You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison

Fifteen (Gerard's POV)

When I got to the bathroom, Frank was lying in a huge pool of blood, his own blood. Cuts covered his arms and legs, he had visibly tried to cover them.

I then shouted again and again for him not to leave, to come back. He lied there, slowly breathing and blood still flowing out of his split skin.

I immediately melted into tears and held Frank's dead body in my arms. His heart was still beating and he was still warm.

"Frank please." I whispered into nothingness, holding him against me tightly and hoping for a miracle.

After a long while of crying and pleading, I decided to wrap up the cuts to stop him from bleeding out even more.

I grabbed the roll of fabric from his hands. A small paper fell out with it, it read:

Dear family, friends or anyone who ends up reading,
I have completely lost interest in life, it's not worth it anymore.
Mum, Dad, Pete, Patric, Spencer, I'm sorry. Thank you all for trying to help but it's over now.
Gerard I love you. I always will.
Tell Brendon he can have you now, I'm out of the way.
And you were right. I always seem to ruin things.

xofrank

I sobbed at the words 'Gerard I love you, I always will' and 'Tell Brendon he can have you now, I'm out of the way' No, Frank! I didn't want for this to happen!

I didn't love Brendon and I don't to this second! Frank, you were never a burden! I love you!

I kept screaming in the agony of losing him. No one can hear you, dumbass. the voice inside my head taunted me like it always did.

"Shut up!" I shouted at it, or to myself...

I turned the paper around and saw the drawing I had given him a long time ago. The drawing of the both of us sitting and holding hands in a cell with a hovering heart floating above us. the heart, shredded but sown back together.

Just like we were slowly fixing him... but now he's broken. Permanently.

If only I had gotten here a minute or two earlier... Frank would be alive and we could love each-other.

I hate Brendon. Hate is a strong word yes, but that's why I used it and I intend to keep it that way.

Brendon had killed someone. Not directly, but he had. Frank and I are both falsely accused, Brendon really killed someone.

I slapped Frank, hoping to wake him up. Again, again... Again...

After numerous tries at waking him, he finally choked out blood an his eyes grew the size of baseballs.

He was back!

I plunged forward and squeezed him in my arms as tightly as possible, fighting to keep him with me.

"Gee?" He croaked. I nodded, excited. I quickly locked lips with him and he grew out of breath.

"Ok I'll let you breathe..." I joked, he giggled and tried to sit up.

"Gee... I didn't want to die..." He whispered with the little bit of energy he had restored.

"I wanted to stay... For you." He added, his hand stroking my cheek. I nodded, smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Thanks for coming, I love you" He said, almost inaudibly as he turned over, revealing the back of his bloody jumpsuit.

"Should I bring you back to your cell? Our cell?" I whispered kindly, playing with his black and greasy hair. He nodded and fell asleep.

I carried him over to our cell, nº 58 and lay him on his bunk, removing his stained suit for it to dry. I sat on the bed opposite him and watched Frank take short and quick breaths. Silently, I rummaged under my bed to find my sketchbook. With my broken pencil, I started to draw a new version of the drawing under Frank's suicide letter.

Me, him, both in a cell in orange jumpsuits... The heart above us sown back together completely and this time, I colored the heart red... Not him. I then wrote in pretty cursive writing at the top of the page,

I will always love you.

Then I neatly folded the paper and slid it in an envelope, writing in pretty writing again:

When you need it.

-Gerard

I guess it still felt weird to say my name again... It's like having no identity and someone coming over like "Hey! You're now Bob! You like mr. Bean and play the drums!" And you just have to deal with your new self... I was fine with mine.

Hello my name is Gerard Arthur Way,
I am gay and I love a man called Frank Iero, he happens to be my cellmate. Yes, I am in prison and have been for 5 years. Frankie has helped me through the worst times and vice versa. We love each-other and I dream to one day get out of here so we can be together. Hard thing is, you know what they do to guys like us in prison.

That was good to me.

Frank rolled over, his little, brown eyes closed and moving. He must be dreaming.

What did the guards to about the body? Did they clean it out? Probably...
Would Frank get any credit for finding him? Maybe...

No matter how selfish it is, I don't want him to leave. I want both of us to be together, wether it being in jail or out.

Maybe we could run... Get out of here... Escape...