falling in love will kill you ♤ frerard

chapter//twenty-three

// Frank's POV

and after all. . . you're my wonderwall. -Oasis //

Soon after Gerard left, I forced myself to get out of the warm bed. God, I already missed Gerard. At least he told me he left this time, even though that doesn't change the fact that he left again. Why did I end up falling in love with him? Goddamn it, I hate myself for that.

I trudged down the stairs and sat at the kitchen table. I just stared outside and looked at the white, snow covered ground. It was cold, and I had nothing more than a shirt on, and a pair of boxers, of course. My legs were fucking freezing, but I still stayed and sat at the table. I just didn't feel like moving, I didn't have any motivation to do so. Gerard was gone again and he took my heart with him, just as he always did.

How long I stayed at the table, I don't know. But I didn't move at all until Mikey told me to go take a warm shower, but all I did was go to the couch and curl up in a blanket. "Mikey?" I asked him. "Can you make me some hot chocolate?"

"Sure, Frank," he responded. I thanked him and proceeded to turn on the TV. I skimmed the channels, and quite a few shows were about Christmas or presents, or something of that sort. I finally settled on the movie, The Nightmare Before Christmas. I pulled the blanket up to my chin and kept my eyes glued to the TV.

"Here." Mikey handed me a mug filled with hot chocolate. I thanked him once again and took a small sip of it then I returned my gaze to the TV. I hadn't watched this movie in a few months, I think the last time I watched it was with Gerard, in that theater. I thought about that night for a while, and just how he looked in the rain. Then I thought of the picture hanging in the museum. I didn't exactly care what happened to that painting, but I still wondered what did happened to it.

After the movie was over, and I finished my cup of hot chocolate, I went up to Mikey's room (since that's where I had put all of my art supplies) and sat on the floor. I placed a small canvas in front of me and grabbed the paints I decided I needed, and got to work.

The painting probably took me around six hours to complete, not that I minded, of course. It was a painting of Gerard, again. But this one was a bit different. Instead of smiling and laughing like he was in the previous one I painted of him, he looked more worn out, or just tired. I just drew him how he looked yesterday. His arm along the back of the couch, a fake smile upon his lips, some faded bruises along certain places of his body, dirty clothes, and the familiar light behind his eyes wasn't there as it had been before.

I cleaned up my supplies and took the painting into mine and Gerard's room to dry. I set it on his desk, and made my way back downstairs. I hadn't realized that without him I wasn't myself. He was the one that kept a smile on my face, that made everything okay. Even when he wore the smallest smile, it still made me ten times happier than I was before. But if his smile made me happy, just imagine how it felt when he was sad, or angry, or just over all upset. It broke my heart to see him like that, but nobody needed the know that much.

//

Waiting gets old pretty damn fast. Waiting for the same person over and over again, gets old pretty damn fast. It was Christmas Eve and I was freezing my fucking ass off waiting for Pete. He had those stupid tickets I begged him to get for me, since he came from a rich fucking family.

I had been waiting for at least an hour. Not like the three days I had been waiting for Gerard, but still. An hour in the fucking snow does something to people. It made me want to rip off my limbs so the cold didn't bother me as much, but I knew I couldn't do that. Where was the asshole? He said he'd be here an hour ago!

"Frank!" I turned my head and saw Pete running towards me with two tickets in his hands. Once he reached me, he stuck them out, and I grabbed them. "You owe me for this, Frank," he told me.

"I know I do, Pete. Thank you so fucking much for these. It really means a lot." I smiled at him, before walking, well running, more like, to my car. I got inside, turned on the car, then turning on the heater. I waited a few minutes, just until my car was warm, before I began the drive back to the house.

// Gerard's POV , trigger warning //

It was Christmas day, and I promised Frank I'd be back by Christmas. But I promised Bert something much more, something that I probably shouldn't have. I drove to Frank's, since Bert said it was alright to do so, and parked a couple blocks away, since I didn't want him to see me, at all. I grabbed the gift I got for him from my car, then walked to his, well, our house (I guess) and peaked in the front window. Frank was sitting on the couch watching TV, though it looked like he was crying. See Gerard? See what you're doing?

I brushed it off the best I could and climbed up the tree outside the bathroom window. I managed to get inside the house quietly, and then I snuck to his room. I set the gift I had gotten him on his bed, and left a note on top of it, before I noticed a small painting on my desk. Frank had obviously painted it. It was of me, and I just looked. . . Dead, almost. Soon. I climbed back out the window and down the tree. I ran to my car, and quickly drove to Bert's house.

"You're back!" He told me with a grin. I nodded and glanced at the gun he held tightly in his hand. Where he'd gotten it, I don't fucking know, and I don't fucking care. He kissed me, and I quickly returned it. It didn't last long because he pulled away and gave me a knowing look and said: "Me first," before he held the gun to his temple. I closed my eyes and heard the gun go off. I opened them to look at the bloody scene, and dead body, before me.

Bert had always meant more to me then Frank had, and I didn't feel too guilty about doing this. I walked over to his corpse and pried the gun from his dead hand, before doing the exact same thing he'd done. I hardly heard the gun go off before I fell to the ground, pain and relief shooting through me. If I didn't died yet, it wouldn't be too long before I bled out.

People say if you would have waited just fifteen more minutes, you wouldn't want to kill yourself. I don't think that's correct, though.

I always knew I had always loved Bert. And I always will.

But who knew that love, Bert's love, would be the end of me. Because falling in love did kill me.

- double update because i'm sorry... (not really, i'm cackling.) one more chapter...

Falling In Love Will Kill You. . . - Wrongchilde ft. Gerard Way

-kota //