Get off the Ledge and Drop the Knife

*Gerard’s POV*

Bert’s eyes were on me for the duration of the song. They were like daggers. They looked right through me, tearing up my insides, turning my guts, and opening wounds that I tried so desperately to close. The smart thing to do would be to leave. To not hear his sickeningly beautiful voice. To not remember who we were. To escape so I could go on pretending it never happened like I’ve been doing for so long.

I couldn’t.
My feet were glued to the ground. My eyes were glued to Bert’s. My heart was on the stage. I was left hollow.

Except for my mind. It was racing.
Memories flooded in. How we wasted our lives away on drugs and self-destruction. How we degraded each other. How he almost killed me. How I almost let him.
And Frank.
He was still next to me, holding my hand. He was standing still though. We were two rigid poles in a sea of loose ribbons. Neither of us took our eyes away from the stage.

“So,” Bert began as soon as the song ended, “So, here you are, alone again. That person’s got their love. You go back to serving coffee to corporate zombies because who else can afford Starbucks? And when this person is gone and in love, you remember something. You remember when you had the power over them.”

No. He’s not going to mention it.

“You remember when their life was yours. It was in your hands.”

He wouldn’t.

“You think you’re in love. You think they’re in love. Each of you has no self worth. Nothing to live for. No positive perspective on life.”

He can’t mention it. No. Not in front of Frank.

“You’ve got this Swiss Army knife. You’re done. They’re done. End it, right? You take your knife to his pale, perfect, unbroken skin and you cut it open. And his blood trickles out. Slowly, at first. As you go on, cut deeper and harder, but slower. So it hurts. And boy, does it hurt. He cries out in pain, but he’s happy. He’s finally happy ‘cause it’s almost over. He’s about to escape the fucking routine. The drinking, the snorting, the smoking, the swallowing, the sleeping. Then you’re done cutting. You realize you’ve spelt ‘Forever’ on his arm. You leave him there, bleeding, But, wait. Why should dying make him happy when you never could? It’s not right. So what do you do? You call the fucking ambulance. You save his fucking life.

Frank’s hand dropped from mine.

“You saved his life so he could stay. Maybe get high some more. But he leaves. He’s leaving to save himself,” Bert paused. “But you know what? That’s okay. It’s okay now. I’m gonna live too. This song’s called Bulimic.

“From the way that you acted
to the way that I felt it
It wasn't worth my time
and now it's sad cause all I missed
wasn't that good to begin with
and now that I've started you begging
saying things that you don't mean
it isn't worth my time
a line's a dime a million times
and I'm about to see all of them

Goodbye to you, goodbye to you, you're taking up my time
Goodbye to you, goodbye to you”

Frank ran. He ran right through the crowd, pushing everyone and everything in his way. I followed him. I was scared. I was scared of what he would think of me. How low of a person I must be to let Bert do what he did. Finally, I reached the exit and burst outside, only to see Frank pacing and smoking a cigarette.

“Frank!” I called out. He kept pacing, fully aware of my presence. I walked over to him and grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. He mumbled something I couldn’t hear. “What?” I asked, hoping he’d repeat.

“I said you fucking hypocrite! Here you are trying to save me and you’re suicidal yourself! Everything you’ve said has been a lie because you don’t even believe it yourself! If you can give up, why can’t I?” he erupted. His face as red as his boiling blood. “Answer me, Gerard!”

“I’m not suicidal,” was all I could offer.

“No? You let Bert cut you. You let him get you so low. You let him eat you till you were no longer human,” he recounted evidence, straight from Bert’s speech. He took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in my face.

I hung my head, “I know,” I let out in a whisper. A tear began rolling down my facing, causing me to shiver.

“So you’ve just been bullshitting me? Some joke?” his face returning back to normal color, somewhat. He took another long drag.

“No,” I shook my head vigorously. “Just trying to save someone who needs saving.”

“Yeah? Well just let me die, Gerard.” He walked threw his cigarette onto the ground and stepped on it. He walked toward the curb and hailed for a cab, getting one immediately. Frank got in the taxi without looking back and I watched as Frank sped away. I backed up until I hit the wall and slid my body down. My head dropped onto my knees and I began sobbing quietly.

It’s all my fault.