The *** of Gerard Way

Mikey had always thought that death was natural and should be accepted in every way.

The moment he lifted Gerard's limp hand, he knew he was wrong.

"Gee."

He poked him.

Gerard didn't move.

"Gerard."

He shook him and bit his lip.

"Gerard, this isn't funny," his voice was slowly raising.

He patted his face and pinched his arm.

"Gee, come on.... come on!" Was that his voice? His voice was shriller than usual.

"Gerard." He said again. His heart was beating faster.

He was beginning to panick when he rolled Gerard over and onto his back. Gerard's face was ashen and still. Mikey lifted a shaky hand and put it back down.

He can't be.

He reached out again, then stopped.

No. He's not.

Finally, he took Gerard's wrist and pressed his fingers against his wrist.

Mikey immediately jerked his hand away. His eyes were wide, his mouth hung open, and he swore he felt his heart stop.

"Fuck." The word was barely audible, merely a breath into thin air. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

He suddenly realized that he had curled up on the floor. Right next to his brother's.... body.

Mikey poked Gerard again. His eyes were beginning to sting.

"Oh, God." He choked on his words. He felt like throwing up.

"Oh, God, no." The tears were beginning to trickle down. "No, no, no, no, no."

He clamped his hand over his mouth and let out a muffled sob.

"Please." He sobbed noisily. "Who's gonna stop me from sticking forks in toasters?"

Who's will take care of me?

Mikey turned over on his stomach and buried his face into his arms and sobbed.

He had been wrong. There was nothing natural about this. Nothing.

Gerard's calm face lay still on the floor. It almost looked like he was smiling.