The Black Parade

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Well, there goes my life.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Ticking away.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

That goddamn clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

That I can't throw away.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

I guess I've started rhyming in my head, then.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

About fifteen more seconds.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

I'm out of rhyming words to describe the current situation.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

This sucks.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Now.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"Get up, Gerard."

I opened my eyes slowly and sighed.

"I'm up," I mumbled, then sighed again. I repeated the statement, then rolled onto my back rather than remaining on my stomach.
I stared at the painfully white ceiling for a minute or two before Mikey, my oh so confused younger brother, cleared his throat and successfully broke my trance-like state.

"You do know that we have to leave in a half hour, yeah?" He asked softly.
I laughed hollowly and sat up, avoiding his gaze and instead just looking at his tie hanging loosely around his neck that was accompanying an expensive looking, yet cheaply bought grey suit.

"Yes," I answered with just as little emotion as ever.

Mikey sighed and began knotting his tie.
"Your pills are on the counter." He turned to leave with that being said, but seemingly changed his mind when he threw a glance over his shoulder at me. "Do you need anything, bro?" he asked awkwardly.

"No," I replied shortly. "Tell mum that I'll be down in ten minutes. Did she get my suit from my apartment?"

"Yeah," Mikey called over his shoulder as he walked away. He paused again but didn't look back at me when he spoke again. "And Gee?" I didn't reply, just stared blankly at his back. "I love you."

I didn't return the statement regarding affection- I didn't need to, seeing as Mikey was already halfway through his descent of the staircase.
I stood up unsteadily and passed the dresser to retrieve my suit that was hanging from the closet door.
I avoided touching the old wood that was painted white in taking my outfit from it, suddenly realising what a horrible decision it had been to stay in this room.
I looked around subtly, then quickly left the room and shut the door behind me. I suddenly felt dizzy, so I had to lean against the wall for support. Too many memories in this house. My parents' house, not mine anymore.
I shook my head and let the thoughts trickle away just as quickly as they'd come.
I reasoned that there couldn't be as terrible thoughts lurking in Mikey's room, since I'd hardly ever been in there in my nineteen years of living there before moving out, so I went to change in his room rather than any other.
Unlike every other dull room, my younger brother's was painted a dark blue to match his comforter. Everything else that inhabited the room was black. It was dark, and I liked that. It was much like my own room in my dingy apartment. It almost made me feel comfortable, almost made me feel okay- almost wasn't enough.
I sighed, wishing I could sigh deeply enough to perhaps disappear, and undressed sluggishly. I put on the suit that wasn't mine, and did so without much emotion. I was basically a basket case nowadays. Not that it mattered much, I guess I'd always been a mental wreck. It just took something a little out of the ordinary to jolt me into complete insanity.
I left my clothes on the floor and made my way to the bathroom in the hallway. I could hear my mother talking to Mikey downstairs, but I couldn't make out any words, which meant they were most likely talking about me.
The bathroom was dark, but I probably could've turned the lights on if I wanted to. I didn't.
I could see fine, and my reflection would have disappointed me if I could feel. If I wasn't numb.
I chuckled, tried to smile, succeeded, and decided today couldn't possibly go worse than any of the scenarios I'd conjured in my head.
I tousled my hair only to have it flop back in my eyes. Seeing as that problem wouldn't lead anywhere, I chose to ignore it and left the bathroom to meet my family in the kitchen so they could watch me take my drugs so we could leave.
When I was in view, the two stopped talking and smiled at me. I didn't bother smiling back because it wouldn't matter if I did or not.
I grabbed the seven pills off the counter and the water next to them. I eyed them in my palm, just staring for a bit before one at a time, dry swallowing them. I downed the water, then clasped my hands together.

"Let's get this over with so I can go back home and sleep forever," I said a little too happily, with a smile that was a little too wide to be real.

Mikey looked at our mum wearily before we all headed to the car.

The drive was quiet, they didn't even play any music. It was terribly boring. I resorted to watching the trees pass by.

I had no idea how long we had been driving before we stopped.

"Gerard, if you feel like you're going to-" My mum started, but I cut her off sharply.

"Donna, I am twenty years old. I don't live under your roof anymore, and I'm a legal adult. I can take care of my own fucked up self, thank you."
I felt a little guilty, but I got out of the car anyway. It wasn't like I had no right to be angry, because I had every right to be. I was just sick of people treating me like I was mad, just because I'd spent a majority of my life taking pills for problems I had. Even if I was mad, I could take care of myself.

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my suit pants and walked over to the church.
I hadn't been to church once in my life, and I wasn't so sure my dad had, either. Why we were having the service in a chapel, I would never know. I guess that was just how they went.
I took a deep breath to collect myself, then opened the double doors and tried to talk to as few people as possible. I instantly sat down by the front, near the casket. It was closed, thank god. I wouldn't have been able to sit through that if it was open. I'd have lost it.

"Hey, Gee," someone spoke from behind me, causing me to flinch at the unexpectedness of someone addressing me.

I awkwardly looked behind me and saw my best friend Lindsey. The ends of her black painted lips twitched in an attempted smile and I tilted my head to the side.

"What're you doing here, Lynz?" I asked quietly.

She actually smiled on her second try as she sat down next to me.
"Mikey asked me to come, he said it was hard on you, and maybe I could help you. But really, I came because I care about you and I'm really fucking sorry for what happened," she said softly. "Your dad was... he was like a father to me, Gee."

I scrunched my nose up in agitation at the mention of Mikey having something to do with her invite, but I ignored it. At least she was here. If it hadn't been a way to keep me from breaking down, I would have found my younger brother's act sweet.
"Yeah," I answered in a dry whisper.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, wrapping her skinny arms around my shoulders.

I barely hugged back, just rested my hands on her waist, but she knew that's as comfortable as I could get with people.
"I'm fine," I whispered against her hair. "I'm fine."

She pulled back and smiled faintly.
"You always say that, Gerard," she reminded me. "Seventeen years of knowing you."

I nodded and she released me from her embrace. I looked at the coffin- do people even call them that?- and just stared for what seemed like hours.
It was a dark kind of wood, pretty. I didn't acknowledge the fact that everyone had seated themselves and the pastor was talking.
I started to rock a little, back and fourth.

Please come back. I need you here.

A hand settled on my shoulder, but I barely flinched.

Dad, I need you.

Please. Please. Please, please, please, please...

Someone nudged my arm and when I looked up, the service was over.
I stood wordlessly, watching as three men picked up the casket.

People I didn't know walked out of the chapel and toward the cemetery behind it.
Why the fuck are we burying him in a cemetery? This is so fucking stupid.

"Gerard," Lindsey gasped.
I looked up, startled, and her eyes were wide.
"You said that out loud," she whispered.

"Oh," I muttered, my gaze dropping to the ground.

It was far too hot for a funeral. I was in a stupid monkey suit and it was ninety degrees.

We stopped at a hole in the ground with a small stone.
That's what it was, really, just a hole and a stone. We couldn't even afford a nice tombstone, so it just said my dad's name and his date of birth to date of death. We would all end up in holes in the ground one day, I concluded, looking at the vaguely familiar faces and unknown faces around me.

The pastor read some things from the bible, said meaningless things. It didn't really matter. I almost felt bad that he was doing that.

"Does anyone wish to say anything in memory of the departed?"

I glanced at everyone fleetingly, and my mum was the first to step up to the casket.

"Donald was my husband, as you all know, and he... he kept our family sane. He kept us together," she said, laughing sadly. A few tears slid down her cheeks and I frowned. "He was my best friend. Funny, he was my only friend in high school. We got married, and we were so happy. We decided to share that happiness with children... So we had Gerard, then Mikey. I'm so blessed to have them, and have lived the majority of my life with their father." She dabbed at her eyes before continuing. "I love you, Donnie. Thank you."

I stared blankly as my mother backed up to rejoin the people surrounding me, and I guess it was Mikey's turn since he walked up next.

"Dad, you were the best," he said, chuckling despite the tears in his eyes. "You taught me everything. When my friends were playing sports, you stayed inside and helped me with my guitar. You talked to me about books and music and life in general... It was really great. I love you, I mean, you're my dad. I guess I have to. But I'm going to miss you, and things will never be the same without you. I promise you that I'll make you proud, dad."

Lindsey pushed me up once Mikey moved, and I stumbled a bit forward.
I really, really, really wouldn't have minded not talking, but I walked up anyway.
I turned to look at everyone, dozens of eyes staring at me. I fidgeted awkwardly and cast my gaze to the coffin.

"Dad," I said hoarsely. "Why'd you have to go so soon?"
I cleared my throat and suddenly everyone watching me disappeared, and my dad was standing there over his casket.
"I love you so much. You're the only one that understands."
He smiled and nodded for me to continue.
"Please. Please come back, dad. I can't do this without you."
I blinked, and he was gone. Poof. Just my mind playing tricks on me, as usual.
"You asshole!" I shouted. I heard a few gasps, but I ignored them like I did with everything else. "You can't just fucking leave me! I love you, dad! I need you!"
Then there were hands on my shoulders and hands holding my hands and I wasn't standing up there anymore, and I wasn't angry anymore, just confused.
Why did he have to leave now?

They led me away to the car and left me in the front seat to wait for the funeral to end.
I was just a psycho.

I cradled my head in my hands and started crying silently.

"Psst..."

I looked up and sniffled.

"Gee."

I rubbed my eyes and looked around the car, but it was just me in there.

"Geetard. Up here."

I swallowed thickly and looked up, half expecting some kind of monster figment of my imagination, but it was just a boy.
He was laying on the ceiling on his back, his arms behind his head casually.
When I saw him, he smiled, revealing two rows of shiny white teeth that ended in the tiniest of points, it was hardly noticeable. His eyes were surrounded by red, dark x's over them. His actual eyes were black. No pupil, no white, no iris, pure black.
He was dressed up in a lightly wrinkled black suit without a jacket and a blood red tie.

"Mmm. Hello, Gerard Way," he said, his tone flippant and lazy.

"Hi," I replied, cocking my head to the right as I looked up at him. "Isn't it a bit foolish to be on the ceiling?"

He grinned widely, displaying his teeth more noticeably.
"Of course it is! Why aren't you on the ceiling?"
I shrugged and he was quiet for a moment.
"Don't you wanna know how I know you? How I'm laying up here?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

I pondered the question for a moment before shrugging again.
"It wouldn't make much of a difference. You're just another delusion, aren't you? One of the voices manifesting?" I tapped my forehead. "You're in my mind."

The boy giggled girlishly and disappeared for a moment, only to reappear in the drivers' seat right side up.
"Please, Gerard. Like you could imagine someone as wonderful as I am," he clucked his tongue and winked.

"So then what are you?" I asked lamely, quickly running out of ideas.

"I'm Frank," he said, leaning back. He held his hands out in front of him and picked at the black nail polish painted on his tiny finger nails.
"I'm a phantom."

I stared at him curiously and bit my bottom lip gently.
"A... phantom," I repeated.

Frank's head lolled to the side and he winked at me again.
"You got it."

I furrowed my eyebrows and chewed on my lip in concentration while we stared at each other, his black orbs for eyes unnerving.

"What exactly do you want from me?" I asked, trying to decipher the look he was giving me.

"Your father sent me," he said, his cockiness subsiding for a moment. He blinked and his eyes were normal. He had soft, light grey eyes that changed colour depending on how the sun hit them. They were green one way, brownish another, blue another.

"My father is dead," I deadpanned.

Frank blinked again, and his pretty eyes were back to black.
"I know. He sent me."

I narrowed my eyes to slits and pressed my lips into a thin line.
If he was a figment of my imagination, I could will him away, right?
I focused on the strange boy disappearing, but he just stared impassively at me.

"When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city, to see a marching band," Frank sang under his breath.
My eyes widened at the words, the tune- I knew them.
"He said, "Son when you grow up, would you be the saviour of the broken, the beaten and the damned?" He said, "Will you defeat them, your demons, and all the non-believers, the plans that they have made? Because one day,"" he edged a little closer and smiled, his voice growing in volume. ""I'll leave you a phantom to lead you in the summer, to join The Black Parade.""

I stared at Frank, anger beginning to burn inside me.
"That's my song. My song, my dad and I wrote it after...," I whispered, glaring at him. "How the fuck did you know my song?"

"I know what your father told me, and he showed me that memory. And guess what? I'm a phantom," he pointed to himself. "You were that young boy," he poked my shoulder. "Your dad is no longer with us, and he left me to take you..." he prompted.

I pieced it together in my head and felt myself grow cold.
"To... to join The Black Parade," I finished, not sure if I could believe this phantom.

"Bingo," Frank laughed. "But seriously, your dad gave me specific instructions before he went to the pearly gates. Time's-a-wasting. Window of opportunity is closing. You coming or what?"

I stared at the so called "phantom" and debated whether I could trust him; I was clinically insane, after all, and I took medication for my mental illnesses. So if they were to prevent anything like, oh I don't know, seeing things, then why was this boy, no more than seventeen, sitting in front of me?
My eyes traveled to the funeral still progressing without me there- in fact, it was probably going much smoother without my interference. Everyone looked so sad. So, so sad, I didn't like it.

"I can't even say goodbye?" I whispered, pressing a hand against the warm glass of the window.
I can't go, they will miss me.
They will... won't they?
They will.
I think.

"Aw, Gerard..." Frank mumbled. "Okay, listen. I'm not sympathetic, and I'm not going to let you say adios to your amigos. But I can promise you that I'll get someone to leave a note or something. This really isn't a big decision. Just come with me, forget all this, join The Parade. It's perfect there."

I continued staring at my only family I had left. Would they think of me as a coward from running away from my problems? Would they think I'd decided to end it all?

"They need me," I argued weakly. "And I haven't seen Lindsey in more than a year, and she gave up time she could have spent with her husband to comfort me."

"Is Lindsey the girl, right there?" Frank asked, smashing his finger against the glass. I felt his weight on my back and I tensed up slightly.
I looked to where he was pointing, ignoring my discomfort, and nodded when I saw it was the pretty, thin girl dressing in that fluffy knee-length dress with her combat boots. That was Lynz.

"Y-yeah," I mumbled.

"I'd say she's doing quite fine without you," he whispered, his breath hitting my ear. I shivered at the awkward tension filling the space around us.

"What... What do you mean?" I squeaked, looking intently at my best friend.

"Look at her hands," Frank giggled, then his weight was off my back. I looked behind me, and he was back in the driver's seat.

I looked back to Lindsey and when I noticed what Frank was talking about, my breath caught in my throat.
Her hands were not-so-noticeably caressing her stomach.
"I-is she..." I trailed off, my throat constricting my words.

"Four weeks," Frank confirmed.

"Oh."

"Tick, tick, tick," Frank began to whisper.

I looked at him fearfully for a moment, but the feeling passed just as quickly as it came.
"They don't need me," I said to myself. "Let's go."

"Yeah?" Frank asked, his dark eyes shining dangerously. A small, crooked smile formed on his lips.

"Yeah," I said softly. "Can we go now, though? Please?"

"Sure thing, Mister Way," Frank replied, hopping out of the car. I followed behind carefully and shut the door quietly behind me.

"How do we get there?" I asked.

Frank turned around and grabbed my hands. I looked down at him uncertainly and he just winked.
Then we weren't at the cemetery, we were in another place, I guess. It was dark wherever we were, and it looked like a big field of a sort.

"Where are we?" I asked softly, afraid to break the silence that had enveloped the space.

"Welcome to The Black Parade, my friend," Frank whispered, just as shadows started seeping out of the trees surrounding us.