Chapter 7. Angel With a Shotgun

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WARNINGS: Mentions of suicide

GERARD POV
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It's been almost a month since
Y/n died.

Exactly 2 weeks since her funeral.

It's currently 2 in the morning and I've had enough.
Enough of life really.
Y/n's been the reason I've hung on so long but now she's gone.

The guys and I are on tour. We're in the European leg of the 3CFSR tour right now.

Everybody is asleep, except Frank who somewhere partying.
I decided to sit this on out because I had other plans for tonight.

The last set of plans I'll ever make.
I'm standing outside of the tour buss, taking drags off of a cigarette I found in the glove compartment. It's probably Bob's but I don't really care.
One last cigarette before death'll be fine.

I don't care, really. If I burn in Hell or sing opera with the Angels in Heaven.
Just as long as I'm not here anymore.
I'll miss the fans, that's it.
Life I basically meaningless without Y/n.

I glanced out at the city lights, I think we're in Sydney.
It's hard to keep up, you go to sleep in one country then wake up in another the next morning.

I took one last hit of my cigarette before smothering it's butt in the concrete of the parking lot to put it out.

I took out the cold pistol from my pocket.
It felt heavier than before when I put it in there. Maybe because it's just that I've gotten weaker.
I cocked it then took one last glance out at the city before pressing the tip of it against my chest.
I felt the cold metal tip on my skin through the shirt I'm wearing.
My finger was shaking as I reached it to the trigger before it finally rested on it.
I closed my eyes softly, letting the darkness free to take over.
I didn't squeeze my eyes shut.

I pulled the trigger.
I heard the sound.
I felt the revolver in the gun go and I felt it shake in my hand.

But I was still there.
It must've backfired. Shit, I failed again.

"What're you doing?" I heard a voice say.
A soft, angelic kind of voice.
The same voice I haven't heard in a month.
But it was so much more graceful.
It's hard to explain but I swore it was the same voice I haven't heard in over a month.
Y/n.
I opened my eyelids and she was standing in front of me
Her eyes were wide.
She was there?
"Give me that." She snatched the gun from my loosened grip and held it at her left side, one other gun held by her right hand and resting on her hand.
I was... Shocked? I don't know.
I was dreaming, I had to be dreaming.
I examined her with my eyes, head to toe.
Her hair was brushed out perfectly I've her shoulders.
She was in a white bloodstained dress.
It went just above her ankles. She was covered in blood, the spot on her left breast where her heart is was smothered in blood.
Her heels where white, but they had blood on the tips.
I was at loss for words.
She was standing there, in front of me.

"I can't let you kill yourself, Gerard." She said it with such grace and elegance in her voice that I almost forgot how sarcastic she was.
"You can't let me?" That was all I could say.

"No, I can't." She said simply, dropping the gun in her left hand, on the ground and it made a thud sound.
I looked at the hand it was just in, blood was covered around a small hole...
A bullet hole.

"What... Is that?"
"The bullet you tried to put in yourself." She said, her voice finally getting back it's old hint of sarcasm.
It grossed me out a bit, watching her peel back bits of her bloody skin and taking the bullet out.

She didn't even flinch. Not once.

"Gerard, what're you doing?" My attention turned from Y/n to the open door of the buss where Mikey stood in the frame.
I looked back at where Y/n had just been standing.
She was gone.
The gun was resting on the ground in a puddle of blood.

"What the fuck just happened?"

"Are you high? We have a show tomorrow, it's 2 AM."
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