Early Sunsets Over Monroeville

"What. Did. You. Just. Say?" Perhaps Lindsey should've reconsidered her decision to break up with Gerard: they seemed to have some kind of affinity, because they said the words at exactly the same time, impeccably synchronised. My jaw fell open; I didn't know how to answer either of them.

"You...love him?" Lindsey wondered, clearly baffled, as furious tears began to trickle lamely down her face.

"With everything I have," I finished weakly, staggering back to fall onto the bed. I hit my head on the wall; a new black bruise throbbed there.

"I. Don't. Understand." Gerard stuttered slowly, still trying to process what I said earlier, when I didn't know he was there. Soon I was crying too, so there was not a dry eye in the room. Or half-in and half-out of the room, in Gee's case.

I gulped, summoning the courage to repeat the impossible words. "I love you. I love you, Gerard. I'm sorry." As I apologised, my eyes dragged themselves from Gerard's shocked face, to Lindsey's wet one, to the floor, and finally back to Gee. The tears blurring my vision didn't quite mask the ones running down Gerard's own cheeks, and the sight of his misery cut me to pieces, like I was been run through a shredder, my heart blended to nothing.

"You...I don't understand," Gerard repeated, voice breaking, sounding more coherent but more depressed this time. Shaking his head disbelievingly, he continued: "How...Frank...I...How long?"

I knew immediately what he meant. "A long time. Since I met you, I think," I murmured to the floor, hating what my life had become in less than forty-eight hours. I'd thought it had been pathetic before, but this...this didn't bare thinking about.

"Frank?" a voice asked. I looked up; it was Lyn-Z this time. Her bewildered expression was infuriating: her very existence infuriated me. She had stolen Gee, then hurt him more than I could have dreamed she ever would. It was better when they had been engaged and I wanted to die; that beat them both being depressed and confused and me wanting to die.

"What is it?" I wondered, because her puzzled face was intent now, her sharp eyes more focused.

"I...I thought you loved me."

I collapsed in a clumsy heap to the floor, unable to cope with it. I wanted to die. I actually wanted to die, with all of my heart. There was no other solution, in my eyes. "I'm sorry," I whispered to both of them, damning my eyes for wandering around the room masochistically. It hurt me to see Lindsey's betrayed face, Gee's traumatised one, and I swear my eyes just wanted to torture me by focusing on them, refusing to look away.

We sat there – or stood there, or trembled there, accordingly – for a long time in the dense silence like the sea, drowning in it. Eventually, Gerard spoke, which surprised me. I hadn't thought he'd want to address either of us – his traitor of a fiancée, or the one who'd stolen her heart, who also happened to be his best friend and ever-so-slightly in love with him. Regardless of this, he /did/ speak to us, voice quiet and cracked.

"Well, what do we do now?" he asked, frowning miserably.

My head was resting on the edge of the bed, in a slightly damp patch I feared might be my sticky blood from the failed suicide attempt, and my hands suddenly found themselves clinging to it desperately, in need of some kind of support. What would we do? What could we, what should we? Anything? Nothing? I didn't have the answer to his question. Lyn-Z was more practical though.

"Well...I'm going to go home. I'll tell people, if you want. I'd understand if...well, the mess between us two is my fault, I guess. I'll sort it. I don't know about Frank though..." she looked at me morosely when she said my name, and I cast my eyes to the floor, willing myself away from her sorrowful gaze. "Well, I don't know about that. But I'll...cancel our plans, and everything."

Gee cringed at that, at her so calmly discussing the termination of their engagement, wedding, life together. It was cruel of her, really, to be so blasé about it – at least while her ex-fiancé was present.

"I think...I'm going to leave now," Lindsey continued, and began to stride out of the abject room. As she walked past Gee, hovering in the door, she stopped, and sighed. "I'm sorry, Gee," she apologised surprisingly genuinely. "I never wanted to hurt you. I wish it didn't have to be like this. I'm sorry, I truly am." Whilst she said the words, she bent around Gerard to hug him, pulling him right into her arms, and when he eventually repaid the motion to her, she kissed him once, softly on his lips. Then she left. For good.

Gee broke down when her clomping heels were no longer audible. She didn't love him. The one he had given his heart to, would willingly die for, didn't want him, wanted another, who didn't want her. I could empathise there. I was in exactly the same situation, with the same people even, but the roles reversed. Gerard wasn't the abandoned, but the desired. Lindsey wasn't the traitor, but the awkward part. And I wasn't the desired – I was the one hated by one for stealing his lover, and hated by two for breaking her heart; wrecking her life.

Slowly, I rose to my feet and approached him, praying he wouldn't reject my presence. Thankfully, when I closed the door behind us, and seated myself next to him, he didn't flutter an eyelash, just wept obliviously. Soon I was sobbing too, and I wondered if I should speak. It might ease some of my remorse if I could get him to stop crying, or even look at me.

"Gerard," I tried uncertainly, my voice quavering like a small, scared child's. "Gerard," I repeated, a little louder, more sure of myself. I took a deep breath.

"Gee, I'm sorry about what's happened. I never knew Lindsey loved me. I wish she didn't. I wish she loved you. You know, I used to have these horrific nightmares, when really they were quite pleasant scenes. I used to dream about your wedding, about having to sit there and watch while the love of my life promised himself to another. But now, I think...well, I'd do anything to be there now. Do anything to be watching it."

"Why?" Gerard's voice was hoarse and sweet, but the huge element of surprise in it was still obvious. This puzzled me. Surely he knew me well enough by now...?

"Because...As much as it would break my heart to have to watch that, to know any chance – which hadn't ever really existed anyway – of us had vanished, at least you would be happy. And I'd rather you be happily married to somebody else, than as lonely as me. I love you enough for that. To give up hope just to see you happy."

Gerard tried to speak, but his voice broke and he couldn't. I wondered if I'd said too much, but I'd already poured my heart out to him, so it wasn't like I could take it back. I wasn't sure if I'd want to, anyway. It was an almost pleasant feeling, knowing he knew, even if he rejected the information. There was nothing more I could do now I'd told him, and it came with a kind of sense of relief.

With my silent in my painful relief, and Gee lost for words, it was quiet for a long time in the room. Eventually, Gerard muttered, "I'm tired." Indeed, his voice was slurred, not with alcohol for once, but with exhaustion.

I looked around the room. There was no way I was sleeping in it, let alone Gerard. "C'mon," I urged him quietly. "Let's find somewhere to stay."

At once, I wanted to take my words back – I'd spoken as if we were still friends, or (worse, in Gee's book, but heaven in mine) lovers. But Gerard simply shrugged, and opened the creaky door slowly.

"Will you be okay?" he asked, concern clouding his milky hazel eyes. "Or should I take you to the hospital?"

"I'm fine," I lied as cheerily as possible, and stood up fluidly to show him I meant it. It didn't matter that I didn't.

We left the hotel as soon as Gee had grabbed my bag, hurriedly shoving anything I'd unpacked back inside and zipping it up. Then we were free to leave, and I would have run out of the place if I hadn't felt so shitty. Instead, we just walked, a little awkwardly, me trailing miles behind Gerard – I couldn't keep up. It was all going fine until we passed a woman in one of our t-shirts. She screamed when she saw us.

"Oh my God!" she shouted, pulling her partner/boyfriend over with her to stand and jump up and down in front of us. With height not being my friend, the guy – who had to be 6'6" at least – towered over me, intimidating the hell outta me. Under normal circumstances, I'd've ignored it, but these weren't normal circumstances. Lindsey had dumped Gee for me, and then left quickly, Gerard knew about how I felt, and I'd recently tried to commit suicide. I was no longer in the band, but of course the fans didn't know that. And I hoped like hell they wouldn't find out. Though they'd have to, eventually.

"Look!" she screamed at the abstract man, jumping up and down on the spot. "Look, look, look! I can't believe it!" As she bounced, her black plaits flipped around on her back, looking like Lyn-Z's. I wondered absently, distracted, if Gee noticed the resemblance, and I kept my fingers crossed he didn't.

Smiling, stepping forwards – this was an act he'd perfected, greeting a squealing fan, being cheery for them – he leaned toward them. "Hey," he breathed, trying to mirror her excitement. "Hey, Frank, c'mon!" he called back at me, making me jump. I did as I was told though.

"This is Lindsey," he introduced me to the girl, who was wearing white foundation so it looked as if she was dead, corpse-like, and bright red lipstick like roses' petals, shockingly alive contrasted with the ghost make up.

"Like your fiancée," she added proudly, and my heart fell to the ground. Gerard's face pinched, going as white as bone, before his heartbreak became visible in those gorgeous hazel eyes and he attempted to smile, though it looked more like a grimace.

"Yes," he whispered, face drawn in agony. "Just like her."

I looked down at her, what she was wearing, attempting to subtly avoid those ecstatic eyes without seeming ignorant. She had on red skinny jeans, a black My Chem tee and punk Converse All Stars with the union flag on the front. And - I counted...twice - twenty three bracelets between her two arms, almost right up to her elbows. When she brushed flyaway hair from her eyes, the lowest studded wristband slipped down, revealing a mark. A red mark. Like the ones on my covered wrists.

I motioned to Gee with my eyes, and he saw me in his peripheral vision, darting his eyes from my pained face to her hands.

"Lindsey..." he asked slowly, dragging the name out, anguish leaving his voice for a second as his protective, determined side crept in. He wanted to change the world, save lives. I always thought it was too ambitious, too daring, too brave of him, but he never gave in. If he could save at least one life, he'd die happy. But he'd already saved two at least: mine and Mikey's already. Even if he never saved another fan, he'd have achieved his dreams without knowing it. But he did, could, would always save fans. He had a way of getting across how shit it is to be just /alive/, sometimes, but he conveyed the message in romanticised, dramatic, poetic lyrics. That was why it worked. That was why people were alive today.

Fuck the Daily Mail.

"Yeah?" she wondered, glancing up at him confusedly, wondering why he looked so desperate all of a sudden. Desperate to look after her.

He looked again at her wrists, more pointedly this time, and took both her hands in his.

"You're better than this, Lindsey. Better than all of this." He gestured to the bracelets hiding the scars. "You are better than this, and you can beat it. The world is shit, don't take it out on yourself. Take it out on paper. Write a song, story, poem, letter. Send it to me. Write something for everyone you hate. Draw. Paint, Make art. Make music. Sing. Really badly, if you want. Sing like shit. Tell someone. Talk. Tell a diary. Tell your best friend, boyfriend, a guy who works in a shoe store if you wanna. Tell Tumblr or Twitter or God knows what. Don't take it out on yourself, not like this. Life gives you lemons, spit lemon seeds right back in life's eyes, 'kay? Make music or art or poetry or stories or letters or conversations to show life what you've got. Don't let your life take you. Don't take your life."

Lindsey looked at him, right in his eyes, her own eyes sad and happy and blue and deep. "But..."

Gee shook his head. "No buts. No ifs, no maybes, no excuses. Butterfly project. Diary. Song. Art. Maths homework. Friend. Guy in shoe store. No buts, though. None of those goddamn buts."

She laughed a little, a low, morose, tinkering thrush's song. "But...no. I mean, I just..."

"I know," Gee said, staring exactly back at her. He squeezed her hands. "But /no/. Don't hurt yourself over anything. It's not worth it. Sure, it might be shit now, but it will get better. Everything will be better one day. I mean, look at how my life's changed! I'd probably be dead by now if I was still just drawing, still on cocaine, still drinking. I'm not, I changed, my life changed. Yours will too. I promise. You can hold me to it. Come find me in ten years if it's still crap, and we'll laugh at my naivety. But, y'know, ten years. Don't prove me wrong. Don't give in. Keep fighting. Keep running."

I wondered if any of that was meant for me, if any of it had a double meaning. I hoped so. I felt inspired. Like, I didn't want to die quite so much anymore. But it was still agony. Death still seemed like an easy way out...I just wasn't so scared of the hard way now.

We spent about ten minutes with Lindsey and her partner, before Gerard apologised, saying we'd be late back to the tour bus. He hugged her, motioning for me to do the same, then strode off in a way that made him look confident, like he knew where we were going. I saw Lindsey wave and walk away in the opposite direction, but when I looked back for Gee, I couldn't see him. Then I started to panic. Where was he? He couldn't have gone far, surely.

Calm down, I told myself sternly. But Gee had my bag, which had my phone in it, so I couldn't call him. What should I do? It had only been a couple of minutes; I'd be able to find him, I reassured myself. But when I tried around a corner, there was no sign of him. I looked down the road, but he wasn't visible there, and he wasn't up the next street, either. My breathing started to accelerate, and I felt my heart pounding in my ears. When had it gotten so dark? Where was Gerard!

Just then, I heard a sound behind me. I turned to look. It was four, maybe five, guys in hoodies; they looked about seventeen or a little bit older. My breathing got faster still, though I muttered it was stupid. They weren't going to hurt me.

Then I took into account my situation. I was injured, and lost. They were taller, stronger and scarier than me. It was dark. In a foreign country. Their identities were concealed by their hoods. Shit, I thought, my knees turning annoyingly to jelly. Shit, shit, shit!

My weak brown eyes filled with fear and dread, overflowing with it, as they travelled slowly over to meet their faces.

"You alright there?" one of them – the tallest, in a navy blue hoodie and grey tracksuit bottoms, with skinhead muddy-red Dockers on, terrifying the shit outta my plain patent black ones – called brashly in a thick Cockney accent, and they turned so they were heading toward me. He said something else, but my ears were too full of my pounding heart – thump! thump! thump! – to hear what he shouted.

They were getting closer, I could smell them in the air, and it wouldn't have surprised me if they could smell me, too; smell my fear, like vicious dogs on the hunt.

"Hey!" he shouted at me again. "You alright?"

I ran.

Right into the road, as fast as I could, my weak legs banging down so hard on the road beneath me it hurt my feet, even through my boots. Bang! I flew a yard. Bang! And another. Bang! They're following me!

Run, I chanted at myself furiously, determined not to let them catch me. Oh, where was Gee? Run, run, run. I had to run. I couldn't let them get me.

What happened to Gerard? My best friend, the one who'd saved me all those times, the one I'd saved? The one I loved? You're not in this alone. I'll never let them hurt you, I promise. What happened to that, hey? The friendship – worth more to me than to him?

Gone. Gone with the wind, with his long hair, with his hazel eyes, his chalky skin – the beautiful tan he hated that marred it when it was sunny.

Though I was still running, thick, drooping tears like raindrops had begun to stream down my face, blurring my vision. I didn't care. What did it matter, if I could see or not? Did it matter I couldn't see my hand in front of me, my feet, the place I was running to – where was I running to?

Did it matter I didn't see the car as it travelled out, driving too fast, in front of me? Did it matter I paused for half a second – in which the car decided to hit me?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Pain. Agony. Excruciating. Blood. Wet, warm stuff – on my arms, legs, head. Blood. Pain. Gerard. I need you. Come, please come. Come and make me better. Come and take the pain away. Come and sit with me on my deathbed. I'm dying, I'm dying. I know I'm dying. Just come and sit with me. Please. I need you. I want you. I like you, I love you, I miss you. I'm sorry. Forgive me, before I die. Forgive me and come to me and hold my hand and stroke my cheek and kiss me. Tell me it's okay. Tell me you forgive me. Tell me you don't hate me.

Just tell me you love me, please.

There was an obviously male, but still shrill, scream, and then everything turned to black. Not just slightly blurred as before, but absolute blind, pitch black. And it hurt, too. Holy fuck, it hurt. I wanted to die, just to get away from the agony. But I had a feeling that I'd be doing that soon anyway – dying.

As I lay there, my ears seemed to increase in effectiveness by about three hundred percent. I heard my heart thumping quickly – too quickly – and my accelerated, shallow breathing: it was excruciating to breathe, like every moment of oxygen broke all of my ribs over and over. And I heard a car door open and slam, short, shocked breaths coming from someone else, and heavy footsteps running. All of this happened around me, whilst I was unable to open my eyes to look for myself. But then my bat ears tuned out of the cacophony surrounding where I'd been hit in the middle of the road, because I heard the desperate, terrified, exhausted panting and the rushing footsteps of the one who I'd recognise anywhere – even temporarily blinded and half-dead.

Gerard was here.

I heard him shouting, pleading. "Excuse me! Can you tell me, when was this guy hit? Is he okay? Has someone called for an ambulance? Please, oh God, please let him be okay." Some of this was screamed at the spectators, other bits muttered worriedly to himself.

Then I heard his soft, sweet breathing next to me, felt the cold, delicious life of it wash over my wet face – damp with tears and blood.

"Frank, can you hear me? It's Gee. You're gonna be alright, I promise you. You can't leave me. You're my best friend; I need you. And...you've taught me something. Today, it's taught me something. For one, I don't love Lyn-Z. Not after what she's done. And for another...there is someone I love, I think. And he's right here next to me. Y'see, what I'm saying is, I think I love you. Aw hell – Frank Iero, I love you. I am in love with you. You're gonna be okay, I promise. And when you're better, I'm gonna be with you, for the rest of my life, if you want. I love you, Frankie. I'm sorry, and I love you."

I couldn't believe my ears. Those were not words I'd ever anticipated to hear him say to me. Surely...he loved me? He wasn't just saying it? He loved me! Gerard Way loved me! I was so happy, so fulfilled; I was too occupied to even feel the pain anymore.

And as I felt his hand tuck into mine, and only one little pessimistic thought span dizzily through my dazzled, this-is-too-good-to-be-true brain.

/He would tell me he loves me the minute before I die./