Demolition Lovers (Frerard)

26: and... it ends, finally, lmao (but seriously this is some damn good plot ok)

"He killed Alicia and Mikey; he killed the both of them, he... he... I... I couldn't... and I'd thought he'd killed you too, I... and he wouldn't, no, he went too far, and Gerard, fucking Gerard, I..." Lindsey shook her head, biting her lip firmly in disbelief.

"What about Gerard?" Frank practically snapped at her, his eyes widening a little at the mention of his name.

"He's fine, he's asleep in the spare room, he came here just a few hours ago; he ran away from Bert, I don't know, fuck, Frank, he misses you, he's not coping well, and I don't want him to wake up and see this bloody, dangerous, fucking terrifying version of you, like shit Frank what did you take?" She shook her head in disbelief as she looked him over for what felt like the millionth time.

"Asleep? With all of this-"

"I gave him sedatives in his water last night-"

"Sedatives?" Frank exclaimed, making no secret about just how eager he was to fucking destroy Lindsey at this point.

"He wasn't going to get any sleep otherwise, very weak sedatives, but he's asleep now-"

"This is Pete Wentz's house, nothing here is fucking weak, except you perhaps. You just can't fucking... no... you drugged him, you fucking bitch-"

"Oh dear god, stop acting like you're the angel of the fucking lord, Frank, you're been nothing but trouble to him, as have we all; what he needs is to get out of this town and start new, and that's what he's going to do, and you're not going to stop him, you're not going to ruin him a second ti-"

And the second gunshot, as Lindsey Ballato fell dead against the floor.

Frank shook his head, pocketing his gun, his eyes widening a little as he noticed a note: a simple 'I'm sorry' scribbled on a scrap of paper, fuck. He laid it out on the counter, and wondered if he could even stomach seeing Gerard like this, because he knew very well what it looked like, and quite honestly, the truth wasn't that far off.

-

Gerard had woken up that next morning, and found the house 'empty' and blood-stained, and as he continued to explore, a note on the countertop from Lindsey Ballato.

'I'm sorry.'

And the note did little to explain the empty house or the bloody mess, let alone the two bodies on the kitchen floor.

And especially not the man, sat at the dining table in the corner of the room, lighting what he reckoned to be his last cigarette, as the blood flowed more freely now, as poor innocent, unexpecting Gerard Way made his way into the kitchen, and Frank got the worst turn out of all, as he got to watch the look in Gerard's eyes as they fell upon the mess on the floor, and as he recognised that he had nothing left at all.

And then, as he moved his gaze across the room, and had something close to a heart attack as his gaze fell upon the practically dead man at the table.

"Frank?" He exclaimed, ignoring the bodies of his dead friends as he rushed over to what the world would declare a monster, sat all too calmly in the room.

"Fuck..." Frank trailed off, shaking his head, and regretting the pain it caused him, as Gerard sat down beside him, taking in his appearance with widened eyes.

"Fuck, Frank, you're bleeding, you're bleeding, I- we... need to get you to hospital, I-"

"I'm supposed to be dead, Gee, what the fuck does it matter?" Frank let out a dry, fucking painful kind of laughter, as he dropped his cigarette into the ashtray, and turned to face Gerard. "I'm dying, Gerard, that's for certain, and I'm sorry, I'm selfish, I have to see you again, I love you, Gee, this is all for you, I fucking- you're safe now, really safe: Ray and Bert, I killed them, all for you, and that's what the blood is: I'm fine-"

"Don't fucking bullshit me, Frank, I... that's your blood, you're bleeding, and I... I... please, you can't- you can't, come on, hospital, now, you-... I can't lose you as well, because look at this, look, come on, who the fuck do I have left, I-"

"I have this friend... well, acquaintance, really, but his name's Brendon Urie, I'll give you his address, he'll let you stay-"

"No, Frank, no." Gerard shook his head firmly, attempting to pull Frank to his feet. "I don't want to stay with him, I want to stay with you, I'm so sorry, I love you too, come on, please, let's go, the hospital now-"

"No." Frank shook his head, sitting back down, and looking at the boy he loved with an odd, unplaceable kind of expression. "Listen to me, Gee, you go-" Frank reached for a pen and scribbled down Brendon's address onto the table, "look, there, I promise you, he's a real good guy, I've fucked him as well, but I've fucked all of my friends, so-"

"I'm not going to let you die, Frank, you're going to come with me, or I'll-" Gerard's eyes widened as he looked around the room, panicking, "I'll tell you much a good fuck Bert was, how he's so much better than you, how he-" And Gerard instantly knew he'd struck a chord, but perhaps the wrong one, as Frank reached for the gun in his pocket.

"You fucking dare, you fucking whore-"

"You wouldn't shoot me, Frank, come on, you love me, come on, I'm sorry, I- I... just please, let's go to the hospital, let's fix this, let's-"

"I wouldn't dare shoot you?" Frank scoffed, laughing a little.

"No, you wouldn't." And Gerard was certain, perhaps too certain, and as Frank smiled, and the two shared one last look, one final look: the look to end all looks, with blood, and injury, and one hell of a tragic end, one of the demolition lovers fell dead, and fell to their end, right there at Pete's kitchen table, certain to leave the other to die alone in little but agony.

And the address scribbled on the table, ignored until the very moment the police got there.

-

They'd questioned Brendon Urie about what they'd called a 'massacre', but he knew very little, and as he'd made his way back home, his boyfriend had asked him what it was all about, and he'd responded with, "some guy I once knew, Frank, he was all kinds of crazy, all kinds of nice too, but I guess you can think you know someone, but you never really know them until you can figure out what the hell happened to them involving a mass shooting, and your address scribbled on the dining table."

"God," Ryan had shook his head in disbelief, simply relieved that Brendon was okay, the two sharing a kiss, and some sort unspoken understanding, only to be interrupted by another ring of the doorbell. "If it's that detective back again-" Ryan protested, shaking his head a little, as Brendon pulled away.

"Hey, who knows, Ry, it could be someone else entirely, couldn't it?" Brendon smiled at his boyfriend as he made his way to answer the front door.

-

hey lmao did you see this coming because i didnt i pretty much just came up with this last night oops well thats the end of this lmao this was pretty damn traumatic dont you think lmao???

votes and comments for the traumatic vibes ayyyy? ayyy???

anyway, this is the good bit, like if you didn't think everyone dying wasn't good enough already, but end of old fic means start of new fic and like you're so not ready for this new fic i feel like it's kind of an apology for this, but guess what it has a UNIQUE PLOT IM DEAD also UNIQUE NAME also not OVERDONE A MILLION TIMES, ALSO CUTE AS HECK, LIKE SERIOUSLY I DONT THINK ANYONES GONNA DIE in it, so look forward to that happening at some point very soon. it's called 'A Revolution On Canvas' and i'm like damn thats a good name im so bad with names lmao ayy anyway i love you all im sorry this fic is such a mess im dead like pretty much everyone in it oops <3