Life, Love, and My Chemical Romance

I couldn’t believe eight weeks were up and we still didn’t have Bob.
I looked over at Gerard and dropped my cell phone, “Gerard!” I screamed. When he didn’t respond I ran to him. He was freezing. For as long as I’d known Gerard he’d never been cold, “Wake up!” I cried. When he didn’t respond I checked his pulse. It was faint, but nevertheless their. My throat tightened with what was a strange mix of joy and grief.
I picked my cell phone up to call 911. But then I remembered that I was at Gerard's house and we were in our underwear. Instead I called Nicole.
By the second ring I had tears streaming down my face, “Please pick up.” I begged.
It went to Nicole’s answering machine. I gave up. Well actually I gave out. Or at least my legs did. I curled into a ball next to Gerard’s lifeless body and wept. I grabbed his cold hand next to my chest and sobbed into it. As I cried the H.I.M. Song thrashed in my head, so loud I could barely hear my own bitter, hopeless, miserable cries, “No one will love you like I do…”
I constantly reminded my self that this was not a movie, and sobbing wouldn’t bring Gerard back.
Suddenly the doorbell rang. Something possessed me to answer it. I felt I had to. I quickly slipped into my dress and ran to the door. I didn’t care that I looked horrible. With Gerard unconscious, barely alive, I felt I had nothing to live for. When I opened the door I almost fainted.
Which I tend to do in her presence rather often.
“Hi Grandma.” I managed to squeak.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked rudely. Suddenly I broke down in sobs and hugged her.
“I’m… Sorry… I can’t… don’t…” I wailed into her shoulder.
“Marilyn, he’s not dead yet. You can still save him.” She said matter-of-factly. Not a single bit of comfort in her voice.
“But how?” I yelled. I didn’t mean to, I just did. I was pretty darn pissed.
“I gave you eight weeks to put the pieces of the puzzle together, now find that missing piece and finish it. You still have a few hours.”
“Where?” I asked, “How?”
“I say you find Frank.” She said.
“Oh. Okay.” I didn’t see him at Fantastic Friday, so he was probably next door, at home. I didn’t have any time to waste, so without even saying goodbye, I ran next door. I put my finger on the doorbell and held it their. I didn’t care that it was 11 P.M. I needed Frank.
“Who’s their?” someone yelled from the other side of the door. I was pretty sure it wasn’t Frank.
“Marilyn, Frank’s friend.” I shouted back. I heard the lock click. A rather short woman I assumed was Frank’s mother answered.
“What do you want with him at this ungodly hour?” she asked me.
“I… Uhh…” I didn’t know what to tell her. Suddenly Frank ran down stairs.
“Hey.” He said when he saw me. He looked at me funny, and then I remembered I was in a dress and had makeup smeared all over my face.
“You need to come to Gerard’s house. Now.” I said as I grabbed his arm and pulled him outside.
“At least let me put my shoes on!” it was too late. We were already running across the lawn.
“You need to help me.” I yelled.
“Let me go!” He yelled. I pulled him through the door and upstairs. Grandma was gone by then
“Please.” I said as we got to Gerard’s room.
“Holy…” Frank said when he saw Gerard. He ran over and checked his pulse, “What happened?”
“I don’t know… He just…” I was sobbing then, “Passed out.”
“Did you call 911?”
“No.”
“Give me you phone.” He said.
“No!” I shouted.
“What? Why?” he yelled.
“He’s in his boxers! I can’t let his parents find out!” Frank just stared at me as if I were stupid.
“You idiot!” he burst, “He’s unconscious! You’re worried about his boxers?” I sank to the ground and cried. I didn’t know what to do.
“No one will love you like I do…”