My Angel (Frerard)

14: You Can Run Away With Me, Anytime You Want

No matter who called me or knocked on my door, I didn't answer. I'd ignore my calls and when someone knocked, I'd only slide o paper under the door that read 'leave me alone'.

Nobody seemed to get it.

They all kept asking what was wrong. But each time, they received no answer. No explanation. No excuse.

And it's been two weeks, and I've been in here. I hadn't eaten much, just a little here and there every time I was home alone. I didn't even go to hell. And by hell, I mean school.

Every time Frank would call or text, my heart would break just a little more, and I'd sob my eyes out all over again. It was painful. Dealing with a person you love, and they don't feel the same, yet they still kind of care enough to know whether you're alive or dead. Or perhaps they don't. Perhaps they only care if you're still available to be used by them.

Perhaps they truly do care.

But not in my case. Oh no. No no no. Not in my case. Not at all.

Oh, and, through the door, of course, Mikey told me Patrick broke it off with Pete, and that Patrick punched them both in the eye, saying that he was glad that I told him Pete was cheating. And that made me feel even shittier, but whatever.

And I'm pretty sure Mikey won't care now, if I killed myself, I mean.

And over the past two weeks, I've thought a lot about suicide. I thought about it everyday. And how no one will miss me, because nobody cares, honsetly. And how no one would ever love me the way I love Frank, so it'd be better to end it all sooner. Because, well, it would.

-

There was a light knock on the door. I lifted my head up and looked at it. I then hauled myself out of the bathtub and I walked over to the door.

"Gerard?" They asked, the voice belonging to Ray. I sighed and wrote another 'leave me alone' note and slid it under the door.

Ray didn't seem to take that for an answer. "Gerard, please tell us what's going on?" He pleaded, sighing audibly. Us?

I slid another note under the door asking that question.

"Yeah," he said, obviously disappointed I didn't actually speak. "Me, Bren, Pete, Mikey, Ryan, your mom, Frank, Lindsey, Patrick... We all want to know what's up with you. We're all here. The others are in the living room. So will you please come out?"

No. I won't. I can't. I can't face him. I'm too scared, too weak.

I slid another note under the door that read 'no. I can't. I'm sorry'.

Ray sighed and walked off.

This is fucking it. I can't take this anymore. I'm causing everyone to get all upset.

I'm fucking done.

-

I checked the date and time on my phone: March 22nd, 1:27PM.

I sighed.

Everyone was still here. No one left. I heard them all talking. No one sounded happy and I was the cause of that. I made everyone unhappy. I could hear whenever Frank sobbed, which broke my heart. I could hear when Ray sighed and told Frank not to talk to me yet, or when Mikey banged his head against the wall and Pete had to stop him.

I could hear how unhappy they were, by their tone or their actions. I could hear it all.

And that's why I chose to do it.