X-Kid

I was trying so hard not to smile. I’d been walking down the hall, past the bathroom, when I’d heard Gerard as he sung softly to himself in the shower. I was trying so damn hard not to smile.

“For every burning sun there’s a morning after. Though I’m empty when you go, I just wanted you to know…”

He started humming a tune shortly after, before shocking me by going to open the door. It was too late to rush off and pretend I’d never been there, but at least I’d had enough time to remove that smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, suspicion in his tone and in the way he slightly narrowed his eyes at me.

“I needed to go to the bathroom.” It seemed like a perfectly valid reason to be waiting at the door, but he didn’t buy it.

“You heard me singing.”

“Is that so weird? I mean, you sing for a living.” I tried to keep my eyes on his face, but they betrayed me for a moment to follow the drops of water that were sliding off Gerard’s hair, down his neck, his chest, and seeping into his towel secured at his hips. I hadn’t realised what I’d been doing until he was smirking at me, and I was growing redder by the moment.

“That song’s about you, you know. Lately, I can’t seem to shake it.”

“I… what? About me?” He walked off, ignoring my interest. My concern. Exactly what did Gerard Way find to write about me, the girl he ditched when things got too hard. The girl he forgot about until he needed help. The girl he gave no answers.

---

I hadn’t wanted to think anything of it, but I couldn’t help it. I’d spent most of the afternoon trying to recall the lyrics I’d heard Gerard singing, but only remembering parts. I had to call Frank. I was only slightly curious, and still wanting answers as to why he’d stopped contacting me those few years ago. I had the right to know.

“Nobody knows what half his lyrics are about, Alice. I don’t think even he knows. If you haven’t got a whole line, I’m not sure I’ll even know what song you’re talking about.” Frank’s response was hardly helpful.

“It had something to do with wanting to know? Or wanting someone to know… something?” There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

“Oh. That song.”

“What about ‘that song’, Frank? I want to know what he’s been writing about me!”

“Maybe you should ask him. I’d only get it wrong.” He hung up on me then, and it took all of me to not throw my phone across the room.

“You really want to know?” I jumped as Gerard’s voice sounded from behind me, and felt then as he sat down on the end of the bed in his spare bedroom that I still refused to call my own.

“I want to know.” I turned, and Gerard looked away, his hand shooting up to ruffle his hair in what looked like distress.

“Maybe I can print you out the lyrics or something. Hell, you can look them up yourself. The world is ugly, Alice, but you’re beautiful to me.”