I'm the Kind of Human Wreckage That You Love.

Everything ran smoothly for the next three weeks.

Buddy had booked the boys on a skatefest tour. Their record, now known as ’I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love,’ had left a nice little scar in the local scene, forcing people to take notice. The band still got heckled sometimes, but Frank didn’t have to be pulled off some guy every night. Every second the band wasn’t driving to the next venue, or in our beds, they were in the practice studio with Venetian Silicone and others.

“Baby?” Gerard called me from the guest room. He had slowly crept all his art supplies in there, and unofficially claimed it as his studio.

“Yeah? What’s up?” I returned from across the hall in our bedroom. I was fishing through his duffel bag, pulling out his dirty clothes and throwing them into a laundry basket to wash.

“Are you coming with us?”

“What do you mean, darlin’?”

I heard him come into the door way, “On the whole skatefest thing. Your coming with me right?”

“I can’t come. I’ll only get in your way,” I turned around to look at him. He was looking down at the tube of paint in his hand, lamenting, “Plus, you’ll never come back if you don’t have something to come home to. You wouldn’t have a home.”

I walked over to him with the basket balanced on one hip. When I passed him, I dragged my finger across his middle and kissed his cheek.

“I want you with me always, though.” He voiced.

“Babe, of course I’ll come to some shows, but not seeing you everyday will only make you want me more. We’ll be stronger.” I almost felt guilty.

“I don’t know...”

He began trailing and I know when he starts trailing, he starts thinking about unnecessary things, so I had to take his mind off it, “Are you coming to the laundromat with me?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. It may be one of our last moments together!” He joked, with wide eyes and a smile.

We got to the mat and I started to load our clothes into a washer. I was sitting on a dryer in the spin cycle, enjoying the vibrations making my voice sound robotic. Gerard was standing in front of me rubbing my freshly-shaven legs, smiling, and listening to me sing to the oldies radio station that was on.

“...Why do you build me up? Buttercup baby. Just to let me down, and mess me around and then worst of all, you never call, baby, when you say you will, but I love you still... I-I-I-I need YOU more than anything, baby...”

“God... story of my life!” He told me overdramatically.

“Shut up! I don’t call you only when you’ve pissed me off. You want me to yell at you?”

“I’m not enjoying it much right now, so... no.”

“Oh, I’m sorry baby,” I apologized in a baby voice, “I love you. C’mere.” I kissed his forehead and pulled him into a hug.

The moment of quiet let me listen to the song now playing.

So kiss me and smile for me. Tell me that you’ll wait for me. Hold me like you’ll never let me go.

All these emotions started rushing through me, stretching me out, pulling me in a million different directions.

But I’m leaving on a jet plane. Don’t know when I’ll be back again. Oh, babe, I hate to go.

I grasped Gerard tightly and wrapped my legs around him.

“You okay, babe?” He whispered into my ear, worry in his voice.

I didn’t know. I shut my eyes tight and choked back tears, “I don’t know.... Gerard? Promise...promise me you’ll never leave me.”

At that moment it hit me that he was going to go away... and our relationship was completely out of my hands. Who knows what is going to happen to us. I had forgotten what it was like before I met him. I couldn’t remember how I functioned and I was terrified.

He tried to pull back, but I clutched him closer.

“I promise. I promise you. Forever.” He convincingly assured me.

He rubbed my back and shushed me until I could compose myself.

After the song was over and my torture had ended, I jumped off the machine, avoiding eye contact with Gerard. Taking deep breaths I began unloading the clean, wet clothes and reloading them into dryers. Gerard just looked on, baffled and concerned. When I was done I finally looked at him and flashed a weak smile. He took my hand and kissed it. I loved how I never had to explain myself to him, he just knew I eventually would.

“That fucking song, you know? I think I just realized that some things suck when you can’t control them. Not that I want to control you-” I started.

But he cut me off, “I know. It’s okay. I freak sometimes, too. A lot of times, actually.”

I shook my head ‘no’ and affectionally rubbed his hand on my face.

“Yeah,” He affirmed, “And you were always there to get me through it. Despite all those times, you’re still with me. I’ve never known someone so strong. And you make me strong. I’ll never, ever let you go.”

I took another deep breath and let his words soak in for a beat.

“Let’s just get these fucking clothes dried so we can go home.” I breathed.

“And then spend some quality time together before-”

“Don’t even say it.” I spat out quickly raising my hands to my ears.

He nodded his head and smiled in understanding, “Okay.”

We piled the clothes into the basket and walked out of the laudromat.

“You know by ‘quality’ time I meant ‘dirty’ time, right?” He asked me, completely seriously.