But You're Beautiful to me (Frerard)

no

No.

Please.

Nononononononono.

Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.

It was too late to change it. Gerard felt his life drain from inside of him.
Frank had been admitted into a hospital, but not any old hospital.

A mental hospital. 

He sat on the floor, cross-legged, with a pencil in his hand. A plain white sheet of paper lay in front of him, with only the daint markings of pencil. He had been starting to sketch a portrait of Frank when his mother came in, with a slight sniffle. He hadn't moved since. He looked at the empty space where Mrs. Way stood. Why? What did he even manage to do? So many questions swirled around his head, he barely noticed Mikey standing in the doorway. 


"Hey." at those words, Gerard snapped out of his trance, but remained still. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to live.
"Gerard, if you need someone, I'll try to be here for you. I promise." As he finished the words, Mikey walked off again.

11:32. Gerard still sat where he was, for almost three hours. The whole house was dark; Mrs. Way had to leave to go see a friend in Toronto, Canada, and Mikey was probably doing something immoral in his room. Well, he did say he would try to be there for me. Gerard stood rapidly, feeling blood rush into his no-longer stationary legs. He slowed his slightly rapid breathing, and  closed his eyes.
He could do this.

Knocking on Mikey's door with no response, Gerard twisted the doorknob and peered inside. Mikey lay slumped over his desk, still grasping two bottles of alcohol. He murmured, but did not stir. Gerard slammed it, hearing his brother once again mutter. Wasn't Mikey supposed to be there for him? Fucking promises. One thing that Gerard didn't need in his life. 

 - - - 

The soft green of the unfamiliar room swallowed up Frank. He did not think highly of green - it reminded him of himself; his eyes that did not see the meaning behind this fate. Early last Sunday morning, he was shaken awake by his mother and they got in the van. There was a small bag beside him, and when he looked inside, there were two pairs of skinny jeans, two black T-shirts, in which one had red trimming. They reached the building and he was led by two kind women to the room.

The Green Room. That's it. It now had a name...

- - -

Gerard sat in his room with songs controlling him. He had many lyrics written by him, but he had no actual songs in one shot. He sang,

"Now I know,
That I can make you stay," He stared at the poster of Frank that he drew.
"But where's your heart;
But where''s your heart," Gee began to sing in an angrier manner. Soon he switched back to the first part.
"But where's your--
AND I KNOW," he soon became caught up in his singing. There was no emotion left but what was portrayed in his voice. Soon, he created a whole song, naming it Famous Last Words. Wow, if only Frank could hear it. At this thought, the sharp sadness struck him again. Why won't the fucking world end?

- - -

"How am I going to get education?" Frank asked the caretaker. He shrugged. 
"You don't really need it here. We  want to get you out of here, happy and stable." Wow, that guy sounded like those announcers on commercials. 
"Hey."

"Yes?"

"Do you have any punching bags?"

"Well, if you need to let out your anger, we have rooms for that."

"How far away?"

"Three levels down."

Frank slumped. Three levels was too far away. He was angry now, and by then, he would be too far from angry. Instead, he stood up and slammed his fist into the drywall, creating a hole. His knuckles burned, stung, but he felt better. The caretaker rushed out of the room, to return with two other nurses. They both took Frank's arms gently,  and sat him down. He struggled against their grip. Wow, that's strong for a couple of chicks. He gave up his efforts and looked down. How long would this go for?

"Bring me to the punching rooms." Frank orded with a demanding tone. They let him up, and helped him make his way to the elevator. "I'll take the stairs, thank you very much." They changed course and soon he was in a small, padded room, with one huge mat on the wall. As soon as he was inside, they closed and locked the door and behind the window, gestured to the green open button. He shooed them off and began taking swings at the mat until his fists stung so much; he sat down in the corner and began to cry. 

- - -

Yay. Monday. Gerard could barely speak, his voice so cracked from screaming, crying and singing. His brother shuffled around in the kitchen like a huge matted mess. They both needed a grip on life. Gerard had always seemed like the more sensible, but now things had taken a turn.

- - -

Poor Gerard. Mikey looked at his brother. He himself still had a huge headache, but his brother fucking lost the only person who made him alive. Mikey went about looking for cereal, but stopped and froze.

The downfall.

Gerard's downfall.

Frank's not here.