Status: Warnings: suicide
Famous Last Words
Famous Last Words
"Get the hell out," Gerard spat, his words stinging my ears as he slammed the bedroom door in my face.
"Maybe I won't come back," I seethed in return. Cruelty was the only response I saw fit; I couldn't be weak again. Last time, I fucking cried. That wasn't something I wanted to put myself through. The shame, the guilt...it was too much. Still, it wasn't as bad as my abusive relationship.
Yes, Gerard and I fought often. Normally, it was just words. I hated to sound childish, but he always started it. And sometimes, he'd get too angry. He'd hit me. He wasn't that strong, but it stung that he'd want to inflict pain on me.
God, I was weak.
He didn't hit me this time, but I could tell he wanted to. He spewed venom, eyes flashing, nostrils flaring. I tried to take it, but I never really could. A half-ass façade wasn't enough to keep Gerard from taking his anger out on the one person who'd never leave him. That, I convinced myself, was the reason he did it. He'd have me forever. He didn't have to treat me well as I'd never leave. Our relationship was indestructible, no matter how twisted. I loved him. I had since the moment I met him, and I always would. I was bound to Gerard Way.
I left the apartment and got into my car. I slept there, sometimes. Mikey had violent personal space issues, so Gerard was the only one who could ever stay there. Ray's apartment was out of the question. He was always letting random people in and either drinking, getting high, and/or sleeping with them. As I didn't know anyone else and was careful about spending money, I slept in the car.
Of course, the sleep wouldn't come for awhile. Not while the words were so fresh in my mind.
"Listen to me, you little bitch. I'm not fucking happy. God, you screw everything up." I winced. Gerard was a little drunk when the most recent episode happened. He let it all loose the moment I opened my mouth to respond. Soon enough, it had evolved into yet another fight. He was doing most of the talking of course. Well...the shouting.
"Fuck you, Iero! I deserve better than you! Everything you touch gets ruined!"
"I'm not the screwup," I had replied. "You're the one who got yourself into this mess."
"You sure about that? If you hadn't fucking distracted me, I would've paid these goddamn bills! But no! You had to come home and whine about your stupid little problems!"
"You didn't have to comfort me with sex! A simple 'sorry' would've sufficed."
"Oh, come on. You and I both know that wouldn't have been enough. You always expect way more than you give. I'm Frank, and I don't have to do anything because I'm a little princess," he mocked. "I've had enough! I'm a busy guy; I have songs to write, bottles to drink, and let's not forget bills to pay. I'd be better off without you and your fucking problems."
I blinked back tears and grit my teeth. He didn't continue, so I took that moment to respond.
"Gerard, if you let down your walls for a minute, you'd see how this is all your fault. I've done nothing but show sympathy while you bitch about my flaws. Everything is my fault, huh? Open your goddamn eyes. You've done all this. Stop blaming me and grow the fuck up."
Without hesitation, he said, "Get the hell out," and slammed the door in my face.
"Maybe I won't come back."
Upon reliving the scene in my mind, I sighed guiltily. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything at all. Sure, he was a bit blind, but Gerard wasn't heartless. Maybe I had hurt him. I never wanted to do that.
Still, that wasn't the first time I'd said nasty things to him, and it wasn't the worst. I missed the apology, but he'd get over it. Besides, there was always tomorrow. I'd walk in, squeeze him tightly, and whisper how sorry I was into his neck. Then, he'd kiss me and say it back. Things would be fine for awhile. Give it a month and the cycle would repeat, but I'd survive. The good times with Gerard were worth the bad.
Snatching a bottle of whiskey from the glove compartment, I settled back into my seat and downed the lukewarm liquid. I hated the taste; I always had and it was worse this far from cold, but I needed a little help sleeping. Within ten minutes, it kicked in, and I passed out in the driver's seat.
* * *
The following morning, I reluctantly pulled myself out of sleep and glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was an old car; it had the classic big-hand-little-hand getup. It was nearly noon. Judging by how much Gerard had likely drank last night, he'd be unconscious until two. Rubbing my eyes and pouring the remaining few drops of whiskey into my throat, I turned the key in the ignition and pulled onto the street.
I drove around for an hour aimlessly, but an uneasy feeling was beginning to settle in the pit of my stomach. I sighed and returned home. By the time I pulled into the driveway, it was 1:30. After locking my car and nearly faceplanting on the gravel, I walked into the house.
"Gerard?" I called out. There was no answer...maybe he was still asleep. I shut the door behind me, softly enough that he could remain that way. Wouldn't want him waking up and having a hissy fit.
Upon surveying the house, I saw a note on the kitchen table.
Dear Frank, it read. By the time you read this, I'll...well, I'll get to that later.
I suppose. I should start by saying I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm a screwup. I'm sorry for what I said to you. And most of all, I'm sorry that I don't deserve you. I'm sorry that I've never been good enough. You deserve so much more. I drink too much. I never listen to you. And I lash out because I'm fucking scared that you'll leave me, yet I try not to be scared. I just think that I might as well help you along if you're going to do it eventually. Better to end it now before more time passes, because then, it'll be that much more painful.
What I'm trying to say is...I can't do this anymore. I love you so much, Frank, but I can't. I don't want to hurt you. I can't live with the guilt. I wish things could get better, but honestly, you and I both know that's impossible.
If you want to say goodbye, I'll be in the bedroom.
-G
Tears welled up in my eyes. He...he was leaving me? Just because he felt guilty? And he didn't have the balls to say it in person? No. No, I was not taking this. I stormed into our bedroom, wiping my eyes, and setting my expression into one of determination. He was under the covers completely, fast asleep. He was so still; he must have drank more than he should. I yanked back the covers to wake him up, and - oh.
Reeling back, I vomited all over the carpet before throwing myself forward on top of Gerard. My body shook with sobs. His face was a milky white, his eyes gently closed. He almost looked peaceful, but in a gaunt sort of way. He was...but he couldn't be....
I wailed into the empty house. The love of my life was dead.
I couldn't breathe. This was...oh god, he killed himself because of me. It was all my fault. I killed Gerard. Through my drastically blurred vision, I dialed Mikey's number. It rang four times.
"Hello?"
"M-Mikey," I choked out, attempting to sound less hysterical, but to no avail. "Ger-Gerard-d is...."
I just couldn't get the words out. Instead, I told him to get Ray and come over as fast as he could. After hanging up the phone, I crawled into bed with Gerard's corpse and clutched it desperately, as if I could bring him back. I sobbed into his cold neck. He couldn't be gone. He was invincible. He was the strongest person I'd ever known, even if he got angry and got drunk. He was a generally good guy. I was just his punching bag; I was the one he could rely on to love him no matter what. He could be angry at me because he couldn't be angry at anyone else.
My stomach lurched. Hadn't I said something? He usually got the last word, but....
"Maybe I won't come back."
My subsiding sobs roared back to life. An empty threat was enough to make him take the entire bottle of sleeping pills on his nightstand. He swallowed ninety.
Overridden with guilt, I couldn't think anymore. I simply tightened my grip on Gerard and tried not to cry.
When Mikey and Ray finally showed up, they had to pry me off of him. I couldn't let go; I felt like if I did, I was accepting it. That was something I couldn't do - ever.
Ray and I stayed at Mikey's house that night; we all needed it. They were only up until midnight, and fell asleep soon after. I, however, lay awake the entire night, seized with overwhelming pangs of guilt, regret, and hopelessness. Those emotions ran well-into the next day...and the next day...and the next. I returned home, but the place felt empty. My feelings only intensified. They were practically unbearable. I wasn't even sure how to carry on anymore.
The funeral was held about three weeks after Gerard's passing. Though it was painful, it was beautiful. Gerard's parents and Mikey spoke. I managed to keep a strong composure through most of it, but with some of Mikey's words at the end, I quickly broke down and sobbed from my seat in the back.
"I loved Gerard," he had sad. "We all did, of course, but I've never seen two people love each other as much as him and Frank. I have no doubt in my mind that they're soulmates. I may not believe in any divine power, but if anything were to convince me otherwise, it'd be their unearthly love for each other. Their bond was stronger than blood."
After the burial, during which I debated throwing myself into the grave, I was supposed to go to Gerard's parents' house. Instead, I went home, turned off all the lights, and lay on Gerard's side of the bed. It was much too cold for my liking, but it still smelled like him. I held in the tears, calm for once.
I didn't remember dozing off, but I woke up with my arms reaching out in front of me like I was searching for something. My stomach rumbled, and although I didn't feel like eating, I figured I should occupy myself with something besides my thoughts. The house was pitch black. Still, I managed to find my way to the kitchen.
A knife on the counter caught my eye. It was then that I realized how close to death we were; constant dangers surrounded us. Humans were fragile to harm, illness, and emotions.
How goddamn weak.
I could cut vegetables with that knife. The knife could slip. I could cut my finger. And just from that, I could acquire some fatal disease. Or I could accidentally tear a vein and bleed out. Or I could purposely stab myself, and....
Both eagerness and guilt swirled in my mind at that moment. Taking my own life seemed cowardly, yet wildly appealing. Frankly, I had nothing to lose. It might hurt Mikey and Ray, but they'd get over it. If there was an afterlife, I could be with Gerard again. And if not, well...there'd be no one to be upset about it. I simply wouldn't exist anymore. Not living was infinitely better than living without him.
My shaking hand grabbed the knife and I returned to my room. Once again, I curled up on Gerard's side of the bed. Taking a piece of paper and a pen from the nightstand, I wrote:
You know why. -F
So this was it. 23 years old, and I was taking my life. I knew I was a coward, but at least I was a lovesick coward. I didn't believe in love at first sight until it happened to me, and I didn't believe in soulmates until I lost mine. And now, I was just screwed up. Might as well end it before it got any worse.
I closed my eyes and smiled genuinely. I'd see Gerard again soon, maybe. We wouldn't fight anymore now that we'd know how it felt to lose each other. Perhaps this was how we were meant to be all along. Dead, but happy.
"Mind if I join you?" I whispered, my final word to the darkness before I plunged the blade into my chest.
"Maybe I won't come back," I seethed in return. Cruelty was the only response I saw fit; I couldn't be weak again. Last time, I fucking cried. That wasn't something I wanted to put myself through. The shame, the guilt...it was too much. Still, it wasn't as bad as my abusive relationship.
Yes, Gerard and I fought often. Normally, it was just words. I hated to sound childish, but he always started it. And sometimes, he'd get too angry. He'd hit me. He wasn't that strong, but it stung that he'd want to inflict pain on me.
God, I was weak.
He didn't hit me this time, but I could tell he wanted to. He spewed venom, eyes flashing, nostrils flaring. I tried to take it, but I never really could. A half-ass façade wasn't enough to keep Gerard from taking his anger out on the one person who'd never leave him. That, I convinced myself, was the reason he did it. He'd have me forever. He didn't have to treat me well as I'd never leave. Our relationship was indestructible, no matter how twisted. I loved him. I had since the moment I met him, and I always would. I was bound to Gerard Way.
I left the apartment and got into my car. I slept there, sometimes. Mikey had violent personal space issues, so Gerard was the only one who could ever stay there. Ray's apartment was out of the question. He was always letting random people in and either drinking, getting high, and/or sleeping with them. As I didn't know anyone else and was careful about spending money, I slept in the car.
Of course, the sleep wouldn't come for awhile. Not while the words were so fresh in my mind.
"Listen to me, you little bitch. I'm not fucking happy. God, you screw everything up." I winced. Gerard was a little drunk when the most recent episode happened. He let it all loose the moment I opened my mouth to respond. Soon enough, it had evolved into yet another fight. He was doing most of the talking of course. Well...the shouting.
"Fuck you, Iero! I deserve better than you! Everything you touch gets ruined!"
"I'm not the screwup," I had replied. "You're the one who got yourself into this mess."
"You sure about that? If you hadn't fucking distracted me, I would've paid these goddamn bills! But no! You had to come home and whine about your stupid little problems!"
"You didn't have to comfort me with sex! A simple 'sorry' would've sufficed."
"Oh, come on. You and I both know that wouldn't have been enough. You always expect way more than you give. I'm Frank, and I don't have to do anything because I'm a little princess," he mocked. "I've had enough! I'm a busy guy; I have songs to write, bottles to drink, and let's not forget bills to pay. I'd be better off without you and your fucking problems."
I blinked back tears and grit my teeth. He didn't continue, so I took that moment to respond.
"Gerard, if you let down your walls for a minute, you'd see how this is all your fault. I've done nothing but show sympathy while you bitch about my flaws. Everything is my fault, huh? Open your goddamn eyes. You've done all this. Stop blaming me and grow the fuck up."
Without hesitation, he said, "Get the hell out," and slammed the door in my face.
"Maybe I won't come back."
Upon reliving the scene in my mind, I sighed guiltily. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything at all. Sure, he was a bit blind, but Gerard wasn't heartless. Maybe I had hurt him. I never wanted to do that.
Still, that wasn't the first time I'd said nasty things to him, and it wasn't the worst. I missed the apology, but he'd get over it. Besides, there was always tomorrow. I'd walk in, squeeze him tightly, and whisper how sorry I was into his neck. Then, he'd kiss me and say it back. Things would be fine for awhile. Give it a month and the cycle would repeat, but I'd survive. The good times with Gerard were worth the bad.
Snatching a bottle of whiskey from the glove compartment, I settled back into my seat and downed the lukewarm liquid. I hated the taste; I always had and it was worse this far from cold, but I needed a little help sleeping. Within ten minutes, it kicked in, and I passed out in the driver's seat.
* * *
The following morning, I reluctantly pulled myself out of sleep and glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was an old car; it had the classic big-hand-little-hand getup. It was nearly noon. Judging by how much Gerard had likely drank last night, he'd be unconscious until two. Rubbing my eyes and pouring the remaining few drops of whiskey into my throat, I turned the key in the ignition and pulled onto the street.
I drove around for an hour aimlessly, but an uneasy feeling was beginning to settle in the pit of my stomach. I sighed and returned home. By the time I pulled into the driveway, it was 1:30. After locking my car and nearly faceplanting on the gravel, I walked into the house.
"Gerard?" I called out. There was no answer...maybe he was still asleep. I shut the door behind me, softly enough that he could remain that way. Wouldn't want him waking up and having a hissy fit.
Upon surveying the house, I saw a note on the kitchen table.
Dear Frank, it read. By the time you read this, I'll...well, I'll get to that later.
I suppose. I should start by saying I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm a screwup. I'm sorry for what I said to you. And most of all, I'm sorry that I don't deserve you. I'm sorry that I've never been good enough. You deserve so much more. I drink too much. I never listen to you. And I lash out because I'm fucking scared that you'll leave me, yet I try not to be scared. I just think that I might as well help you along if you're going to do it eventually. Better to end it now before more time passes, because then, it'll be that much more painful.
What I'm trying to say is...I can't do this anymore. I love you so much, Frank, but I can't. I don't want to hurt you. I can't live with the guilt. I wish things could get better, but honestly, you and I both know that's impossible.
If you want to say goodbye, I'll be in the bedroom.
-G
Tears welled up in my eyes. He...he was leaving me? Just because he felt guilty? And he didn't have the balls to say it in person? No. No, I was not taking this. I stormed into our bedroom, wiping my eyes, and setting my expression into one of determination. He was under the covers completely, fast asleep. He was so still; he must have drank more than he should. I yanked back the covers to wake him up, and - oh.
Reeling back, I vomited all over the carpet before throwing myself forward on top of Gerard. My body shook with sobs. His face was a milky white, his eyes gently closed. He almost looked peaceful, but in a gaunt sort of way. He was...but he couldn't be....
I wailed into the empty house. The love of my life was dead.
I couldn't breathe. This was...oh god, he killed himself because of me. It was all my fault. I killed Gerard. Through my drastically blurred vision, I dialed Mikey's number. It rang four times.
"Hello?"
"M-Mikey," I choked out, attempting to sound less hysterical, but to no avail. "Ger-Gerard-d is...."
I just couldn't get the words out. Instead, I told him to get Ray and come over as fast as he could. After hanging up the phone, I crawled into bed with Gerard's corpse and clutched it desperately, as if I could bring him back. I sobbed into his cold neck. He couldn't be gone. He was invincible. He was the strongest person I'd ever known, even if he got angry and got drunk. He was a generally good guy. I was just his punching bag; I was the one he could rely on to love him no matter what. He could be angry at me because he couldn't be angry at anyone else.
My stomach lurched. Hadn't I said something? He usually got the last word, but....
"Maybe I won't come back."
My subsiding sobs roared back to life. An empty threat was enough to make him take the entire bottle of sleeping pills on his nightstand. He swallowed ninety.
Overridden with guilt, I couldn't think anymore. I simply tightened my grip on Gerard and tried not to cry.
When Mikey and Ray finally showed up, they had to pry me off of him. I couldn't let go; I felt like if I did, I was accepting it. That was something I couldn't do - ever.
Ray and I stayed at Mikey's house that night; we all needed it. They were only up until midnight, and fell asleep soon after. I, however, lay awake the entire night, seized with overwhelming pangs of guilt, regret, and hopelessness. Those emotions ran well-into the next day...and the next day...and the next. I returned home, but the place felt empty. My feelings only intensified. They were practically unbearable. I wasn't even sure how to carry on anymore.
The funeral was held about three weeks after Gerard's passing. Though it was painful, it was beautiful. Gerard's parents and Mikey spoke. I managed to keep a strong composure through most of it, but with some of Mikey's words at the end, I quickly broke down and sobbed from my seat in the back.
"I loved Gerard," he had sad. "We all did, of course, but I've never seen two people love each other as much as him and Frank. I have no doubt in my mind that they're soulmates. I may not believe in any divine power, but if anything were to convince me otherwise, it'd be their unearthly love for each other. Their bond was stronger than blood."
After the burial, during which I debated throwing myself into the grave, I was supposed to go to Gerard's parents' house. Instead, I went home, turned off all the lights, and lay on Gerard's side of the bed. It was much too cold for my liking, but it still smelled like him. I held in the tears, calm for once.
I didn't remember dozing off, but I woke up with my arms reaching out in front of me like I was searching for something. My stomach rumbled, and although I didn't feel like eating, I figured I should occupy myself with something besides my thoughts. The house was pitch black. Still, I managed to find my way to the kitchen.
A knife on the counter caught my eye. It was then that I realized how close to death we were; constant dangers surrounded us. Humans were fragile to harm, illness, and emotions.
How goddamn weak.
I could cut vegetables with that knife. The knife could slip. I could cut my finger. And just from that, I could acquire some fatal disease. Or I could accidentally tear a vein and bleed out. Or I could purposely stab myself, and....
Both eagerness and guilt swirled in my mind at that moment. Taking my own life seemed cowardly, yet wildly appealing. Frankly, I had nothing to lose. It might hurt Mikey and Ray, but they'd get over it. If there was an afterlife, I could be with Gerard again. And if not, well...there'd be no one to be upset about it. I simply wouldn't exist anymore. Not living was infinitely better than living without him.
My shaking hand grabbed the knife and I returned to my room. Once again, I curled up on Gerard's side of the bed. Taking a piece of paper and a pen from the nightstand, I wrote:
You know why. -F
So this was it. 23 years old, and I was taking my life. I knew I was a coward, but at least I was a lovesick coward. I didn't believe in love at first sight until it happened to me, and I didn't believe in soulmates until I lost mine. And now, I was just screwed up. Might as well end it before it got any worse.
I closed my eyes and smiled genuinely. I'd see Gerard again soon, maybe. We wouldn't fight anymore now that we'd know how it felt to lose each other. Perhaps this was how we were meant to be all along. Dead, but happy.
"Mind if I join you?" I whispered, my final word to the darkness before I plunged the blade into my chest.