Obsessed

2006

Gerard knew his relationship wouldn't last long. He knew from the moment he began getting a sort of sinking feeling whenever he was with her, the same feeling he'd get when he would lie about something. And this was a constant lie. 

Horrible, he knew— God, he knew— but the facade was kept up for so much longer than it feasibly should have. 

It wasn't all bad. Not at all. Especially at the start. Gerard hadn't been a "boyfriend" in a while, a long while, so he was kind of odd with it at first. The fact that this latest album had taken such a toll on him physically and mentally certainly didn't help, either. Everyday was bigger than the last, exponentially so. A new experience, a new hoard of fans, a new record broken for them— he finally understood the phrase "heavy is the head that wears the crown". Perhaps it was around this time when he felt like he was falling out of love with his girlfriend.

Or perhaps... it was sooner than that.

Gerard had to be honest with himself. The first instance he felt like this was before this album was released, on their first date when they went to a restaurant. He had to leave the table for a bit because he was feeling kind of under the weather and needed to go to the bathroom and told her to just get him whatever. 

When he returned, they talked, chatted about life, and had a pleasant time, actually. It almost felt odd to have such a normal first date after everything that had happened to him, such mundaneness felt wholly out of place in his life. 

The food arrived quite fast, and Gerard quickly noticed that the burger she'd ordered for him looked a bit different to his. So, he asked, "What'd you get me?"

"A vegan burger," She answered with a smile. "It wasn't on the menu, but I asked for it and they surprisingly had some in the back. It was new so they didn't have a chance to add it to the menu yet. I know you're not crazy about eating animals, so I thought this would be better for you."

Oh.

That was sweet. It really, truly was. She knew even though he hadn't made a big fuss about it at all and went out of her way to ask for something that wasn't even on the menu for his sake. For a preference he had, not even a hard set boundary. 

"To be loved is to be..."

No. That felt wrong. Gerard thought it was wrong to use that quote here because he didn't feel it; and then he felt even more shitty because he should have felt it. This situation should have generated the exact feeling that quote was trying to convey, but Gerard couldn't get behind it. 

This feeling was too associated with someone else. 

Gerard still enjoyed the burger, the patty was made really well and didn't have that overwhelming tofu taste most vegan patties tend to have. It was quality made. The lettuce was crisp, the tomatoes juicy, the cheese classic American cheddar, and the bun buttered with a nice sprinkling of roasted sesame. His girlfriend was quite entertaining herself, being rather eccentric and having. a deep fervor for both him and the band. 

But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was chasing something. A feeling he'd lived before. This was the first instance of that, and it only got worse.

Her kisses were sweet, her words even more so. She was unafraid and unabashedly in love with him. Gerard had fallen asleep in her arms, held her hands, stroked her hair, hugged her, embraced her, been intimate with her. Physicality aside, she shared all of his interests, all of them— to the point where he wondered if she actually liked these things or was just forcing herself to so she could relate to him in any way. 

Gerard liked it all. But that was it. Only "like", not love. Gerard's mouth might have said the words "I love you", but what it was, was him trying to fall for her touch, her smile, her instances, and the way she would treat him. 

Always, he was chasing, and he was horrible, but he was chasing nonetheless.

Chasing a feeling he'd lived before. 

He knew. He just didn't want to think about it.

Gerard severely fucked up.

It was a question in an interview, and he should have learned proper interview etiquette by now; be personal but not too personal, he still had a life outside of fame and he'd like to keep it that way so keep anything too private, private. For heaven's sake, it was the number one rule to being a celebrity and he'd followed it so diligently for the past four years.

This was a slip up. A horrible one. Something he never should have revealed. A secret— no a part of himself that was so treasured and dear to his heart he wanted to keep it locked up in a nice little box, covered beneath layers and layers of himself. Wound up, tightly guarded, never to see the viciousness that was the public.

You.

He'd gotten too comfortable.

The interviewer, a nice man with a posh-sounding British accent asked him, "Now, what is Gerard Way's ideal type?" 

A cheeky little query, probably thrown in there for laughs amidst all the questions that had substance. Gerard was notorious for being especially secretive about this, and how he would always bypass anything to do with his romantic or sexual history since what good does it do for the whole of the world to know any of that about him?

Especially, especially when it came to you.

No one outside of the band and his closest circle of friends and family knew about you. They had no idea of your turbulent history, and they certainly didn't know about the aching he got whenever the mere thought of you popped into his head.

What they did know, however, was that he was currently in a relationship; sure, it wasn't the most out-there piece of information, but a good handful of the fans and press knew that at least. Hence why, when the interviewer asked that specific question, the most sanest and appropriate way to respond would have been to go on a spiel about his girlfriend since he loved her. He totally did.

Instead, what came out was as disastrous as an atom bomb.

"My ideal type is my first love."

The whole interview was being videotaped, and if anyone were to watch it back, then they could catch the exact moment this professional, hardened, experienced interviewer lost his composure for a moment. Suddenly, his legs were uncrossed and his posture was no longer straight as he practically sprung into action, eyes bulging out of their sockets in giddiness as he hurriedly inferred further about the details.

Gerard should have stopped there. Why didn't he stop there? Nobody was forcing him to speak. There was no firearm nor weapon of any kind to make him dig himself into a deeper hole.

"We were never together, which may possibly be why she lingers on my mind the way she does. Oh, but she was amazing beyond words and comprehension. The kind of person that leaves an impression so lasting I can see her in my dreams and in my everyday. Every wrong that occurred in our friendship was because of a choice on my end."

The atom bomb went off and left everything soaked in radiation. 

Alternatively, Gerard just dug himself the biggest hole known to mankind under no pressure. 

Clearly, the interviewer was quite taken aback by this tactical missile of a statement so he took some time to formulate a reply, "Ah... that is quite sad to hear. I'm sorry for that. Would you care to elaborate on any of your points? Perhaps what was it you did exactly to do 'wrong' in your friendship?"

The man had gotten too ballsy. The question was far too up front and shameless, the perfect combination of words to make Gerard remember the eternal anguish of the moment where it all went wrong. And that remembrance made him snap out of whatever fever-induced haze this was.

Quickly, he stiffened and said, "No, thank you. That will be all on this matter."

There was vivid disappointment, but the man didn't press further and instead went back to what was regularly-scheduled.

Gerard, however, was in shambles on the inside. What had he done? There was no doubt this would be published. Any company with a brain would know that this information was way too juicy to keep hidden, especially when the whole thing was being recorded and would likely be posted on the web.

Where everyone could see.

Including his girlfriend.

That was the day he was broken up with. He deserved it. Thoroughly.

-

2007

Gerard felt like a brand new person. He was single for quite some time, for one. The band released what would probably be their magnum opus last year and had been relishing in all the newfound fame since, for two. And for three... well, there wasn't a third reason, really, but he had to admit how jarring it felt to attend both Frank and Mikey's weddings practically back-to-back in a month's time frame.

February was Frank's ceremony, and it was beautiful. Private, definitely, but still very lovely. The timing couldn't have been worse, though, since it was freshly after Gerard had broken up his relationship. It didn't matter too much, or at least Gerard tried his best not to make it seem like it did when this was his best friend's special day.

Even so, he couldn't help but be the tiniest bit jealous over seeing a wedding this nice, especially between two people who truly seemed like soulmates in his eyes.

The romantic ties he'd had over the years... they weren't exactly fairy tales.

No point in fixating on the past, still. It was two-thousand-seven now and he'd officially hit the big three-zero in life. Thirty-years-old. When he was fifteen, this age seemed so impossible; far, far away in another galaxy (no pun intended). Now, that "impossible" age was Gerard's reality and he was powerless against the thoughts of feeling like an ancient relic, made especially apparent by all of his friends and peers either getting hitched, engaged, or at least in long-term relationships— none of which he had nor ever had.

This feeling worsened when Mikey got married.

Gerard was there when he picked out his suit, and he was there when he put it on at the venue. A small tear was brought to his eye out of sheer pride, "You look so handsome, Mikes." He muttered and Mikey hugged him in response.

"I can't wait 'til the roles are reversed at your wedding." Mikey commented, still hugging him.

"You'll have to wait a while, then."

Mikey pulled apart and half-smiled, "I'm sure it won't take that long."

"I appreciate your optimism." Gerard said as he wiped his finger along his under eye.

Suddenly, Mikey had this sort of guilt-ridden expression as bit down on his lip while trying to keep smiling. Gerard knew this expression; Mikey would pull this face when he knew he did something wrong but it wasn't so terribly wrong it'd warrant actual, full-fledged, heart-pounding culpability. Just, very mild "wrongness".

"Something the matter?" Gerard questioned.

It didn't take much for Mikey to admit how he'd invited you to the wedding.

Gerard hadn't heard that name in so long. Your name. The last person he thought would say that name would have been from Mikey's mouth, and the last place he thought he'd see you again was at Mikey's wedding, but here they were. 

"Are you mad?" Mikey asked, hesitant.

"No. No, Mikes, I'm not mad at all," Gerard sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's your wedding and you can invite whomever you please. I remember the two of you were pretty good friends, so it makes sense. Out of all days, you're allowed to do as you please on this one."

"I know, but I'm still sorry— especially because I should have told you sooner but I didn't for some reason and especially because..."

Mikey didn't say any more, but the implication was there. Out of everyone at this venue, he would have known the most. 

Because out of everyone at this venue, Mikey was the only one to have witnessed his sobbing on that night in New York. Three years came and went since then, and Gerard would be lying straight out of his ass if he said he'd gotten over it, or worse, forgotten about it. His feelings on the matter might have been a different subject, but the palpable regret was certain. 

"Did she RSVP?" Gerard asked, Mikey nodded.

"By letter and email. She was really excited about it and congratulated me a lot."

Gerard couldn't suppress his smile at that, "Well, thanks for telling me. I'll see you out there, okay? Don't worry about me and focus on yourself, it's your big day, after all."

Mikey smiled, too, "Alright. Thanks, Gerard, I love you."

"I love you, too."

They hugged one last time before Gerard left Mikey to his own devices. Out in the hall, Gerard was alone, accompanied only by the beige walls and distant sounds of talking; he thought for a moment if he should just join the rest of the guests, the band, and his family. He would do that, just not now. Right now, he needed a moment to breathe and to recalibrate. 

Three years. Over a thousand days if you really think about it. In those three years, Gerard had achieved so much. Success beyond his wildest imagination. Were the years kind to you, too? He hoped so and in his heart, he knew even though he had no real way of confirming that. 

The last time you two were in contact was New Years of two-thousand-six when you simply messaged him, "Happy New Year, Gerard". And he messaged you back the same sentiment but with your name at the end. And the last time beyond that was on Christmas where he received a groundbreaking "Merry Christmas" from you. Hence was the pattern for every major holiday— you always sent him that kind of message. Nothing else, nothing to inquire about what he'd been up to, nothing about your own life. Just a standard greeting.

And every time, it hurt him a little more. "Something is better than nothing", he'd tell himself. But at least if it was nothing, then he could leave how you felt about him up to interpretation. This, however, this cemented your feelings.

Indifference.

Worse than love, worse than hate— indifference. Impartiality.

You messaged him like he was a relative you didn't particularly care for nor particularly dislike in any way. A mandated cordiality. 

Like he was a stranger.

Just a memory is what he'd become to you, and all Gerard could do was hope for was that he was at least a fond one.

Is this really my only option? Just hope? 

This god-given opportunity to see you again had been granted and the last thing he needed to do was just sit around and hope. He was never a bold guy, never one to put his foot down or make the first move; one might say his fatal flaw, his Achilles heel was the fact that he waits and waits until there was nothing to wait for. 

There were loose ends to be cleaned up, unspoken words to be said. And most importantly, an apology due. 

Even if you couldn't be friends with him again, even if nothing more would come from this, Gerard could at least live with himself a little more if he said those words to you. Just two and nothing more if you didn't want to hear it. The worst thing he could do was impose. 

Gerard looked down the hall, to the bustling crowd of guests all mingling with one another. Placing one foot in front of the other, he strode right across, shielding his eyes for a moment because the chandelier was brighter than he remembered it to be. Wanting something personal, Mikey decided to limit the guest list to people he knew; that meant no plus-ones, no kids, and certainly no strangers. Still, though, there were quite a lot of people gathered.

Since when did Mikey know this many people? Gerard wondered, keeping his eyes peeled. I guess most of them could be from the bride's side, but still. 

Most were folks Gerard recognized and had direct connections to, and they'd greet him as he passed in a hurry, weaving through everyone as though they were extremely tall blades of grass out in a field.

Every time he saw a woman around your height, or wearing something within your style, or even with hair even the slightest bit similar to yours, his heart would skip a beat thinking it was you until he got a look at their face and realized it was not. There were just so many colors, so many voices, so much movement, but none you. It was to the point where Gerard started to question the validity of you even being here. After all, an RSVP wasn't a binding contract, and you had no obligation to show outside of social expectations. 

Gerard slowed, standing still for a moment as he whipped his head from left to right— no one here, no one there. 

He breathed hard, still holding hope out. 

Another step. A big one to pass this real tall fellow wearing a long hat. 

"Excuse me..." Gerard murmured as he pushed past this gentleman.

Beyond him lay the end of the room. A large wall, beige like every other wall in this establishment; decorated with white pillars and flowers. Only one person was there at the very end, it was you.

You didn't notice him at first, too fixated on one of the many flower decals. It was fake, Gerard knew that because he helped with some of the decoration details and he and Mikey both agreed that real flowers would both be expensive and more of a pain than they were worth. You were still unsure, though as you kept fiddling around with the leaves in particular. 

Gerard didn't take into account anything else, though. He just couldn't stop staring at your face.

Three years and you'd gotten so much more beautiful, like a butterfly going through endless metamorphosis. Seeing you after not being able to for a large chunk of time felt like opening a present— he didn't know what to expect, he just knew he'd love it. Gerard took in everything that was new this time around, even the features that hadn't changed were novel to him because he hadn't seen them in so long. Sure, photos of you had been filtered to him every now and then, and sometimes he'd even seek them out himself, but the real deal would always trump that.

Always.

When you finally looked at him, he was breathless.

"Gerard?" You questioned, your hand falling from the flower you were grasping.

"Hi."

"Hey," You spared him a smile. "It's been a while."

It had been.

Gerard approached, and you allowed him to take his place next to you. Almost shoulder-to-shoulder, that was enough to make him wholly nervous, "How have you been?" He managed, trying to sound normal.

"Great, actually. Work's been better than ever, L.A. is a pretty good place to live as always, and I was even able to scrounge up enough money to move into a bigger place..."

That made him more relieved than it should have. You telling him about how nicely things had been unfolding felt like it was akin to experiencing his own life as pleasantly as yours. 

"... And, well," You brought your left hand up to his eye level, "I got engaged."

Something shiny flashed in the corner of Gerard's eye before he even fully turned to take a proper look at it. 

On your left hand, resting on your fourth finger was an engagement ring. The band was gold and thin, the gem in the middle small and white. Gerard didn't know his stones well, but it looked like a very modest diamond. 

Looking at it for too long felt dizzying. 

Gerard leaned into the wall, using it like a support beam almost, "Uh..." He was really trying not to let his distress known because how selfish would that be? Moreover, how weird would it be for him to be distressed over this? Extremely on both ends.

You're engaged. Congratulations. I'm so happy for you. This is so great. What amazing news.

The right words were in his head, the appropriate responses to such news were formulating, ready to be said to you.

Yet he couldn't, he wouldn't, he didn't want to. 

Because to say those things would be a lie, ultimately, and Gerard was a horrible liar.

You'd long put your hand back down to be by your side, and was currently just awaiting a response. 

Gerard didn't know what you were expecting, probably one of the phrases above, just your standard response to being told news of engagement. 

Instead of that, he only asked, "Who is it?"

You looked taken aback by such a question, but answered, "Um... a guy from work. His name is Jonah."

Déjà vu was an odd thing. An experience you lived before coming back to haunt you as if you were living it again in the present tense. Gerard had his fair share of déjà vu, yet none were as visceral as this one. 

He knew that name, and he especially knew the way you said it. Fondness with a smile even in this odd situation.

"How did you get engaged?" Gerard asked again.

Your smile faded, and your face scrunched a little at confusion. Still, though, you gave him a response, "It was... after a work party, about three years ago, he asked me out when—"

Suddenly, you seemed to have realized you'd probably said a step too much as you immediately stopped there and even sucked in your lips, brows furrowed and looking at him as if pleading that he didn't hear it. But it was a touch too late, Gerard heard it and you knew he did. 

Maybe you could have been talking about a different work party, but your reaction told him otherwise. 

"—But that's besides the point," You quickly tried to retrace your steps. "Listen, Gerard, it's really nice seeing you again. How about you tell me about what's been going on with you? I know you guys released that album last year. I heard it and I thought it was really good."

"Really good"? Was that all you could say about it? 

If this was before, she would have undoubtedly gone on a rant about everything she found neat. She probably would have realized what I was trying to go for and how all the lyrics tied to the story. She'd tell me her favorite songs, what she liked in particular, and maybe even things that I could have improved upon.

Indifference. Worse than love, worse than hate.

There were too many things on his mind, too much bitterness mixed with the want to just rip his hair out at that moment. Gerard couldn't help but obsess over that fact, though, the way you would meet the man who'd eventually become your fiancé on the same day he laid the foundations of your friendships' ruin. It wasn't at all good to fixate on the past since no matter what, no matter how much sorrow there'd be, one couldn't change it. "What if's" ruin people, and it was ruining Gerard.

What if he hadn't shown you up that day? What if he just had the courage to walk in through those doors? If he had, then your fiancé wouldn't have gotten a chance to ask you out, and if he had then that night in New York wouldn't have ever occurred. And if none of those things had happened then this interaction would have gone so much differently.

Instead of addressing him as "Gerard", you would have used the nickname you gave him way back when. With that, you would have probably flown into his arms before immediately going on a spiel about whatever it was you wanted and he would have listened with the biggest smile on his face, nodding along and reacting to every word. No empty "Happy New Year" messages or Christmas wishes. No ring on your finger. No relationships he'd regret. No indifference. 

The future was clear. You'd get married, and maybe Gerard would be in attendance— though, he didn't think he could handle it— then you'd live the rest of your days with your husband, maybe have a kid or two or none; all while his memory slowly rots and deteriorates in the back of your head. Worse than anything he could have imagined or conjured in the past, there wouldn't even be a sense of fondness, and if you would meet again, there would be no hugs nor big smiles. Just a "hello" and an obligatory "how have you been?"

Like you were strangers. Like nothing ever meant anything. Prom night, comic club, the diner, scavenging through CD bins at the local record store, hanging out in his bedroom while reading the latest issue of Superman or something from Marvel, helping him through his first breakup, the letters exchanged, hearing the demo to their first ever song, making him that magical hangover cure which he used continuously back when he still drank— did any of that mean anything to you now? Did those memories bring you so much nostalgia it made you sick like it did to him? You had so many things to worry about now, things much more important than someone as inconsequential as him. 

Gerard wanted to spare himself the pain. Rip off the bandaid while he still could.

"Hey, listen, this may seem out of the blue but... because we're here like this, I wanted to ask something. It was this... interview, I think? A year ago is when I saw it, on this forum, it was you and you were talking about your first—"

"I'm sorry." He said to you, barely above a whisper before turning his heel quickly to escape, not wanting to hear another word form your mouth because he knew what was next. 

Almost in a frenzy, Gerard weaved through the crowd; this time, however, unlike the last, you tried to go after him. You called out his name and tried to follow his path but Gerard was too quick on his feet; which he usually wasn't, but his eyes were starting to get that feeling where they were stinging like crazy and his throat was getting all clogged.

The echoes of you calling out his name disappeared into the vacant conversations around him. 

Dread joined the bundle of pain in his throat and Gerard had to let out a choked sob before he'd suffocate. Covering his mouth, he fled the scene even faster, flat out running at that point to get anywhere that didn't have a crowd and especially you. 

Gerard burst into the bathroom and nearly ripped the stall door right off its hinges with how strongly he swung it open. Inside the stall, he kept his hand clasped over his mouth as his chest rose and fell, physically being able to feel the way his diaphragm would expand before immediately shrinking. The tears clung onto his eyelashes, making him sob even harder from the pain but also the panic. His stomach was in tight knots and he both felt nauseous but was also too distressed to do anything but cry. 

Eventually, he found his way to the toilet where he sat, heaving, clutching his knees until his dress pants were all wrinkly. 

He was sure the ceremony would start any minute now.

He was sure his friends and family would wonder where he'd gone.

He was sure Mikey would look for him in the crowd, only to realize he wasn't there.

He was sure people had heard him sob.

He was sure you were searching for him still.

He was sure whatever tiny strip of hope between your relationship would be indefinitely severed if he didn't face it.

He was sure he wouldn't face it.

He was sure this was the last time you two would see each other.

-

2011

"... And you're all married now, yes?"

"Yep, everyone but me." Gerard corrected.

The interviewer blinked, "Any reason as to why, if I may ask?"

Gerard smacked his lips, shrugging while trying to seem unconcerned about it all, "The classic one— I haven't found the right person yet."

That was that.

After the fourth album and after the band had officially become occult status, these kinds of questions grew to be more frequent. It was expected; their fanbase was primarily made of girls, and it was the dumb, stereotypical assumption of many interviewers to think that all girls cared about was relationships. Gerard's especially. He didn't know what could be so exciting about it, though, since he hadn't had a girlfriend in years and even if he were to have one now, she certainly wouldn't be some big celebrity and she definitely wouldn't be a fan, either.

Perhaps it was just because he was the only one single. 

Frank got hitched first, and Mikey soon followed in the same year. Three-hundred-sixty-five days later, Ray tied the knot as well. Expectedly, Frank was the first one to have kids— twin girls. Gerard was there for the baby shower, and he was one of the first people to be able to see them. And although they weren't his, the moment was magical nonetheless. 

Babies were intriguing to Gerard, as silly as that sounded. Every human on earth was born from the matrimony of two people, but whether that matrimony was made in goodness or evil depended on each individual. Bringing life into the world... he considered that to be the most intimate connection a pair can have with one another; it was a bond that extended beyond the regular realms of romance. The being birthed, it'd be the perfect combination of the parents, a combination of all things physical and material. 

It was beautiful if one looked past the crying, screaming, and constant changing of diapers. Those were all signs of life, though, and Gerard found whimsy in even the bad.

Hence, why when he inevitably brought life into the world as well, it would have to be with someone he was confident to call dear. To get married to someone who was any less than that, it would be selfish to both him and them.

Gerard just hadn't found that person yet. But it always felt like he was constantly searching for something; for love, obviously, but also another feeling.

A feeling he'd lived before. 

It'd been long enough and he was way too old to not think about it. The "feeling he'd lived before", plainly it was you. He knew it from five years ago, and he knew it in every subsequent woman who tried to pursue him. Whether they were nice or pushy, no matter what they looked like, no matter their interests nor careers— he couldn't get into it. Gerard was horrible before, and incredibly selfish, and he was just too old and too worn to do that to himself or to another person again. 

Gerard couldn't "search" for that feeling anymore, he knew that if he did, it would be disingenuous. There was no other way to bypass it. 

A part of him, a huge part, wondered if he could ever just forget you. That would be the best option for both him and you; he could finally let go and love someone truly to his heart's content as though he'd never loved anyone before and you... well, he supposed it didn't matter for you. You were living your best life, hopefully, Gerard wouldn't know because he couldn't.

Only three times out of the year, you would contact him. On his birthday, on Christmas, and then on New Years. Every year since two-thousand-five without fail. Nothing less and never anything more. Of course, Gerard wondered if he should try to continue the conversation, write you something back that wasn't just him reciprocating the greeting, but he never went through with it. The only times he'd message you first was on your birthday.

Sometimes, he'd write full messages. Paragraphs upon paragraphs like this was a novel and not an email. Their contents? Anything that came to mind. His regrets, his actions, his thoughts, his longing. Gerard would take hours out of his day to write these, but in the end, they were never sent and never would see the light of day again. He might be a bit nutty, but he knew when things were appropriate and where the lines were.

Especially since you got married.

Gerard didn't know when, didn't know where, and he didn't receive an invite. 

Did he expect to? Maybe a little. Maybe a lot. 

He thought, despite everything, you two had history favorable enough for him to at least be invited. 

Apparently not.

You could have gotten married three years ago, two years ago, or hell, maybe you even got married yesterday! People stay engaged for a while, or so he's heard. The ceremony could have happened in America or in any of the other one-hundred-and-ninety-five countries. Your dress could have been white or an unorthodox color. Probably short in cut, to your knees, maybe. 

Whatever it was, whatever it may be, Gerard wouldn't know. Officially, he was a stranger, estranged from all things "you". And the worst part was that he couldn't forget you like you did to him.

First love was heartache. And first love was eternal.

Gerard's first love was unresolved, eternal, heartache. 

Forget her.

"Geez, I missed Jersey air."

"You live here, stupid."

"Yeah, but I haven't been here in months 'cause we've been touring, stupid."

Ray rolled his eyes and so did Frank. Gerard and Mikey were unloading their stuff. Since the Iero's residence did reside in Jersey, they'd been gracious enough to let the band stay for the couple of days they would be back in the state for. The whole thing was godsend, really, since hotel's got pricey and due to their fame, they tend to be bombarded quite easily.

Plus, nothing beat the safe comfort of a lived-in home. Even if that home wasn't his. 

Gerard would share a guest bedroom with Mikey while Ray slept on the couch and Frank would obviously sleep in his own room— "We're a bunch of middle-aged dudes having a sleepover. That's hilarious" were Frank's own words to describe the situation. He wasn't wrong. 

From the moment the band stepped through the doors, Frank b-lined it straight to his daughters, scooping them both up as he planted fat kisses to their foreheads, "You remember daddy's friends, right? Uncle Ray, Mikey, and Gerard." Frank said, giving them a tour of each member as though they were an exhibit at the zoo.

They were one so they had no way of knowing who the hell any of them were, but they clapped their hands while giggling nonetheless. 

"Want to hold them?" Frank asked. "If you drop them I will quit the band and kill you, though."

Gerard volunteered, but only to hold on because he honestly didn't know if he could handle both. Frank carefully, very carefully handed one of his daughters off and Gerard was floored by the experience already. She was so tiny in his arms, and he wasn't a big guy at all. Fragile like a flower, cuter than a lamb, and as small as a button. She was the embodiment of all things innocent and good about the world. 

She looked a lot like Frank, obviously, especially in the eyes. This child was not his in the slightest, but Gerard wondered how amazing it would be if she was. His own daughter to love unconditionally. 

Coming home from a long, draining tour to his wife and child or children.

That was the dream of any family person. A completely innocent dream. Or it would be if these imaginary people were faceless, not yet named nor having a proper experience because they didn't exist outside Gerard's psyche. 

No one in his dream was faceless. His wife was someone he knew, and someone he pined for. 

"You okay there, Gerard?" Mikey whispered to him, and when Gerard looked up, the whole band looked a bit concerned. 

He'd probably stared a little too long and his gaze was just a touch too somber, "Yeah, I'm fine. I just need some time to myself for a bit, I think," Gerard smiled as he handed Frank his daughter back. "I'll be back before you know I'm gone."

"Okay, well try to get here before dusk so we can have dinner!" Frank called out as Gerard was already halfway out the door. 

The air was biting this time of year, mid December and Gerard contemplated if he should poke his head back inside for a coat but decided against that ultimately since he was too embarrassed to do so after all of that. 

So, he walked.

Gerard honestly could have taken the car, but again, it was Frank's and he didn't want to ask him for permission so he used his two feet and pair of legs and traversed like this was the olden days. 

The Iero's lived in a part of Jersey Gerard wasn't all too familiar with, and what he needed right now was a little blast from the past— a distraction, really. So, Gerard lingered along the edge of the sidewalk, feeling his body shake and rumble every time a car would zip by and staying vigilant for an empty cab. Eventually, he spotted one from a distance and raised his hand to hail it.

When it stopped for him, Gerard climbed inside and simply told the driver, "Anywhere in Belleville, please."

The driver raised her eyebrow, "Anywhere?"

"Wherever's closest or most convenient for you. Please."

She looked like she wanted to say more, but at the same time, she probably wasn't paid enough to care that much; in the end, the latter won and she just shrugged while turning back to the road.

"Anywhere in Belleville it is." She said with a small hum, Gerard gave her a smile that he hoped she could see from her rearview mirror.

Gerard tried to relax while in the cab, shifting around and even moving from one side of the car to the other to see if that would help his jittery state (spoiler alert— it didn't). Seeing and holding someone else's kid should have been a normal and slightly riveting experience. Normal people without children might have reminisced about how great it would be to have children, or begin actively trying to change a part of their life so they could get married and have them as soon as possible if they were that productive. Normal people don't have pipe dreams about having a family with their ex-best friend they haven't talked to in years.

Gerard was making himself cringe, and all he could do was silently press his forehead against the cool window. The driver kept sneaking peaks at him, too, but that could have just been because his hair was a very un-Jersey-like, very obnoxious bright frickin' red. 

The car ride continued this way with the radio being turned on halfway through. The news anchor talked about your standard stuff like the weather, sports, and generally anything significant that's been happening in the city lately. Gerard tried to listen to it as best he could since it did help ease his mind. The man's droning was like white noise.

"We're here." The driver said, and it broke Gerard from his semi-trance. 

Daring to peek out the window, Gerard saw that he'd been taken to a bar. When the driver noticed this, she prefaced, "Thought you could use a drink. You look like you've been through hell, Sir."

"Hah," Gerard breathed through his nose. "Um, how much do I owe you?"

"Seventeen even."

Gerard took his wallet from his pocket and just handed her a twenty, plus an extra five because he accidentally grabbed one while trying to fish out the twenty and didn't feel like putting it back. Plus, she deserved it since he was probably heaving and looking like all sorts of weird back there.

When he got out, Gerard felt confused upon looking at this bar. It was both extremely familiar but also a place he couldn't recognize; like, the surrounding area was extremely reminiscent of a memory in his head but he was sure he had never been at this bar specifically before. It was definitely Belleville, though, and that was all he needed as he entered the place. It was cozy, the kind of bar old truck drivers and divorced men in their forties seek out late at night for a well-needed drink and most certainly not a place where young folk in their twenties flock to for a fun time. Everything was wood— the floors, walls, ceiling, tables, and chairs— and the only things that weren't were the sinks and such. Like he said, cozy.

It was only nine at night, so not prime time for the divorced dads and truck drivers just yet. The only people there besides Gerard and the bartender was an older fellow casually reading the newspaper while sipping on brandy and a group of middle-aged women. Gerard stuck out like a sore thumb, there was no doubt about that.

He didn't want to get plastered, though, so he just sat at the bar and asked for a gin and tonic.

"I like your hair." The bartender said as he began making his drink.

Gerard flinched at first, but ended up just smiling at him, "Thank you."

"You don't see stuff like that in Belleville much. Are you from out of town?" 

"No, I'm a native resident, born and raised... I'm just here for a visit. For old time's sake."

"I see. Well, I suppose I wouldn't know you since we're from two completely different generations." He continued, gesturing to the grey hairs sticking out from the dark brown mop on his head. 

"And also, I don't seem to recognize this place... but I kind of do at the same time."

Instead of looking at him funny, though, the bartender just nodded like he understood where he was coming from exactly, "You must be confused because this place was completely different back then. It used to be a diner."

The moment the word "diner" left his mouth, Gerard looked up, eyes wide, "A diner?" He asked for confirmation, and the bartender confirmed.

The drink was ready now and it was placed in front of Gerard. Though, now he was so distracted he couldn't quite focus on that.

It was that diner. The foundations were all the same, just the wallpaper had been replaced with wood when it used to be a bright teal. Plus, it made sense why he recognized the surrounding area but not the bar itself.

Hearing the news felt like losing a loved one and Gerard just buried his face in his hands. 

"Did it mean a lot to you?"

"Very."

"Sorry for your loss, then. That feeling must be horrible, coming back to your hometown and seeing your favorite place be closed. If it makes you feel better, the owners sold it out of their own free volition because they were too old to keep it running and their kids nor grandkids had any interest in running it and they didn't trust it with an outside person, so."

Makes sense. I can't fault them for that.

Looking up from his hands, he took the gin and tonic and began downing it. This one had quite a larger ratio of gin to tonic, the herbal taste was powerful, and so was the crisp flavor of the juniper berries. Gerard was long past making faces at alcohol though unless it was forty percent Absolut Vodka or something.

The night went on, and so did the drinks. Gerard came in here not wanting to be plastered, and he wasn't blackout drunk by any means but he was unquestionably quite beyond the threshold of being just "tipsy".

Being here, though, it felt residing in the carcass of the diner. Drinking while on its resting grounds. The spots were all the same, just decorated differently but still recognizable to the keen eye; in the corner to the left of the bar was the spot the comic club would always hog whenever they came around since it was the only place with a booth big enough to fit ten or so teenagers with way too much time on their hands. And to the left of that spot, right by the window which was still there was where you and Gerard sat on the night you visited him after his tragic high school breakup.

Gerard still vividly remembered that night, which was a sentiment itself since it was seventeen years ago.

"Jesus Christ..." Gerard mumbled to himself, so far gone his head was down, resting atop his crossed arms. 

That night, you ordered for each other again. He got you a garden salad and a milkshake and you got him the exact same thing except the milkshake was root beer instead; and when the two salads came out, looking like twins in a delivery room, the two of you burst out in loud, bellyaching laughter. You said to him, "We're on the exact same wavelength! I've been telling you, Gee. It's like we were destined to be best friends".

"Destined to be best friends".

Gerard thought the same. He did. And he still did, which is why things were the way they were. You were destined to be best friends but he wanted more. Fate doesn't work that way.

If he'd been satisfied with just being your best friend, then maybe he would have been invited to your wedding and he would have had one of his own. Maybe he wouldn't be the only one in the band without a spouse nor family of his own. And most importantly, maybe you'd be in his life still. 

Gerard could invite you and your family to the concerts or just over at his house for a nice, friendly barbecue. Your kids could play together as he had casual conversations with your husband, being acquaintances with him without it being weird since he wouldn't have been in love with you. You two would grow old, not together, but with each other. 

He could have had that. If he was satisfied like you were. 

But for that to happen, his brain would have to be completely altered and wired a different way. Either that or he could just fake it. 

"I'm a horrible liar, though..." He groaned aloud, putting his face further into his arm, his forehead chafing against his leather jacket.

At least you would have been in his life.

Something is better than nothing, right?

At least he would be able to see you. Even if the heartache was biting and consuming him, even if he had to live a lie. 

But that's selfish and cruel, it's unfair to myself and whomever I bring along into my mess because I can't sort myself out. 

This was just the hand fate dealt him. Either he wallows in his own self-contained misery and watch from afar, slowly withering away or he bring another person into this cesspool he would have made for himself.

Gerard didn't want to get emotional. Not here, not in this bar, not in front of all these people he didn't know. But the alcohol made his face red and his body tremble, like his emotions were making his skin burst at the seams and not unleashing them would make him explode. 

So, he cried.

Feeling like a kid with his head down in this way, buried in his arms on top of the bar— it was reminiscent of his days in elementary, when he would have to sob in the middle of class over something trivial like missing his mom or being pushed at recess while being too ashamed to outright have a meltdown yet also being eight and unable to control it. 

Apparently, as an adult, he wasn't quite good at hiding his despair as perhaps his snivels or the constant tremors throughout his body caught the bartender's attention. With a firm but gentle hand being placed on Gerard's shoulder, he simply offered, "Do you need to be brought home, young man?"

Gerard looked up even though he knew he was probably a mess, tear stains thick on his rosy cheeks, "I think... I do."

That was all he needed, and the bartender whistled at someone out of Gerard's immediate vision.

"My friend's going home right now and he agreed to give you a ride, so just go home and sleep this off, yeah? You look like you need more rest than alcohol."

Gerard stuttered an answer, messily stumbling off the barstool as he felt himself be guided out the establishment by who he assumed was the bartender's friend. The man didn't speak, he just loaded him into the passenger seat of his car as though Gerard were a piece of luggage before getting in himself. It was preferable this way, though, since he wasn't coherent to have a conversation, anyway. 

Not to mention, he was still crying. A lot.

Gerard curled himself up, body sideways and leaning heavily against the door with his hands clutched around his stomach. He was shivering even though the car had heating on.

"What's your address?" The man asked as he rather softly shook Gerard's shoulder.

"My address?" Gerard opened his mouth, about to tell the nice man the Iero's place of residence except what came out instead was a different house. One right here in Belleville.

Not his and Mikey's house, nor Frank's. It was yours.

Gerard had just blurted it and before he could even begin to correct himself, the man just started typing it into the GPS system. Of course, he could have still clarified; hell, there was a good thirty second time frame Gerard could have just said that was a mistake but he didn't. Instead, he just sat back in the car seat and closed his eyes, listening as the car's engine revved up and feeling the small convulsions the vehicle made.

Looking back on it, this would have been a very easy way to get kidnapped.

Thankfully, the man wasn't a murderer nor a psychopath nor someone looking for ransom. He just stopped on the curb right outside your house then nudged him while saying, "We're here. And look at that, you didn't throw up. Good on you."

"Thank you for this." Gerard wheezed as he unlocked the car door and spilled out, almost falling over and going splat right onto the pavement.

For a second, he leaned against the car for some support, holding his mouth to not throw up everywhere. The man was a saint, a patient saint who let him take all the time he needed before driving off when Gerard gave him the okay. Now, he was left in the dark, his nostrils being filled with the gas emissions from the man's car as he was no less than ten feet from your childhood house of residence.

The lights were on. 

Gerard blinked very prolonged, very delayed blinks as if he was someone who'd never done such a thing— like this was one of those cases where, in a dream, you were running but running so slow you basically weren't running at all. This was all just because it had been a staggering nine years since he was at your house. Like many other memories which featured you, Gerard remembered that visit vividly, too; it was two-thousand-two, your first visit home since leaving, you'd gone to one of their shows which was your first ever one as well. Back then, all they could afford to play at were the tiniest venues, the inside of malls and shops, and sometimes, in the lobby of the local bowling alley or theater. 

Crazy to think that now, they were playing at actual arenas. All over the world, too.

Had you visited any of the places he'd been to? If not, would you want to go? Probably. If things were different, Gerard wouldn't be opposed to bringing you along to any of these international ventures. What a time that would be, exploring anywhere outside of the States was a gift as is, but doing that with someone like you...

He liked South America a lot. Europe was romantic. Asia was exciting. Australia was a beast in of itself, a fun one. The parts of North America he'd never been to were familiar, but still novel.

Like his blinking, Gerard's steps were just as extra slow, if not more so. His boots left the only slightly grimy concrete, onto the grass where they squished against the grass which was uncomfortably soggy from both rain and melted snow. Your house felt like a foreboding presence, as though he were the main character in a video game and it was the final boss. Gerard swore he could hear epic music playing in the background.

But this wasn't any of that. This was Belleville, New Jersey, he was in front of your house, and he was about to make a terrible decision.

Gerard rang the doorbell because he had nothing left to lose.

Anyone could have come out. Your mom, your dad, your relatives, your husband, or God forbid— your kids, if you had them.

Or you, of course. 

Just you. He wished it was just you, in this house.

Footsteps cascaded down the stairs— you always had a thin front door— and began cautiously walking towards him. Gerard gulped, feeling bile in the deepest depths of his neck. He'd been so sure of this decision, this choice despite knowing how fucking awful it was. Oh, Jesus. What was he doing? This whole time, he was harping on at himself to not be selfish but what was this, then? You didn't want to see him, that was clear yet here he was at your doorsteps when it was supposed to be the happiest time of the year to spend with your friends and family. Neither of which he was. 

What was the end goal here, anyway? What did Gerard want? What he wanted was impossible, so this was all just an ill-thought-out, selfish crusade to satisfy his own personal demons.

Too late. The doorknob turned and Gerard couldn't hide, he was planted in place, on top of your doormat.

The door swung open and he was blinded by the lights for a moment. A wave of warmth hit him, too; that must have been newly installed since he knew this house was nowhere near modern enough to have proper heating nor air conditioning.

"Gerard?" You called out his name, near mimicking the way you'd done so during Mikey's wedding four years ago.

And mirroring that day again, Gerard responded, "Hi."

Oh, he would always be enthralled by you. 

The gears in his head stopped working. Gerard had nothing prepared to say, but now he really had nada. Your hand was on the door, your body halfway out and joining him on this cold, starless night. It looked like you'd been lounging around with your casual clothes, just some cozy looking pyjama pants and a yellow sweater on top of it all. Slightly oversized, slightly slipping off your shoulder.

It was amazing how much kindness you had. Gerard didn't know how a person could have such purity in their eyes; not in the way of being "childlike", no, in the way of being sincere. After being around so many people and so many crowds, sincerity was hard to find. There was sincerity in the band, as well as some of his friends, and of course his family, but yours was a different kind. Even if he was no longer in your life, he still felt welcomed by the look you gave him. 

Comfort like no other.

"What are you... um," You cleared your throat. "What are you doing here?"

Gerard didn't sense hostility when you said that, not a drop of it. 

"Do... you want to come in?"

That was niceness he never deserved.

Gerard nodded and you stepped to the side, opening the door as wide as it got to allow safe passage through. Inside was a different world. His shoes were off, so was his jacket, which he neatly hung on the coat rack. Serious renovations had been done, renovations which honestly looked to suit more your taste than your parents' as he remembered them to be quite old school and this was more or less modern; not the sleek and soulless type with the minimalism and pristine marble floors, but the one that still retained vintage aspects while not looking like a pair of elderly people lived there. A delicate balance.

You led the way, not speaking because what was there to talk about? Though, strangely, it all seemed so barren. No talking, not even giggles or sounds from upstairs. Like you and him were the only people in the house. Had everyone gone out? On a walk, perhaps. Or a nightly drive.

The strangeness continued down the hall as on the walls where your parents hung up pictures from all stages of your life. The plethora of childhood photos, including one which he remembered being quite memorable of your child self grinning ear-to-ear with spaghetti stains coating your tiny mouth. Your days of middle school where puberty made you "experimental" to say the least, AKA trying to recreate the big eighties hairstyles all the girls in the magazines wore back then. High school and... prom— Gerard shuffled right past that. University graduation, the day you left for L.A., all your subsequent visits since then but one giant event in your life was starkly missing.

Your wedding.

And furthermore, the birth of your children.

At least Gerard knew that the latter didn't happen, which he had his suspicions about as is, but what about the former?

While you took him to the kitchen, Gerard snuck a glance at your left hand. 

No ring.

Just in case, he looked at your right one as well. 

The same.

Gerard heard of married couples who preferred not to wear their rings— they didn't want to lose it, they wanted to preserve such a sacred item, it didn't fit with their usual style— but this combined with the fact that there was absolutely no wedding photos and no sign of anyone but you here, it made him wonder greatly.

He didn't ask, though. He might be reckless but he still had tact.

Though, when he entered the living room, his attention couldn't help but be drawn to the large shelf stacked to the brim with CDs. This was another layer of the strange cake since your parents weren't CD collectors and upon closer inspection, it was filled top to bottom with solely your taste in music.

And in the fray, was his own music. All of their studio album releases, everything from Bullets to Danger Days. Not only that, but even the lives and DVD stuff, too. Geez, even The Mad Gear and Missile Kid. You must have gone lengths to acquire this stuff. It almost felt undeserving to see stuff from his band amongst the greats, on your shelf as if it had any merit compared to them. Some of these were his peers, also. Fellow people he must have met about a dozen times.

You snuck up next to him, "Kind of embarrassing of me to own this stuff, isn't it. If I had known that you were coming over, I would have hidden it. Or at least stuff like this." You chuckled while picking up a copy of Mad Gear and Missile Kid.

"No, it's not embarrassing." Gerard emphasized— this being the first thing he said since "hi".

You put the CD down and went to the couch, gesturing for him to do the same. Gerard complied.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?"

Again, no hostility, so Gerard answered as calmly as he could but his heart was beating right out of his chest. 

"We're touring and we've got a show in Jersey in a few days. I'm supposed to be staying at Frank's, but..."

"I got sad while thinking about you then went to a bar and got drunk and came to bother you on a whim".

He couldn't say that, so he left it at that. Unfinished.

You didn't seem mad, though. Instead, you hummed like you understood, "I wanted to contact you," You suddenly blurted, and that flipped Gerard on his head, but you continued. "I wanted to, believe me, I did. And also, I... knew you guys were having a show here, I just wanted to know what you would say. I'm sorry."

"What do you mean you wanted to contact me?" Gerard asked, knowing it was blunt and all sorts of rude, but he just had to.

"It means..." You laughed to yourself, like you found whatever you were going to say absolutely ridiculous. "Well, you're here and I'm here and I've got nothing to lose, don't I? I'll start from the beginning."

"I've got nothing to lose, too." He ended up admitting.

This night wasn't at all going the way he expected it to.

You raised your left hand to his face, exactly like you'd done at Mikey's wedding. Many parallels were coming to haunt him from that night. This wasn't so much a parallel as it was a woeful recreation as instead of satisfaction or a sparkle in your eyes, you just looked a bit crestfallen. Smiling, but it didn't reach your eyes.

"We broke up before we got married."

There it was. The confirmation.

He should have been happy or glad by this news, right? The woman he loved, whom he thought was happily married for the past four years, just gave him the concrete statement that there was no one in her life romantically. Gerard, however, just felt an immense amount of despair and even guilt, oddly, even though he had nothing to do with this. As though his constant dreams and longing had somehow caused this break.

"I'm so sorry." Gerard said, and he meant every word, every vowel, and every syllable.

You shook your head, "It was a long time coming and entirely my fault. We delayed the wedding by three years because I wanted to, and whenever he would ask me why, I would just tell him that I wasn't ready yet but that wasn't it. After we split ways, I wanted a fresh start... so, I talked to my company and got me moved to our brand new branch in Jersey. And instead of finding a new home, I decided to move here instead while my parents got situated in L.A. for some fresh scenery during their retirement years." Your tone got more unstable as you went on.

"Looking back at it from a retrospective point of view, I realized that I was waiting on something and that 'something' simply wasn't him. I just wished it was."

Gerard gulped, this story was beginning to sound eerily similar to his own failed love life. Though, whatever the "something" was, it could very well be different to what he was feeling.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you this, Gerard. I don't even know how you showed up right when I wanted you to—"

You shut up right away, even emphasizing by slapping your hand against your mouth then flushing with embarrassment. Gerard tried to bite back a chuckle, but your eyes were so wide and you just looked so shocked with yourself that he couldn't. It was cute. 

"If it makes you feel better, I've been thinking about seeing you all day since I stepped foot in Jersey. I'm only here because I'm too drunk to think straight."

"Wait, you're drunk?" You exclaimed, he nodded and now you looked more perplexed than horrified. That was good. "Geez, I had no idea."

"I'm very good at hiding it." He really wasn't. He was average at best because he'd done it so much. The only reason he wasn't acting completely inebriated right now was because of you.

"No kidding... well, that makes two of us, then, 'cause I had a couple sips of wine before you oh-so rudely interrupted me."

"Couple sips or the whole bottle?"

You cheekily shrugged.

This was the problem with small talk. Eventually, the topic you were on about runs out and you are now left with uncomfortable silence as both parties scrambled to figure out what to talk about next. Feeling this way was a telltale sign of distance; if you were closer, the silence wouldn't bother you so much. 

You eventually spoke, "Can I ask you something? It's personal."

Gerard said yes.

"Back... when you came to visit me in L.A., how come you didn't show up to the party? And adding onto that, why did you just leave in New York? I'm sorry if this is blunt, but to be honest with you, these questions have been more-or-less haunting me for the past seven years. I just didn't understand, Gerard. Was it ever something I did?"

"No," Gerard exclaimed so quickly he choked on his own spit. "No, god, no, it wasn't you. It was me. It was all me."

The unpacking of years of emotional turmoil. There was no holding back, no more lies, no more half-truths— it would be the whole truth and nothing but the truth. He had nothing to lose and he desperately needed closure. You deserved closure.

Gerard exhaled deeply before he continued, "I was a coward and I still am. I had these feelings that I had no idea what to do with and so, what I decided upon was to run away."

"Feelings? What kind?"

His heart was beating too fast, too damn fast. Gerard turned to you fully, his whole upper body shifting so he was looking directly at you and as corny as it was to think this, he felt the rush of seeing you for the first time when he was fifteen again. In that comic club room, with a pathetic turnout of attendees, discussing the latest issue of Superman. Perhaps, when he was looking to see where it all went wrong, he should have gone back to these years instead; that moment in the diner bathroom was pivotal. That conversation he wasn't meant to hear. If he didn't, would he have confessed? But at the same time, you probably would have rejected him, anyway.

At least if you rejected him back then, it could have been written off as a simple high school crush that never went anywhere and he would have had so much time to move on. Instead, he would be confessing to you at the age of thirty-four where you were recently out of a three-year-long engagement and he was an absolute, drunken mess.

Gerard finally answered you, "I have loved you for so long. I think, since high school. Silly, right? But I never acted on it because I was too afraid, too unsure, and too unwilling to take a risk of any sort so the feelings got worse, and my own bitterness towards myself ruined what we had— all that we could have had. As friends. And I just hope you know, I cherish you more than anything in my life. Even if I leave this place and we never speak again, you will always be cherished. Cross my heart and hope to die."

There it was. Fifteen years unpacked, left to the wolves, what Gerard had been wanting to say or a part of it since if he said everything, he was sure you'd be here for hours. It was too little too late, he knew.

Still, he said it. That had to count for something, right?

And with that, he felt the need to preface, "As for what happened at the party and in New York... like I said, it was all me. When you came to Warped all those years ago, I got to see what you were like in your element; you, with all your new friends, your amazing job, your independence, and especially your greatness. I felt like you had so much to do whereas I... I was lagging behind and I didn't want to see that. I couldn't, so I didn't. And I wanted to apologize when we met again, but I just got choked up. I'm a coward is what I am, and I'm sorry for all the turmoil I caused you."

After a while. A long while of pondering on your end and bracing for impact on his, you asked a very simple question,

"Do you mean that?"

His answer was immediate, "Every word."

Hold nothing back.

"Do you remember what I said? About my engagement? How I felt like I was waiting for something?"

"I do."

You clasped his face, gentle like you were, "I realized, that was you. It was always you. You can call yourself a coward, but that's what I am, too. We're both just cowards who never had the gull to be honest and that was our ruin."

Gerard's heart skipped a beat— a dated statement and feeling, but the best way to describe his inner workings when you said those words. The words he dreamed about, the words he longed for, the words he thought were beyond impossible and just a fleeting fantasy, never to become a reality. Gerard had butterflies in his stomach, he was weak in his knees, time stood still, and the stars aligned as he swore he was floating on cloud nine. Every cheesy, movie-esque expression there was, he was feeling it. 

"You were my first friend, y'know," You said to him suddenly, a mix between a chuckle and a sniffle. "Sad. I know. But middle school wasn't kind and elementary even less so— kids are really mean— but you, Gerard... not only were you my first friend but the first person to ever be that genuine towards me. I don't know how long I felt this way about you because frankly, I was always trying to hide it. I didn't want to jeopardize what good we had just to let my stupid feelings win."

Your thumb did that thing where it gently started sweeping side-to-side on his cheek, Gerard fully rested against it, sighing in comfort as his eyes drifted closed. 

"And it's funny how you talk about my 'greatness' and feeling left behind when truthfully? I thought the same about you."

That revelation was a shock. Gerard's eyes flew open and he gave you an appalled look, "How could you even think that?"

"Because look at you," You breathed, hands waving towards the shelf where all his CDs were. "I might have achieved my dreams, but that was from years of careful consideration and planning. You? Your bravery is unbelievably admirable. I've read the articles and pieces about you guys, Gerard. You save lives. A real-life hero. How was I supposed to compete with that? I distanced myself from you to save myself the hurt. I felt, after New York especially, you wanted to leave me behind and so, I never reached out. I never wanted my ordinary to mix with your extraordinary."

Your words broke his heart. How he made you feel that way when Gerard looked to you like you hung the moon and stars, he didn't know. And he would pluck one right from the sky if you asked, the only obstacle was distance. 

"I think... our problems began when we started to see each other as saints or martyrs." Gerard clasped his hand over yours, which was on his face still.

You were wiping something, that's when he noticed he was crying again— second time that night, he was on a roll— and what you were wiping were his tears. You were crying, also, but your hands were too preoccupied in assisting him that your eyes were practically drowning. Gerard reached out to help you. You wiped his tears, he wiped yours. 

And in this moment, everything felt right, which was riveting because Gerard hadn't felt "right" in so long.  

He didn't believe in God, but if he did, this would be his most divine gift. A gift he surely didn't deserve. 

Gerard studied your face, he could study it for hours. All of your intricacies. You were glistening while sobbing with the biggest smile on your face, like these seconds were as unbelievable and great to you as it was to him. The reciprocation was the best thing he could have hoped for. No indifference, now mandatory cordiality; just you, your feelings, your tears, your all. 

Then, he leaned in, eyes closed. Sitting on the couch of your parent's house like this, it was as though this was the first kiss between you two as teenagers. 

But even if it wasn't, that didn't make it any less special. 

The magic of a first kiss was still there because this was his first kiss with someone he was sure was his soulmate. You repaid his passion tenfold as you reached up and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him even deeper.

Gerard toppled over right on top of you, gasping in surprise right into your mouth which made you giggle. Everything felt damp and tasted salty from the tears, but you still kissed each other like this was the last time you could, 

Finally, you pushed him back for air, and Gerard could argue that looking down at you like this was even better than the kiss. You just looked so... happy. No fancy words to describe the moment. Just sheer happiness riddling your tear-tracked face, the outlines of subtle wetness visible all across your cheeks and under your eyes. Gerard was sure he looked like a mess, bits of his bright red hair undoubtedly sticking onto his forehead.

You combed your hand through it, though, through his tangles which only stung a little when you brushed them out, "I like this," You whispered, almost mesmerized. "I didn't get a chance to bring it up earlier, but you really suit red. You look so pretty, always did."

Countless magazines, interviewers, and hoards of fans had called him all sorts of things. They put his appearances and likeness on a pedestal, giving him all sorts of cheesy nicknames like "pop punk pretty boy" or variations of titles using the word "prince" or "vampire". People called him handsome, they called him good-looking, they even called him beautiful— Gerard appreciated it, but he would be lying if he said it didn't also get at him. What happens if he no longer maintains these looks? Will the press write nasty things? Will his fans turn on him? Being complimented this way was a double-edged sword. A source of self-assurance as well as self-destruction.

You called him "pretty", and that he'd always been pretty. Even back then, when he didn't have the confidence or the hair or the clothes or makeup to doll himself up in such a manner. When all he had were old jeans and flannels with stains on them. What really got him, though? You meant it.

The eyes, they never lie.

And your eyes were lit up, caressing him while sighing to yourself as if to reminisce. 

Gerard took your hand, which was still in his hair and brought it to his lips where he kissed the back of your palm, a little below your knuckles. 

"Do you want to take this upstairs?" You asked suddenly.

Your hand slipped from his grasp and you propped yourself up by the elbows to be on eye-level with him. Gerard watched as you smiled, pressing your forehead against his, "No pressure. We can just lay here and sleep this night away or you can go back to your hotel or wherever you came from. I hope you want to stay, though."

"Of course I want to stay." Gerard scrambled to affirm. Then, he blushed because he realized he'd probably sounded way too eager.

You didn't seem to mind, though, and just allowed your head to slightly loll off to the side while you asked, "What do you want to do, then?"

What I want to do?

So many things. Gerard wanted to just grab you by your waist and take you. He wanted to be deep inside of you, in a position where he could see your face, drinking in all your little changes in expression and the different ways your body would react to him. The twitching, the sweat, the small tremors, he wanted it all— Gerard wasn't sure if he could control himself once the two of you got to that point. Alcohol makes him act up. Hell, he took that huge leap of faith and went on what was practically a suicide mission because of it. 

Carefully, Gerard braved and confessed, "I want to take this upstairs."

That was all you needed. You stood from the couch and outstretched your hand, Gerard took it and you led him upstairs. 

Though the house had been aesthetically renovated to fit your tastes, the foundations of it were still the same. This was still your parents' house and it was hard to not reminisce as he went through it again. These stairs, for example, they were basically seats with how much you liked to lounge around on them; he swore you sat here more than any other piece of furniture. If Gerard was honest, he didn't like it much since the un-carpeted surface made his ass hurt after a while, but you enjoyed it, so he pretended to enjoy it, too. 

Your old room was turned into an office of some sort from the glimpse Gerard got of it. It was a little disheartening to see that your bed, wardrobe, dresser, and everything else from that era was gone, but you had to mature so he got it. Still, out of any other place in this house, that room held the most memories. 

"Do you remember how your parents got you that really good CD player for Christmas in sophomore year?"

You suddenly stopped in your tracks, but still held his hand, "Of course I do. I swear you hung out with me more often just so you could use it."

Gerard blushed, "I didn't!"

"I know," You chuckled, squeezing his hand a little tighter. "I still have it, somewhere, buried in the mess that is my closet."

"I'm really happy this house went to you instead of someone random... hey, did you know that the diner turned into a bar?"

That made you sigh, "I do. Wait... is that where you got wasted?"

"Maybe..."

"Traitor," You fake-gasped. "I refused to go there out of principle."

"The owner's super nice, though. And plus, the diner people sold it on their own terms, so it's not like they got forced out..."

"I suppose." 

You cracked a smile and took a few more steps forward until you were at the master bedroom, formerly your parents', now made yours. Before you could open it, though, he had felt he had to tell you, "Wait. This is kind of out of nowhere, but back at Mikey's wedding, do you have a memory of... asking about this interview you saw?"

Right away, you knew what he was talking about, "Ah," You sighed, biting your lip. "You don't have to—"

"No," Gerard didn't mean to interrupt, but he had to. As he leaned over to lightly peck your cheek, he whispered. "That was about you. You're my first love."

A tight-lipped smile made its way onto your lips as you looked down in a bashful shroud, "You didn't have to say it out loud, geez... you have me blushing like a schoolgirl. It's mighty unfitting of my age."

"It's mighty unfitting of our age to be having drunken confessions, no?"

That got you. Gerard stifled a laugh, you just conceded and lightly slapped your face to freshen up as he finally made way for you to open the door.

Gerard stepped in and immediately began touring the place, almost marvelling like the room was an art exhibit rather than, well, just a room. It had the same whimsy as the rest of the house, he was glad to see that part of you hadn't died. Stuff like paintings, greenery, patterned curtains, and a nice lacy rug really tied the whole place together. Your bed was made of wood, just like his. Your bedsheets a colorful plaid with several pillows strewn about.

Honestly? Focusing on all of this stuff was a distraction from his heart which hammered inside his chest. 

You were standing there, by the foot of your bed and Gerard just wanted to tackle you onto it. Should he? He didn't want to risk injury, but he was just so desperate for you.

Gerard just put his hands around your waist and guided you down instead as his kissed your neck, sucking lightly to leave red and pink suction marks which would turn purple as the night progressed. You whimpered into his ear so sweetly, giggling in between and whispering about how it tickled.

While this went on, his hands gripped the edge of your sweater, signifying that he wanted it off. You helped him by raising your arms and it was gone in an instant, your pants were next which slipped off rather easily. It was only fair he got undressed, too, so Gerard made quick work of his clothes. Before he could go back to kissing you, though, you put your hands on his chest and admired him for a moment.

Doing the same, Gerard's desperation only got more palpable.

Gerard has his ailments— his throat was dry, his head a touch woozy, and his insides a twisted mess— but he knew his cure was you. You weren't heartache, not anymore. 

"Tell me if you don't like what I'm doing because I'm not certain I can control myself from this point onward." Gerard groaned, his hands slipping down to your hips as he pressed his erection into you.

"Oh, Gee, I want you to lose yourself on me. Promise you will?"

"Please don't say that," He pleaded. "I'm afraid i actually will."

You'd stripped off your undergarments before he even realized and tugged at his briefs, slipping them just past his pelvis until Gerard pulled them down all the way to join the rest of the discarded clothes pile. 

Tangible vulnerability was a given when you were naked with someone, bare to the bone, skin-to-skin; but Gerard didn't feel vulnerable at all, and it wasn't because he was drunk.

You saw him and he saw you in this space where you were equals, together. That was all he needed to realize— you were special, so special beyond words, but that didn't make him inherently worse. Gerard had to come to terms with the fact that he deserved you just as much as you deserved him. The desperation wasn't one-sided, you were craving him as he craved you.

Gerard couldn't get enough of your lips and your taste, he could just kiss you for hours and that'd be enough for him. So, again, he was on you while his fingers gently massaged your clit, going in between your folds while you reached for his cock and started stroking it slowly. Both of your voices were unsteady, and making out got harder as you constantly needed to pull apart to pant and whimper into each other. 

You got wet so easily and Gerard was leaking precum right down your palm.

It got so bad that he started swaying his hips forward into you, even if it was just into your hand. 

"I—I'm ready," You stammered, and before he could ask if you were sure, you just gasped. "Please, I'm ready. Don't think about it too hard, I'm ready."

Gerard was so high off you that he didn't even consider putting on a condom even though one was sitting idly in his wallet.

Taking your advice, he didn't think about it too hard. He didn't think at all as he slipped his cock from your grasp and readied it by your dripping entrance. You spread your legs, granting him easy access, Gerard sucked in his breath at the lovely sight. 

Don't think about it too hard.

For nineteen years, he'd been thinking too hard.

Gerard carefully plunged himself into you, both literally and metaphorically.

Sex was a beautiful thing. Gerard didn't think of it as garish or vulgar, he thought of it as something one could do to be as closely, physically tied with another human being as possible. If we were talking in scientific terms, this single act releases the most addictive combination of chemicals the human body can muster. Endorphins, serotonin, dopamine— the holy trinity. 

"Oh, Jesus, oh, fuck." You whipped your head back while panting, high-pitched.

Sure, most of what Gerard was feeling could be chalked up to those chemicals, but he liked to think that it was you instead; because even though sex was beautiful, he hadn't always treated it as the priceless thing it was. Gerard finally understood the difference between forced, bodily happiness and the real deal. 

"Are you okay?" He breathed, you nodded.

You were feverish.

Gerard was so hot he thought he might pass out.

Still embracing you tight like you could leave him at any moment, Gerard moved. There was control, at first, he was steady to start until he found his rhythm.

This was the real deal. 

With his hands pressing your squirming hips into the mattress, Gerard lost himself, as promised. 

You were screaming his name, fingernails digging into his back to cause a searing-sweet type of pain. Gerard found it hard to keep himself steady or even, he was just so distracted and overwhelmed by you in the best way possible. What could he focus on? Your body, your noises, the way you felt around him.

Or he could just stare at your face.

Retrospectively, it was probably unnerving, but in the moment, Gerard didn't really care. All of your changes in expression, your stuttering, from the tiniest twitch in the corner of your mouth to your eyes rolling to the back of your head, cheeks flushed and sweaty— it was all his to take in and cherish. Eventually, he took his hands off your hips and instead cupped your face instead, keeping it stable for him to gaze at even more.

Gerard could feel himself melting, breaking, from your love. 

"I love you."

The words spilled out of him in a flurry, while he was tense and barely supporting himself above you. Saying it, though, was uncanny; what seemed impossible and out of reach for so long came out so easily now— funny how things worked.

You had tears in your eyes, but they almost looked commonplace now because you'd cried so much during the night. You choked up a response.

"I love you, too. So much. So, so much."

Just because you love someone, doesn't mean you're good to them. Even if Gerard hadn't been good to you before, he could be now. So long had his hopelessness drowned him, so long did he think about the "what if's" and never what he could still do. 

And he had so much to do.

Gerard's lips hovered above yours, kissing you in brief intervals because if he stayed too long, his breathlessness would get the better of him and he'd probably pass out.

He was close now, and all he wanted, more than anything, was to lose himself one last time while locking eyes with you. 

To be loved was to be seen.

2000

"Three... two... one... happy new years!"

Gerard flinched as the room erupted into noise. Party poppers being set off, people whistling and hooting as they spilled drinks on each other in excitement, a slew of drunken makeouts, and deep rambles about "new years resolutions" and whatnot. That made Gerard think about his own plans— what the hell did he want out of the year of our lord, the year two-thousand? 

"Happy new years, Gee!" 

You came stumbling into his arms, and Gerard more so caught you than hugged you. You were tipsy, he was tipsier.

"Wow, I cannot believe this... a new century— no, shit. A new millennium!" You exclaimed, swaying from side to side. 

Okay, maybe you were tipsier.

Gerard put his cup down and adjusted himself so he could support you better. This was the deal the two of you had with one another, that if one person was clearly more drunk than the other would have to cease all further inebriation to make sure that they didn't make a fool out of themselves. Usually, it was you taking care of him, but you seemed to have really taken advantage of the endless alcohol supply at this year's party; which was pretty odd, but Gerard didn't think too hard about it since he was pretty intoxicated, too.

What was supposed to be a small house party had evolved into an easy-access, any-random-Joe-in-the-neighborhood-can-come party as the night progressed. Gerard didn't mind this since it wasn't his house, but he minded it a little now as weaving through the crowd while practically dragging your body was quite difficult.

Still, he made it out with you and took the two of you to an empty lawn. The owner of the house that lawn belonged to was some guy Gerard barely knew, but he was currently running up and down the streets, shirtless, and screaming about politics so he was sure that he wouldn't mind. 

Gerard set down his jacket as the grass was a little wet and you flopped right down, hiccuping as you oh-so ungracefully landed on your ass.

The minute he sat down as well, your head fell onto his shoulder, "Y'think aliens and robots are gonna take over by the next millennia?"

Gerard snorted, "Aliens and robots."

"Yeah, fuck, like... robots at first 'cause we're definitely gonna see some kind of sci-fi... futuristic... whatever cyborg within our lifetime. I know it, Gee, I can, like, feel it," You got all up close and personal, even grabbing Gerard's collar to emphasize your point. "Then... hundreds of years later, aliens decide they wanna conquer our ass and that is how humanity gets extinguished."

"Some imagination you got there. Maybe you should be the intern at Cartoon Network."

You laughed real hard, a surefire sign of your drunkenness since the joke really wasn't that funny, "You're the only good artist in this town, 'm afraid."

Your head lolled off to the side, right off his shoulder and onto the ground before Gerard could even react. He looked over and reached out to try and help you up but you fervently shook your head and aggressively patted the spot next to you while slurring that you were insistent he lay down with you.

So, Gerard obliged. The wetness was really prominent now that his whole body was laying in the grass, but he kept quiet about that because you seemed so content.

You were laying flat on your back, hands gathered atop your stomach and staring at the sky with this hazy look to your eyes. The sky was quite clear for New Jersey, but Gerard wasn't looking at the stars nor the moon.

"Gee... uh, I gotta tell you somethin'."

"What is it?"

Gerard tensed. What was this? Anticipation? 

"Um, well..."

Your contentment faded, and those calm hands which were once resting on your body began fiddling with each other. You'd gone from flaccid to nervous in just a second.

"Is anything the matter?"

"It's just a matter I've wanted to tell you for awhile, but I couldn't..."

Oh, god, he shouldn't think this way.

"... What is it?" Gerard asked.

He had his hopes.

"Well, like, y'know how I've been lookin' for a job that's more permanent lately?"

Gerard had his hopes.

"Yeah, I do remember you talking about that. Did you find a place?" 

"I did. And it's my absolute dream job." You let out this dreamy sigh like you'd fallen in love.

"That's amazing! What is—"

"But this is the thing, right? It's... far, Gee. Like, super far."

Gerard noticed a shine on your cheek, and it wasn't from the wetness of the grass nor its soil. You shed a tear, and that one tear turned to many as you began quietly sniffling to yourself, still fixated on the sky.

Immediately, he sat up, "Woah, woah, are you alright? Look, if you think I'm upset or something, I'm not, I swear! I don't care if it's far, it's not like we'll ever stop being friends. You could move to... Ireland or something and we'd still be the same amount of close as though you were still living here."

Despite his efforts, the tears just kept flowing and you just let them; whether this was due to your drunken state or not, he didn't know. All Gerard knew was that the sight was breaking his heart.

"This should be a joyous occasion, so please, if you want to cry then let them be tears of joy." Gerard whispered, his hand awkwardly hovering above your face, wanting to comfort you but being unsure if he should do so physically.

You reached up and grabbed ahold of his hand, a move which made him flinch, "Los Angeles, Gee. It's L.A."

Ah. The City of Angels. Gerard's shoulders fell a bit, and he allowed his body to hit the lawn once more. You were still holding onto his hand and looking at the sky.

"I looked it up," You said, sounding sober all of a sudden. "From The Big Apple, it's around six hours. From Atlantic City, about eight. And from Trenton... thirteen."

You let go of his hand to wipe the tears from your face before going back to holding it. This time, Gerard held yours right back as he wished that he had the courage to help clean your face.

But you were waiting for an answer, and you relayed this to him as your head finally tilted to the side and met his eyes. Gerard was awestruck, he always thought you were prettiest at night. Your features just suited the aesthetic better— though, you did also look great in sunlight— and that plain expression you wore made him gulp.

Gerard's throat was dry, he wished he had something, anything to help it before responding, "That's not too bad," He said calmly, and that alone soothed you a little. "New York is close to us, I can get there by driving or transit and my internship is there, anyway. But beyond that, it's the digital age now! We can email, call... we can even send letters."

You giggled, "Like we're in the eighties?"

"Like we're in the eighties." Gerard confirmed.

"Sounds nice." You were finally smiling.

"We can write to each other about our day, send photos and stuff..."

"I can decorate it with stickers."

"We can send each other small, thin trinkets and knickknacks."

"Send me your drawings?" You asked, and your voice made it sound like a plea. Like his drawings were this grand thing.

Gerard squeezed your hand, "Of course."

That satisfied you and you were back to being content. You got closer to him, and Gerard shifted closer, too.

-

2001

Gerard thought a lot about that afternoon at the end of January. How cold it was, how his striped grey scarf gave him warmth, and how you cried before you left.

Everyone you cared about was there. Your family, your friends from high school and university, Gerard— even Mikey was invited. It was an emotion-fest, and everyone was either crying or trying so, so hard not to. You were so loved.

And between the goodbye hugs and kisses, Gerard was last. Not because of your intention, but his. It was incredibly self-serving, but he wanted to be the last one you said goodbye to. 

Because, if he was the last person you would ever see before officially turning the chapter of your new life, then maybe he'd stay in your memory enough for you to not forget him.

Since, truthfully? He was scared you'd just forget him.

That he would become an old story, someone you would refer back to casually many years later as "my best friend from high school" before immediately following up that sentence with "but we're not close anymore". That kind of person.

And if the two of you were to meet in this imagined reality, you'd greet him with open arms and big smiles, of course, but it would all be performative. Sure, you might recall the good ol' days like prom night, the comic club, the endless days of listening to different bands, geeking out over comics together, deep conversations about the future and whatnot during the trifling years of university— but what else? None else. Because while you might be able to move on with your life, onto better things, without him; Gerard was sure he couldn't do the same.

While he became "that friend from high school" to you, you'd always be "the best friend I'll ever have" to him.

But that was all just in his head.

A year into this thing, and both the letters and emails as well as the occasional phone calls exchanged between the two of you had been consistently meaningful.

You'd ramble about your job, all the great new people you were meeting, and how you seriously felt like this was the exact path you'd envisioned for yourself. Gerard loved reading and listening to it all, and he especially loved the photos and polaroids you'd send along with your mail. He kept them all in that same box he'd used as when you sent him postcards for the first time.

Your enthusiasm never wavered, neither did your friendship to him. In almost every long-distance exchange between the two of you, you'd always find a way to include him. Like, if you ate some really good food, you'd talk about what items on the menu he'd potentially enjoy. Or, after finding a nice and underground spot for one of the many shared hobbies the two of you had, you'd go on about how much he would love being there. 

Gerard did all the same, especially as he was in New York more often. He liked riding the ferry, and he oft took photos since he knew you'd enjoy his ventures, too.

It was one of these days when he was letting his mind wander. In between what he'd do at work today, laced with the proposals he had for potential cartoons as well as new ideas, he thought about you.

What would he write about that day, what would he write about in the future, and what he'd written about in the past.

There wasn't much that was happening that day. Well, the weather forecast did predict a "sunny and pleasant" day, so Gerard had that to look forward to. 

That's a nice shot of the Hudson. Gerard thought absentmindedly, cursing to himself in his head for forgetting his camera.

Gerard was admiring the view when he first heard it.

The day the towers fell gave him a new purpose in life. 

Gerard got home after the events, after the chaos that was the transit systems as everyone and everything was in a frenzy. Suddenly, that internship he had and the half-baked idea he had for his own animated show didn't seem so important. Since, what did they mean, really? Just another way for faceless people he'd never meet to get richer faster.

So, instead of picking up the pen or paper, he picked up the phone.

"I hope she likes it." Gerard mused, feeling his palms grow sweaty despite it being winter.

Ray looked to him, then at the small parcel in his hands, "I'm sure she will. I mean, I'm not trying to toot my own horn 'cause I worked on it, but," He put his hand on Gerard's shoulder firmly. "If this girl's anything like how you've been describing her, then it'll be a success. Probably."

Gerard smiled at that and finally got the courage to slot his small package into the mailbox after mulling it over for about ten minutes— seriously, Ray was one hell of a saint for sticking around that entire time.

The two of them began walking soon after, Gerard with his hands deep in his pockets and Ray sipping away at his hot coffee.

"So," Ray began. "Do you like this girl?"

Gerard short-circuited for a moment, "What makes you ask?"

"The way you're always on and on about her. I've never met her but I feel like I've known her for ages the way you talk so intensively... I mean, I know her favorite color, where she likes to eat, what hairstyles she enjoys the most, what clothing materials she likes and dislikes because she's 'super particular'."

Gerard blushed, and he desperately hoped that his rosy cheeks could bypass as a sign of the cold.

"She's just my best friend."

"Uh huh."

"What? She is."

"Hey, I didn't say anything."

Gerard narrowed his eyes as Ray laughed a cheeky little laugh while deliberately looking off to the side. Despite that, no further questions were asked and Gerard found himself alone with his psyche. Ray's words of encouragement were incredibly helpful, but he still couldn't help but be nervous.

What he'd sent you was a rough draft at best, a demo in every sense of the word. Gerard had many problems with it, like the fact that his voice was far too loud and you could barely hear the instrumentals in the background. Also, he didn't quite enjoy how he sounded - too loud, too choppy, his voice was even lightly cracking at some parts. Gerard felt like he'd cringe at this memory if he ever looked back on it, but you wanted to hear it and was quite adamant, even going so far as to call him over the phone about it so what choice did he have?

And thus, like a man obsessed, Gerard checked the mailbox everyday.

Whenever he had a moment to spare, he'd be thinking about if you received it yet and what your response was. Were you writing a response as he thought this? Maybe you'd just gotten it and was currently listening. He included a lyric sheet, so he wondered what you thought about that, too, since you always had such meaningful things to say about writing.

Gerard was so curious it nearly drove him mad. 

And funnily enough, when he did finally get that letter he'd been thinking about for about a week and a half, he didn't even have to check the box. His mother had placed it right on his desk, like she knew how crazy it was making him (she did).

Gerard tore through the envelope like an animal digging into a carcass to get to the meat, the letter, as fast as possible. 

You wrote,

Hey, Gee.

First of all, how are you and how have you been? Sorry this letter took longer than usual. I just wanted my response to be perfect, y'know? Since this means a lot to me. 

Anyway, I thought the song was amazing. And the fact that this is just the demo makes me so excited for the real deal! You'll send it to me then, right? Actually, scratch that, let me come to a show! After you guys really get going, tell me like a few weeks in advance if you decide to go live so I can see. If you don't, then I'll just assume you're not really my friend (jk).

But I thought the whole thing was greatly made. I've never heard anything like it before and I don't mean that lightly.

"Skylines and Turnstiles", is it? What a pretty name. Look at you, Gee, an artist and a poet. I'm jealous. But speaking of poetry... these lyrics.

I so appreciate you including a lyric sheet. I can't express how much I've been re reading this, analyzing every detail like it's one of those light novels I had to annotate back in uni. It's just so brilliant!

"And after seeing what we saw, can we still reclaim our innocence?"/"And if the world needs something better, let's give them one more reason, now".

Those are my favorite lyrics.

Your reasoning for wanting to start all this is beautiful, and I know you'll succeed. To want to make a difference in someone's life and, after witnessing something so tragic, wanting to give people a reason to fight and live on? You're an inspiration. 

Keep creating, keep writing. You inspire me.

The letter was signed with your name. 

Gerard re-read that last line over and over again— "Keep creating, keep writing. You inspire me."

-

2002

"Oh, gosh, Gee! How long has it been? Your hair, these clothes... are these your bandmates— Mikey's here, too—? Sorry, I'm rambling. How have things been? How have you been?"

You were all over the place, bouncing off the walls and going from hugging him to looking around to patting him down and even ruffling his hair. Gerard let it happen because he thought it was all quite funny - you were acting like an older relative at a family gathering and it was immensely amusing.

On top of that amusement, however, was this inexplicable feeling of relief. It was two-thousand-two. A grand two years since your departure and about nine months since your last visit during Thanksgiving. This was also the longest time you'd stay since your workplace had oh-so graciously allowed a three week vacation.

(Courtesy of your great work ethic, of course.)

Gerard held you tight, wanting his hands and fingers to soak in your skin and bones. 

You pulled apart and wiped a small tear from your eyes, "Ah, geez, sorry for all of this..." You smiled and looked past his shoulders. "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Gee's friend from high school."

"Don't worry, you need absolutely no introduction." Frank said, wiggling his brow as he said your name, which you looked shocked that he even knew.

"What do you mean...?"

Gerard cut right in, "This is Ray, the lead guitar. Frank, the rhythm guitar. Matt, the drums. And Mikey's on bass." He said quickly, pointing to each man as he shot Frank a "don't you dare" kind of look.

Frank conceded and reached out to shake your hand as though this was some kind of business proposal. Ray offered to take your bag, which you obliged in since you looked absolutely exhausted. Mikey caught you up on things in his life— and Gerard? He watched your back as it went down the driveway and into his house, at your smile as you talked to his brother and got to know the rest of his friends. It was your first time meeting them yet you talked to them so well. 

All he could do was hope that they didn't say anything embarrassing.

"Gerard? You gonna come in or should we lock you out?" Frank jeered.

"Don't you dare." Gerard grumbled as he jogged in.

You were by the wall where his family kept all the best photos. Eyes wandering from childhood photos to embarrassing middle school portraits and everything in between. Gerard joined you, and although you didn't acknowledge him at first, he knew you knew from the way your body twitched slightly towards him.

While you looked at the pictures, he looked at you.

You took time to soak in every memory, but seemed to fixate on one in particular. When Gerard turned away to see what it was, he just said, "Oh."

"Oh, indeed," You said as you reached up and carefully took it off the wall. "Senior prom." 

Gerard looked at it from over your shoulder. You were holding it with both hands, with the same amount of gentleness one would use for a baby. The picture itself had been taken by your mother, he remembered that. He also remembered how pretty your yellow dress was, as well as the kiss you'd given him.

It was on the cheek and entirely meant as a friendly gesture, but it was special nonetheless.

"I can't wait for your show tomorrow," You whispered, nearly making him jump. "My first one. I'm excited." You added as you put the picture back in its place.

"Oh, is it?"

Looking at that photo reminded him of high school. For a moment, he thought you were remembering wrong since he'd been to so many as a teenager, but then he realized those shows he went to was with his first girlfriend. Not you. He'd only thought about bringing you to one, but those plans never came into fruition.

"You'd better impress me, Mr. Way."

Gerard wasn't sure if he could.

The "venue", if one could even call this dingy little nook beneath a bar that was booked by Frank's cousin and fit about a high school classroom's worth of people. That didn't matter, though, since anything was better than nothing at this point and even having this was a privilege— being signed was a privilege.

Whatever the case was, though, Gerard didn't let that get to him when he performed. To him, the venue and its people were just a haze, anyway. The alcohol in his system made it so.

This way, things were easier and the fact that you were standing right there to watch him perform didn't get at him so much. Gerard only permitted himself to take small glances towards you, but each time he did, he was amazed by your adoration.

The music was booming, it was screaming, he was screaming. Gerard felt his throat go raw and hoarse so many times and he knew he wouldn't sound as polished as he did on the record (though, even on those, he didn't sound too professional) but you didn't seem to care about that. You were singing along to the lyrics when you could remember them, and he didn't blame you for having everything memorized since his own songs tend to be endless at times.

But you seemed to know every word to one in particular - Skylines and Turnstiles.

The first one you ever listened to. And their first song.

You looked so happy. You looked so fulfilled even though this wasn't your band and definitely not your project. You were just here to support him and god, did you do that so well. Gerard wished he had the courage, the guts to say this to you and how much he appreciated this.

When it was over, it felt like a wave had crashed over him. Gerard murmured some thanks into the mic then stumbled right off the stage where you were waiting for him as the crowd dissipated - their fanbase was small, definitely small enough to not warrant people running up to him after. 

"Gee, that was amazing." You gushed the moment he was within range.

"You really think so?" He asked as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Definitely! Gosh, you have got to get me a CD of this record. I tried to look for it in stores, but no such luck."

"Yeah, copies of Bullets are pretty scarce right now 'cause, well... we're not that famous."

"You deserve to be, though. I wholeheartedly believe so."

The whole time, he'd been looking down at his feet or glancing around, I feel like I'll puke if I look at her directly or something. Wait, that sounds bad. It's not 'cause she's repulsing or anything— why am I even justifying this? Who am I justifying to right now? This is all in my head! Gerard gulped and murmured something. "Why... do you think that?" He managed.

"Well, 'cause you guys are great." You said, and it was so simple that it almost made him laugh.

Gerard swallowed thickly and looked through the greasy curtain of his bangs to make sure your face was obscured. 

"To be honest, so much of music nowadays feels kind of... pointless, y'know? I don't want to sound pretentious but I feel like it's been a while since music really meant something. And this... all of this. From Skylines to... what was it? Headfirst for Halos? The lyrics were kind of hard to make out but I got the gist of it. You guys could make a difference in this world with songs like that."

It was weird. Your compliment made him feel so giddy, gave him those butterflies in his stomach that he'd been feeling ever since you came back. Yet, all Gerard could do right now was hold himself back from hurling.

"I... I don't know if this will mean much coming from me, but I want you to know that I admire you so much for doing this."

His insides did a flip.

"Gerard? Are you alright?"

No, he wasn't.

"Are you able to look at me?"

No, he couldn't.

Still, he did so anyway because the delicate way you asked him, requesting so sweetly if he could bear to look at your face. Of course he would fall to pieces at that.

Gerard looked at you directly for what seemed like the first time in forever; which was inherently dumb and untrue because he literally saw you at the airport and at his house yesterday. But all of that seemed ancient now. 

For the first time, he could see the ways in which you'd changed since you were away.

You'd grown. Easy as that. The "you" he'd known on that day during New Years, the one drunk and stumbling all over the place while drooling and crying seemed so far away. Gerard couldn't imagine you doing all that in the state you were in now. That wasn't to say you had suddenly become all uptight or anything, the fact that you were in such a grimy show venue told him that you hadn't become a completely different person. 

There was just more maturity to you.

And that scared him.

Suddenly, all of his fears were coming back to him. That horrible, conjured reality where he'd become a fond memory while he was still obsessed with you. 

Did he need to change? If so, to what? Would you like his change or would you despise it?

Gerard slumped, feeling his knees give way as he allowed his body to just crash onto the floor. Fully conscious, but feeling like he was somewhere else.

Actually, maybe he wasn't "fully" conscious. Or even conscious at all anymore. Gerard just heard the echoes of your voice as he blacked out.

A deep cringe twinged through Gerard's body as he (unfortunately) woke up. The light was absolutely glaring, the sound of footsteps from people above pounding, and his breath stinking inside his mouth. But none of those mild discomforts compared to the flood of memories assaulting him at that moment.

At that moment, your first ever show, your first ever time seeing his band— when he should have wowed you— he was an absolute bumbling idiot. 

"God..." Gerard rubbed his face, or more so smothered his cheek with his palm while wondering where you were now.

That thought didn't last long, however, as someone just came into his room. It was you. Apparently, you didn't expect him to be up so you were just wandering around with a cup in your hands. Gerard watched you for a bit, he probably should have said something but nothing wanted to come out. 

So, he creepily watched you until you finally noticed and nearly fell backwards.

"Gee!" You exclaimed, holding a hand over your heart. "You're up?"

"I am," He sighed. "What is that?"

You collected yourself and went to sit next to him, "Hangover cure." You smiled as you shoved the steaming mug towards him.

Hesitantly, Gerard took it. It felt nice and toasty against his hands, and it smelled lovely, too— citrus and... honey, perhaps?

"It's some fruit tea I got from this locally owned shop in L.A. I think you'd like it, the place has a real mom and pop's kinda feel. Anyway, it's absolute heaven when it comes to pesky hangovers. I added the honey for your voice since you went kind of crazy last night." You explained, doing all sorts of wacky gestures with your hands.

Gerard looked down at the swirling concoction in his hands. The mug was Star Wars themed, and the liquid itself was a nice caramel brown.

"To be loved is to be seen".

You took the time to pack this tea, and went out of your way to care for his voice. Gradually, he realized something. That, maybe, his insecurities were just that. Insecurities. Unfounded and entirely formed from the darkest corners of his mind.

Gerard put the mug down for a moment on the floor, you raised your brow in confusion as he leaned in and hugged you.

"Thanks." 

You patted him on the back, "Of course. Don't worry about it, yeah?"

There may have been differences in your clothes, or your mannerisms, or maybe even the way you carried yourself, but you yourself remained all the same and unmoving. Even your smell was all the same.

Gerard pulled apart and picked up the drink, taking a sip and relishing as his nostrils filled with the decadent, fruity scent and his lungs were graced by both slight favor and extreme warmth. The thing was a few degrees short of scalding, but he liked it this way.

"Listen, Gee, I need to tell you something."

Placing the mug in between his legs, Gerard gestured for you to continue. He couldn't help but notice a slight furrow in your brows, the universal indicative of there being something wrong.

"See... I got a major promotion at my job."

Huh.

Gerard chuckled, then that chuckle turned into a laugh, which evolved into a fit of cackles.

You looked at him, a little concerned but trying to crack a smile, "What the hell are you... did the alcohol fry your last braincell or something? What's with the Joker-like laughing?"

"No, it's just... what is it with you and delivering good news— great news in the worst way possible? You sound so somber that I thought you were going to say something horrible," He was giggling so hard the tea was sloshing around, on the brink of just spilling onto his pyjama pants. "You haven't changed since New Years, two years ago in this sense."

Your concern faded and you just looked annoyed now, "Haha. Very mature. But this is serious, Gee."

Maybe he'd overstepped a little. Gerard nodded and stopped goofing off to listen to you properly. The sloshing of his tea stopped, too.

"Since I got a pretty big promotion, it means I'm gonna get a lot busier. Which means, I can't do trips back too often," Your shoulders slumped way down, like two rocks had suddenly appeared on either end. "That's why I made this trip pretty long. I have no idea when I'll be able to come back."

Those butterflies were back. Well, maybe this was more like a sinking feeling.

"That is serious." 

"Mhm."

"You don't have an estimate?"

"No idea... it could be months, it could be years."

Years.

Gerard's mind was a maze. An over complicated, stupid maze that he couldn't seem to crawl out of. The drink in his hands had gone lukewarm now.

Then, you put your head on his shoulder and let out a sigh which sounded like you'd been holding for a while, "Maybe... when you go on tour and things... you can come to L.A. We're pretty cool over there."

" 'When' we go on tour?"

"You guys are already going to New York and things. Plus, you seem to have a good thing going here. Even if it isn't exact, as long as it's a state near me, perhaps...? Just grasping at straws here, Gee. Sue me."

"You have so much faith in me."

"Of course I do. You're my best friend."

Gerard leaned into your touch, rubbing friction between your hair and his considerably messier hair.

"I hope you know that fact won't change even with this," Gerard whispered, you murmured something but he didn't quite catch it. "It's not like the postal industry is gonna collapse and the internet is just growing more and more advanced each day."

"That's kind of scary. Makes you think about how things will progress twenty years from now."

Gerard snorted, "Are we gonna live long enough to see cyborgs walk among us?"

"God, I hope so."

Nothing more was said after that and nothing more had to be said. In the basement that was Gerard's room, a place that was slightly dank and most definitely quite cramped, there was a certain bit of warmth to be found; and it wasn't from the tea nestled between his legs, it was found with you. As your best friend, and him as yours, Gerard was satisfied with that.

-

2003

"The wonders of modern technology..." Gerard mumbled to himself.

"Talking to her again?" Mikey asked, trying to crane his neck to get a peak at the conversation, but Gerard quickly put his hand over the screen to prevent that.

"I am," He sputtered as Mikey rolled his eyes deeply. "She was just telling me about her day and such and I was gonna tell her about how close we are to completing the album."

"You guys talk a lot." 

Gerard smiled, "We do, huh?"

A beat passed, Gerard's attention was back on his screen as he reread your message again, he had a habit of doing that. You were quite expressive, even with just words. The long distance communication had been narrowed down to only digital means as being out on the road more often meant being unable to receive mail and unfortunately, teleportation technology hadn't been invented yet.

But he was fine with the litany of emails, texts, and occasional phone calls— he loved the phone calls. Being able to hear your voice was worth the small fee, it always was.

"Hey, Gerard?" Mikey cleared his throat, placing a hand atop his arm. 

Gerard figured that this meant he wanted his attention, so he put the laptop away, "What's up?" 

Mikey looked like he was struggling to say something. The boy had always been awkward, that was one of the many traits which Gerard found adorable in his brother - yes, he was a grown adult now, but older sibling habits die hard.

"Listen, I've been kind of meaning to ask you this for a while— a long while— but... do you, whether right now or in the past, have or had feelings for—"

"—Mikey, I know what you're going to ask." Gerard blurted before he could complete that sentence, before he could say your name because he knew it was coming. 

Nodding, Mikey closed his mouth, even pressing his lips together into a tight line. 

"So, what's your answer...?"

"We're best friends."

"I know that, everyone knows that, I just mean... you guys have been 'best friends' for so long and I've never seen anyone light up this bad when they talk to someone before. Which is why I was and why I've been curious about this for a while."

The answer Gerard wanted to give him was right there. It was the same answer he'd always given whenever anyone asked him about this topic, the forever rehearsed— "No, we're just friends, I only see her as that".

There had been no problem with saying it before; but for some reason, at that moment, when he was alone in the parking lot with his younger brother on a semi-warm and extremely foggy April morning, he couldn't bring himself to say it. It was like his tongue was suddenly inflamed and so swollen that the words were just stuck in the back of his throat.

Gerard had always been a terrible liar.

Mikey opened his mouth, perhaps to try and sway him into a proper response, but Frank and Ray returned with the promised coffees and that was more than enough of an excuse for Gerard to leave the situation, so he did.

"Jesus, these things are piping!" Gerard exclaimed as he grabbed one from Ray, hissing sharply when the thin paper offered no protection from the scalding drink when it burned his fingertips. 

"Well, you specified you wanted the coffees to be 'hot enough to give your lungs third-degree burns', so." Frank shrugged.

By that point, Mikey had come to join the little group huddled outside of the local cafe. There was a mutual agreement between him and Gerard, the agreement that whatever conversation they were having before would be tabled.

Gerard had always been a terrible liar.

-

2004, July

Gerard was sitting in the van, laptop resting atop his knees as he skimmed over the conversations between you and him. It saddened him a little that they were becoming a little scarcer as the days went on.

The reason? Mutual busyness. You were making strides, taking the promotion by its horns and steering it as you saw fit. Many of your emails consisted of either praising how great everything was or complaints about your coworkers and whatnot— both of which Gerard found great amusement in while reading. Gerard was making strides, too, he supposed. Releasing the second album was the biggest thing, of course, and he was honestly the tiniest bit overwhelmed by the sudden influx of fame it brought him.

At least this album was much more plentiful and you'd even been able to get your hands on a CD! You'd even gone out of your way to take a picture via a digital camera of yourself while holding it with the biggest smile plastered across your face and sent that to him.

Gerard almost printed it out to keep around with him, but decided that was way too creepy. The effort was greatly appreciated, though, he remembered how long he'd stared at it when he laid eyes on the photo for the first time.

For a while, that was the only thing he had of what you looked like, so, naturally, he treasured it. Gerard thought about sending something of himself, too, but you'd noted that you'd seen him in a few dozen magazines and even bought a few of them so he thought those would suffice. Plus, he was a little shy. Even the thought of you owning physical media with his face on them made him blush.

This was all filler now, though. Since, in a few hours, he'd be able to see you again. Gerard didn't want to admit how scared he was of that fact. Two years. Two years since he'd seen you and also since you'd seen them.

The reunion would be in Sunny, Southern California. 

It was a stop in the Warped Tour, they'd be performing at some university. 

The band had evolved so much since back then. For one, the whole new album. For two, they were in the lineup for an actual festival now. They were so much more polished, had a clearer sound, and Gerard was so proud of everything he'd done. 

He just hoped you'd be proud, too.

"Gerard? We're on in a few. Get ready." Someone called out to him from outside.

"Coming!" Gerard yelled back, snapping the laptop closed before taking a moment to breathe.

Warped Tour tend to get crazy— a crowd of mostly sweaty, shirtless dudes all moshing about could never spell good, but Gerard liked this aspect. He just wondered how you'd feel about it.

Gerard tried to look for you as he performed. There was no avail, however, since whenever he looked on, it was just a sea of different flesh that seemed to all just blend in with each other. Maybe most of this haze was from the heat. Some of it was definitely from the alcohol. A lot of it was from the energy he was exuding while onstage.

It was more ardent normal, and even his "normal" was a lot. Gerard was running up and down the stage, banging his head, feeling the guitar and bass and drums coincide with the words he was both belting and screeching. Giving you a performance even though he couldn't even see you - were you even there?

That terrified him.

Whether you were there or not, an enormous amount of pressure would be on his shoulders.

There was a part of him that wanted the performance to continue, and this weird panicky feeling in his gut intensified when he realized that their set was finishing. Gerard still couldn't find you, not even as he was standing still and swallowing down the hazy feeling his intoxication was giving him. 

"Gerard, are you alright?" Frank asked him when they got off the stage. 

"I, um..." Gerard swallowed thickly, moving the mop that was his sweaty hair from his face. "I don't know."

Frank said something after that, Gerard didn't mean to ignore him the way he did but ended up brushing past the guitarist's shoulder and began wandering. 

Some fans stopped him on the way, and Gerard couldn't bring himself to tell them "no", not when they looked so damn eager to meet him. This whole "fame" thing was still new to him, but Gerard would never classify himself as a celebrity— never a celebrity. He just considered himself to be someone of mild success, mild infamy, just enough to warrant his pictures and signage to be mildly important.

But the heat was sweltering, and his throat was growing uncomfortably dry. Gerard wished people would stop crowding him and let him walk. Let him search.

Then, someone tapped him on the shoulder and Gerard almost didn't turn, almost risked his fragile reputation already being ruined as was labelled as some asshole who couldn't even stop for one second for his fans. That thought spooked him into turning around for them.

Except, this wasn't a fan. It was someone entirely familiar.

"Hey, I thought you would just walk right past me or something."

Gerard noted your smile, That hasn't changed one bit. He thought. This outfit was new, though. You usually had a certain color palette to your clothes, but this one broke that pattern. It was almost jarring.

"Don't tell me you're getting a heat stroke already—"

Gerard just hugged you. It was far too humid, far too sticky to be comfortable and he knew he smelled like death, but he did so anyway. And surprisingly, you reciprocated this act as you chuckled while whispering, "You, sir, need a shower."

I do. Gerard agreed as he rested his head against your shoulder.

You gently tapped his back, "We're kind of in the middle of a congested pathway. Let's go somewhere private, yeah?"

Only your physicality had changed. On the inside, you were the same as ever, maybe he was stupid for being scared. 

Gerard nodded wordlessly and allowed himself to be dragged away by you— had you been to previous Warped Tour shows? You seemed to know the area quite well.

"One of my friends is an organizer for this event. He let me take a look at it before they opened officially, so I know all the good spots." You said, like you'd read his mind. 

You took him way far back, past all the merch vendors and tents to this little spot surrounded by a bunch of rocks. The air smelled strongly of the ocean, but that was just a trait of most of Cali. Gerard dropped right down onto his ass and you did the same but much more gracefully.

"Are you drunk?" You asked.

"As hell." Gerard answered.

You cracked a smile, "I enjoyed your show a lot. This album has so many good songs on it like, ooh, I love The Ghost of You and what was that one called... The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You? You guys really went ham on the long title thing, huh? Regardless, it all sounds good— so much 'cleaner', I guess. Still, I like your first album better, but maybe that's 'cause I got to listen to a track before it came out."

Gerard nodded to everything you were saying, not wanting to interrupt you, not for a second. Hearing your voice over the phone was one thing, reading your words every night was another, but physically being here, where he was able to see your face as you went on your spiels was pure magic. Always had been.

"Anyway, I wanted to go up way closer, but the flood of screaming, half-naked guys prevented me."

"I tried to look for you in the crowd." He admitted.

"I had a feeling you would, so I did my best to jump around as I waved my arms like crazy, but I guess I was too far back," You sighed. "Or maybe it was doomed to begin with since, well, this is a music festival so everyone would be doing that."

That was when Gerard realized how weird this all was. For a reunion after two whole years, he'd expected there to be so much more crying. But the two of you were just with one another, sitting in this shade, away from all the noise and chaos as you talked in a manner so casual one might assume this was just another afternoon.

It was like the topic of being apart was deliberately being avoided.

Gerard could live with that.

Since, maybe he was a little scared, after all. 

Maybe he didn't want to know about all the ways you'd moved on. Maybe he didn't want to know about all the new friends you'd made. Maybe he didn't want to know about how "mutual busyness" was probably not the only reason why the emails had become scarce and the letters nonexistent. Maybe he didn't want to know about your love life, if you had one; and considering how charming you were and how you only grew prettier with each season, you probably did.

"Hey, Gee," You said to him, that nickname almost echoing. "Listen, I have this... work party tonight— it's a corporate thing, lame, I know— but it's the last one of the year and I was wondering if you'd want to come as my plus-one?"

You put your hand atop his, "I think you'd love my coworkers. Especially one, this guy named Jonah. He's a real comic nut, likes all the ones you do."

Gerard tried to study the way you said the name, "Jonah". Did you smile? You did. What was the tone of your voice? Fondness. You knew he liked comics, that meant you talked to him enough to both know that little tidbit and knew his personality to determine that Gerard would get along with him.

"Or, you know, we could just do something with just the two of us—"

"—I'll come." Gerard stated.

Your eyes flickered to him, "You want to?"

No. "Yeah."

"Great! Then, um, I would pick you up but my car's in the shop right now, so..." You began shovelling through your bag to pull out both a little notepad and a pen. "... Here's the address and time. The dress code is business casual, but that's not reinforced. Ah, geez, I can't wait to show you around my workplace and, oh! You can see my office! I decorated it real personally from top to bottom, you see. I'm quite proud of it."

Every word was punctuated with a point of excitement, this sort of brimming exhilaration that was almost contagious. Almost. Gerard wanted to be as thrilled as you were, and by God was it a treat to see you this happy over something, but this nagging feeling wouldn't leave him alone.

The nagging feeling of change.

You'd changed. 

Gerard showed up to the intended address at the intended time. 

But he didn't go in— or more like he couldn't bring himself to go in. 

Instead, like he was some jilted ex or a run-of-the-mill stalker, Gerard lingered around the sidewalk on the other side of your workplace. He didn't do anything, he couldn't even see you but he stayed.

In all honesty, he had no idea why. There were about a million better things he could have done, or he could have just showed up like he'd promised you but he didn't. Gerard didn't move, not even when he both felt and heard the sound of texts being sent to his phone; they were from you, they had to be from you but he didn't check them. 

Gerard played out different scenarios in his head, like what you were wearing and how you were feeling. Gerard was the bad guy here, and his gut kept twisting as each minute passed, and as those minutes slowly turned to an hour, then two hours, and eventually three. Maybe he was crazy. The texts stopped after the third hour mark, after all, yet his feet were still firmly planted on the grimy pavement. 

Maybe the reason why he didn't check the messages was because he knew he was being horrible here. 

No, that was the reason. Gerard was upsetting you and he wanted to puke because of it.

Eventually, Gerard began to drift. His feet moved even though his mind was still lingering on this place, this tall building which looked taller than life itself. The lights were on to their brightest setting despite it being pitch black outside. Small figures were moving in the windows, several floors above. It all seemed so untouchable.

Had you become untouchable? Should he just save himself?

Who was he kidding. This was him saving himself.

The place where the tour bus was parked wasn't far from your workplace— only a thirty minute walk, actually. Though, those thirty minutes turned to about forty-five because Gerard kept bumping into the pole of every streetlight he saw. By the time he got to the base of the metal door, he had a forming bruise on his forehead.

Gerard put his hand on the door handle but didn't open it, he just lingered like how he'd been lingering the past three hours. 

He should check your messages.

Chewing his lip, Gerard pulled out his phone and the light emanating from it nearly blinded him. He wished it would just blind him, or maybe the bus itself could topple over and crush him flat. That's what he deserved, probably.

You'd sent him a total of seven messages.

"Hey, Gee! Running a little late, I see... fashionably late? Well, whatever it is, come quick, alright? We have pizza : )"

"The pizza's getting cold..."

"Pizza's gone - my coworkers are pretty gluttonous, lol - but we still have some snacks, if you're hungry. Hey, I'm good with you running late since this is casual but gimme a little head's up!"

"Gee, you alright? Did something come up?"

"Hey, call me or text me back, I'm starting to get a lil worried."

"The party's about over soon, but we're probably gonna linger around a bit more. It's not too late to come."

Gerard didn't want to open the last message. It looked long. Even the six he'd read so far tied his stomach in knots and he could physically see the way your enthusiasm died a little with each one.

His finger hovered for a moment before opening it.

"Listen, idk if you'll even get this and idk what happened tonight but whatever it was, you could have just told me beforehand. Did I impose this party on you? If so, I'm sorry if I did, I just wanted you to see what I was doing for these past few years and also meet the people who have made the time spent apart from you a little better. I'm not mad or anything, just a little bummed out. I still wanna hear back from you, though. You know you can always come to me with anything, right?"

Gerard let the door handle go and drifted away to a nearby curb instead. A damp warmth was on his cheeks— tears. Of course he was crying, of course he was.

What business did he have to cry? This situation was entirely avoidable, this night could have gone a lot differently. It could have gone the way it was supposed to, with Gerard showing up at the party, meeting everyone, going around as you gave him a thorough tour while you rambled about your passions. Gerard loved your passions, he loved reading them every night and listening to them everyday.

Or, the two of you could have just had a hangout, just as a pair like you'd suggested. You could have shown him your favorite spots, get something nice to eat, and maybe even have a tour of your apartment, which Gerard always wanted to see since he was sure that the photos and descriptions you provided over the years could not do it justice. He knew that.

Any best friend should have been able to do this no problem.

So, why did he struggle with it?

He shouldn't be this scared that you'd changed, he'd changed, too so this was all so hypocritical. 

Maybe, because he didn't feel like your best friend. 

Or more like, he didn't want to be. And that was selfish. Gerard thought he could be satisfied with just being your best friend, but he wasn't. God, he just wasn't. 

-

2004, October

"Hey, I remember you mentioning that your coworker's wedding was gonna be next week in NY, right? We're having a show on the 26th if you wanna meet up after that."

The whole thing was the result of pure fortuity. Your coworker's wedding coincided with the band's performance, both in New York City, both in around the same area. You wouldn't be able to attend the actual show with preparing for the ceremony already in your schedule, which bummed Gerard a bit since this one would have been just them and not a part of a grander festival and it would probably be much cleaner, too, but what could he do about it?

Though, his mind did keep wondering, fantasizing about you being there throughout the whole show.

He even tried to put your face onto one of the audience members. One girl, she had your exact hair and an outfit that you'd probably wear, so Gerard unintentionally fixated on her for nearly the entire show. But he couldn't look at her for too long without realizing it really wasn't you but a random person since, when it really came down to it, the two of you looked nothing alike. 

Then, they played their last song, interacted with the crowd for a bit, lingered to hang out with the fans that'd sought them out after before officially departing and suddenly, all Gerard could do was focus on what he would do, what he would say— it had been three months since that incident in July, after all. The issue was "resolved" with a series of emails since he decided that was a much more professional setting for an apology.

Though, it wasn't like that apology meant anything when it was a lie.

Gerard made up this whole story about how Mikey had gotten very ill very fast because of some kind of virus— he was being vague on purpose— and how this made him so busy he couldn't check his phone. 

You understood, you even sent your condolences. 

His apology resulted in an apology from you, too. 

This could be a chance to make that all right, Gerard owed it to you, and he needed to have some accountability for himself, too.

Now, all he had to do was determine how much of the truth he would reveal. The whole thing? Gerard didn't know if he could do that. If he could ever do that. This was twelve years of friendship on the line, and for what? A stupid crush? 

Perhaps, revealing the whole truth would be selfish on his part. 

Even if you said yes, what after that? Gerard had never been in a long-term relationship before, and he knew above anything else that was what you deserved. A few, extremely sporadic dates summed up your love life throughout university, and you'd been too busy to go on what you described as "silly little dates" throughout your professional career. 

But he knew you wanted much more than that, even if you didn't talk about it too much. 

Could he provide that to you? He loved you, and that part was endless, but loving someone doesn't mean you're good to them. And he hadn't been good to you.

With that in mind, Gerard pulled his jacket over himself and zipped it to his chin, stalling for a moment as he lay still in the lobby of the theater. The time was half past midnight, the wedding you were at was probably wrapping up now - you took time to mention that it would go on for a while since this coworker was "the life of the party" and no exceptions would be made this day just because she was getting married.

Eventually, though, Gerard just slapped his hands against his cheeks and headed out before his nerves could stop him again. 

October weather tend to be harsh, but not piercing. Gerard knew what to expect since New York was basically Jersey's cousin and he'd been here more times than he could count. You as well. That got him wondering what you wore to this event, anyway. Something formal, obviously. A dress, most likely. 

The length would probably be a little past your knees or maybe a little above— Gerard bet on the latter being more likely— just nothing beyond or before that since you didn't like clothes dragging on the floor and you were quite particular about what you wore to where depending on the context. As for color, that could really be anything, just not white for obvious reasons— maybe a nice burgundy or forest green since it was fall.

By the time he was done wondering this, he was already at the venue. 

People were filing out, all dressed to the nines in various colors, cuts, and styles. It looked to be mostly vintage stuff, Gerard wondered if that could have been the dress code for the whole event.

Gerard tried looking for you in the crowd, the second time this would happen for the night which was a little amusing. Maybe he wasn't trying as hard as he should be, though, because he was still pretty off to the side and just searching with his eyes. He could just shout your name or go join the crowd to search directly, but he couldn't.

There it was again. He couldn't, so he didn't. 

Oh, god. Gerard gasped, curling over as his hands clasped his mouth. 

The fact that he was bound to see you again, in just a minute or a few seconds suddenly became too real. He didn't even know what he was going to say, he didn't prepare a script in his head or anything since he was too damn busy thinking about frivolous things like what you could be wearing and the weather as if any of that mattered. 

That's why he couldn't bring himself to seek you out properly. Gerard turned on his heel and began to flee the other way with his eyes glued to the ground and body swinging from side to side. Most of the wedding guests had begun to move past him, blending with the civilians.

Gerard wanted more than anything to just fall into this crowd and never return, or perhaps fall into a black hole which would only suck him in. Whatever it was, he wanted to disappear.

Someone bumped into him, "Sorry." He whispered, but speaking made him gag.

Another got caught against his shoulder like a shirt hooking onto a doorknob. They cursed him out, Gerard just took it because he was swaying way too much and felt way too nauseous to care.

Swallowing his saliva down, Gerard looked up for the first time and saw you. 

You were standing there, all intentionally, holding your purse in front of you with both hands. Gerard got the answer to his query at that moment - you were wearing a yellow dress, just past your knees as he'd predicted. Seeing you in one again was odd because the last time you wore anything of the sort was nine years ago, on your mother's lawn, during prom night.

But the dresses were not the same. The one you were wearing now was a pretty pastel, its design classically vintage with off-white lace on the collar, sleeves, and hem; whereas, on that night, it was all sparkle and shimmer with a handful of juvenile materials like tulle, silk, satin, and bits of chiffon. 

And on that night, giddy excitement was a constant hum in the near-summer air, Gerard felt like he was at the top of the world and you were smiling at him like he was the greatest thing you'd laid your eyes on. But in front of him, even though the sky was dark and the stars were illuminating like then, your expression was flat and your hands were clenching the straps of your purse tightly.

"Were you going to leave again?" You asked.

Somehow, despite the stream of people constantly passing by, it felt like it was only the two of you on this street tonight.

You took a step forward, "Answer me." 

And under your gaze, the one he would do anything for and the one he dreamed about so often, he crumbled and just grabbed onto your arms like he was about to collapse.

"I'm sorry." All Gerard could do was stammer.

You allowed him to cling onto you, even as he began to shake, and even when his breathing got labored. It was only after he started crying that you dragged him to the side, into an alleyway where the walls were littered with ads to locally owned cafes, promotions for the latest play, missing posters of everything from a young child with missing teeth to a fully grown adult who look like they'd been through hell. It smelled of everything unpleasant, everything one would expect from an alleyway in the dead center of New York - old piss, lingering sweat, and even blood. One could even taste all these things in their mouth if they stayed put long enough.

Gerard was holding onto you the whole way through as he sniffled, his eyes and nose quickly stinging when a breeze swung by. 

"I want the truth, Gerard," When you said his name, his real name, the indifferent attitude you were trying so hard to maintain cracked a bit as your next sentence came out as more of a plea than a demand. "You've been acting so weird since July. I don't know what's wrong, I don't know if you're mad or upset or anything because you won't talk to me. So, could you give me the truth?"

You put your hands over his, gentle as you always were, and slowly removed them from your arms before pushing him back slightly to force him to look at you head on.

Gerard was thankful that his tears blocked your face, or at least made it blurry enough that he couldn't make out your features.

"Gerard?"

"Yes?"

"Can you—" A pause. It sounded like you swallowed something, perhaps you were biting back the waterworks. "—Please give me an answer?" You sounded so unbelievably strained, like merely speaking was causing you so much pain.

Gerard was sure he could give you the world, but the one thing you wanted, which was the truth and his truth, was the exception. The one and only exception.

Because he wasn't ready, because he didn't want to ruin things, and because he didn't want to be selfish but keeping this from you was inherently selfish as well. 

So, Gerard wiped his tears so he could get a proper look at you for the first time this night. You were staring at him the whole time, and he'd taken so long to answer that you were silently tearing up. 

You were glistening, but in a way that was everything but "good". 

There was only one thing he wanted to say to you, and if he did, then this moment would have been every cliché in the world. And maybe he would have if he were a stronger man or if this story were fiction. But neither of those things were true so he captured all that he could— your lovely eyes in particular since conjuring them up in his mind was always especially hard. 

Maybe he should have done this before, Gerard realized he'd taken that day in July for granted since that would be the last time you would look at him with regard. 

Your eyes as of now were lost of color, only glistening because of the tears and the cheap streetlamp. Everything else was dull, perhaps you'd realized what he'd do.

And what Gerard would do, was to leave. It was a calm departure, one which left you there in the alleyway, still as a statue as he fled. You didn't chase, and he left with silence in his wake.

1992

"Sweet, you're in the comic club, too?"

Gerard flinched as he turned, he had a habit of doing that. He didn't know why.

"Yeah, I am. Nice to meet you... again."

You laughed, "Right, again. Gerard, right?" You extended your hand with a smile, Gerard tried to smile, too as he shook it.

"Yes, that is me." He mumbled, then his face reddened from how stupid he sounded. 

Clearing his throat, Gerard greeted you back. He wasn't too good with names, but yours stuck with him— probably because you were the only one who even looked at him the whole first day of school. Either way, he was happy. He was happy and shaking your hand and trying his best not to appear even more stupid than he probably already appeared.

"I wanted to talk more but the bell rang way too quickly. It's always the moments you don't want to end that end the quickest, no?"

"Mhm. Yeah." Gerard said, starting to get sweaty. There was no reason to be sweaty. This was just a conversation.

"Anyway," You look past his shoulder to the rest of the classroom. "Are there gonna be any others? This turnout is a little... bleak."

Gerard looked, too. Besides the two of you, there were only three others - a girl and two guys. The girl was holed away in her own corner, holding a comic. The two guys were sitting next to each other, talking away.

"Five isn't too bad."

"For a club? It's a little sad."

"I think the less the merrier."

You snorted, "Isn't it 'the more the merrier'." 

"It is, but you know..." He trailed off. I thought I was being clever. He wanted to say, but held off.

He'd held off long enough, in fact, that you changed the conversation, "Anyway, to continue from our conversation cut short... what did you think of it? The Death of Superman, I mean. It was cool, right? A subversion of expectations to such a classic character, sort of?"

That piqued Gerard's interest, whose eyes lit right up, "I know, right? I don't understand why people call it a 'publicity stunt' or whatever, because it wasn't! Sure, Superman's popularity was declining for a while, but I think to just narrow it down to a stunt is downright... crude. I mean, it explored themes most comics are too scared to do."

"Sactifice, legacy, what that means..." You began.

"... The permanence of a superhero death, its aftermath..." Gerard continued.

You ended, "Grief."

Gerard looked to you. "Grief." He agreed.

"An interesting concept."

"Very much so," Gerard nodded. "If I am going to make something of my own one day, I want it to explore grief. A little depressing, I know."

"I don't think it is necessarily. Grief doesn't have to be sad. It can be... hopeful. Creative? I don't know. I'm not much of a writer."

"No? Because that was quite poetic."

"You think?"

Gerard nodded again.

"Well, I'm no Shakespeare."

"You don't have to be. I think passion is a beautiful thing because anyone can have it and anyone can pursue it. Furthermore, you don't need to be perfect to succeed at it— actually, there is no 'succeeding' in passion. You just pursue it. Throw a dart blind and see where it lands."

You looked down at your shoes, then hummed, "What pretty words." 

That stuck with Gerard. "Pretty words", you said. What was prettier was how you were.

Something unconfined by physicality. 

Gerard looked forward to third period every single day. That math class ended up being his favorite class, and it would highlight his day— no, his entire week. Not because of the math itself; no, he was actually quite terrible at it. Awful, really. It wasn't that, it was you.

Instead of jotting down notes or doing the worksheets, you and him would just talk.

Mostly about comics at first since it was the biggest shared interest. Then, you eventually ran out of comics to gush over and look forward to, so topics transitioned into other territories. Music, games, general hobbies... Gerard found that the two of you had nearly everything in common.

Your shared taste in music brought you to hang outs outside of school and the comic book club. At local venues, the shows where the tickets were a dollar or less and everyone performing was a rookie. Not many bands came to New Jersey, and Lord knows how the two of you would even get anywhere with being broke high school students, so this was as close as you guys could get.

But Gerard didn't mind and you didn't mind, either.

Plus, there were always the record stores.

Sifting through endless CDs and cassettes was cathartic, in a sense. Especially because they were so unorganized that finding something good was always an event to be celebrated.

Like at that moment, when you pulled out the latest Misfits release with this triumphant look on your face. One might think you'd won the lottery! Or ran for the gold medal at the Olympics, you were so proud of yourself.

You ran to him excitedly, giddy like a kid, "I can't believe it! I didn't even know these could reach our little town."

Admittedly, he was probably more excited than you. Gerard was shaking so much that he nearly dropped the damn thing as you handed it to him.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, wow..." Gerard couldn't even believe that he was holding such a sacred thing. This had been his dream CD for since it released. And now, he had it.

Well, not really.

Because in his haze, he'd forgotten that it was technically you that found it and quickly returned it to your hands, cringing at how much he'd overstepped.

You didn't seem to mind, however. In fact, you looked a little confused.

"Hey, aren't we gonna buy it together?"

Gerard looked up, "Huh?"

"Aren't we gonna buy this together?" You wiggled your finger towards the thing. "I mean, I like the Misfits, you like the Misfits... we don't have much money... it's a good investment."

A good investment, Gerard repeated. He couldn't agree more. "Then, who gets to keep it?"

"Exchange it every week?"

"Deal!"

You smiled, extended your hand for the money, then ran off to the counter with a skip in your step. 

Gerard waited outside because it became around that time when the older kids would invade the shop and he tend to get a little overwhelmed by them. However, he kept peaking glances inside to see if you were okay and if the transaction was going smoothly.

Finally, you came out with a paper bag in one hand and a huge grin on your face, "We have the goods."

"You can have it first." Gerard said before anything.

"What? No, it's fine. You can get it first."

It was a suggestion, but you shoved it into his hands so fast he didn't have time to react. Gerard tried to refuse, but you just weren't hearing it - in fact, you'd even began to run ahead when he tried to give it back to you.

"Catch me and I'll have it first!" You shouted, giggling as you did.

Now that was cruel. You knew that you were way faster than him.

Gerard gave up. 

-

1993

Freshman year came and went. After summer, it was the debut of Gerard's sophomore year. And yours, too, of course.

He was quite thrilled, actually, since he hadn't seen you for most of the break because you and your family had gone on a long trip overseas. Since the trip was so long, you were able to send a few postcards - three, specifically, and Gerard cherished them.

The first one was short and sweet, all you'd written was, "Didn't crash!!!!! BUT it is like ten times hotter here than there. Pray for me". It made him laugh.

The second one was all talk, "My feet are literally dying... we walk like everywhere. Cities, mountains, towns... EVERYWHERE, Gerard, everywhere. But the food is good so there's that. Oh, and there are quite a lot of malls here, too. I'm not too into clothes but maybe I will be after this. Maybe I'll come back and be a different person, haha. Kidding. Even if I did, I wouldn't switch up on you so no worries. How are things there? Wait, you can't tell me... uh, keep whatever you were gonna write if you could in mind and make sure to let me know!!" It made him feel reassured that not only were you having a good time, but you cared about him, too.

The third one was a bit heartfelt, "My last day here is soon. Dunno when this will arrive, to be honest. I don't even know if the others arrived (hopefully they did otherwise I just wasted 1.50 precious dollars... and that's not even counting the delivery fee!!! It's ridiculous). Anyway, not to sound totally cheesy, but I've seriously missed you dude :( my family doesn't care about comics or anything I like in the way you do. Wish you were here. Maybe we can take a trip together one day...?.? Maybe perhaps. Anyway, bye! See you soonnn!!!" It made him happier than it should have.

Gerard kept all three of the postcards tucked safely in a box underneath his bed where he kept his other valuables.

Now, it was the first day of school again and his mom dropped him off first. Saying goodbye to Mikey, Gerard fastened the straps of his backpack before heading in.

It was crowded. Way more than last year. Gerard fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out where his locker would be, as well as its code. The whole time as he trudged over to it, he was on a keen lookout for you. 

He didn't have much luck, however, and he just arrived without having found you.

I'll see her at lunch. Or in class, hopefully. Gerard thought as he put his books and binder away.

Then, he felt two hands grab his shoulders and he nearly screamed.

Gerard turned, and was face-to-face with you. 

"Surprise."

You were smiling. Gerard was stunned.

You looked so... different.

In just a month or so, you'd completely changed up your style.

From relatively baggy to considerably fashionable. Gerard didn't know where to look - your hair was different and styled to fit your face even more than it already did, your lips were glossy, your eyelashes more pronounced. You were so beautiful.

He felt bad for thinking that way.

Well, he'd always thought that way but it was a lot easier to pretend like he didn't when you didn't look like someone right out of a fashion magazine.

It made him look incredibly dorky in his too big jeans and oversized tan flannel.

"Hey, do I look weird or something?"

You were always confident, even if it was a sort of "quiet confidence". You knew there were people who thought the things you liked were dumb or silly, yet you didn't care. That was the trait Gerard admired most about you. In the year now that he'd known you for, you'd never faltered. At least not so outwardly.

But in this moment, your smile faded slightly, and you shrank back, "C'mon, give me an answer or something."

Gerard snapped out of his haze, "You look so pretty." He blurted, not wanting to make you feel worse.

Crap.

Gerard fully expected you to be weirded out by this and inside, a silent panic was brewing.

Does she think I'm creepy? Did my compliment come off as odd? I hope she didn't misinterpret it. I didn't mean it with any foulness—

Instead of chastising him or casting a disgusted look, however, you looked quite relieved and even laughed the sweetest laugh, "God, you scared me. I don't care what others think of me but I still wanted to be in good standing with you, Gee."

Gerard raised his eyebrow, "Gee?"

"Oh," You said, getting a little coy. "Gerard's a nice name but it's hard to say sometimes. I thought Gee would be a fitting nickname for you."

"I love it." Gerard replied immediately.

He loved it because you gave it to him.

From now on, I'll go by "Gee". He decided as the two of you went back to normality. 

You'd gotten a lot more popular.

With girls, with guys— especially with guys.

Gerard didn't like the way it made him feel. This saddening sensation, as well as the sinking pit of pathetic-ness. 

The worst feeling of all, jealousy.

Gerard didn't like it when guys would suddenly want to group up with you during class projects. Gerard didn't like the ones that'd offer to buy you things, going from simple snacks from the vending machine to full on drinks or even meals. Gerard didn't like how the guy who worked at the pretzel stand in the mall looked at you, especially when everyone in the town knew he was a college dropout who preyed on high school girls. Oh, Gerard especially hated how the guys who once teased you were suddenly being friendly, acting as though they were your bestest friends.

Deep down, though, this jealousy wasn't even fuelled by anger. It was fuelled by fear.

Because who was he, even?

Some dork who liked comics? A thousand other, better guys liked comics! Gerard wasn't the smartest, nor could he buy you things, he definitely didn't have the confidence to flirt with you, and he wasn't all that good looking. 

Yet you stayed.

No convincing needed, no drama, no effort on his end other than reciprocating your passion.

The comic book club decided to go on their monthly excursion. AKA hitting the local comic store then heading to the local diner to discuss what everyone got.

It was one of Gerard's favorite times of the month.

"What're you gonna order, Gee?" You asked, leaning over to scan the menu Gerard was holding as though that would help you get your answer.

"Not sure. I always just get the number three special, but I dunno. I kinda wanna try something new."

"No way, I was thinking that, too."

Gerard smiled, "We're always in-synch."

"I guess we are," You smiled back, then snatched the menu right out of his hands. "Let's order for each other, yeah? If it tastes like ass, then... get over it."

Gerard snorted, "Deal." As he took the menu right back.

Now, he could have intentionally ordered you something crazy, something he knew you wouldn't exactly like just for shits and giggles. He would have done so if he was doing this with Mikey or even any of his other friends. But he didn't, he ordered you a nice and hearty burger with some onion rings on the side.

Maybe you would get him something crazy, and weirdly enough, Gerard wouldn't even be mad about it if you did.

But you didn't.

When his order arrived, it was a nice and harmless vegetable omelette. 

"Breakfast for dinner." You giggled to him when it arrived.

She knows I don't like eating meat too much. Gerard thought when the waitress said it was specifically vegetarian.

His mind wandered. Gerard thought back to something he read— a poem in a collection or a random novel from thirty years ago or something— it was a quote. It was, "to be loved is to be seen". Gerard never made a fuss about what he preferred, and honestly, he probably ate meat out of obligation at the school cafeteria many times in front of you. Matter of fact, he was sure he'd only mentioned it once or twice over the year he'd known you for.

Yet, you remembered.

And that meant the world to him.

"Oh, sweet! I was actually craving some red meat."

Gerard snapped out of it, "You were?"

"Like you said, we are so in-synch."

You had taken a bite in the middle of saying that sentence, Gerard watched as your face melted with that look people get when they eat some real good food. 

"Wait, did you guys wash your hands?"

A girl in the club suddenly asked, Gerard looked to you and you looked to him. 

"Shit." Both of you said.

You immediately place the burger down and wipe your mouth with a napkin, "Let's get on that, yeah?" 

"Yeah." Gerard agreed quickly, blushing slightly at the chortles across the table.

The girl who'd asked in the first place joined the two of you - well, just you, of course. Gerard went into the men's room and you went into the women's with the girl. 

Gerard first decided to take a leak, and it was as he was zipping his pants up after doing so when he heard something.

"So, you and Gerard?"

Ah, right.

A trait of this diner. The bathroom walls were incredibly thin.

It wasn't a well-known fact. Gerard only knew this because he'd frequented this place for years and when he was twelve, he heard sex noises coming from the other side and it more-or-less traumatized him for a bit. But you had no way of knowing this since, as far as he knew, you only came here during the outings since you lived on the other side of town.

"What about Gerard and I?"

Gerard gulped, Oh, god. Oh, no.

"Don't act dumb... you know what I mean."

Did you? He sure did. Gerard got beet red and ran to the sink to wash his hands, I'll wash 'em and leave. He thought quickly because he had morals. He definitely had a strong moral compass. He knew right and wrong and what was right was to leave because this was seriously none of his business—

"If you mean what I think you mean, then, no. We're not together and we won't be."

The tap water turned cold. Another trait of this diner, the pipes were kind of messed up so the water could be lukewarm one minute then turn freezing or scaling the next.

"Ooh, harsh. Why so adamant? Is it his looks?"

Gerard wished he would have just left. He didn't want to hear the response to that question because he already knew.

"Hey, don't you dare say that. He's attractive. He's cute, even. I like him a lot, just not like that. I don't think I'll date in high school, it's just not the right stage of life to be thinking about something like that."

The water turned lukewarm again.

"Okay, geez, sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. He just isn't the most conventional."

"I'll leave if you keep talking about his looks."

"Fine, fine. Anyway, why do you not want to date? I bet you'd find a boyfriend no problem."

"It's just not appealing to me. Especially not at this stage of life. It's not that I don't want to date, of course I've thought about it, but we'll be juniors soon and I plan on taking AP classes. I want to get into a really good university and having a boyfriend will just hinder me, unfortunately."

You were always so forward thinking. 

Gerard turned off the tap and walked out of the bathroom, grabbing a few tissues along the way to dry his hands. 

-

1994

Gerard got a girlfriend towards the end of junior year.

She was a real cool girl who was totally out of his league and into all of these obscure bands Gerard had never even heard of before. Oh, she was extremely pretty, too, the kind of pretty that made people turn their heads and made guys seethe with jealousy when they saw them holding hands or even kissing.

Oh, right. Gerard had his first kiss with her. It was picturesque, in late May where the weather was warm but not scaling and humid as Jersey summers tended to be. The two of them sat on a picnic blanket in a nice and grassy field then kissed.

A scene right out of the movies, Gerard thought whenever he remembered that moment. I'm a lucky guy.

Everyone thought that he was the lucky one in the relationship. 

His guy friends gaped when they first heard the news, congratulating him but also jokingly asking, "what's that pretty a girl doing with a guy like you?" It was a little hurtful, but Gerard chose not to let it get to him.

Since Mikey was in high school now, he was quite shocked, too. Not as mean as his friends since the boy had always been quite soft, but Gerard could tell that even he seemed to be a little surprised by this development.

The same sentiment was held by everyone else. At school, on the streets, at the mall, at restaurants - Gerard was always the lucky one.

Well, everyone but you.

Whereas people usually gawked or asked borderline insensitive questions, you simply smiled big, hugged him tight, and said, "I'm happy to hear that, Gee. She's lucky to have you. You deserve to be loved."

"You deserve to be loved."

"She's lucky to have you."

That niceness was why Gerard liked you so much. Your genuine way of communicating; you weren't being overly kind just because the two of you were close, you simply spoke your mind as you always did, and in your mind, as ridiculous as it sounded, he was the prize.

It made him happier than it should. 

And he thought about that a lot.

Especially now that, true to what you'd said in the bathroom of the diner, you were focusing much more on your studies. The moments of just popping in a CD and lounging around at either of your houses while reading comics for hours or simply just talking became sparse. Whereas before, this would happen pretty much everyday after school and on weekends as almost a ritual; now, you were mostly at libraries or cafes, just grinding away at whatever worksheet or textbook or assignment your dreaded AP class had assigned that week.

It was admirable. Gerard always found you so admirable.

He wished he could have as strong of a grasp on his future as you did since all he knew was that he wanted to draw.

And while your junior days were being spent buried inside a book, his were mostly at local shows and concerts with his girlfriend.

Which wasn't bad. Gerard quite enjoyed them, actually.

I wonder if she'd want to go to one of these. Is it her scene, even? Gerard found himself pondering in between sets, where there was a rare moment of quiet— which wasn't even really quiet since the crowds were loud and rowdy as hell whether there was a band onstage or not— in between the screaming of the vocalists and the rumbling of the instruments. Maybe after her test this week? Ah, when was it again... right, Tuesday. Oh, but she has after school stuff on Wednesday and a quiz on Thursday. Friday it is. I'll ask her then.

"Hey, Gee, what do you wanna do for my birthday this week?"

Gerard blinked, "Gee?"

A rush of déjà vu hit him. He'd had this conversation before. He'd had it with you.

"Yeah, Gee. It's short for your name. That a problem?" His girlfriend smirked.

"No, it's not." Gerard replied, but he found his smile to be a little strained.

She patted him on the pack, "So, my birthday? Where you gonna take me, big guy?"

Right. Her birthday is on Friday.

Gerard crossed off the mental note he'd made on inviting you to the concert.

"Sorry, Gee, but I'm gonna be gone for a while and I want to have fun, y'know? I don't want to be tied down while I'm on vacation, so it's over. Don't fret about it too hard, m'kay?"

To say Gerard was "heartbroken" as an understatement. 

He was shattered, torn, dismembered— dismantled.

He'd been taken, shredded to a million pieces then thrown out like he meant absolutely nothing. "I want to have fun". That was the reason he'd been broken up with. Not because she needed time, not for anything he did, not for any meaningful reason that Gerard could even begin to understand. 

The simple fact was that his love wasn't enough and thus, he was cut off.

Gerard drowned in his sorrows, laying at rest in his bed as though it were a coffin. Tear stains ran big and streaky down his cheeks like angry scars, and Gerard felt more corpse than human as his body slowly withered away in this hole he called a room.

No one visited him much except his parents and Mikey. A few friends dropped by here and there, but their visits never lasted long. Gerard didn't even know how they knew as he hadn't told anyone.

Most days, nights, afternoons, and everything in between were spent in shallow, solitary misery.

Until on a random Thursday, when he heard a knock at his door.

"Gerard? Can I come in?"

Damn.

It was like hearing a song he used to love on the radio after it'd been taken off for a while. Like seeing an old book from his childhood on the shelf of a random store. 

Gerard uttered a "yes" before thinking.

Then, he realized just how disgusting his room was. Bottles and cans everywhere, tissues strewn about with his dirty clothes, wrappers from unhealthy snacks of all kind - it was a pigsty. Truly. 

However, before he could shout at you to not come in, Gerard looked up from his position in the bed and saw that you were already at his doorway.

Gerard freaked, immediately going to his feet and scampering around his room like a panicked raccoon sifting through trash, gathering what he could to throw away while he was still tipsy and half-blind from all the tears. 

But you stopped him. You stepped over the mess and didn't even look at it, your pretty eyes were fixated on him the whole time as you gently brought him into a hug, much like the one you gave him at the beginning of the relationship.

"I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

Gerard gulped, not yet able to reciprocate the embrace, "How did you know?"

"Mikey told me."

"Ah."

Gerard finally, slowly raised his arms and carefully wrapped them around you. This wasn't his first hug with you, not even close, but it had been the first one in a while since he was in a relationship and that made it feel like it was his first time even touching you at all.

He'd forgotten how nice it was. You were always gentle with him, despite him not being small in the slightest. Your arms were firm yet never squeezing unless you were really excited. Not only that, but you always knew when he needed something as simple as a hug. Plus, he liked your smell. 

Which, reminded him that he probably reeked, so he pushed you back.

You kept your arm placed on his shoulder, "Wanna go out?"

"But don't you have—"

"—Class?" You smirked. "Gee, school ended like, two days ago. My exams and things are done, so I'm home free! Let's do something fun, yeah? Wanna head down to the diner for old times sake?"

That filled Gerard's heart with warmth, "old times sake". Yeah, that's what he needed. Old times.

"Let me shower first." He said, and you nodded.

Gerard slunk away to the bathroom, but not without catching a glimpse of you. You were roaming around his room, hands behind your back and looking at all the little new editions he'd added over the period of the two of you being apart. Gerard snorted, you looked as though you were at a museum rather than his nasty room.

You noticed him staring, but you weren't bothered by it, "Hurry up! I want to order things for each other again. This time, let's make it a little experimental, yeah?"

God, was your smile infectious.

Even in his stink, his misery, and the clothes he'd worn when his girlfriend broke his heart, Gerard smiled because you did.

"Yeah, I'll be quick."

-

1995

Senior year.

Gerard thought his final year of high school would be more cathartic. More... different? He thought he'd have achieved a lot more and been a totally different person by now. But no, he was still just himself. Same old, same old.

Much like you.

Sure you'd grown a lot, finally established a sense of style, figured out what you wanted to do, and strived earnestly to achieve that (and you did in the end by getting into your dream school). But you were still... you, as cheesy as that sounded.

Still loved comics, loved the same music, and loved him.

Well, not like that. But love nonetheless and that was all Gerard needed.

It was summertime, and the humidity was an indicator for that. June. Only a few more days and this huge chapter of Gerard's life would finally come to a close.

Everything's all ready, Gerard thought as he shoved his binder in his bag, briefly glancing over to the girl to his left who had a calendar hung up on the inside of her locker. Only ten more days.

With a sigh, he loaded up everything and began walking towards the entrance. Since the beginning of the year as he was now single, he'd reinstated walking home with you and even made the extra journey of going to your door since you lived about fifteen minutes away.

Right before he could go out, however, into the scalding heat that was New Jersey summer, he saw a big glittery poster hung up right in front of him. It was impossible to miss and read,

PROM NIGHT - JUNE 16TH

TICKETS AVAILABLE NOW FOR $7 OUTSIDE THE CAFETERIA AT LUNCH AND AFTER SCHOOL EVERYDAY THIS WEEK!

TAKE YOUR BEST GIRL OR GUY AND HAVE A MAGICAL NIGHT TO REMEMBER FOR YOUR LAST YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL!! ☆☆

Gerard stared at it for a while. For a long while. For until a crowd of people passed him and he was one of the only people still left at school.

Prom. He hadn't even thought of that. Gerard remembered briefly discussing it a few times over his high school career, especially with his now ex girlfriend. It was funny. She seemed so passionate about it, even going on about what color her dress would be and saying Gerard must match his tie with it. There was also extensive talk about corsages and boutonnieres and what flowers they had to be and also what color they were and blah, blah, blah... it all seemed so pointless now.

Yet, he couldn't help but fixate on that last line - "have a magical night to remember for your last year of high school". 

The poster said to take your best girl or guy. Nowhere is there a guidebook for prom saying you had to take a girlfriend or boyfriend, and it wasn't like there were enough couples at the school for the event to be filled with only them.

Friends could go together.

Yeah. The majority of attendees have to be just friends. Nothing wrong with that, with asking your friend to prom. Gerard would even invite the people from comic club.

"Gee, what are you doing?"

Gerard swore his skeleton jumped right out of his skin. One minute, he was alone, staring blankly at the stupid poster and the next, you were just there right beside him and also looking at the poster.

"Oh, you interested in prom?"

"No. Well, I mean, yes, but sort of—"

"Wanna go with me?"

You had said it with the utmost casual attitude, even elbowing him slightly as you grinned, "What do you say? Let's have a 'magical night to remember'."

"I'd love that." Gerard said, and he meant it.

A big fuss was made about the event.

The moment he told his mother, she was just over the moon elated. And when he told her that he was taking you, she looked so overjoyed Gerard feared she might pass out.

"I always knew you'd end up with her at the end of the day." She'd said, much to Gerard's utter dismay.

He felt his cheeks redden as he emphasized that the two of you were just going as friends, but Mrs. Way had already made up her mind.

Mikey was happy for him, too. And his father as well, of course. The three of them even went suit shopping since Gerard didn't own any and his dad's were still a little too big. The whole day was fun, but Gerard could tell that his dad was getting a little emotional, repeating some sentiment about how "his boy is all grown up".

"Good thing mom isn't here or else they would have bawled." Mikey whispered to him real soft and quiet on the ride back.

Gerard chuckled at that because it was true. He couldn't stop looking down at his suit and the tie he'd bought with it. The two of you had decided to match colors— in a totally platonic and very much not romantic way— and the one you both landed on was yellow of all things!

Yellow. Quite possibly the happiest color in existence. Gerard almost felt shy wearing such a color since his wardrobe consisted of black, greys, browns, and denim.

But you insisted and after imagining you in a lovely little yellow dress, Gerard agreed.

The flower was his choice, though, and after sifting through a couple of books at the local library as well as consulting a few florists, Gerard decided on sunflowers.

They were perfect. A nice yellow like your dress and his tie and most importantly, they symbolized friendship.

Well, not exactly. They technically represented longevity, adoration, and loyalty, but those were all traits pivotal to a good friendship so Gerard just went based on that.

And even though he'd gone out of his way to choose such a flower, Gerard couldn't help but let his heart wonder when he went to pick up your corsage. It fluttered with fantasies which riddled him with guilt.

Fantasies like... maybe this wasn't a friend-date, but a date-date. In the inner recesses of his mind, Gerard imagined he'd do a more classic "promposal". One with a bouquet of your favorite flower, at a location that wasn't the entrance of the school. If he had to choose, it would be somewhere entirely personal. At your house, maybe, where he'd show up with his gifts and ask if you'd do him the honor as going to the prom as his date. 

And if, if you said yes, then he'd practice slow dancing, maybe even pick up lessons so as to not step on your feet. On the night of, he'd beg his parents to let him use their car to go and pick you up.

Then, the two of you would just dance the night away, tangled in each other's presence and end the night with...

Gerard gulped.

A kiss.

The grip on his suit became tighter, I'm horrible. He thought. 

Because the two of you were just going as friends and this wasn't a real date at all, it was a mutual decision to carpool with some kids from the comic club and all cash in to rent a small limo for the night. Much like a bus, it would stop by all of the houses one-by-one as though they were stations.

Gerard was the third house, and yours would be one of the last.

Everyone was having a blast. Talking each other's ears off, laughing, some were even a little tipsy from having snuck in some alcohol before the event. Gerard thought about doing the same, but decided against it.

I want this to be a night I can remember.

Finally, it was your turn. Gerard stepped out of the car. He didn't need to, and nobody else did it, but it felt personally right to do so.

He waited a bit, just two measly minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Gerard didn't want to rush you (not that he could) but he wished you would hurry because his palms were getting embarrassingly sweaty. 

At a certain point, he cursed and reached into his pocket to pull out a little handkerchief. The moment he did, your door opened.

Out you came, a flurry of fairylike yellow. You'd been adamant on not showing Gerard your dress, and he was so grateful you did. The sight before him was that of wonder, his eyes didn't know where to look - should it be at all the delicate layers of bouncy tulle or the flowyness of the silk layer underneath it? Maybe your hair, done up in a fancy hairstyle with about a million of these sparkly white pins. You were radiant. So, so radiant.

Gerard felt underdressed and undeserving.

You were so special.

And you came to him, so pretty, "Ready?" Was all you said, and it could have killed him.

Gerard took your hand, slipping the corsage onto your wrist and relishing in how you lit up, exclaiming that it was so beautiful and how well he did in selecting such a design.

Then, you placed your hands on his chest, undid the safety pin of the boutonniere, and poked it right through the collar of his suit.

"You have great taste." Gerard breathed.

"You have better taste." You retorted.

Gerard smiled, tearing his eyes away from you to open the door of the car, but you stopped him.

"Thank you for agreeing to go with me." 

The statement was ridiculous. Why would you be thanking him? After all this time, you still thought of him so highly. Gerard was no prize, and you weren't the lucky one here. It was all the opposite.

Before he could respond, you gave him the quickest of pecks on the cheek. 

It was a second long at best, and maybe this was utter placebo and delusion, but the warmth blossomed like you'd been there for several minutes. Gerard brushed his fingers against where your lips had been.

"Oh, my mom's outside. Pose for a picture, Gee."

You brought him close, so close your bodies were brushed up against each other.