November 1st (Frerard)

28: Sunday, October 28th

"What's going on, Gerard?" Frank reached for his hand as the two sat atop the cliff, watching bottle green waves fade into shades of cobalt and teal as they rolled off into the horizon.

Gerard said nothing, because the matters of what was going on was indeed rather broad, and indeed, in the world as a whole, there was a hell of a lot going on, but of course, Frank wasn't interested in the whole of the world, just Gerard and what was going on for him.

Gerard feared that Frank had figured it out: pieced it all together, or at least made a start in doing so, because then, what would and what could he do? Because if, if he saw November 2nd, he honestly didn't know what he'd do; he had this habit of planning for every day and working everything out weeks in advance, and November 2nd was a day he had not planned on seeing at all.

Frank cared for him, and it wasn't like Gerard didn't appreciate that or care for him back; he did, and that was what made this all so much harder to do, but it had to be done - it was simple, it was like the sun setting on the horizon one last time: one flash tangerine reflection upon the still dark ocean, because for Gerard, the end of a day, was the end of everything, and that was how it had to be.

Because he couldn't get better, because he didn't want to get better, and that was not something he voiced because he was well aware as to how absurd it sounded, but he just couldn't really explain it, but it was as it was, and he had indeed found himself rather attached to the bottom of his heart and the darkest corners of his mind.

And he could romanticise this sense of hell he found himself in all he fucking wanted, because if you were going to destroy yourself, you might as well make it worth the while, and if you were going to drain the blood from your body, you might as well paint a pretty picture. Not that Gerard was all so keen upon cutting himself, because blood had never been something he was good with, and he much prefered the spectrum of different coloured pills he kept in a drawer in his room.

A spectrum he'd shared with Kat, unintentionally, and this clifftop chat was a result of that, and a result of Kat giving up: not entirely, but to the degree where they finally came to comprehend that Gerard just wasn't going to listen to them, because they gave empty advice based on a lack of understanding, and they were doing little to rectify that.

Frank was little change; Frank just looked a little nice when he smiled at him, and Gerard's heart did this fluttery regretful thing when they made eye contact, because Gerard had known this all along, and he had to respect that his suicide date had come before he'd even known Frank, and logically, it was only fair that way, surely?

Or maybe he'd just gotten too good at making excuses to himself; he'd had a hell of a lot of time - all he'd had was time and nights alone and empty stares, and the ability to name every shade of blue in the sky.

"Navy to indigo." Gerard said, pointing to the darkest point where the sky met the sea.

Frank looked confused momentarily, before realising that Gerard had vocalised some part of a conversation in his head; he tried his best to make sense of it, as he always did, but he couldn't quite manage it, again, as he always did.

"The sky." Gerard continued, turning to Frank with a sad look in his eyes, "the colours are beautiful and dark, and powerful: they're overcast and hold power over the town, and we are here little silhouettes atop a cliff face and we could fade right out into nothingness and it wouldn't matter at all, because there's so much more, there's so much more than me, there's so much more than us. What's going on? What's going on in the world? So much. Everything. The entire world is going on: there is rain, there are storms, there's the sun, there's snow, there's anger, there's hatred, there's kindness, and there's love, and in all that, you're focusing in on me and my mind. I am so small, and so insignificant."