"Gerard, have anything to say for yourself?”
My jaw dropped. He seriously thought that I had shot Frank?
"Wh-what? You think I did it?" I exclaimed, jumping out of my seat.
Dallon chuckled and examined his nails. "No, no, I don't think it was you. I know it was you."
I just stared at him in a state of absolute shock. What on earth would make Dallon so confident in the fact that I was the one who shot Frank? I mean, I wasn't one hundred percent sure that I hadn't done it, but I was quite certain that I wouldn't do something like shoot Frank. Besides, as far as I knew, Dallon wasn't even at the gala that night, so truthfully, what would he know?
"Well there's no way that you can prove it was me." I said to Dallon, defiantly crossing my arms.
He flashed a devilish grin in my direction. "Oh but I can." He declared, snapping his fingers gracefully. "Toro, bring me the evidence!"
The tall afro guy exited the darkened room, coming back moments later with a duffel bag in his hands. He handed it to Dallon then retreated back to his corner.
Dallon reached into the bag and pulled out a very familiar navy blue suit. My navy blue suit. "Where the fuck did you get that?" I asked him.
"Ah ah ah, I ask the questions." He said, wagging a finger at me. "So this is yours?" Dallon held the suit up higher for everyone to see.
It was most definitely mine, there was no denying that. I nodded cautiously, not quite sure what he was getting at.
"Okay," he smiled. "How 'bout this?" He reached into the inner pocket of my jacket and pulled out a gun.
I gasped loudly. So did everybody else.
Dallon seemed quite amused by the reaction we gave him. "Shocking, I know!" He said, putting a sarcastically surprised look on his face.
"That's not mine." I said, taking a step back.
"Really? It's not?" Dallon asked, turning the gun over in his hands. "Then how do you explain the fact that your initials are carved into the side?"
He turned it over so I could see, and sure enough, the letters G.W. were engraved on the handle. I stared at it, unsure of what to think.
"Now, Gerard I'm curious." said Dallon, setting the gun down and crossing his arms. "Why did you do it? Why did you shoot Frank?"
"I didn't fucking shoot Frank, okay?" I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, but I couldn't do anything about it. "I wouldn't do something like that. I loved him!"
Dallon grinned like a kid in a candy store and clasped his hands together. "See ladies and gentlemen, right here we have it." He turned to me and looked me straight in the eyes. "Loved." He spun around to address the whole room again. "Past tense."
I didn't understand what he was trying to say. Dallon spun back around and started advancing towards me in a menacing manner.
"Past tense, Gerard. You loved him. You don't love him anymore, right Gee?"
"No! No that's not what I meant!" I tried to explain but he just shoved me against the wall.
"Just admit it Gerard. You didn't love Frankie anymore but instead of breaking up with him, like any sane person would do, you thought it would be better to erase him from your life completely."
"No! I- I..."
He pushed harder, making it difficult for me to breathe.
"You what Gerard? You shot him? I thought so, coward." Dallon gave one last shove before backing away, leaving me uneasy and gasping for breath.
YOU ARE READING
Who Framed Gerard Way?
Fanfiction'Frank Iero is dead but I swear it's not my fault.' Three nights ago, Frank Iero was shot and killed by an unknown attacker. Without his meds, Gerard's memory becomes unreliable. He doesn't think that he's the one who did it but when he is led to be...
