(I'll Stand With You) Through The Gates of Hell

Helena’s P.O.V:
“Wooo!” That concert was fucking amazing!” I yelled out loud like an idiot.

“Hell yeah! Did you see that guitar solo?” Gerard asked with a drunken hoarse voice. His normally mellow hazel eyes had another glow to it as his black mess of a hair was all over his face.We both began playing air guitar in the middle of the empty Jersey streets.

This was what you could call my summer routine: Going to shows and getting wasted with my best friend Gerard Way. I took another look at him as he passed me the cigarette we were sharing. I took a long slow drag. He was actually an introverted artist kid who loved music possibly as much as I did. He was known as the weird darko dude. No one exactly enjoyed his presence apart from his younger brother Mikey and me. He turned into my best friend when nobody wanted to talk to me because I got into a fight with the leader of one of your typical cliques. Nobody wanted to talk to him either for being “different”. Once everyone shunned me away for standing up for something that was actually right. I met him and noticed he was actually smart, unlike everyone else.

Yet with a couple of drinks scratch out introverted and bring in savage and crazy. He could scare the shit out of anybody if anyone angered him while drunk. I forgot to mention Gerard and I are neighbors since 5th grade. We’re 16 going on 17 now. We’ve told each other everything and gone over most obstacles. We’re unbeatable.

Gerard’s P.O.V:
I looked at Helena as she gracefully held up the smoke to her mouth with two fingers. She flipped her dark almost black hair out of her green eyes. Afterwards she smiled at me. Helena’s been my best friend since…forever. She’s way cooler than most chicks because of her amazing taste in music and along with that she understands me. Maybe it’s because we’re both equally fucked up.

She’s definitely a fighter not a lover. That’s how I met her back in first grade. One of the popular girls called her weirdo. What did Helena do? She broke every crayon in that girl’s 120 crayon pack.Hehe.That’s was Helena for you. Once she hit 13, she became tangled in depression and low self-esteem. That’s how I’ve always been. I guess, that’s why we both drown all our problems in music and booze.

I saw her stumble and fall on her knees as I looked back. She simply laughed and
Stood up wiping off the dirt from her favorite jeans. That’s what happened to Helena once she got depressed. She fell down but she didn’t laugh or stood up. With a few drinks you can really get a good glimpse of how she used to be. She has told me her worries. I’ve told her mine and yet I don’t understand how she stands me. No one else does.

Helena’s P.O.V:
We both collapsed on Gerard’s front lawn laughing like if we had just arrived from a comedy club. I looked up. “ Sing for me, Gerard!” I shouted still laughing.

“What shall I sing for you my dear Helena?” He asked in a weird English accent as he shot me a sly wasted smile.

“Bon Jovi, maybe?” I answered without thinking. I didn’t even like Bon Jovi that much.

He took a deep breath as he rolled on his back. “ SHOT THROUGH THE HEART! BUT YOU”RE TOO LATE, DARLING YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME!!” He sang completely out of key and loud. I think some of our neighbors peaked through their windows.

“Bravo!” I cheered. Suddenly the sprinklers went off. I think they were set at this time on purpose.

“Oh fuck!” we both yelled jumping up. We each walked to our door soaked.

“Aur revoir, Helena!” Gerard yelled from his door.

“Arrivederci, Gee!” I shouted back before I stumbled into my house. The rest of that night (or early morning) was a blur. Yeah, maybe I remember a few threatening shout from my parents. But that’s about it, the rest is blank. That’s the beauty of alcohol.