Kill The Gerard
Goodbye, We're Falling Fast
This isn’t unexpected; what nobody had realized about the two of us is that we’ve been falling since that first day our lips connected in a purely innocent and spontaneous on-stage kiss. Hell, I hadn’t even noticed until he pointed it out to me. I was oblivious to that small detail of our relationship.
But he’s had it so much easier than me when it came to rejection. It was so long ago that he’d lost his fear of falling that it seems he had no regrets when the dreaded day came that the band had decided to divide, to separate ways.
Me? I was terrified.
The mere thought of losing everyone close to me – all the guys, our already shrinking fan base, my family – sent mind-numbing pain coursing through my veins. Once our secret was exposed, the ache of it became so much more than psychological, to the point where I physically felt drained and wasted every day.
He said that the feeling would eventually pass, and that when the bitterness of confession finally simmered down, we’d all get back together as a band and start making records again. Those words of comfort were a temporary fix for a permanent problem.
Truth be told, neither of us thought that any of them would react to our admittance of having a relationship together the way they did. We knew it might be hard for them to swallow at first, but that after they got used to the idea they might be accepting of it. Obviously, we misjudged the men we trusted.
“You two are just stupid fucking fags!” Bob had yelled in our direction about a week after Gerard had come clean about us. We had to call a band meeting because the other guys had to talk to us. “And if you two end up getting in some sort of argument that you can’t get over, the whole fucking band has to feel the after-effects!”
My eyes were glued to the floor; I’d been counting the number of tiles in the room in order to make sure I didn’t look up at him.
“Bob,” Gerard sighed, “You don’t understand. We wouldn’t do that. And if we did happen to fight, we certainly wouldn’t let it get in the way of the band.” I knew that he was just trying to make us being together sound less…bad, for lack of a better word…than it did to them. Still, though, what was all this about not letting it get in the way? Would we just have to forget anything happened? I can’t do that.
“We know you won’t,” Ray piped in, his face masked in disgust.
“What do you mean?” Gerard asked, obviously confused by the guitarist’s statement.
“You know exactly what I mean, Gerard. You aren’t that stupid.”
“Well, apparently I am, because I have no clue what you’re implying and-“
“The band’s over, Gee,” Mikey stated solemnly from his seat beside me. My heart felt like an anchor had pulled it down and my stomach felt as though it was in my throat. They couldn’t have been serious, could they?
Oh, but they were. Serious as a heart attack, as the saying goes. The next day, it was posted on blogs and websites across the internet.
“My Chemical Romance is No More!”
And it was our entire fault, Gee and I.
-
It’s been exactly seven days – one whole week – since it was announced that both Gerard and I are homosexual. Since then, my world has come crashing down.
“Don’t look so scared, sweetheart,” Gerard whispers in my ear as my gaze drifts down the edge of the protrusion we’re standing upon. My eyes burn with impending tears that push at my eyelids, pleading to get out.
His soft fingers brush against my cheek, turning my face toward his. Coffee-tainted lips press firmly against my own. The kiss itself is simple – no tongue, no subtle hand movements toward the waistline of my pants – but it is a kiss to be savored forever. He pulls away and turns his head back out to a final look at the city.
“I just wanted one last kiss before the fall,” he says quietly, his chilling voice suddenly sending goose bumps down my arms.
“Hold my hand, Gerard.” I feel his arm reach out, fingers intertwining with mine in a tight grip.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, not averting his stare to look at me. “We’ll escape from this life; we’ll end it all.”
“This building’s tall,” I mutter.
“I’m sure we’ll wake up dead. But I’ll still love you. Say goodbye, sugar.” The wind starts to pick up around us, tiny droplets of water pelting my face as the gray clouds above us thunder threateningly. “Say goodbye.”
“You do realize, Gee,” I mumble, “Once we jump, we’ll only have about thirty seconds left until we’re gone. Thirty seconds until you and I won’t be able to say ‘I love you’ anymore.”
“We’ll make it last, love. I promise.”
It’s a picture-perfect suicide, isn’t it? Everything you’d expect from a cliché romance movie and we’re living it. Rain is soaking our clothes and making me shiver, the street looks thousands of feet below us, cars and taxis are weaving in and out of the road.
He takes a deep breath in, his grip on my hand getting even tighter. “There’s nothing left for you, nothing left for me, sugar.” He says at last, breaking the silence between us. “On three, we’re jumping from this ledge, alright?”
“With these moments we hold dear, and the seconds we have left, hold your hand with mine, okay?” He nods, raising my hand up to his lips and placing a soft, lingering kiss on it.
“One,” he mumbles against my skin, still holding my hand tightly.
“We don’t have to do this, you know,” I blurt suddenly, my heart thudding in my chest as my brain actually begins to swallow the truth about what we were about to do. A dull, throbbing pain settles itself in the back of my skull.
“Yeah we do, Frank. You know just as well as I do that we have to do this.”
“But why, Gee? Can’t we just get away from all of this? We can stay here and hide from it all!” I yell, my eyes burning as tears finally manage to spill from my eyes.
I really don’t want to die.
“There’s one last chance for us tonight, love. We’ll say goodbye tonight.”
“Two,” my voice quivers involuntarily and I can see out of the corner of my eye a smile growing on his face.
“Three.”
And, with our bodies entangled, gravity sends us hurtling toward the cold, uninviting pavement. At least I’m dying with him, right?
No regrets.
Say goodbye, we’re falling fast, falling forever.
But he’s had it so much easier than me when it came to rejection. It was so long ago that he’d lost his fear of falling that it seems he had no regrets when the dreaded day came that the band had decided to divide, to separate ways.
Me? I was terrified.
The mere thought of losing everyone close to me – all the guys, our already shrinking fan base, my family – sent mind-numbing pain coursing through my veins. Once our secret was exposed, the ache of it became so much more than psychological, to the point where I physically felt drained and wasted every day.
He said that the feeling would eventually pass, and that when the bitterness of confession finally simmered down, we’d all get back together as a band and start making records again. Those words of comfort were a temporary fix for a permanent problem.
Truth be told, neither of us thought that any of them would react to our admittance of having a relationship together the way they did. We knew it might be hard for them to swallow at first, but that after they got used to the idea they might be accepting of it. Obviously, we misjudged the men we trusted.
“You two are just stupid fucking fags!” Bob had yelled in our direction about a week after Gerard had come clean about us. We had to call a band meeting because the other guys had to talk to us. “And if you two end up getting in some sort of argument that you can’t get over, the whole fucking band has to feel the after-effects!”
My eyes were glued to the floor; I’d been counting the number of tiles in the room in order to make sure I didn’t look up at him.
“Bob,” Gerard sighed, “You don’t understand. We wouldn’t do that. And if we did happen to fight, we certainly wouldn’t let it get in the way of the band.” I knew that he was just trying to make us being together sound less…bad, for lack of a better word…than it did to them. Still, though, what was all this about not letting it get in the way? Would we just have to forget anything happened? I can’t do that.
“We know you won’t,” Ray piped in, his face masked in disgust.
“What do you mean?” Gerard asked, obviously confused by the guitarist’s statement.
“You know exactly what I mean, Gerard. You aren’t that stupid.”
“Well, apparently I am, because I have no clue what you’re implying and-“
“The band’s over, Gee,” Mikey stated solemnly from his seat beside me. My heart felt like an anchor had pulled it down and my stomach felt as though it was in my throat. They couldn’t have been serious, could they?
Oh, but they were. Serious as a heart attack, as the saying goes. The next day, it was posted on blogs and websites across the internet.
“My Chemical Romance is No More!”
And it was our entire fault, Gee and I.
-
It’s been exactly seven days – one whole week – since it was announced that both Gerard and I are homosexual. Since then, my world has come crashing down.
“Don’t look so scared, sweetheart,” Gerard whispers in my ear as my gaze drifts down the edge of the protrusion we’re standing upon. My eyes burn with impending tears that push at my eyelids, pleading to get out.
His soft fingers brush against my cheek, turning my face toward his. Coffee-tainted lips press firmly against my own. The kiss itself is simple – no tongue, no subtle hand movements toward the waistline of my pants – but it is a kiss to be savored forever. He pulls away and turns his head back out to a final look at the city.
“I just wanted one last kiss before the fall,” he says quietly, his chilling voice suddenly sending goose bumps down my arms.
“Hold my hand, Gerard.” I feel his arm reach out, fingers intertwining with mine in a tight grip.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, not averting his stare to look at me. “We’ll escape from this life; we’ll end it all.”
“This building’s tall,” I mutter.
“I’m sure we’ll wake up dead. But I’ll still love you. Say goodbye, sugar.” The wind starts to pick up around us, tiny droplets of water pelting my face as the gray clouds above us thunder threateningly. “Say goodbye.”
“You do realize, Gee,” I mumble, “Once we jump, we’ll only have about thirty seconds left until we’re gone. Thirty seconds until you and I won’t be able to say ‘I love you’ anymore.”
“We’ll make it last, love. I promise.”
It’s a picture-perfect suicide, isn’t it? Everything you’d expect from a cliché romance movie and we’re living it. Rain is soaking our clothes and making me shiver, the street looks thousands of feet below us, cars and taxis are weaving in and out of the road.
He takes a deep breath in, his grip on my hand getting even tighter. “There’s nothing left for you, nothing left for me, sugar.” He says at last, breaking the silence between us. “On three, we’re jumping from this ledge, alright?”
“With these moments we hold dear, and the seconds we have left, hold your hand with mine, okay?” He nods, raising my hand up to his lips and placing a soft, lingering kiss on it.
“One,” he mumbles against my skin, still holding my hand tightly.
“We don’t have to do this, you know,” I blurt suddenly, my heart thudding in my chest as my brain actually begins to swallow the truth about what we were about to do. A dull, throbbing pain settles itself in the back of my skull.
“Yeah we do, Frank. You know just as well as I do that we have to do this.”
“But why, Gee? Can’t we just get away from all of this? We can stay here and hide from it all!” I yell, my eyes burning as tears finally manage to spill from my eyes.
I really don’t want to die.
“There’s one last chance for us tonight, love. We’ll say goodbye tonight.”
“Two,” my voice quivers involuntarily and I can see out of the corner of my eye a smile growing on his face.
“Three.”
And, with our bodies entangled, gravity sends us hurtling toward the cold, uninviting pavement. At least I’m dying with him, right?
No regrets.
Say goodbye, we’re falling fast, falling forever.