Keep the Faith

He wakes up in the middle of the night. Sweat soaked hands pushing the thin sheet away from his naked body as if tossing it away will send away any more bad dreams. Bad dreams. Those terrifying nightmares that wake him up every morning, terrified, dejected, just a little bit more depressed than the day before. I watch as he makes his way shakily to the computer and turns it on, his heartbeat seeming to slow to match the steady hum off the tower.

I already know what he's looking for. Which websites he'll search for. What message boards he's read, which ones he'll ignore. Its as if he thinks if he reads what they hate about him he'll be that much closer to changing it. to making it disappear. He barley even glances my way when I walk the few short steps to the desk and kneel behind him, kissing his shoulder.

"Come back to bed."

He shakes his head, sweat soaked hair pressed against his pale forehead.

"Gerard. Please."

I already know what he'll see, everything he's trying to avoid. Everything he doesn't want to believe. He has perfected the art of the poker face and I'm not sure I know what's going on behind olive colored eyes. When he clicks off into another hate board I hold my finger against the power button until the computer screen fades away to an inky black. "I hate you." He spits, turning on me with sudden ferocity. "Your not even real, you know. Just another hallucination." He glares at me, my stringy hair hiding what his discarded sheet cannot.

I stare back at him. "does it make you better, hearing yourself say that?"

Gerard. My beautiful stupid boy, suddenly sitting on the mattress, abruptly starts bawling. "what am I doing wrong? I was so sure … I was so positive that I was doing everything right. And now they hate me. Horrible, horrible, stupid asshole. I don't even know what they want from me anymore." He looks at me, pain chiseled into his beautiful face. "if I knew, I'd do it. I'd change it all if I knew what they wanted."

Should I have the answers? I only know what is truth. Fiction does not amuse me anymore.

He touches my face with one of his hands, letting me kiss his white palm, even paler in the muted moonlight. "I don't even want to try anymore. F-fuck. And who do I have to pour this s-shit out to? I have you. You. They're even trying to take you away from me."

He kisses like it’s the last time he'll ever get to kiss me.

"I wish I could protect you from all of this. I wish you were real."

Those stupid as fuck five words again. what makes someone real? What makes someone worth listening to? I don't want to fight with him though and try to convince myself that I understand what he's going through. I fucking get it. as much as I want to – I can't. I'm no one worth feeling emotions over. I don't know what it feels like, having everyone who once claimed they loved you to suddenly turn their back on you.

Fuck stabbing him in the back. they've stabbed him in the face.

"You don't understand. I don't want you to understand. I just want it to … stop."

There's a knock on the door and he looks up, not bothering to retract his arms from around my shoulders. Frank stands in the doorway, bleary eyed, still half asleep. He doesn't look shocked that Gerard is awake. This is routine also. "You were talking."

Silence.

"its two thirty in the fucking morning, Gee."

Silence.

"you need sleep."

His eyes flick up to Frank's for half a second and I know some kind of silent communication passes between them. "I can't take this anymore."

Its as if this is a terminal illness. A cancer without a cure. I want to tell him it'll get better but I have no way of knowing when or how. What made these kids begin to question anything he'd done for them? Why was his success such a bad thing? Everyone wants to feel needed, loved, accepted. Why did they have to take all of that away when he needed it most?

Frank closes his eyes, inhales, opens his eyes again looking up. "Not this way. Not tonight."

"When than? Please tell me when will be a good time for you, Mister fucking Iero. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you, you know."

My eyes dart from each of their faces. Back and forth. "what in the world are you talking about?"

Frank stares at me, like he needs some one to blame it on and its just my good timing that I'm here, right now, at this minuet. Suddenly I wish I really was just another one of Gerard's hallucinations, able to disappear at the first hint of reality. I sit up, pulling the blankets back on the bed, wrapping myself up in a warm cocoon of dirty sheets and dry cleaned comforters.

"Go to sleep." Frank says, commands, in some kind of silent battle with Gerard.

"Fuck you." My beautiful amazing boy, spits. Seething.

Frank swears. "Goodnight." Than the doors slams, making me jump. And that sound. That sound that sounds so final. like the lid of a coffin snapping shut.

-

I wake up to see Gerard creeping into the room. His chest gleams in the moonlight, wet, as if he'd tried to splash water on his face. I watched him walk, unsteady, tripping over things. So tired he can't even see straight. I wonder how long he'd read all that bullshit online and instantly hate myself. Why did I go to bed knowing he'd just get online as soon as I slipped into a serious enough sleep?

He stops when he sees me sit up, teetering backwards a bit. "I'm scared." He says, like a child who woke up from a strange and frightening dream. He's shaking. "I'm so scared, sweetie."

I struggle out of my tangle of sheets and blankets, sitting up completely, letting him lie beside me. I wrap his shivering, wet body up in all of the blankets, as if this is the cure he's been looking for. "Shh. I'm here." I croon, petting his hair, smiling at him. "everything's going to be fine."

And for a moment I know he believes me. It'll get better. It has too.

"I know." He whispers, "I'm glad you’re here." He rests his head back and interlaces our fingers, making me feel like a giddy sixteen year old. "I'm sorry I act like such an ass and I don't-" he stops suddenly.

"Don't what?"

He yawns. "I don't think I would have made it this far without you with me. I'm so happy you're here. Stay with me, please. One last time."

Something inside me jerks awake. 'What a weird thing to say 'one last time'. Of course I'll stay, Ger. Tonight and any other night you need. I'll always be here. What do you mean one last time?" he looks up at me with dead, dark eyes. Shaking. Shivering. "Gerard, what do you mean one last time?" Alarm bells ring. Sirens. Screams, terrified, terrified screams. "what do you mean one last time?"

He sighs, holding one of my ands of his cheek. "I need to end it and I can't. not without your help. Its so dark and scary doing it alone."

I sit up and lean over him to flick on the bedside lamp. The light blinds me but I have to be sure. I grab his wrists and even though there's no sticky wet feeling I shove them into the light. He doesn't react or cry out and there's no gaping wound. No slashed wrists. So this is still just talk.

"No, Gee. Not that. I can't do that." I turn off the light and lie back down, hugging his head to my chest and rocking back and forth. "I love you. I'll help you live, if that's what you want. Unsubscribe your internet service. Kick anyone's ass who talks about you without knowing you. I'll do it all for you."

He snorts. The light had made him blink but now he seems more groggy than before. "you'll kick someone's ass? My tiny little pixie saving my life, one stupid internet basher at a time." He yawns again, leaning heavier on me. "This is so stupid. Remember scary problem number fifty nine? Overpopulation results in worldwide famine. You either a) survive or b) die. Your so good at that. Surviving. Like Frankie. I don't think I'm a survivor. Not anymore. Not after all of this. But you know, I can't do this a-alone. S-so you'll have to s-stay. P-please stay,"

"Gerard shut up. Your scaring me. Look tomorrow we'll do something about all of this. A press release, a video diary? We'll… we'll do something to let them know what its doing to you. And me and Frankie and Ray and Bob and Lynds and – and Mikey? we'll all be there. We'll support you."

He whimpers, softly, like a dog that's been abused and knows not to cry out but is in too much pain to keep quiet. "than s-support me in h-how I want you to s-support me. I can't d-do it your way. Fuck, I can't even d-do it at a-all. Not a-anymore. I'm s-so tired, of a-all of this." He waves his arm around but his hand flops around like a dying fish.

I shiver.

'I h-have to s-sleep. But you have to s-stay with me so I c-can do this."

"Gerard. You're scaring me."

"I'm s-so tired." He sits up with a sudden burst of energy and rolls out of my grasp, instead pulling me close to his body, like a shield. "n-nothing is w-worth it anymore. B-but you have to s-stay. Okay? I can't d-do this i-if you're not h-here with m-me. Help me do t-this okay? A-and everyt-thing will b-be okay."

i shake my head, even though I know his eyes are closed. "I'm not going to help you kill yourself." I sit up, pushing his arm off of me. Letting him curl up by himself. "god, you're acting weirder than normal. I'm going to pee."

He mumbles something. Rolls onto his other side. "bring me the cup by the sink. Very i-important."

Flashes of what happens next are all that's there.

Feet, running faster than the rest of my body can keep up into the bathroom, walking over the shattered glass. The mirror is broken, reflecting a thousand terrified faces in the spiderwebs of splintered glass.

The bottle of pills, open, half of the contents spilled into the sink. The prescription is wet and unreadable but I remember it, my heart closing up so that I can hardly breath. He grabbed these from the pharmacy this morning. There is no way that half of the bottle should be missing.

My shadow, standing long, in front of his bedroom door, staring at the half filled bottle of pale pink pills. I know what the bottle is offering. An escape. Jump inside the rabbit hole and who knows where you'll end up. The thought is so tempting. I know how to do it. not the way you see it in the movies. One at a time, waiting a few seconds in between so that you don't puke them all back up. Just a few… I throw them down the stairs.

The burning in my arms, pulling the loveseat beside the bed to sit cross legged in it, grabbing his hand. I don't know exactly when I start crying. Sometime after he squeezes my hand tightly before letting go all together. A small trail of slimy vomit trails off of the side of his mouth. He looks like despair. His chest moves slowly, but too slowly.

"i-I'm so c-cold. I can't stop s-shaking."

I kiss his hands. "I love you so much. I love you so much. I love you so much."

Broken record, repeating the one thing I'm hoping will save him.

He groans, all visible shakes stopped now. I don't know what else to do.

"I want to save you Gee. I don't want to loose me. I don't want to loose you."

He sighs. "l-like you e-ever had me in the f-firs' place."

How much truth is a dying man allowed to tell?

"i don't want them to hate me anymore, but that's all i-It'll ever b-be. Hate. D-disappointment. T-they don't b-believe in me a-anymore. You a-always have f-faith in people, b-but even you're not l-lying t-to me anymore. I'm s-so tired."

Death and decay slip through his veins, filling my nose. I don't want to watch this amazingly brutal form of suicide and I bang on Frank's door, unsurprised when he answers almost instantly. He's shaking, tired, overwhelmed. Its too much of an overload for one night. How can I possibly begin to save Frankie when I've failed so miserably and so suddenly at Gerard? "He took sleeping pills." I say, my voice devoid of any emotion.

Frank's face relaxes for half a second before he starts crying, leaning against the doorframe and letting the tears slip silently from his eyes. "we did this, you know." He says a few moments later. Staring at my slumped form in the hallway. "there must have been something we could have done."

I nod, closing my own eyes. Exhausted. Morbidly relieved. "its over. You can't hurt the dead."

He lights a cigarette and I stare at him, still shaking but more relaxed. "this is so fucking disgusting. No matter what he did they never had faith in him. they begged him to do this. They practically poured the pills down his fucking throat. What kind of people are they if they can't even have faith in their so-called heroes? Empty fucking shells of people. Skrew being loyal fans. Just keep the fucking faith."