Your Makeup on My Pillow Is Proof

"Mikey. I'm fucking serious. Open this door. I can't find Frank, Bob dropped his cell off the balcony again, and Ray is throwing a hissy fit cause he can't tie his tie. We need Frank to tie it. Is he in there?"

Gerard knocked for the thousandth time on Mikey's door. Where the hell was that idiot?

"Okay, that's it Mikey. I'm opening the door myself and coming in." Gerard counted to ten in his head before unlocking the door and walking in.

"Mikey? I'm serious. Where are you?" Gerard walked in. "Mikey, you in here? Have you seen Fr-" Gerard yelled out in confusion as he slipped and fell on his ass.
What the hell had he slipped on in a hotel room? He groped around.

The floor was wet.

Wet?

He managed to get to his feet and flicked on the light. He started to gasp for air as he felt the wind be knocked out of him. He was covered in blood. There was blood all over the floor... and all over Mikey's body.

"Mikey!" Gerard pulled his brothers body into his lap. The silver handgun spilled out of Mikey's hand. Mikey had shot himself.

"Frank!" Gerard pushed Mikey's dead body off as he scoured the room for Frank. "Oh please be alright..."

"Gee?" Frank lay between the bed and the wall, curled up in a corner. He was pale and clutching his shoulder.

"Mikey's dead." Each word stung Frank, each word hurting more.

"I know Frank hun. I know. We'll get you to the hospital and everything will be alright and..."

"Fuck off Gerard. I never want to see you again." Frank's voice was barely audible now, but it didn't matter. Gerard could see it in Frank's eyes.
"Call 911 and then go away. Never come back. Never speak to me again."

"But Frank-"

"I would rather die than be with you any longer than I have to. Gerard, I don't love you like I loved you yesterday."