You Taught Me Love

Gerard's P.O.V.

You know how, sometimes, when you're in your shower, scrubbing shampoo in your hair and singing a happy tune, you fantasize about your prince charming? The perfect man, the perfect boyfriend, the one guy you wish you'd meet one day? Well, mine had golden hair, charcoal eyes, and smooth tanned skin. He was adventurous, manly and courageous, and he had a smile that could melt an angel's heart.

When I had met Steve, I thought I had been dreaming. I had pinched myself and blushed, smirking back at him when our gazes had met for the first time.
He was perfect, he was exactly the prince I had been looking for all my life.

I loved the idea of him. Did I love him? Probably. But that was before it got bad.

With Frank, things are different. He isn't flawless, it hadn't been love at the first sight for me. He's young and shy, but he makes me feel alive, he makes me feel loved, and I love how he makes me feel.
Each time we kiss, electricity seems to flow through my veins, and my heartbeat quickens. When we touch, I shiver and a smile creeps on my lips. We are in love with each other, and I can feel it.

I never felt that with Steve.

And you know what? I'm sick of thinking of him.
I'm gonna forget him, and I'm gonna spend my life with Frank.
I'll love him and make love to him, and I'll tell him how good he makes me feel.
But I'm not gonna waste another second of my life thinking about the fucker who messed me up.

* * * * * * *

Frank's P.O.V.

Saturday

I had slept at Gerard's again, cradled in his arms and under the satin covers. It was definitely my favorite place to sleep.
But I woke up lazily to an empty bed, and a note on my boyfriend's black pillow.

Don't panic. Don't panic, Frankie.

I grabbed the paper and read the short note Gerard had left me.

”Good morning, honey...
There are still some things I had to get out, and had to tell Steve.
Don't worry, I didn't go back to see him.
I wrote a letter, I'm gonna go drop it off at the county jail.
Hailey will give it to him. Mikey gave me her phone number (can you believe that guy?)
Anyways, I shouldn't be gone too long.

See you soon,
x o x o
G.”

Whew. I guess I better go make breakfast for when he comes back, then.

Steve's P.O.V.

“Letter for you, asshole!” Hailey called out, knocking her bludgeon against the metal bars of my cell gate.

I got up from my bed and dragged my feet to her, snatching away the envelope from her hand.
Who the fuck could have written me a letter?

I ripped the paper and took out a folded piece of parchment. The only guy I knew who wrote on parchment was Gerard...
Oh God, it even smelled like him...

I carefully opened the letter, and saw his flawless writing all over the page.

“Who's it from?” my cellmate asked, lifting some weights in the corner of the room we lived in.

“I don't know, Nathan.” I lied. “Leave me alone, I wanna fucking read it.”

“Oh, it's from your little bitch...”
I didn't answer.
I read Gerard's letter, flipping off Nathan.

”You ruined my life.”
Oh, but so did you, sugar... See where I ended up?

”But you know what? You're not a part of it anymore.”
You have no idea how much I wish I was...

”I'm done feeling sorry for myself.
I'm done crying for you.
I'm done looking in the mirror and hating what I see.
I'm done keeping my clothes on when I go to the beach.
I'm done keeping that gun in my closet in case something bad happens to me again.
I'm done keeping your old shirt and dreaming of the good times we had together.
You're a bastard, that's all you are.”
You're right, baby. I'm such a bastard, and I lost you because of it. It's too late for you to ever forgive me.
I fucked up, bad.

”And yeah, I hope you feel fucking bad in jail. And yeah, I hope you get fucked and beat up.
I'm gonna forget about you, but I hope I stick in your mind a little longer. Just because.”
I can never forget you. Believe me, I tried. But I can't get you out of my mind.

”I met someone amazing, who loves me no matter what, and shows me just how much.
I'm gonna forget about you, and I'm gonna be happy with him.”
Frank is one lucky guy, and I hope he knows that. When I was in his place, I didn't see it. But when they took me away from you... I was miserable.

”Goodbye forever, you piece of shit.

Gerard.”
Goodbye, love...

I gently folded the parchment and placed it under my pillow, with the picture of him I still kept.

“Aw, you're not gonna cry for the fagot now, are you?” Nathan teased, imitating a woman's voice.
I grabbed his collar and slammed him against the hard wall.

“Shut the fuck up, Nathan.” I spat in his face. “And don't you ever call him a fagot again.”

“D-dude, I was k-kidding.”

“Ha, right.”

I let go of him and sat in my bunk, looking down at the pillow. I slid my hand under the fabric and grabbed the small picture.
Gosh, he was beautiful...
The picture had been taken on the first week we dated, and he still had that heart-warming smile I managed to steal from him only a couple of months later.
I had never wanted to fall in love with him. I was mad at myself for letting him get to me like that, and for getting so weak for him. Love is for pansies, that's what I used to think. And I let my anger build up until I cracked, and let it all out on him.
When I hit him, he was the weak one.
When I fucked him and told him he was worthless, he was the weak one.
When I cut him and made him do what I wanted, he was the weak one.

But when he kissed me, I was the weak one...
When he laced his fingers through mine and placed his head on my shoulder, I was the weak one...
When he looked my way and gave me a shy smile, I was the fucking weak one...
I hated being weak.

His face was illuminated the day I took that picture, his eyes were sparkling and his cheeks were rosy, his pearly teeth were showing and his messy locks were blowing in the summer wind. His skin was soft and pale, and he was wearing a half-buttoned black shirt that made him look heavenly.

I miss him so much...

Don't cry for him, Steve. Don't you fucking cry for Gerard.
I felt a cold tear roll down my cheek, and crash on the gorgeous image I was holding between my fingers.
Too late, sugar...