No room in this hell | Frerard |

Romance

Gerard's POV

September was always my favourite time of the year. The wind that whipped you on the sidewalk, pretty girls in summer dresses desperately clinging onto the last of the sunshine. The darkness slowly drawing in like a wraith, painting the evenings in a deep purple. Fall is the only time of year I feel comfortable and occupied.

But now.. All of the days fall from the calendar like ash.               

I can still hear the wailing in the streets, the sirens that never stopped blaring, the smoke that filled my lungs and never left me. The fragility of human life burned into my mind. I'm forced to relive every moment, the indescribable and inescapable sorrow that befell 8 million and a few billion more in one day. Far from the typical Tuesday commute.

I finished art school in New York. Finally working as a cartoonist. I was on my way to pitch a comic I had been working on since I got there to a publishing house when the entire city went silent for what felt like the longest time the city ever sat. Before grievous wails. That unanimous shriek of grief that still haunts my nights. It didn't matter uprooted or that I worked there anymore. It didn't matter if I dragged myself to this fucking nightmare to get my chance, I couldn't stay in the city.

The towers fell one by one and all the whole city was forced to witness the devastation. I stood in a ferry full of strangers, holding their breath and clinging onto one another. they knew as well as I did that nothing was going to be the same again. I soaked up their pain, drowning in their hysteria like an emotional conduit.

The sun never looked the same after that.

I had to drop everything, despite my dream. leaving a whole future behind me, all the friends I made are all phantoms to me now. An entire world full of strangers I hadn't met yet, behind me. I hit the wall, hard. I sobered up and threw the things I cared for most and caught the midtown to Penn with a duffle and some pieces. Leaving an entire life.

My kid brother was happy to see me walk up the porch steps but I couldn't escape the disappointment written all over my mother's face.

My sketchbooks clattered to the ground as Mikey opened the front door and flung his arms around my neck, sending me flying backwards. We caught each other as he squeezed me tight "I missed you dude" he muttered into my shoulder. "I missed you too kid" I replied with a long sigh. I picked up my bag and books and followed Mikey inside. The stairs to the basement felt longer than they ever did before. My room was untouched, a graveyard for all my aspirations.

Dust piled on the nicknacks and books strewn across the surfaces. Canvases begging to be finished, empty pill bottles towering on the dresser and nightstand, reminding me why I left in the first place. This wasn't a place that fit me anymore. A pit I crawled out of once before. I can't believe I'm back where I fucking started.

The walls watch me undress, trying to recognise the person that resided here before. The mirror judged  the bones protruding from my skin, the collarbones that were once padded now stuck out awkwardly below my throat, soft skin hanging from my arms and legs. I stand naked. Faced with my own reflection, searching for any piece of Gerard that was left, there's nothing left of him now.

A ghost has set up shop in this dingy space.

Mikey asked me to go with him to a jam session at a dive bar downtown to meet his friend later today, a desperate attempt to stop me from withdrawing again. In his last letter he told me about how much practice he's been getting in on the bass between work, even writing his own songs.

He always had a knack for making things sound beautiful. I remember how stoked he was opening the beat up guitar case to find a beautiful dark wood fender inside that was waiting for him on Christmas morning a few years back. I used my whole pay- check and gave the guy at the pawn shop head because I was short fifty bucks. I'd do just about anything to see him smile, to see him pursue his dream instead of running like I did.