November 1st (Frerard)

9: Tuesday, October 9th

Mrs Way didn't come home until two that morning.

Mr Way didn't come home at all.

Gerard didn't sleep for a second.

Kat had retreated to their bedroom, smoking away in the corner with no one to stop them this time.

Gerard had left at half eleven, his exit covered by the sound of some random angsty punk album coming from Kat's room, perhaps it was only in that moment did Gerard really embrace all the noise. He grabbed a jacket, his cellphone, his camera, and his keys, shoving his feet into his sneakers before he made his way out the front door.

It was dark, but not really dark, the sky more of a navy colour as opposed to a true blackness - the sky wasn't devoid of light just yet, but the darkness was coming, inevitably coming, forever on the horizon, and a part of Gerard simply wished for it to come sooner, whereas the other part cherished the small amount of light that allowed him to see in front of him as he made his way down to the waterfront, glancing back at the house as his feet made contact with sand and pebbles.

He wondered what'd become of the household and the family that technically resided in it, he wondered how Kat felt right now, because Gerard felt like he was about to be swallowed whole, and he most certainly didn't embrace this, because it was an odd kind of loneliness that made the least sense, because Gerard stood in the darkness, in the moonlight, his camera in his hands, struggling to figure out just why he found himself so much missing the people he cared so little for.

This was a new perspective, this was him yearning for sense and order, how things 'should' be, this was the part of him that didn't feel quite so alive when there was no one at home who would give a fuck and scream at him if he wasn't in his bedroom. Kat would just know where he was; Gerard didn't go anywhere else, and he had no friends, besides Frank, Frank was different though, somehow, and both of the Way siblings knew that.

At some point, Gerard slipped his shoes off, letting his feet sink into the sand, welcoming it, even, despite the odd sensation, and the way it was almost too cold around his feet. He stepped a little too the right, feeling the grains shift and stick to his skin, doing so much more as he stepped closer to the water, where the sand was moister, and a little less easy to sink into. Instead, his feet made prints against the darker coloured sand, the tide lapping up towards said footprints, and Gerard's feet themselves, but never quite caught them, as the tide continued to decline.

The seventeen year old stopped, snapping a photo of the skyline and the waves upon it: a never ending darkness halted only for a second in the presence of a camera flash. He let out a sigh, his eyes blinking excessively to compensate for the excess of light, holding his camera up once more as his blinking returned to a more normal rate.

He snapped another shot, this one directed at the cliff top and the lighthouse, already illuminated a little by itself, but still, he left the flash on, and expecting the sensation of discomfort for his eyes didn't make it any less uncomfortable this time.

He pondered that for a moment, leaving his camera to hang around his neck, glancing back across the beach and stepping closer into the water, letting the tide reach his ankles. It was cold, needless to say, it was October, it was New Jersey, the water was indeed cold, but perhaps colder than Gerard had expected.

The cold of the water was easily the strongest thing he'd felt for the past few days, and he felt himself stunned by that, letting his feet shiver, embracing the discomfort, the cold, the feeling, everything in his feet, and dear god he couldn't imagine what it'd be like to have his whole body submerged in such cold water; he reckoned he'd feel the world, everything, so much, too much even, but just for two minutes or so, before complete nothing: numbness, a body at the bottom of a lake come November 1st, and nothing more.