Love Only Ends In Tragedy

Frank's P.O.V

I ran. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. The mixture of the wind and rain splattered
onto my face, blinding me. I couldn’t see where I was going, yet I knew I was going to get there. Even though, I had no idea if I would get there in time. My feet splashed onto the concrete as I ran, the water flying out everywhere. The cars swerved out into the darkness, almost always missing me by just an inch.

They’re horns wailed in protest as I ran down the streets of Jersey. It was one in the morning; it was storming and plain freezing outside. But I didn’t care. I needed to get to him, and fast. Before it’s too late. I shrugged off my now soaking jacket and threw it on the ground next to me. It was just weighing me down.

I had no time to stop and wait for a taxi. I had to get there now. I had been running continuously for five minutes straight already. I was out of breath and trying my hardest not to slow down. Not to give in. I had a good reason to not give up. If the person that you loved was about to commit suicide you wouldn’t stop either.

I knew the streets of Jersey very well, for I have lived there all of my life. Jersey was my friend, until today. Now Jersey was my nightmare. The storm intensified as I heard the faint sound of thunder rolling in the distance. But soon after thunder came lightning as it lit up the night time skies.

That had only made me that much more nervous. I hated storms, always have and always will. But there was something about this one that calmed me some, that willed me to run even faster. To save him before I could never save him again.

I ran into the woods as I came to the end of the road. The wind sped up, almost knocking me back, as if telling me to give up now. I wouldn’t give up as I felt the adrenalin pumping through my veins, my heart searching for its other half, its completion.

I got down to the bridge, mostly known as the suicide drop. Before I let myself slow my pace at all. Once my paced slowed I had the time to think. I thought about everything that was wrong here. Just last week everything was fine, now I was in with the scare of my life.

That’s when I saw him, his neon red hair blowing in the harsh winds as he stood up on top of the bridge. He starred down at the water beneath him with questioning hazel eyes. His lips set into a thin line. I wanted to scream out to him, tell him that he can’t end it; he just can’t when he has his whole life ahead of him. One simple mistake can change a life forever.

“Gerard!” I screamed to him, the tears spilling over, symbolizing all of the pain that I was going through.

He snapped his head up, eyes searching over mine, his eyes filled with pain, torture, heartbreak. He shook his head and looked back down at the murky black water, looking right at his escape.

“Gerard, please don’t jump, we can work things out, and they can go back to normal. Act as if nothing has ever happened” I cried to him. The sadness just oozing out of my voice.

He shook his head at me disagreeing with it all. The way he looked, the depression and sadness plain as day on his face, made my heart shatter just that tiny bit more.

“It can never be the same as it was Frankie,” Gerard told me one last time as he jumped. Falling down into the pitch black water.

I screamed and ran over to the edge, starring out at the black water. There was nothing. No sign of him whatsoever. The love of my life was gone, forever.

2 YEARS EARLIER

I sat there at the coffee shop waiting for him to show up. This was a daily routine. I would meet the same guy at the coffee shop at the same time each day. His name was Gerard Way, I had met him at collage the year before and we had been close friends ever since then. Very close friends. I wouldn’t say that I loved Gerard, because that wouldn’t be true. I was infatuated with Gerard in the least.

That’s when I heard the satisfying sound of the ringing of the bell as the front door had been open. I looked over to the door to find Gerard standing there, late as usual. He looked over to me and smiled a genuine smiled before walking his way over to me, coat in hand.

“I’m sorry I’m late again Frank.” He apologized as he sat down in his regular seat across from me.

“Its fine,” I told him like I did every other day that this had happened, and it had been a lot in these past few days.

We sat and talked for a while, as we sipped our coffees, mine with sweetener and all that jazz. His, was just black as usual, the way that he liked it. I was very observant with the things that Gerard did. He would always wear skinny jeans, no matter the weather, and he was almost always wearing these slim fit band shirts, not that I was complaining. He was into comic books and rock music. He was a total geek but that’s what I liked most about him. He was also an amazing artist, his work so raw and filled with emotion.

Soon, we were done with our coffees for that morning, after having small talk about the weather and his next art show that was tonight, which I was invited to. We had said our final good byes as I headed off to work, at no other than my father’s furniture factory. All that I could think about all day was Gerard’s art show later and how I couldn’t wait to see him.