Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

“I don’t want to hear it, you let him go; you should’ve known that’s what he was going to do. I’m not going to sit here and play referee just because the two of you dance around each other like fucking idiots.”

Mikey was pacing, wringing his hands and glaring at me occasionally. His actions alone made me feel incompetent, his words just added to the shame. He let out a frustrated groan, looked at me and began pacing yet again.

“Do you have any idea what this is doing to me right now?”

I wasn’t even going to respond, it’d only make things worse.

“I shouldn’t be here with you, I should be with my brother but the moment I went to his dorm to actually be the decent brother for once, that fucker Bert told me to fuck off and go find you before he does.”

He finally slumped down on my bed next to me.

“Frankie, I, I can’t keep protecting the both of you, today, that just, it took its toll on me today. You’re in love with each other, stop fighting whatever it is you’re fighting and tell him. Tell him you don’t care what everyone else thinks. You never have before, why start now?”

He couldn’t even look at me anymore. He refused to meet my gaze and that seemed to hurt more than the moment Gerard walked off today. My best friend couldn’t even look me in the eye—what have I done? Without a backwards glance I left our dorm and headed towards the one place that could offer me any sanctuary—the music department.

I made sure no one was in the main room and gathered my guitar and proceeded to the practice room hall. I heard a piano coming from one of the rooms; a door was left slightly ajar. I peeked in and saw Bert fingering the piano as if his life depended on it. He was singing softly to himself but that’s not what got me. No, what tore right through me, pricked something in my heart were the tear tracks that steadily flowed down his cheeks.

I gently closed the door, no longer able to stand looking on his breakdown. Over what, I’m not sure, nor do I think I would want to know. I made it to my favorite room, the one all the way at the end of the hall—it was the largest room, but because of the hike no one used it. I took out my guitar, relishing in the memories of its life. I began to play around as I softly sang the words I had written earlier today; I needed to find the music that fit perfectly to my words.

Am I not pretty enough?
Is my heart too broken?
Do I cry too much?
Am I too outspoken?
Don't I make you laugh?
Should I try it harder?
Why do you see right through me?

I doubt I’d ever be what he wants. He was so willing to walk away but I was so willing to let him go. These past two weeks, without him even interacting with me like he usually did, a quick glance and at times a small, miniscule, smile—it was hell. Perhaps Mikey told him of my past before coming to this place, the life I led for three years before I attended here. The looks I had been getting were as if I wasn’t really here and for some reason that hurt more than him walking away from me today.

I live, I breathe.
I let it rain on me.
I sleep, I wake.
I try hard not to break.
I crave, I love.
I've waited long enough.
I try as hard as I can.

Before coming here it was as if I did nothing right. I had realized at twelve that I would never look at a girl the way the other boys did. I would never let them in on that secret, yet somehow they found out. I’m not sure how many lockers I was stuffed in, I lost count after sixty-eight. I never fought back though, I just let them torment me—I felt I deserved it.

Am I not pretty enough?
Is my heart too broken?
Do I cry too much?
Am I too outspoken?
Don't I make you laugh?
Should I try it harder?
Why do you see right through me?

I was always in trouble with my parents, they thought it was just a phase I was going through…but when they found me in a compromising position with the only friend I had at my fingertips, they lost it. It wasn’t a position of us kissing; he was touching me, but not in that way. They had come home early and found him fixing me up from a fight earlier that day. I had finally spoken up, defended myself—it landed me with a bloody nose, a busted lip and bruises all over my chest.

I laugh, I feel.
I make believe it's real.
I fall, I freeze.
I pray down on my knees.
I hope, I stand.
I take it like a man.
I try as hard as I can.

I remember the first time I really looked at Gerard. It was the summer before Mikey started here. We both had just turned fourteen and I had just told him I knew for sure that I could never be attracted to a girl. He smiled and said his brother was the same and it was no big deal. Gerard came out right after that and asked if we’d like to go to the mall with him. I wanted that boy back, not the droid he was at school. I wanted the carefree spirit, the boy who didn’t care what others thought of him, the boy who was just as lost and as broken as I was. We needed each other then; I just think I was the only one who realized that.

Am I not pretty enough?
Is my heart too broken?
Do I cry too much?
Am I too outspoken?
Don't I make you laugh?
Should I try it harder?

Mikey would send me letters and e-mails throughout the years we were apart and at times he’d mention the guys his brother dated. In secret of course as Mikey mentioned after his first week, Gerard was in the popular crowd making Mikey off-limits to any torment and Gerard had to hide who he really was. I cried the night I read that line. As my thoughts took me to the present I realized I had reached the end of my new song and the melody I was strumming suited it perfectly.

Why do you see right through me?
Why do you see,
Why do you see,
Why do you see right through me?
Why do you see,
Why do you see,
Why do you see right through me?
Why do you see,
Why do you see,
Why do you see right through me?
Why do you see,
Why do you see,
Why do you see right through me?

I heard a small sniffle and I quickly glanced towards the door—Bert sat on the chair near the door. I hadn’t realized I was being watched but I felt something wet land on my arm. Subconsciously I wiped at my cheek, I was crying too. We just stared at each other for the longest time. Neither of us moving nor uttering a word, just staring. His eyes, though no where near as intoxicating as Gerard’s, were just as open and alluring. I could see everything he wanted to say to me in his eyes—everything.

“Quinn was right, you have a nice voice and you do play extremely well.”

I hadn’t even realized he spoke; I was still lost in the torment he was portraying in his eyes. I could only nod once I realized he had said something.

“Gee’s right too…you’re extraordinary Iero. How is it you let others treat you so badly and you just take it in strides? How can you be so open about yourself yet never have to utter a word about it? How can you be so accepting of yourself knowing that people will hate you for it?”

I finally blinked and shook my head a little; I was at a loss for what I had just learned of him.

“Why are you here Bert? To mock me, hurt me? You’re Gerard’s best friend here; shouldn’t you be with him doing whatever it is your group does? Or are the rest of them outside the door waiting for me to come out so they can harass me too?”

He just looked at me, an uneasy silence fell over us. He stood up after a while and turned to the door. With his hand on the knob he glanced at me over his shoulder.

“You don’t get it.”