Identity [Gerard Way] *Completed*

Chapter Thirty Five

Far back, where the wind whips at trees, there are two others who have fallen behind a little.

Gerard and I walk in an open park, completely abandoned. Yes, we're walking. Actually walking. We don't feel the need to run. Right now, we don't feel like we're being chased. Followed. The paranoia isn't there. Feels like a breath of fresh air in my lungs.

It feels like we beat the biggest obstacle ever. Like there's never going to be anything worse than what happened in that prison. Or what happened before it. Even though that may not be true, I still choose to believe in it. Because hope is the only thing I've got.

Yeah, yeah... that was pretty cliché.

We both know that we should be picking up the pace and heading out of the city. But it feels so good to not be the only ones out there. Running.

For the time being, the police can go chase after the others.

Fog encircles us. Gives the world a mystery to it, makes me feel like I'm dreaming. Dreams are never as vivid as real life, though. And dreams are never as cruel.

But I could still be dreaming. I could. Because Gerard is walking beside me. I hear his shoes scuffing on the ground. I hear his voice, talking to me. I see his eyes, looking at me. He looks tired and weak, but he's still alive. That's all that matters.

He's constantly looking around, eyes brighter than I've seen them. He looks at me a lot, too. Maybe it's a reassurance that he's not dreaming. Well, that's how it is for me, anyway. Like I said before; I feel like I'm dreaming.

And still, still so far away from comfort. From home. Wherever that is. Maybe it's Gerard's old, white house that we left behind. I don't know. As much as I want to call that place my home, I feel like I can't. Most of the time I was living there, I was miserable. Always intent on escape. Always fearing the next day.

I don't think Gerard could even refer to it as his home.

The only place that I've ever really felt safe is my old house. Where I lived when I was younger. Before the streets and the houses and the people cleared. Before the rules were changed, and I was left alone.

I can't say anymore about it. I don't want to. It's difficult to think about- difficult to remember. Mainly because there are many parts of me that try to forget it. Try to push away the past. To replace that life with this different one that I'm living now.

I guess we can only go back to where we started.

It won't be all that bad, though. It can't be. It can't be anything worse than before. Maybe I'll feel more comfortable there, more safe. Maybe I'll start to feel like I'm at home.

Things have changed these past... weeks? Or has it been a month? I know a year hasn't gone by. I can always tell - I can feel when a year has passed. So it hasn't been a year. No, not yet. Maybe we're in the middle. I don't know.