Gerard, paler than ever and covered in frost, throwing a murderous Owen down onto the floor by my bed. My eyes flutter closed in an almost drowning relief, and all I can feel is the icy brush of snow that's blowing in through the open window.

And then Gerard is by my side, petting back my hair with hands that feel like ice. He's shivering so badly that it's almost painful to watch. But I will never take my eyes off of him again.

"Where did you come from?" I ask. My voice sounds gritty from crying, and it feels like glass in my throat.

Gerard grins with chattering teeth. "I p-promised I-I wouldn't l-leave y-y-you alone," he replies. Man, does he look tired, and his skin holds no warmth at all.

Slowly, it dawns on me what he means. "How long have you been out there?"

"I n-never left." He helps me up and sits me down on the edge of the bed. Owen looks to be unconscious at the foot of the bed.

I look out the window as he slides it shut. His old blue car is parked in the exact same spot it was this morning when I thought he'd left, covered in snow. Now that I have time to stop and take account of what's going on, I do notice that he's in the same clothes he'd been in last night. I would scold him if I wasn't so fucking grateful that he'd been out there keeping an eye out for me.

"You're gonna freeze to death," I mutter lamely, but my gratitude blocks out any sort of anger I'd had towards him. So instead I bury my face in his snow-covered hair and vow to never let him go. We kiss and everything feels just right, even though I'm still trembling out of fear and anger is pulsating through his veins, warming him up faster than anything.

It is only by chance that I happen to open my eyes at this precise moment and see Owen standing up. I guess he's not as unconscious as I'd thought. I rip away from Gerard's arms, causing him to whip his own head around to see what I'm freaking out about. We leap up at the same time, and by reflex Gerard shoves me behind him. For about the trillionth time I feel a surge of appreciation towards him for protecting me like a bad habit.

"Motherfucker," Owen growls. He's holding his left wrist like it might be broken, and a stream of blood is trickling out of the corner of his mouth.

I'm thinking, when will all of this end? Will I ever get to be at peace? Will Gerard ever get to stop having to save my ass?

Anger floods my veins, setting each nerve on fire. Blood rushes to my brain, creating a dizzying whirl of cold-blooded resentment. Why the fuck can't Owen just leave me alone? For almost half my life he's tortured, teased, and abused me. He turned me into a boy scared to death of people, my parents, the truth. He fucking slashed romance to pieces before my very eyes. And now I find someone who I love, truly love, and he loves me back despite how fucked in the head I am, and Owen has to try and destroy that also.

I'll die before I let him kill this for me too.

Owen's right hand goes up in the air.

It's an instantaneous decision, really. A split-second reaction. All those chemicals rioting inside of me, telling me to protect, to save, to conquer in the name of Gerard. It's such a quick choice that I don't even really have time to think of what I'm doing as I jump out in front of Gerard.

At first it just feels like a punch to my gut, a quick in-and-out. It completely knocks my breath away, leaving me heaving. I hear my squeal of shock and pain, and then Gerard's roar of fury. Then slow motion, Owen's hand pulling away from my stomach. The speedy glint of bloody silver in the moonlight as he slips the pocket knife back into his pocket.

And even then it doesn't quite connect in my brain. All the pieces are there, but I'm just not putting together the puzzle. I stumble back, and I see the look of shock frozen on my face in the bathroom mirror. Like I just didn't see it coming. And I didn't. In all the years of Owen's sadistic addiction to torturing me, I'd never thought it would come to this.

Then the pain sets in. All at once my ears start to roar and I double over in pain. It's the most excruciating thing I've ever felt, like someone poured gasoline on my body and lit me up. My eyes are squeezed shut and my hands are clenched over the spot where he punched me. I wrench them open and see the dark crimson stain spreading across the fabric of my shirt.

Holy fuck, the bastard stabbed me.

One-by-one the pieces fall into place. The knife coming at me, concealed in his fist. How it was meant for Gerard, but I had to be a brave bitch and take the hit. The excruciating pain. My life's blood oozing out between my fingers.

Gerard doesn't know any of this. He's too busy ripping Owen's handsome face to shreds.

I collapse against the wall, but somehow my legs still support me. I try to make a sound, but all that comes out is this strange gasping noise. My fingers are all blood and that makes me nauseous. My legs refuse to keep on supporting my weight, and I slide down the hall. I'm watching Gerard reduce Owen to an unrecognizable bloody pulp, but I just can't seem to focus on anything. I really wish the world would stop spinning just long enough for me to get off.

All at once, I come to the realization that I am dying. For real this time, no joke. My world is already looking like a movie flashback, the edges all black and blurry. Like that time I tried pot and got high as a kite. Everything just seems...fuzzy. A strange warmth bubbles over me when I realize that it's all ending. Right here, right now. No more pain, no more tears. Here is Karma's final last word before putting me to rest. How kind that this misery will come to a finish.

I am aware of the side of my face hitting the carpet as my precious blood stains the floor and the palms of my hands. I've fallen over as my body stops trying to hold me up. This is okay because I am dying.

I'm starting to feel like maybe I inhaled too many paint fumes. Just this nauseating, headache-inducing fog in my brain that I wish would go away. I feel my mouth opening and closing, but no audible sounds emerge. Silent screams are always the worst.

And then Gerard turns around. He's abandoned bloody Owen on the floor again, and he's making his way over to me. His face is worried.

"Frankie, are you okay?" he asks.

His voice sounds deep and slow, like a cheesy movie or something. I respond with an unintelligible groan. This is like some B-grade Horror film, but without the hot blond chick who always dies in the beginning. But wait! I'm not ready for it to end! I'm not ready for the credits to start rolling. I want to keep on going and living.

I watch as his eyes slowly drift down to my hands clenching my stomach and the blood that stains as it sinks into the carpet. I watch his eyes fill up with tears and his mouth drop open.

"Oh my god..." he breaths, dropping to his knees. He sounds like any moment he might just break down.

And then he starts to sob. Heart-wrenching, ragged sobs that shake his entire slight frame. It's the worst sound I've ever heard.

I want to tell him that it will all be okay. That we'll run off together and live away from the drugs and the booze, the fucks and the lies. We'll bring Mikey, and the three of us will run away and spend our days at art conventions and hotel rooms. And me and Gerard, we'll still be that same chemical couple we were from day one, the ones who just happen to be helplessly addicted to each other.

I want to tell him so bad that it hurts. But he's screaming and trying to apply pressure to the hole that's been ripped into my body, and the blood is still trickling my life away. I want to tell him that it's too late. That we were just too late. And maybe one day he and I will work out, but right now I just need him to let go so that I don't have to hurt anymore.

My eyes, wide open, zero in on his collapsed face and black eyes. I can see his lips moving, but I hear nothing besides for the dull roar in my ears. Like a clapping audience, a standing ovation. Good job, Frankie. You played the part well. You win the game. From now on you'll be known as the Champion of Be Invisible. You're going in the books, kid. Here's a toast to history well-made.

Oh, I can see his lips moving through tunnel-vision, black-and-white. "Please, Frankie, just hold on. Your mom's calling for an ambulance. Goddammit, Pansy, don't you fucking give up."

I can hear Owen laughing. Even as my vision turns gray and all the lines start blurring into one big mass. Even as my blood continues to trickle and I'm rotting away. Even as I lay dying, I can still hear his maniacal laugh.

And the last thing I feel is Gerard's tears, hot as they slide down my frozen face. And I wish I could tell him I love him just one more time.

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A/N: Another note, since there have been questions...THIS IS NOT THE END.