"What's the fucking point?" His words lashed out at me as if each syllable was laced with a dozen tiny whips, all poisoned and aimed in none other than my direction.
"Pete, please-" I begged in response, hoping my boyfriend would somehow manage to see sense amidst his disillusioned head, but considering both his current and general state of stubbornness, I really doubted that would be the case.
"Fuck off, Mikey - fuck off." He didn't even meet my gaze, before turning away from me without another word.
I inhaled a gust of fresh air as I watched Pete storm off into the woods - the rational part of me was simply assuring my fast paced heartbeat that my boyfriend was simply in need of some time to himself and that I should just leave him be, unfortunately, I was never really that much off a rational person.
I found myself wondering as both to how and why we'd ever ended up in a situation like this - it just felt kind of fairy-tale at the moment, and there was still this childish hope at that back of my mind that I could just click my fingers and this whole world would somehow disappear, bringing me back into a reality that was so much more plausible- well, in my mind anyway.
A reality where I was still a virgin and I'd never met Pete Wentz- and... yeah maybe I'd rather not click my fingers, after all. Dear god, I am just pathetic.
"Pete!" I let out a sigh before I called after him, leaves crunching underfoot as I picked up my pace into a brisk jog in hopes of catching up with my unfortunately temperamental boyfriend. He was kind of like a toddler mid tantrum, deserting his 'mother'- had I just referred to myself as my own boyfriend's mother... well that got weird far too quickly.
"Fuck off-" He called after me, noticing my increase in pace and the rapidly diminishing distance between us. I concluded that he was in fact quite far from being my child as I really hoped that toddlers weren't quite as closely acquainted with the word 'fuck' as Pete was.
I grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him back around to face me and holding him securely within my grasp. Pete struggled of course, and I knew by now that he was stronger than me, meaning I had to get my words out and convince him not to kill me within the next ten seconds or so. Which would be easier said than done, of course. It, however, was in no way going to stop me from trying though.
"I said fuck-" he repeated himself, only for me to butt in before he could protest once again, as he would do, being Pete Wentz, of course.
"I'm saying you're being irrational and kind of dumb actually." I met his eyes, praying I hadn't somehow managed to have offended him - thankfully, I hadn't. Pete seemed to have very high defence walls when it came to insults, but I guessed he had to in order not to be hypocritical considering the shit he comes out with.
"I'm going to die, Mikes, how the fuck does it matter?" The words hit me like a tidal wave of course, making me stop for a second and just wonder how the fuck Pete could just come out with this shit, just talk about it as if it was the expected- except, he hadn't at all accepted it all, and somehow in the mess up head of his, this was his way of doing so.
"It matters because I still fucking care- somehow despite this arrogant cock you're being I still give a hella of a damn about your pissy little ass-" My insults were really not at all up to scratch, causing an unexpected grin to break Pete's walls down within a mere instant and for our eyes to meet in an unspoken sign of peace.
"You love my ass though." His grin widened into a smirk as he took a step forward, bridging the gap between us like it had never even been there; the two of us in some unspoken and somehow mutual contract signifying that we really just couldn't live without one another.
"I do, I do, Pete." I confirmed, letting him have this one, because despite the stubborn heart we'd grown to share, it was probably best to always just let Pete win, because he was fucking Pete Wentz and I didn't want a taste of his idea of revenge at all.
"So can we just talk about this, like civilised guys? Instead of just running off into some godforsaken woodland leaving me trailing after you, and god Pete, you know I can't fucking run!" I ranted to him, mock panting a little to accentuate my point unnecessarily, yet of course it was just a requirement around Pete Wentz – our whole relationship being of course entirely unnecessary at a first glance, yet really it was the backbone of the both of us.
"Fatass." He smirked to himself, far too proud of the mediocre insult he'd just pulled out of his ass on a whim.
"If you say so - you fucked me though, multiple times." I reminded him, not like he'd ever forget - seeing as he was Pete, and these were probably something like his most treasured memories or something just equally as creepy. Somehow Pete made creepy work, and I still needed to beg him for those trade secrets.
"So did you." He reminded me, even though they were of course treasured memories, along with the reminder that I was in fact nothing short of the world's biggest hypocrite.
"Yes, well done, it does appear you have a brain." My words reeked of unwelcomed sarcasm and he made no hesitation in raising his eyebrows as if they were built automatically onto some sort of mechanism.
"Harsh."
I shrugged it off, unfazed by his observation regarding my slightly controversial opinion regarding Pete's grey matter and well, his lack of it, actually. "Are we going to talk about this then?" He looked at me blankly, confused or maybe just ignorant, not quite wanting me to be talking about what I had to be talking about - the only words on my lips.
He remained looking blankly at me though, and it was kind of unnerving so I ended up elaborating; the elaboration took place in its simplest form, with two little words that shattered both our worlds and our relationship pretty much in two. "Your operation."
"No, we're not going to talk about it, because I'm not going to have it!" He screamed out his response like he’d planned it, and honestly I wouldn't even be all that surprised if he had.
"Why the fuck not, Pete?" I just didn't get it all; it was almost like he wanted to die, and I just couldn't have that - things wouldn't go like that... I wouldn't let them, in fact, I just wouldn't fucking let them.
"What happened to 'civilised', Mikes?" he rolled his eyes at me, walking off and sitting underneath a nearby tree. I made no hesitation regarding the matter of joining him, much to his annoyance but in my head it was most definitely for the best.
"Your stupidity was what happened to civilised." I drew out a gasp of breath as I let the situation lap over me like cool ocean waves, except this matter was in no way cool or calming, and in fact it was very much to the contrary. "This is your best chance of survival, Pete." I met his gaze, trying to convince him that I was in fact the one making the most sense here. He didn't seem to get it though.
"Yet I could die instantly in the operation, and there's quite a good chance of that." He glared at me, biting down furiously on his bottom lip in either a badly hidden display of nerves or a bucket load of pent up anger - I couldn't differentiate between the two with someone like Pete Wentz.
"There's a one in three chance you could die in the operation and there's a seventy percent chance you'll die otherwise." I met his gaze with the best stern glare I could muster, knowing that the statistics were probably growing even less in his favour by the second; every second he did nothing about it and every second I did nothing about the aforementioned fact. "Look at the odds, Pete."
"I just don't want to risk it, Mikes. I want as much time as I could possibly have with you - Mikey, you matter, okay? Because just one month with you would mean more than a two in three chance of having any longer-"
"It's not just having 'any longer', it's having forever - growing old with me and all that shit, you know - that matters to me, Pete." I met his eyes, hoping that despite the fact that Pete was really very far off the traditional type, he could at least understand as to where I was coming from with this.
"And who's saying this goddamn cancer won't just come back in another decade or so?" I couldn't answer that one, because despite how much I'd like to, and in this situation just how much I seemed to need to, I couldn't promise him anything. "And then we'd have to go through this all again."
"Pete you're justifying your own death - that's just not healthy." None of this was healthy; it was just making my head spin like crazy and I felt as if I needed to throw up everywhere simply to clear my head of the mess that we'd become.
"Cancer's not healthy either - have a go at that rather than me, because at the very least I am trying." His eyes told the truth, but his actions really didn't. I reckoned upon the fact that he was lying to himself too, which could both be justified as being better and worse, and sometimes even the both at the same time.
"No, you're not." I probably shouldn’t have said that, but there was this sudden rush of adrenaline that left me with the rather toxic feeling that I could quite possibly just do anything. "If you were trying - you at least try to survive and get this fucking operation-"
"An operation on my brain, Mikes." He met my gaze, as if I didn't get the fact that some doctor was going to slice his fucking cranium open- fuck... "Do you know how many different ways that can go wrong?"
"Not enough for it to not be worth risking." I threw my words out there haphazardly, because I did not know, and Pete was right.
"No, no you don't."
"And you do?" I raised my eyebrows, wondering which answer I wanted to hear from him, and finding the conclusion to be neither, leaving me in quite possibly the most uncomfortable of predicaments, because what ever happened - I wouldn't like it.
"Yes, Mikes, yes I do, actually."
"Oh."
"I researched it." He paused, playing with a leaf that had tumbled from the leafy canopy above where it once resided and now lay on the floor, with Pete’s index finger taking an absent minded prod at it every so often. "Bleeding, risk of infection, injury to the brain, loss of coordination, lack of speech-"
"Pete, you'll be fine." I assured him, despite the fact I literally had absolutely no way to be anyway sure of that at all - it just kind of felt like the right thing to say. It felt like the Good Samaritan approach to the problem, even if I was really far from a Good Samaritan myself.
"Even if I do survive - it won't just be bam! Pete again." He shook his head in correspondence to his words. "I'll be like a little baby as all my body slowly switches back on and I'll just sleep, I'll be stuck in a hospital bed and-"
"You'll be alive, Pete." None of that mattered to me at all - all that mattered was the rhythm of Pete's heart and the little breathing sounds he made as he respired peacefully; alive and okay.
"Being alive is overrated." He shrugged it off like some sort of emo kid turned hipster in some god ugly combination that sounded like the inspiration for an entire new Blood On The Dance Floor album.
"Now you just sound fucking suicidal." I snapped out of nowhere, regretting my words as soon as they left my lips - as soon as it was all but too late.
"I have no need to be suicidal - the fucking cancer in my head is taking care of all that shit for me already, thank you very much." And those words fucking hurt, because this was Pete Wentz and I cared about him both without question and without rationality, leaving me stuck entirely in nothing short of a royal mess.
"You'll live - I promise. Look, just take this fucking chance, Pete, come on." I begged him, my eyes widening like a pathetic little puppy that was far too in love for his own good.
"You can't make me." He continued, his eyes avoiding mine, despite the fact we'd have to at least look at one another eventually.
"You're right - I can't." I met his gaze. "But I can emotionally manipulate and possibly bribe you with endless sex when you're better."
"Hmm..." Pete sighed, his eyes drifting away again before I could ensnare them sustainably, losing the one part of Pete I could hook onto before I knew it. "The thing is Mikey... it's kind of hard to explain, but I don't know, it sounds ridiculous, but it sort of feels like I'm meant to die-"
"What?" My eyes almost fell right from their sockets, as did my heart, and probably at least one of my lungs. "No, why would you even think that?"
"It's like that feeling you get when someone's following you - you can kind of just sense it. You know they're there, it's like evolution, kind of just human instinct or something of the like, I don't know, but this it's kind of like that. I just kind of know, except whenever I turn around nobody’s there, but the feeling never goes away, and then I just realise that the only thing following me is death, and the feeling, it's getting stronger each day now, because one day, death, that invisible stalker is going to catch up to me, and it'll be one day soon, Mikey. I just know."
"Do you want to talk to a therapist about this?" That was really probably just the least helpful thing I could have said, but it was the only thing that could come to my mind, as I was nothing short of severally inexperienced in the matter.
"No, Mikey - I want to talk to a fucking funeral planner." He spat his words out in a manner that made me shudder, and yet one I really probably just deserved for my prior comment.
My eyes drifted to the floor, unable to meet his as the next few words left my lips. "Do you really? Want to die?"
"There's not much of a choice, is there?" He met my words with what at first seemed to be an indirect way of telling me to fuck off, but with a second glance, it was all he could say and if I was him, I think I'd probably have to say the same.
"If you had one, would you?" I posed what I considered a better question in the hope of getting some kind of answer this time.
"No-"
"See, then take this chance - do the fucking surgery." My tone contrasted my words this time, ending up a great deal calmer.
"Mikes, I love you, okay, but as much of a sore loser as I am, I just know that it's my time now."
"No it's not, you're young, and you have a whole life ahead of you, Pete. Just take that chance, take this life." I was begging him now; pleading with him, but he wouldn't listen... he'd only listen to the voice in his head that had given up and fuck I just didn't know what to do anymore.
"If I was meant to live then I wouldn't die. I'm not taking the surgery, Mikes, and if it isn't my time, I won't die, huh?" Fuck.
"Pete-"
"Yes?"
I inhaled far too much air at once. "You know I love you."
"I love you too."
-
"Gerard what the fuck do I do, just let him die?" My brother let his head fall back against the wall, pulling his knees up against his chest, probably because he'd given up with me too. The rest of the world had seemed to as well.
"Ultimately, whether he takes the surgery or not is his choice, seeing as it is rather obviously his brain." He was fed up - I could tell that by the tone in his voice, and the way he didn't seem to care and looked like he'd much rather be happy, with someone else, like Frank, with the toxic thoughts up in my head no longer any of his business. I didn't blame him - my head was filled with the things no one should know.
"If it was Frank-"
"Don't Mikey, don't." He met my gaze, his eyes shining in a vicious hazel light. "Pete's on enough medication as it is, it's understandable that he may not want to go within five miles of a hospital. If you really insist upon him having this surgery try talking to him about it at a later point, maybe when he isn't quite so opposed to the idea of having his cranium sliced open by someone in scrubs and gloves that smell far too much of hand sanitizer." I shuddered at the thought; he was my Pete and I didn't want to lose him, not ever, and I didn't want to even risk that and here I was, in the most risky situation of all.
"But he doesn't have all the time in the world, Gerard - you know that." I continued, making eye contact with my brother, trying to force my point across in a way I probably shouldn't, but it was the only thing I could manage to do now. "When he finally decides to stop being a stubborn asshole about it then it might just be too damn late-"
"Mikey, drop it." Gerard continued, and then the thought struck me that he was getting flashbacks because of this - my words, all of this was nothing but triggering to Gerard, because my dilemma with Pete didn't make him think of Pete at all, it made him think of Grandma Helena, and how he lost her. "I told you I wouldn't let him die okay, and that promise still stands."
"How the hell do you think you're going to accomplish that?" I threw my head into my hands. I was fucking tired of this life, all this shit and all this mess. I wanted a reset button; I wanted to give up, but things didn't work in that way at all. God didn't want perfection for his flawed creations.
"I'll bring him back up from hell if I damn well have to-"
"Gerard this isn't Supernatural." I reminded him, watching his sad eyes cautiously, and noticing the tears dwell nearly hidden from sight, and to anyone else it wouldn't be noticeable, but being his brother, I knew Gerard far too well for anyone's benefit.
"Exactly, none of us have died even once." He flashed a small smile at me, and I returned one, because he had a point.
"Not yet."
"You're fucking depressed Mikey, have you ever thought about the fact that you might want to see a therapist?" He snapped out all of a sudden, probably just a little pissed off with my depressing reaction to his attempt to keep the mood light, but I didn't think of it that way. I was difficult, so I took it personally, just like I knew was the worst thing to do.
I scoffed, labelling Gerard's advice as nothing short of hypocrisy within seconds, because I felt like somehow in my messed up head that was the right thing to do. In afterthought, it really wasn't. "You want me to see a therapist, Gerard? You."
"It's your choice, I guess." He shrugged, his gaze avoiding mine.
"Of course I'm fucking depressed though, my boyfriend's got a fucking brain tumour and he's refusing to do anything about it!" I couldn't help but scream at Gerard, despite the fact I knew it was doing everything but helping, I was just a stubborn bitch through and through and I needed a way to express that sometimes.
"He doesn't want to lose you, Mikey." Gerard met my eyes. The brown shades almost dissolving into the emerald green that seemed to erupt from his iris like ivy growing over an old gnarly tree trunk, bringing back some life to the dull forgotten piece of underappreciated nature.
"Well if he doesn't he would try and get better-" And I was the logging guy, in this forest metaphor. I was the bastard with his chainsaw who cut down the tree, ivy and all, because I was ignorant and selfish and I didn't care.
"He's talked to me about this, Mikes." My eyes widened as I tried to suppress my almost jealousy of the fact that Pete had shared these thoughts with my brother and not me. "He's fucking scared, Mikey. He knows about everything that can happen and he's scared that either he'll die instantly in surgery or he'll make it but something'll go wrong and he won't be himself anymore... he just wants to pretend that everything’s okay, and he just wants to spend whatever he has left with you, whether it be ten days or ten years."
"I can't just do nothing knowing that one day I could wake up to see my dead boyfriend in the bed next to me." I hoped Gerard could at least understand that, because he seemed to be showing a perspective completely alien to mine in this situation which really did nothing but cause my head to spin like crazy.
"He needs to be on a life support machine, I do agree, but you shouldn't force him into anything." Gerard emphasised the word 'force' as if I was some kind of villain here, which I really liked to think i wasn't, but I couldn't exactly make an unbiased judgement upon myself.
"Well if the two of you are just so well acquainted, how about you convince him for me?"
"Mikey, calm down." He met my eyes, the ivy greens twisting back down into the depths of his pupils where they came from. "Look, just go up to him calmly, make him happy, I don't know make out with him or whatever and just talk about how you're scared and how it'll be easier for the both of you if he had medical attention, especially at this stage of the tumour."
"He's opposed to hospitals as if they're the reincarnation of Satan." I let out a sigh, kind of agreeing with him, but in a state like this I just wished he wasn't quite so stubborn that he couldn't put off his childish opinion long enough to face this matter realistically.
"I can see where he's coming from." Gerard admitted, and I got that - I got Gerard’s hatred for hospitals, being awfully well acquainted with them entirely.
"Was this what it was like for you when mum wanted you to go to rehab?" I asked, my voice kind of quiet as I knew neither of us really wanted to discuss Gerard's previous drug problem in any level of detail whatsoever.
"Kind of, yeah.” I didn't want to go, but it was for the best wasn't it?" It was, it was, and I was glad that Gerard knew that now.
"What convinced you then?"
"Mum kind of made me, but it was seeing Frank for the first time, seeing beauty within existence and the fact that the world and life is something I wanted to remain a part of was what really motivated me."
"I'm glad you met Frank." I admitted. Frank and Gerard just fit together like puzzle pieces and there was never anything in the way of a problem between them, and really I was just so fucking jealous of that, it was unreasonable.
"I'm glad Pete met you."
"But he's already met me, it's not as if I'm going to come into his life in some sort of miraculous manner and wave some sort of magic fairy wand to make everything better."
"He's in love with you." He continued, as if it was simple, which it wasn't. "Show him you mean those three little words. Show him what there is to live for, both within the world and the heart inside his chest. Show him how to live for staying up to until dawn just to fall asleep as the whole world wakes up, show him how to scream at the top of your lungs because everything just hurts, show him that he can cry, because tears are little water drops, they wash everything away, and show him, show him that you love him, and that there's nothing stronger than love, because two lovers hand in hand can stop the whole world, and you should never mess with a broken heart."
"You're telling me to fuck him."
"No, Mikey, I'm telling you to make love to him." Gerard met my eyes. "It's overlooked these days, but the two are entirely different. They're both displays of the highest level of emotions, but one is of passion and the other of endearment."
"You sound like Buddha."
"Buddha believed in rebirth and a never ending cycle of life." Gerard grinned at me, and I chuckled at the fact that ten years ago, this dorky kid that was my brother considered himself nothing short of a goddamn Satanist.
-
We're not in the middle of nowhere, not quite. We've barely scraped the edge of nothingness in Pete's dad’s Jeep and the interstate night sky. We're not even lost, or not quite as much as either of us would like to be, because the Satnav refuses to turn itself off and we'd had to throw a blanket over it to muffle the relaying of directions at random intervals.
I don't think it matters that we're not quite lost, because I don't think I can ever be lost with Pete cuddled into my side in the back of a blanket coated Jeep in the September air, which isn't quite too cold or quite too hot, which is really something for Jersey, but then I remember we aren't quite in Jersey anymore.
It was weird to think about because I've never left Jersey before, and I never imagined my first out of state visit to leave me curled up to my boyfriend with a brain tumour in the back of his dad's jeep. And I most certainly didn't imagine the destination of my first out of state adventure to be somewhere on the interstate between Delaware and Maryland.
None of that quite seemed to matter though, because beside me lay Pete Wentz still breathing still alive, but barely. He wasn't quite asleep; he looked out of it from appearances and his utter lack of movement, but the flickering of his eyelids as he blinked against the sleep, staying up to watch the night sky with me gave it all away.
"Can I kiss you?" Pete's voice trailed from lips, barely a whisper amongst the night sky and the captivating effect the planets and constellations up there seemed to have. They were all so peaceful and I felt like I had the right to be jealous of a fucking star.
I had my reasons though; stars didn't have shit like this to worry about - not at all.
"Why would you even have to ask?" I grinned at him, watching the smile I got in return and missing the smirk element that made it all so 'Pete'. It felt like the cancer was slowly drawing the 'Pete' and the life away and out of him, and that hurt like hell - it slowly dragged my heart down like an anchor tied to the ocean floor, and this whole situation was toxic and co-dependent enough to feel as if I was more than metaphorically going down with him.
"I don't know... I never asked did I?" He continued, his words barely audible but in the silence of this nothingness we were stuck in, they were more than loud enough entirely. "I'm thinking about everything now - I'm thinking about us and all the things we never did and never will do. That's my bucket list, Mikey, it's all about you."
"Called it." I winked at him, summoning a smile to finally pass between his lips. It gave me hope; his real smile. It was kind of like a beacon of hope and light in my dark.
"You never met my parents and we never went on a date to an actual restaurant, and I never teased you quite enough about just how much you look like a lesbian with sex hair." I laughed a little, kind of glad the latter hadn't been enforced quite as much as he apparently wanted it to have been. I could go without the bullying of my 'lesbian hair'. My hair was bisexual, thank you very much. Or does that mean it doesn't exist, I don't know? I know I'm not bald at the very least - or well, I damn well hope so.
"Was that one really on your bucket list?" I met him with skepticism, but skepticism with a purpose, because I wasn't quite that irrational, at least not yet.
"Okay the last one wasn't, but-"
"Was having slow meaningful sex in the back of your dad's Jeep on there, because if not I think it's something we should tick off regardless." I didn't know quite how my words came to be but I guessed it was something to do with the way Pete was; beautiful and so fragile in that head of his, and the way everything hurt, and maybe I should just make everything okay again. Or maybe Gerard's badly executed advice had somehow wriggled its way into reality.
"Slow?" Pete raised his eyebrows at that, turning his head so our eyes met in a moment of silence before he continued. "We've never gone slow before."
"I know." I breathed the words out.
"Do you think this will be our last time?" The question fell into reality; it should have torn right through everything, but I think the whole world was just broken enough for it to only marginally damage the excessive layers of stitching.
"I don't know, Pete. What do you think, what does it feel like to you?" I didn't want to say yes and I didn't want to say no, because I didn't want it to be the former and I couldn't guarantee that it'd be the latter.
"My whole life feels kind of ominous, I feel like there's a reaper after me. I feel like this could be my last night on earth, Mikes, but it's not quite - we would have noticed if it was." He looked at me in the most reassuring manner he could muster, which considering the situation didn't quite cut it. "But this might just be our last time, so I want to make it special."
And without words, we discarded the minimal amounts of clothing we were still wearing, and I didn't even put up a fight as Pete pushed me down against the Jeep. It just felt good to have him touching me; to feel his heartbeat against mine and to remember that now, my boyfriend was still alive, and even if he was on his deathbed, he was still alive right now.
The vehicle creaked as Pete slammed his body down against it, looking at me with sad eyes that I didn't think I'd ever seen before, and somehow it was sad eyes that always seemed to mean the most.
He kissed me slowly, his lips on mine like fairy dust and fragile butterfly wings, because this moment was fragile and it seemed just like the whole of reality could shatter if we weren't quite careful enough, so we were careful. We barely made a sound apart from like breathy gasps that involuntarily escaped my mouth as I felt Pete and the kisses he sent down every inch of my body.
"Don't forget me, will you?" He pulled his lips away from my chest to look me in the eye, breaking the need for one another with a badly posed, scared question, because we were both just so scared of what would happen after tonight, after this feeling of nothingness and drowning in the comfort of the pretend, but tomorrow, we'd be back in Jersey, facing the real world and Pete's temperamental and prolonged resentment towards the operation he needed. "Promise me that."
"How could I ever forget you?" I met his eyes with sincerity.
"You'll end up falling in love with someone else some day and don't even try to deny that, because you will. I just hope you'll be happy and one day when the two of you are growing old together and you're watching Breaking Bad or something, please think of me? Remember me? Tell your children who I was?"
"Honey, I'll tell the whole world who you are and just how much you mean to me." I placed a kiss against his lips; a slow kiss, one that meant the whole world, one that sealed our promise. "I promise."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
He never broke eye contact with me as he was inside of me, with every slow pull in and out, we held hands, almost as if it was the first time and it hurt, because it did hurt this time, but in an entirely different sense.
This hurt because this would never happen again.
And we both knew that all too well.
Coming was different - it all come out slow and synchronised, the two of us in harmony and no witty remarks from Pete, only the feeling of him relaxing down beside me, and the utter disregard for clothing in the middle of nothingness somewhere near Delaware.
This all meant so much, and I hated that it did, because it meant so much, because it had to in one finally rush to feel something, something good, something worth holding on for as we faced the oblivion of tomorrow, hands held but for how long neither of us knew and that brought just the most sickening feeling to the depths of my stomach.
"If I die tonight-" He began, his words leaving his lips but never really registering upon my hearing as I pushed off everything of that manner, because I tried the well tested approach of ignoring the problem and praying that it'd go away at some point, but this problem was far more permanent, far more deadly and far more destructive - it was the kind of problem that didn't go away.
"You won't." I locked my gaze with his, brushing the hair from his face, letting my fingers run along his cheek bones as if I'd never touch them again, and I was really scared of the far too plausible possibility that I wouldn't, so I treasured him. I treasured all of him as if it was the last time, as if this were to be our final day together upon this godforsaken earth. "I won't let you."
"Something’s aren't in our control though, Mikes." He sighed out; glancing up at the stars and watching a comet shoot across the darkness in a display of nothingness and peace. Nothingness was a true beauty and one entirely underestimated, because there was nothing quite as peaceful and nothing I craved quite as much right now.
"I'd very much like them to be - I'd play God for you, honey." I smiled at him, watching the crease in his lips as he forced a smile back. I didn't like to see this; his lying and fakery, because he had to keep up this facade and the only reason he was keeping it up was for me.
"Don't do that, just promise me something though, that you'll love me-" I didn't need reminding. I would never need reminding; it hurt that Pete just didn't understand how he meant everything to me. And how he made this fucked up little world worth living in.
"I'll love you forever, until my ashes leave this earth. You always mean so much to me." I let the words leave my lips and drift in the air, watching as my breath drifted away, carrying my words with it. This felt like a lost cause now, my heart nothing more than train wrecked, and yet it couldn't quite get off the tracks.
"Don’t do that, baby." He met my gaze far too sincerely. "I want you to be happy, and this not to end your life too." He paused, almost preparing himself for the next words to leave his lips, which made me nothing but worried about just what they could possibly be. "Gerard says you're depressed, and I can see that. I made him promise to look after you when I can’t; you make sure he keeps that promise for me?"
"I promise." I paused, wondering why the fuck my brother had to go and put more stress on my dying boyfriend by telling him I was fucking depressed... Gerard... I didn't understand him sometimes. "Why are you saying all of this?"
"I can feel death's breath on my shoulder." He slowed his speech, maybe giving me more time to take it in or perhaps it hurt to get the words out - I opted for the latter, as Pete wasn't exactly the most considerate of others. "Promise me you'll love me, you'll love me till tonight do us part."
"I promise. I love you." I didn't need promising: the words were just unspoken and generally accepted or at least I thought so, and then it struck me - the thousands of times I hadn't told Pete I loved him, and now felt the need to, but tonight there wasn't enough time to spew out thousands of ‘I love you’s.
"I love you too - forever."
We lay on our sides, eyes connected for what felt like forever, yet could never quite be long enough, because the words had to leave his lips and time didn't stop for us, not really.
"Good night, Mikey."
"Good night, Pete, good night. I love you."
"I know, Mikey, I know."
-
The thing is, Pete was right - he didn't wake up but I didn't either, not in the Jeep. I woke up in a hospital, in a hospital bed, and very much alive, however I suspected that things weren't quite like that for Pete.
My whole body ached and hurt and I wasn't quite sure whether it was metaphorical pain or something sappy like that or if I'd actually just managed to subconsciously catapult myself out of a window or something like that.
"You're awake." A doctor - complete with scrubs and all, strolled into the room and eyeing me as I tried to get out of the hospital bed. "Don't. You've been injured - i wouldn't advise movement." I wouldn't advise you to continue talking if you don't want to be punched in the face.
"No, I'm fine- is he, is my boyfriend okay?" The question didn't need an answer of course. "Wait, what, injured?" I rubbed my eyes, my memory blank since Pete in the truck, and I presumed I'd simply fallen asleep, but fuck, I could have been drugged or- No, I'm being irrational.
"Your I.D. said your name was Michael Way, is that correct?" I nodded, disinterested in the words that left his lips entirely - I just needed to see Pete, to know that he was okay or have difficulty accepting that he wasn't. "You're in Union Hospital, Middletown, Delaware, are you aware of that?"
"I am now." I snapped back
"Can you tell me what happened? You were found with a man identified as Peter Wentz in a Jeep licensed to neither of you. The Jeep was knocked off the road and the both of you were knocked unconscious by the impact - a passer-by - Mr Winchester, he called us."
"The Jeep's Pete’s dad's." I said, trying to get up once more, and convince this man that I didn't steal a Jeep, because I was in no mood for legal harassment right now. I just needed to fucking see Pete. "Is Pete okay?"
"It depends what you mean by okay." Fuck. And that was the easy way of telling me he was dead, wasn't it? I knew hospital speak. But fuck, what kind of fucking person think's okay means dead- how sadistic is this guy?
"Is he fucking dead?" I snapped out, pushing back the tears rimming my eyes, because I wasn't at all in the mood for looking fucking pathetic right now. I just wanted to know what was going on and for this man to fuck off.
"No."
"So can I talk to him?" I pulled the words out, unable to correctly identify the elephant in the room for the fucking life of me.
"He's in a coma." The doctor continued, talking as if this was nothing, but considering his job description this was really nothing out of the ordinary for him. "The impact of the crash worsened things; the tumour's overtaken the majority of his brain - he's hooked up to life support and I'm sorry, Mr Way, but I'm certain in my belief that it is extremely unlikely that your friend will wake up."
"So basically, he's fucking dead." I snapped out, burying every spark of hope that had reached for the surface with his previous words.
"You hit the truck pretty hard too." He continued, now deciding to belittle me after telling me my fucking boyfriend was in a coma. As if I gave a fucking damn. "It could have killed you - be thankful it didn't."
"Can I ring my brother?" I needed to speak to Gerard, and I didn't care what this bastard thought. Thankfully, the doctor willingly handed me a landline and left the room as I dialled the number deep-set into my memory and prayed that Gerard had the common sense not to be fucking Frank at a time like this.
"Get the fuck to Delaware right now." I yelled down the line as the dial tone gave way to silence and Gerard's agitated hello, muffled by my tone of voice. This probably wasn't the best approach but with the tears streaming down my cheeks, I couldn't even imagine another way of going about this.
"Mikey what the fuck-"
"Pete's in a fucking coma get your ass to Delaware. Union Hospital, Middletown."
-
"He looks dead, Gee." I heard Gerard's footsteps follow me into Pete's room, where I stood motionless at his body, hooked up to the life support machine. He looked fucking dead; he didn't seem like Pete anymore just a body hooked up to a breathing machine. He wasn't functioning for himself; his heart was still beating an unfamiliar rhythm and the rest of him was adjusted to barely support it.
"What happened, Mikes?" My brother's voice trailed into the room as he stood beside me, looking over Pete, or what was left of him at the very least.
"We went to sleep, and only I woke up. Just like I said, Gee." I looked at him, hell residing in my eyes. Because he didn't keep his promise - he couldn't, and I didn't expect him to, so didn't know why I was so pent up about this- I just... he was pretty much dead now. And I needed someone to blame, and Gerard was here to satisfy my selfish heart.
"He's not going to wake up from a coma like that, Mikes." i nodded, getting it into my head without Gerard's particularly persistent reminders. "Talk to him while you can - say what you have to."
"What?" I widened my eyes, not quite getting what my brother was getting at here, and I just wished I could wish this all away with a click of my fingers or something of the like, but life just didn't work like that, and I ought to have figured that out by now at the very least.
"They're going to have to take him off life support soon." His eyes hit me with sincerity, and it all fit together, and unfortunately he wasn't lying. Not that Gerard would lie about something like this to me, or at least I damn well hoped he wouldn't.
"They can't." I pleaded to no one in particular, inhaling deeply and shutting my eyes in one final and unsuccessful bid to escape this reality.
"It's regulation - there's a reason I hate hospitals, Mikes." I forced my lips into a smile but it wouldn't work. Everything was just empty now, but entirely the wrong kind of empty; the empty where there was nothing to stop the poisoned daggers from getting right to your heart. The empty that hurt. "I'll leave you with him, okay?"
I nodded and watched as Gerard left the room, leaving me with Pete, air being pumped into him, and then I realised that this wasn't Pete anymore. It'd left the real Pete behind in his dad's Jeep, and Pete was right, because death took him with him.
"Pete, I love you." I whispered aloud, sitting beside the hospital bed.
"And I should have said this all in the Jeep because now you can't hear me and now you're never going to wake up. But you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and the whole world, and my heart feels empty without you. I guess you were right about the sensing death thing, and I'd just like to say I'm sorry for everything. I'll never forget you and I'll keep my promises, but I just have so many regrets - there's so much we didn't do, and maybe we would have done if you'd taken the operation but I guess maybe you were right and you would have died in that too. I'm glad you didn't take it now because with it we would never have had our last time near the interstate in Delaware. I regret nothing we did and everything we didn't. And I love forever, and you know what, tonight, when I get home, I'm going to sit on my bed, I'm going to lie on your side in the shape you pressed into my mattress and I'm going to hum."
I let out a sigh, taking all in unable, to continue due to the tears rolling down my cheeks - I was pathetic and I knew it, but I was pathetically in love, and Pete just about made up for that, or at least I reckoned so.
"Pete, I'm going to hum hallelujah just off the key of reason in hopes that in heaven, hell, wherever you damn got to- in hopes that you can hear me, and just know, if somehow you can hear me now, that I love you and that I always will."
Gerard appeared in the doorway, nodding at me, his footsteps against the laminated flooring signally me to his presence. And despite the tears, and despite Gerard, I continued, in hopes that Pete was conscious enough in there to somehow hear me.
"Till tonight do us part, Pete, because everything does have to end, despite what dreamers like to think, so good night, so long and good night."
-
I closed my eyes in Delaware and opened them in Jersey. More in a metaphorical sense that regarding the fact I hadn't felt alive for the past few days; the whole word distorting into a mere blur as my head never left the hospital room with Pete.
Gerard said I had to go to the funeral; I didn't particularly want to, but I guessed if ghost Pete was haunting some graves or something he kind of wouldn't like it if I didn't show. I made him promises after all.
The graveyard was kind of eerie in demeanour, yet somehow not quite eerie enough to support Gerard's fascination with everything ghoulish, and it took Frank to hold my brother's hand and practically drag him down the path to keep him from pointing out places were gargoyles would look good and the like.
"Hey, Mikey, are you okay?" Mum strode into step beside me, our strides synchronising as we strolled a few paces behind Frank and Gerard. I watched the two of them and how happy they were, and I envied them; the way they held hands without question, and the way they cared about one another beyond everything else. It was what I wanted and without Pete, what i couldn't have.
"They're so happy." I avoided her question, leaving the answer obvious, and pointed at my annoying brother and his midget of a boyfriend.
"They are, yes." Our pace slowed as we discreetly let Frank and Gerard get ahead, leaving our words to drift out in a greater sense of privacy, not that there was any real privacy in this world, as there could quite easily be spies hiding behind bushes and watching our every move or something. I assumed that was just paranoia getting the better of me, or well, at least I fucking hoped it was like that. "I'm worried about you though - you're not happy."
"Mmm..." I dragged my heels into gravel as I walked, enjoying the impact I was creating upon the world, but deep down it wasn't enough because I wanted to scream, I wanted to shout, and I wanted to cry until my vocal chords gave out, but none of that was really ever enough now, because all I felt now was empty.
"Promise me you'll be okay - or at least try your best, Mikey?" She met me with earnest eyes, because she was my mother and she cared - the fact she had to put aside entirely, perhaps just for my sanity's sake. I couldn't tell these days.
"You're scared I'm going to go down the same route Gerard did with Bert." She didn't agree, yet in no way did she disagree. Which only lead to the former. "I won't, mum, trust me."
"The amount of times I've heard those words from Gerard's lips when he promised me he would only have one drink or quit entirely... it hurts, Mikey."
"I'm sorry- look, I'm good, okay?" I smiled at her, not that a forced smile would do much good in a situation such as this one, "promise?"
"Promise. Oh god, what is your brother-" She nodded, walking off to tell Gerard to behave, as it was now clearly even out of Frank's control, and leaving me alone. Or at least I thought I was alone; the graves around me felt alive, leaving me feeling far too closely connected to the world of the dead for my liking.
"Mikey?" I jumped in my skin to be faced by a blushing and awkward looking Patrick. He almost seemed to hide behind his glasses in a way that didn't fail to amuse me just a little more than it should have.
"Hey Patrick." I let out a sigh, the two of us walking towards the coffin in silence. I didn't like to think about it as Pete's coffin; somewhere Pete lay dead inside, because in my eyes it was just another coffin; something not to be taken notice of - not the wooden box that held all that was left of Pete.
"I miss him, you know..." Patrick glanced at me, eyes open wide and curious, which only lead to a question I could do nothing but dread. "Why didn't he take that operation?"
"He didn't want to." I sighed out, not at all wanting to think of the subject, yet here I was.
"Oh."
"I didn't make him...” I felt a tidal wave of regret go to my head, "and I-"
"Mikey, this is in no way your fault if your brain's going down that route!" I shrugged at Patrick, not entirely sure as to whether I fully agreed with him - I reckoned it was easier for the both of us if I did, so I pushed my arrogance aside.
"I know... I just." Inhale. Exhale. My heart hurts. Fuck. "I feel like I could have stopped this all, you know, but fuck, damn..."
"Not your fault." He placed a tentative hand on my shoulder, almost scared to touch me as if I might freak out or something - it hurt. "Okay?"
"Okay." I nodded, uncertain with my words but in agreement nonetheless.
"Mikey?" I recognised Gerard's voice before the hand on my shoulder, and Patrick took this as his cue to leave. Which I was much more glad of than the good in my soul would have liked me to admit. Patrick was just an awkward situation waiting to happen, especially considering just how the two of us had come into a state of vaguely neutral acquaintancy.
"Yeah?" I turned to face my brother, confused with the panicked expression I was met with.
"Bert’s here." I let out a sigh, no longer confused with the aforementioned panicked expression, yet now, I think I preferred not knowing.
"Shit..." And as I turned my head, sure enough the guy was, and he sure enough was headed in our direction, Gerard’s direction. This could possibly be the worst direction of all. No one wanted to see him, or wanted him to be here. Surely I could get him to leave? But then again this was Bert, so I doubted he'd oblige to any requests anyone sent in his direction - threatening or not.
"Gee-"
"Bert." I interrupted for my brother, reckoning in my stupidity that maybe I could drive this conversation better than he could. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
He shook his head, glancing at my brother, with those lustful eyes that made just about everyone uncomfortable, yet far too uncomfortable to mention it at all. "Frankie has a surprise for you, just saying, honey."
"Don't call me honey." Gerard met him with intimidated eyes, yet ones that still put up a protest, because Gerard was stubborn, instant, and didn't quite go down that easily.
"Cool it sugar, just saying. Expect something." And with that Bert drifted off into what seemed like nothingness and what I hoped was hell.
"Who even invited him?" I wondered aloud, to have my personal and accidentally vocalised ponders answered by Gerard.
"I don't know." Gerard shrugged, his shoulders hunching against his neck. "No one, probably - Bert doesn't tend to require invites. He turns up and does whatever the fuck he likes."
"No one hopefully." I corrected him. "Because if somehow Ryan Ross is wandering around here dear god-"
"It'll be a double funeral." Gerard finished for me, the corners of his lips twitching up slightly but not quite enough, because the atmosphere was far too dreary for him to properly break into a real smile.
"Yeah." I paused watching the grey Jersey skyline and the expected forecast of rain for later today as Gerard lit a cigarette beside me. "How are things with Bert?"
"Uncomfortable." Gerard blew out his smoke into an array of fog like clouds. "I don't even know what he's talking about but it doesn't sound good."
"It doesn't." I confirmed, for god knows what reason because dear god, I probably wasn't even helping.
"I wish the guy would just fuck off and now the tables have turned and he's the fucking lovesick puppy here." It was kind of ironic, and maybe we would have laughed if this wasn't Pete's funeral- if this wasn't Pete's funeral, Pete would be the one making the mildly immature joke about the matter for us to laugh at.
"I'm the real lovesick puppy here-" I protested, but evidently, Gerard didn't quite let me continue in the matter,
"Mikes... seriously none of this is your fault- just don’t think about anything regarding it, okay?"
"How can I not think about that when I'm at his fucking funeral?" I sighed, letting myself drown in the heartache. "You promised me you wouldn't let this happen, Gee." I shouldn't use this against him but my heart- everything hurt and I was helpless now.
"I'm sorry - I wish I could, but I just can't play God - not like you need me to anyway."
"I want to die with him, Gee." The words tumbled out unexpectedly, leaving me to look up at my brother expectantly, hoping that he would understand.
"I know what you mean, Mikes, but please don't - a loaded gun won't set you free, this will burden your heart forever - we both know that, but you need to find happiness in even the most menial of things you have to-"
"Make love to myself?" I raised one eyebrow, referencing our previous conversation that held a similar topic regarding Pete.
"No, Mikes. Make yourself make love to the world... not in the literal sense of course."
"Of course." I nodded, watching as Gerard tapped his cigarette ash down to the ground and watching as the black ashes became nothingness amongst greenish grey strands of grass, because it was fucking Jersey and the grass was more grey than green, which was quite probably from cigarette ash, thinking about it - not that I was entirely that fascinated enough in the matter to care.
"I feel so empty... like I should be crying at the very least, but I can't cry, there's just nothingness - a punctured hole in my heart perhaps?"
"Perhaps." He inhaled a gasp of nicotine. "I get what you mean, it feels like you need to breathe, but every last particle of oxygen is used keeping your stomach afloat in your insides, and even then, you don't die... you're just empty. You feel dead, almost."
"Never tell me you're not good with feelings ever again, Gerard." I met his eyes with sincerity, "like seriously you'd make a good therapist with words like that."
"Then I suppose I'd have to stop talking or start despising myself."
I smiled a little. "When the Jeep chucked over, do you think I should have go into a coma too?"
"No, Mikes, and I'm glad you didn't, honestly." I wasn't quite so sure I agreed with him.
"But-" It was however evident there was no use protesting, especially when it came to Gerard, who was stupidly renowned for not letting things like this go.
"Pete was already dying - I couldn't lose you too, and," he turned to me. "I'm not going to, understood?" I nodded, albeit just a little reluctantly. "Good."
"Do you think I'll ever find someone quite like Pete?" I threw the question out there, because although the answer was obvious and rather disappointing as it lingered at the back of my head, I wanted Gerard to lie to me for once, for my asshole of a brother to reassure me in my false belief that somehow everything was going to be okay.
"No, Mikes, maybe you'll find someone better though." I very much doubted there was anyone in the world for me other than Pete.
"I don't know, Gee."
"Me neither, and that's just the future - no one knows what will happen and I think that's the best part." I disagreed and very much for the same reasons.
"Sure-"
"Oh god, Frank's waving at me like a maniac if this is what Bert was talking about, I'm screwed." I shot him an apologetic look before my face twisted up into a particularly ugly smirk.
"I'm sure you'll be screwed tonight regardless."
Gerard just looked at me. "I'll never be able to forget Pete simply by the fucking impact he's made on you, Jesus Christ."
I shrugged, watching as my brother walked over to his boyfriend, admiring just how happy they were instead of being bitterly jealous this time, which without a doubt was certainly a great deal healthier.
I promptly decided to turn away as soon as they started eating each other's faces though - I just wasn't quite that creepy.
"Hey." I almost jumped out of my skin as Ray sat down beside me, he noticed as his face was laden with nothing short of an apologetic smile. "Sorry."
"It's alright - needed something to take my mind off the fact that Frank is devouring my brother's face over there."
Ray chuckled, his face giving way to a small smile, "you okay? I assume you've been asked that far too much but-"
"Honestly, no." I smiled back at him, almost sadistically but not quite.
"At least you're not lying." At least, yes. This guy really did just have to look for the positives, didn't he?
"At the very least, yeah." I sighed out. "Everything's just gone so fast recently, I was finding out about his tumour and then he was refusing to have the operation, and then we fought and then we fucked, and we drove to fucking Delaware and fucked again, and then... then I think that's when Pete really died in my mind..."
"Time always bends the way you don't want it to."
"And when the Jeep flipped over - it should have been my side that collided with the concrete- do you think if it wasn't that Pete would have been alive today? Do you think maybe Pete would have outlived the cancer even?" I probably shouldn't have been bombarding Ray with thousands of paranoid questions that surfaced my grey matter sporadically as my brain darted around in a mess of panic.
"There's no way of knowing, Mikey." He handed me the rational answer and I took it as it was.
"I guess, but, I can't help but feel so helpless, like I should have done something..."
"You did all you could, and that was more than you should have, Mikes-"
"Mikey!" Ray's words were interrupted by Gerard's giggles as he dragged a rather smug looking Frank after him by the hand. Oh god, what had fucking happened now.
"What?" I rolled my eyes, looking at my clearly just a little insane brother through narrowed eyes. I was kind of pissed off.
"I'm getting married, Mikeeyy!" My jaw dropped like a reflex - he wasn't serious...
"What?" I looked first at Ray, then Frank, and finally Gerard.
"Look!" Gerard grinned and showed me his hand - fuck. He was getting married. He was fucking engaged and dear god I've never seen Frank Iero look quite so smug before in his life.
"You look after him, asshole." I glared at Frank who simply smirked at me in return. I wanted to slap him - just to sort that fucking smirk out dear lord.
"Will do." He mock saluted, pissing me off just enough for me to want to slap him, but not quite enough for me to actually go through with it.
"I'm going to have a wedding." Gerard's eyes widened cinematically and really I'd never seen my brother look both quite so happy and quite so feminine at the same time. "Frankie, I'm going to have a wedding!"
"I know, Gee, I know." Frank grinned, embracing his fiancé, and quite possibly wondering as to what the fuck he'd just agreed to marry. The two of them just fit together though, and I was happy for them, despite the nagging thought at the back of my mind, reminding me how this would never be Pete and I.
"Everyone's fucking invited!" Gerard screamed like a fucking diva - which he was one. "Oh my god I need to tell mum!"
"That's a reaction I’d love to see, especially in the state he's in right now." Ray commented upon Gerard with raised eyebrows. "Frank, did you drug him or something? You know he would have said yes regardless."
"I'm going to be all pretty in my fucking dress - all in white Frankie!" Gerard burst in before Frank could respond which was probably for the best in a situation like this.
"That won't be the only thing white coming of that night-" Oh dear god. I cringed like hell.
"We're going to have a cake?"
"With lots of icing... icing I'll let you suck off my fingers, baby." Yeah, this was really a conversation I'd rather not hear.
"That kind of icing?"
"Which ever kind you want." Frank winked at Gerard.
"Guys-" My protests went unnoticed as they continued fucking dirty talking one another in front of me.
"Rainbow." My brother answered like a little kid, which he was, along with a diva.
"They really are a bunch of idiots, oh my god." Ray sighed into my side, clearly having given up hope regarding both of them just as much as I had. Which was reassuring by the measure that at least I wasn't going completely insane here.
"Mikey you can be the entertainment at our wedding!" Gerard exclaimed, clutching his newfound fiancé by the wrist. "You could sing!" Gerard seemed to be forgetting that he was the one of us who could actually sing.
"Nah, I think maybe I'll hum, hum hallelujah, just off the key of reason."
I didn't hum alone though, because a rumble in the air signified that someone somewhere was humming too.
Someone with a killer smile and a Breaking Bad box set, I'd bet.
And you know, they say hearing is the last sense to go when you die.
-
It's all a game of this or that, now versus then
better off against worse for wear
And you're someone who knows someone who knows someone I once knew
And I just want to be a part of this
The road outside my house is paved with good intentions
Hired a construction crew, 'cause it's hell on the engine
You are the dreamer and we are the dream.
I could write it better than you ever felt it.
So hum hallelujah,
Just off the key of reason
I thought I loved you
It was just how you looked in the light.
A teenage vow in a parking lot
"Till tonight do us part"
I sing the blues and swallow them too
My words are my faith to hell with our good name.
A remix of your guts-your insides X-rayed
And one day we'll get nostalgic for disaster
we're a bull, your ears are just a china shop
I love you in the same way, there's a chapel in a hospital
One foot in your bedroom and one foot out the door
Sometimes we take chances, sometimes we take pills.
I could write it better than you ever felt it.
So hum hallelujah,
Just off the key of reason
I thought I loved you
It was just how you looked in the light.
A teenage vow in a parking lot
"Till tonight do us part"
I sing the blues and swallow them too
A teenage vow in a parking lot
"Till tonight do us part"
I sing the blues and swallow them too
So hum hallelujah,
Just off the key of reason
I thought I loved you
It was just how you looked in the light.
A teenage vow in a parking lot (Hum hallelujah)
"Till tonight do us part"
Love in a parking lot (Hum hallelujah)
"Till tonight do us part"
A teenage vow in a parking lot
"Till tonight do us part"
I sing the blues and swallow them too
-
"You look lonely and depressed." Gerard noted, strolling into the room.
"I am lonely and depressed."
"It's been nine months, Mikes; you should at least try-"
"Try and move on how?"
"Put yourself out there..."
"I'm Mikey Way with the nerdy glasses and heart that won't let go-"
"But at least you’re not a virgin, and you're twenty one now, so at least you can legally drink - look at the positives, little bro. Get out and see the world, meet someone, huh?"
"And how do you suggest someone like me goes about that?"
"I have just the plan." He smirked at me.
"Yeah?" I raised my eyebrows in response.
"Yeah. Go and get me the Fangoria comic I ordered in from the comic shop."
"Not a chance, in hell, Gerard, not a fucking chance."
Yet despite my words I did, and maybe, maybe I didn't regret it half as much as I should have, because I downright bet that the events would mirror themselves in succession with my luck, but I still went for it anyway, because I think that's what love is - jumping off a cliff for someone, and just trusting that they'll catch you.
And sometimes, sometimes, you'll find the right person, and that person will catch you, flaws and all. You've just got to hold on tight to that person, because sometimes holding you will get heavy and they'll need to let go, and that was my mistake.
They say we never make the same mistake again, though, so at the very least, that can give me hope. And it’s hope that’ll be all I need, because it’s hope that keeps us going; hope that keeps us strong, hope that keeps us fighting and always hope that keeps us alive for one more day.
This time I would like to think I’d get it right though. But we're all just soldiers fighting with little cause, love our battleground, and our hearts stabbed with swords.
And of course with a far too familiar tune – a hum that will never leave our lips.
Hey guys:) And that brings Just Off The Key Of Reason to an end. Oh my god, I am going to miss writing this book:) Originally this was meant to be a short story of like 20k words, and now it's finished within three months and standing at 124,005 words, signifying I really just don't have a life. Also this turned out to be twice the length of the previous longest fic I've ever completed. And is also four times the length of Besitos which is fucking crazy because that took me like seven months:')
So anyway, thank you guys so much for reading this, and as always, comments and votes are appreciated. I love you all<3