Unrequited Love
Some Call It Sorrow
Frank's POV
"I loved you," I whisper, his cold body lying limp in my arms. "I loved you so damn much."
Why here, why now? I want to scream, but I know better. He was in love with Bert. I heard them many nights, making love as if they were lovers. I remember the day I'd worked up the courage to ask Bert what was going on. He had smiled at me, taking my hand in his and kissing it gently.
"It's nothing," he had whispered. "He could never compete with my love for you."
Gerard was in love with Bert, I could see it in his eyes, but Bert loved me, and I was the only one who could see the truth. We were all completely and totally screwed.
One day, Gerard stopped eating. He wouldn't come to dinner with the rest of the band, or even leave his house unless Bert asked him to.
I'm not sure if he realized that I knew everything, I'm not sure if he realized that I cared. I pretended nothing was wrong, of course, trying to ignore how sickly he was and how infected his wrists must have been beneath those stained bandages. I'd even stopped asking Bert to help him, after he refused for the billionth time, reassuring me that he were okay.
"He's not okay!" I had screamed, barely refraining from slapping him. My fist shook, my teeth clenched, and tears burned my eyes, but I kept it all inside.
Nobody deserves to die because of unrequited love. Not Gerard, not Bert, not even myself. But I guess Gerard didn't agree.
I'd untied him more than an hour ago, cradling his body as though he were still alive. He was smiling, I remember. He was smiling and I couldn't understand why.
But now, as I stand inside the empty house, I think I can begin to.
As I bring the gun to my head, one that I'd found by chance as few weeks ago, I think I can feel myself smiling too. Unlike Gerard, I leave a note. I feel the need to explain why, since he had never given me that satisfaction of knowing.
It reads only three simple words, and only Bert will understand their exact meaning. I'd made sure of that.
My finger pulls the trigger, and my life flashes before my eyes...and then there's silence. I hope the blood won't stain my note, or make my message unreadable.
He wasn't okay. it reads in large, black letters.
He wasn't okay.
And neither am I.
"I loved you," I whisper, his cold body lying limp in my arms. "I loved you so damn much."
Why here, why now? I want to scream, but I know better. He was in love with Bert. I heard them many nights, making love as if they were lovers. I remember the day I'd worked up the courage to ask Bert what was going on. He had smiled at me, taking my hand in his and kissing it gently.
"It's nothing," he had whispered. "He could never compete with my love for you."
Gerard was in love with Bert, I could see it in his eyes, but Bert loved me, and I was the only one who could see the truth. We were all completely and totally screwed.
One day, Gerard stopped eating. He wouldn't come to dinner with the rest of the band, or even leave his house unless Bert asked him to.
I'm not sure if he realized that I knew everything, I'm not sure if he realized that I cared. I pretended nothing was wrong, of course, trying to ignore how sickly he was and how infected his wrists must have been beneath those stained bandages. I'd even stopped asking Bert to help him, after he refused for the billionth time, reassuring me that he were okay.
"He's not okay!" I had screamed, barely refraining from slapping him. My fist shook, my teeth clenched, and tears burned my eyes, but I kept it all inside.
Nobody deserves to die because of unrequited love. Not Gerard, not Bert, not even myself. But I guess Gerard didn't agree.
I'd untied him more than an hour ago, cradling his body as though he were still alive. He was smiling, I remember. He was smiling and I couldn't understand why.
But now, as I stand inside the empty house, I think I can begin to.
As I bring the gun to my head, one that I'd found by chance as few weeks ago, I think I can feel myself smiling too. Unlike Gerard, I leave a note. I feel the need to explain why, since he had never given me that satisfaction of knowing.
It reads only three simple words, and only Bert will understand their exact meaning. I'd made sure of that.
My finger pulls the trigger, and my life flashes before my eyes...and then there's silence. I hope the blood won't stain my note, or make my message unreadable.
He wasn't okay. it reads in large, black letters.
He wasn't okay.
And neither am I.
♠ ♠ ♠
ANGST. The second love of my life. (What's the first? I have no idea.)Seriously. But I'm such a happy person in real life. I mean, you wouldn't even believe I was the same person if you met me. Haha.
Much love xoxo