Hello friends.
Erm, so this is the last chapter. I don't know if that's a good thing or not, hah. I just want to say thank you all for the support and everything that you've given this book, I've really liked writing it (that doesn't happen very often so there you go). It's honestly a bit ridiculous that this mess has almost 20,000 reads and I love you all.
Yeah, so, there's still an epilogue to come and it won't take me much longer after I've published this one, and then I'll have a new part in which I beg you all to possibly read my new fanfic that I'm going to be starting in a week or so, explanations about sequels and whatnot followed by a load of babbling gratitude.
So yeah, enjoy:)
-Georgia
❝Finifugal- hating endings; of someone who tries to avoid or prolong the final moments of a story, relationship or some other journey.❞
TWO MONTHS LATER
It had been two months, according to the calendar that I now only ticked off for the sake of it. Two whole months since I'd seen Gerard. Those were months that I didn't know had passed, months that I'd not been aware of. They had simultaneously seemed longer and yet less; longer because every single moment that passed without Gerard had stretched beyond the norm of time, and less because I'd really not registered it passing at all.
I hadn't left my house at all the whole time. Well, besides the odd outing or two when I'd ran down to the shop for my mom or gone for a walk in the silent, unconscious hope of accidentally meeting Gerard along the way. Needless to say, that had not happened. Those months had passed painfully lonely, and with not one day passing without me feeling as though my soul was still missing from my being. It was a strange sensation, it really was, to have put so much into another human being that the fact they weren't there seemed to break me every single time I pictured his face.
Although, even that wasn't as crystalline as it had been. Gerard's hair fell just underneath his ears, but was it as straggly as I thought? How did I conjure up that telltale smirking gleam that shot his hazel eyes whenever he had the upper hand? And those eyes- those eyes that I'd promised myself I'd never forget; were they more brown than green? More green than brown? What colour was dominant when they shined gold in the light?
How did I know if my vision of Gerard was right or not? I could be completely wrong, seeing him as someone he wasn't, and I wouldn't know. If I could just get one fleeting glance, one last time to see him as he passed the window so I could commit a perfect image to my memory, then I would be content. Of course all I wanted was him, completely, in every way possible, but I could see now that things were not going to work out that way. I'd have to move on- but it was not going to be for a long time yet.
So I festered in my room and I scrunched up everything that I'd attempted to write and I stared at the wall and ignored the world- beyond tears but not beyond feeling my heart breaking in my chest.
The next semester had started at school, so anyone else my age was disappearing off every morning to college, and anyone younger was spreading the noise of raucous laughter going to and from school. I had managed to instill the timetables and the likes into my head, so I knew when to expect the streets to fill. As creepy as it sounds, I tended to look out of the window, to see if I could possibly spot Gerard on his way to college. So far I'd not seen him once, and I was beginning to think that he'd maybe done the same thing I'd done, and simply not even enrolled.
That was another reason I was not leaving my room unless I definitely had to. When the first day of college had rolled around and I was still asleep at ten o clock, my mom had finally realised that the forms had remained unfilled on my desk. That had not been a pretty conversation. Not at all- and I'd considered running away again, had it not have been for the fact I had nowhere to go any more. I didn't really think that the Ways would even particularly mind that much, but it was the knowledge that I'd be with my dad, and the fact that there was far too much water under the bridge for anything to even resemble how they used to be between Donna and myself.
That was another thing that frightened me. What if, by some brilliant coincidence, I did meet Gerard again, but that things weren't the same? What if he'd given up on me completely- the last time I'd seen him had been when my mother slammed the door in his face (again) so could I really blame him? What if he didn't care? What if, oh god, it hurt to think but what if he'd moved on? What if, whilst I'd been sat here in my room and festering in my own misery and self-pity, Gerard had met someone else? What if I'd been just a phase?
The thought knocked me sick, and the fact that I was thinking about the thought knocked me sick, and the fact that I'd been knocked sick by it knocked me sick.
My thoughts were confusing me horribly. It was dark, but it wasn't late. I didn't honestly care, however, so I simply fell backwards into my unmade bed, dressed only in a pair of baggy sweatpants and socks. My head was chasing itself around in circles, and I couldn't deal with it any more. I didn't want to deal with it any more. Sleep was the only escape I had- even writing didn't seem to work any more, and the music wouldn't go loud enough- even if it was only for a few hours, and it all came crashing back down on me like a tsunami once I woke up again.
I was trapped in a violent, ugly cycle that was only serving to kill me slowly, but getting out of it was only possible if I broke it myself- if I did something different. Leaving the house would have been a good start, and so would have been talking to someone, but the prospect of either of those things made me feel ill again.
So I collapsed onto my back in the bed, closing my eyes against the dim image of my room, and turning over so that my face was buried into my pillow. It made it difficult to breathe, but at least that way I was still sure I was alive. The steady rhythm of my chest was the only thing I could hear.
Until, suddenly...
Tap, tap, tap.
I didn't really even care what that was.
Tap, tap, tap.
Probably something on the street- some kids playing or something.
Tap, tap, tap.
And it was getting annoying now.
Tap, tap, tap.
The only reason I wasn't getting up to look was because I'd rather lie here and be annoyed than stand up and see what it was.
"The only time I can manage and you're asleep."
My eyes shot open. Wow, this was a new level of madness.
"For god's sake, Frank, wake up."
Slowly, slowly, I rolled over. My heart was pounding like a sledgehammer against the cage of my chest, beating like a bird fighting to be free. It couldn't possibly be, could it? After such a long time?
"Gerard?"
"Who..." the tuft of black hair I could see just above the edge of the windowpane slipped alarmingly at that, followed by a loud exclamation of "Shit..." I looked on, bewildered as he pulled himself back up, head slowly emerging from the bottom. "Who else would climb your mom's plant trellace for you?"
Now, I know full well that my heart didn't stop. I knew it was biologically impossible for my heart to have stopped and for me to still be sitting here, but the jolt in my chest and the repulsion from my lungs could have fooled me.
The image I'd burned into my mind was as wrong as I'd expected. His eyes weren't simply hazel- they were golden, shining in the darkness as he pulled himself up properly. He was sitting half-in, half-out of the window, thighs resting on the plastic. If he fell, he'd break his neck, but I don't suppose anything he ever did was completely without risk.
I looked at him for a moment. There was something burning in my stomach, something I couldn't identify, but a burning that seemed to spread throughout my whole body. My eyes were stinging, and before I'd even really realised, there were tears threatening to spill.
"Oh, baby."
Gerard's voice was soft when he next spoke to me, and within a moment or two I had been enveloped in his arms, my cheek pressed to his shoulder. I tried to keep the tears back, but they refused to be fought.
"I missed you," I said quietly, my voice breaking halfway through with the emotion that was crashing over me currently. The next sentence was choked with tears. "I really missed you, Gerard."
Those words really weren't enough. Nowhere near enough, because I hadn't missed him. Not in a way that a simple word like 'missed' was enough to describe. In a way that I'd been wholeheartedly convinced that there was no reason to carry on anymore. The only reason I had was because I wasn't content with our goodbye.
For the first time ever since I'd known him, Gerard seemed at a loss for words. Instead he was silent as his hands pressed to my back, pulling me close to him in a way that told me he couldn't bear to let go for a long time yet.
And he didn't. Not for a long time.
-
"How come you've managed to come here?" I asked, after we'd grudgingly broke apart and he'd settled himself back on the windowsill. He'd insisted on that, and declined the chair, in case my mom came to see what was going on. It would make it easier for him to escape quickly then, at least.
It did also mean, though, that he wasn't quite close enough for me to touch him. The sight of him had always thrown me, often for different reasons, but now I felt the sight of him like a deep ache in my stomach. How was I ever supposed to tell him what he made me feel? I'd still not found the right words to describe that, or him, and I was only just realising that maybe that was how it was supposed to be. The only way to describe it was indescribable.
"It was the first day at college- I skipped the first week or so. My mom wouldn't let me choose where I went alone, and this has been the first opportunity I've had to see you. Believe me, it was impossible having to do it before."
This didn't seem real. Among the euphoria, I was a little dubious however, despite the fact that I knew he didn't tend to lie and I could see the printed college name on the chest of his shirt. Two months was a long time- what had he done during that? Was this a one-off, an on-the-way-home visit?
"I've barely left the house in two months."
Gerard's eyes fell on me, and I realised how sad they looked. They retained a haunted, broken look (the very same one that lingered in mine, incidentally) and I knew that he wasn't lying. We'd both lost something in this mess, something that we should have held onto with both hands. He looked like he was going to cry, and I silently hoped that he didn't. I was no good with tears.
"It made me realise something, though," he said after a moment, rubbing his eyes brusquely with the heels of his hands.
I swallowed as he affixed his gaze to mine again.
"I can't live like this, Frank."
I'd known that. I'd known that for a while now. And he was right, of course. There was no way we could either live like this at all, what with the practical house arrest and my insane mother and my brother who wasn't my brother and sitting in a dim room with nobody to talk to as my heart broke. There was no way I could live like this, either.
"But there's nothing we can do," I replied, damned.
It fell quiet again between us, but not the kind of silent it had been for the past few months. This was a voluntary silence, a bearable silence, a silence of which the shatter would not draw blood from my skin. He looked at me.
"Yes there is."
Now, I loved Gerard. I really did. I loved him unbearably and I would willingly do anything for him but that didn't mean I ignored the fact that Gerard's ideas tended to be rash and spontaneous and often rather questionable. My stomach sank at his words, because I knew they would honestly probably be possible should we ever get the situation. The situation was the hard part. I think I sighed, because he shook his head.
"Listen. I'm not stupid, I know it's not that simple. Now isn't the time, and hell, maybe the time will never come but we've got to try, haven't we? We've got to get out. Before... Before it's too late." There was something in his tone that was beginning to unnerve me, something that was bordering desperation.
"What do you mean, 'get out'...?" My voice was thick with uneasiness.
"Frank..."
"Run away?"
Gerard stopped. He seemed to still completely, before looking up at me again. I'd stood up by this point, feeling inexplicably behind and awkward on account of the fact that I was sitting in bed. He seemed to feel as though he'd spoken out of turn, the odd tone of his voice was making me nervous.
"I know we can't go now, that's not what I meant."
I was relieved at that- although still definitely wary of what he was planning. Like I said, his ideas tended to be a little on the dodgy side of conventional.
"Then what?"
There was such a strength in his gaze that seemed to pierce right through me. I swallowed as he took in a deep breath, simultaneously reaching for my hand and holding it in his. Our gazes connected and I could tell in an instant that I needed to listen, and listen properly.
"We can't stay here. You know that as well as I do. We can't deal with your mum and Stuart, we're walking around in circles because we can't do what we want to. You want to write, and you can't. I want to draw, and I can't. This is a cage, Frank, and we need to get out. And I know we can't now. Not yet. For all I know, it could take years, but we have to try. We have to try, Frank. Who cares where we go? Honestly? I have my bucketlist, and you know why, but I don't think I've ever told you the last thing on it, have I?"
My breath was coming in restricted gasps. He was so right. He was so unbelievably right it was annoying. I shook my head. "You've never told me. What is it?"
He took in a deep breath again. "Live. I want to live, Frank."
"Gerard, I..."
I was cut off by a shout from downstairs. My heart jolted again, but this time it was with genuine fear rather than the fact Gerard was being Gerard. Mom, of course.
"Who are you talking to?"
"Shit. I... I'm gonna have to go..." Gerard turned around in the windowpane so that his feet were dangling over the patio outside, as well as simultaneously managing to give me a heart attack. If he was rushing he would fall, almost certainly.
"Gerard..." I said quietly. I didn't want him to go. I couldn't bear him leaving.
He leaned back in quickly, and kissed me hard. It was nothing like any of the others, there was nothing tender or passionate about this one, this was rushed and forbidden and nowhere near enough, but it was something. I had to be grateful for something, even though it was fleeting and painful to let go, as he disappeared out of the window and scampered down the trellace.
"I love you, Frank. I love you more than I thought was possible and I promise you, this isn't the end."
I fell backwards onto my bed with the image of him still burned into my eyes, an image that I knew now was accurate and almost as perfect as he was, just as he pulled the window shut and my bedroom door opened. To my mom, it simply looked like I was asleep. She would never see the single tear that snaked across my nose, nor the black haired boy who was running across our garden as fast as he could, with similar tears blurring his vision, too.
It wouldn't be too long. Not longer than we could manage.
He'd promised me, and I believed him.
Just like I always did.