Paradise

-Gerard’s POV-

I set up the camcorder on top of a stack of books and sat awkwardly in front of it on what used to be our bed. I was going to do this, and I was not going to cry. I could do this. I could do this. I could be strong, just for five minutes, and then I could break down into sobs that wracked my entire body. Just five minutes. I pressed record.

“Hey, Frankie,” my voice cracked a little. “I really miss you. And I love you so much. I hope you’re not mad at me for still being in love with you. I know you told me to move on when we were at the hospital, but that’s impossible when it comes to you.” My breath hitched a little and I had to work to keep the sobs at bay.

“Anyway…it’s been a year today. An entire year without you. I never thought I’d make it this far, I really didn’t. You have no idea how much it took to not blow my brains out as soon as I got home from your funeral. It’s still hard not to. But, I’ll get to that later. Anyway, it’s been a year. Here are some things you’ve missed. Mikey and Alicia got married. How he tricked that poor girl into it, I’ll never know. But they’re really happy together. Everyone missed you at the wedding. We sent some balloons up for you. Mine had a note on it, saying how much I love you, but I don’t think you got it. Ray and Christa had their first kid. His name is Aaron. He’s adorable. He’d love you. Jamia still comes and visits me and your dogs and your grave. She wanted to take Sweet Pea with her. She played the whole ‘best friend since high school and lesbian wingman’ card, but we agreed it’d be better to keep them all together, especially with you gone,” I had to stop for a second after that and collect myself. It still felt like I’d been stabbed and they twisted the knife every time I said Frankie was gone. “They don’t wait at the door for you to come home anymore. I think they get it now.”

I was so close to breaking down by now. I took a few deep breaths and brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. There was one more piece of news I had to share, and then I could give in.

“They found your killer, Frankie. About a week after your funeral. I’m sorry I never told you, but I just wasn’t strong enough yet. I really wanted to, but I wouldn’t be able to do it without sobbing. You always said how much you hated to see me cry, to see me hurt,” I took in another shaky breath. “but I’m still hurting. I thought it would get better, but it hasn’t. I’m back on the anti-depressants, but there’s only so much that medicine can do. I’ve been suicidal again without you here. I…I s-started cutting again. I’m so sorry. I know we both worked so hard to get me to stop, but I don’t really have anyone to be strong for anymore. I just can’t live with myself anymore. To know that I was there the day you were killed. I could have stopped him. But I didn’t. I’m so sorry,” At this point I couldn’t hold it in anymore, and I broke down in sobs that felt as if they were tearing my lungs open. Tears poured in hot rivers down my face, setting my red cheeks ablaze. A ripping grief tore through me, making me feel like I was drowning. I wish I was.

“I’m sorry, Frankie. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep living like this, hoping that each time I wake up will be the last. I can’t. But I don’t have to worry about this anymore. Because I’m done. I’m going. I’m gonna be with you soon, and I know it’ll hurt Mikey and Ray and mom and dad and everyone else. But let’s face it. They’ve seen this coming. They’ve tried to help me, but I think they know I’m a lost cause. And they’ll be fine without me. They’ll be just fine. Because I’m completely useless without you here, and they deserve better than that. So don’t worry. I won’t be hurting for much longer. I love you, Frankie. Happy anniversary.”

I stopped the recording and took the memory card out. I put it in an envelope and marked the outside in my messy writing. For Frankie, it said. I put the envelope on top of our dresser, next to another envelope containing my suicide note, and went over to the nightstand on my side of the bed. I opened the top drawer and looked inside, at the bottle of pills and the box of razor blades. I grabbed both of them along with the bottle of vodka atop the nightstand, and went to the middle of the room. I unscrewed the lid on the liquor, and took a deep drink. The almost sickeningly familiar taste snaked down my throat with a burn. One drink turned into two, three, four, five, and soon, half the bottle was as gone as I was. The room tilted and turned, and I struggled as I unscrewed the bottle of pills. I really should’ve done this first.

I poured half the contents of the bottle into the palm of my hand, and knocked them back into my mouth. I swallowed almost twenty pills with little aid from the alcohol; years of addiction made me practiced in swallowing copious amounts of pills dry. I took another small sip of vodka before I ripped open the razor blades. I could feel the fuzziness inside my brain intensify and warp as the pills started to kick in. I pulled one of the blades out, not really giving a shit if it cut my fingers. I brought the glinting piece of metal harshly down onto the inside of my forearm, silent as a confused throb of sharp, stinging pain resonated through my arm. I ignored it, and continued to drag the blade through my skin, pressing down into a jagged, bloody line. It went from the inside of my elbow to the inside of my wrist, and blood flooded out from where I could see the sinewy pinkness under my skin splitting. I made four more long, deep cuts on my arm, then smaller ones crisscrossing all the way down in a lattice. I dropped the blade to the floor in favor of the vodka, and took another long drink, downing another fourth of the bottle. I felt like puking, what with all the medication and alcohol in my system, and all of the blood not in my system.

Everything started to blur more around the edges, and I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. The life drained out of me as my blood drained onto the floor, and the entire time I couldn’t stop thinking of Frankie’s face, and how close I was to being able to see it again.

“I love you, Frankie. I’ll be there soon.” As I said my last words, and breathed my final breath, my eyes fluttered closed and the darkness consumed me.

-

I was in a stairwell. It was darker toward the bottom, and there was a pale yellow light filtering in through the top. It was peaceful, but not eerily so. I noticed the drunken and drugged haze was gone from my body, and the inside of my arm was devoid of any cuts. The pale white, raised scars that had been there before were still there, but my arm was still intact. I ran a hand through my greasy hair that was in need of a trim, and then put my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. I looked down and saw that I was in Frankie’s favorite outfit of mine-a pair of tight black jeans that were wearing at the knees, my leather Converse, a threadbare Planet of the Apes t-shirt, and a gray and black striped hoodie. He always said I looked more comfortable like this, more like “his Gerard”. I for one couldn’t think of a time when I wasn’t his Gerard. I was meant to be his and only his, from the moment I was born.

Born.

This word got me thinking. Was I dead now? Where was I? I must’ve died. There’s no way I could have survived that. Was this the so-called “tunnel” everyone said you were sent to after you died? Was I supposed to “go toward the light”, as cheesy as that sounded? I decided I didn’t have much to lose since I was already dead, and started walking up the stairs.

After a fairly short walk, I came to the top of the stairs, and I came out into the open, where I was faced with a large pair of white gates, detailed in gold. A man came up to the gates and pushed on them, making them swing outwards and open. He looked to be around forty, and like a watered down version of Dave Grohl.

“You must be Gerard.” He said, and he came up to clap a hand on the back of my shoulder.

“Uhh, yeah. Th-that’s me.” I said, as he began to lead me through the gates.

“Young Frankie has told me a lot about you.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m God, dipshit. Who do you think I am?” He said, causing me to chuckle.

“So…is he here? Frankie, I mean.”

“Oh, he’s here. I just got done holding him and trying to calm him down. He was screaming his lungs out over the little show you put on down there.”

“Oh, shit! He saw that?!” I never in my existence wanted Frankie to have to see something like that.

“Don’t worry. He’s fine now. Just don’t pull any more shit like that; the poor kid was really torn up.”

“Sorry.” He sighed and shook his head, laughing breathily, as we came up to what looked exactly like our front door at home.

“Go on. I know you want to see him.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Any time.”

I opened the door and swung it open to see exactly what our home was a year ago; so warm and inviting, nothing like the cold, depressing feeling it had acquired after Frankie died. I walked over to the stairs and began my ascent to the second floor, and I could begin to hear faint sobbing coming from the direction of our bedroom. When I got to the other side of the door, I could distinctly hear sobs ripping through Frankie’s lips. The sound broke my heart, while at the same time reassuring that he was here. I would finally get to see him after a year of being apart.

I turned the knob as silently as I could and opened the door. There, on our bed, was Frankie, just as he had been a year ago, except now he had big, beautiful, snowy white angel wings. He was curled on his side, sobbing quietly, with his eyes screwed shut and his arms wound tightly around his chest. I walked over to him and laid a hand tentatively on his shoulder as I sat next to him on the bed.

“Go away, God. I don’t wanna talk right now.” And his voice, oh his voice. It was like all of the happiness had returned to my soul as I heard it, and felt his small body, warm and steady beneath my touch.

“No, Frankie. It’s me.” His crying stopped almost instantly and his eyes went wide. He looked up at me and gasped when he saw me. A look somewhere between horror and elation spread across his face as he launched himself into my lap and wrapped his arms tightly around my neck.

“Gerard! Oh my god, Gerard! You’re here! And you have wings! And…and…oh my god…”he trailed off and once again began crying into my neck, and I just sat there and let him. I held onto him as tight as I possibly could and cried into his shoulder.

“Shhh. I’m here, Frankie. I’m here. I’m here.”

“I love you so much, Gerard.”

“I love you too, Frankie. With all my heart.”

“But wait. If you’re here, then that means that what you did…Oh, Gerard. It worked?! You tried killing yourself and it worked?! What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. You?!” He exclaimed, punctuating each word with a smack to my shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Frankie. I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

“I understand.” He sighed.

“You do?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. It was hard on me, too. Being up here without you, and being able to see you, and not being able to do anything about it. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Frankie.” I leaned forward and caught his lips in a kiss, and his warm, soft lips moved against mine and his fingers trailed up my arm, and around my back. His other hand tangled itself in my hair, and I wrapped my arms around his waist, being careful of his wings. We kissed for what felt like hours, just sitting there and letting time pass as we kissed and touched and hummed happily. When we pulled away, we kept our grip on the other, almost afraid to let go. I rested my forehead on his, and smiled as I looked into his eyes.

“I love you so much, Frankie. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

“I love you too, Gerard. And it wouldn’t be paradise without you.”