Gerard's POV
I wasn't expecting him to come to my show after all these years but he there he was. I'm not even sure if he knew I had seen him. He stood near the exit, leaning against the wall in a beige knit cardigan and a red shirt underneath. He donned baggy light wash jeans. His tattoos concealed under his clothes. His hair hung just over his right eye and there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. The room felt empty except for the two of us though I could feel everyone's presence. It had been years since I last saw him and I couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing. The room felt small yet he still felt miles away. I choked on my words slightly before catching myself and finishing my set, my eyes moving over towards him every so often to make sure he was real and still there.
When the room clears, I see that he's still there, one leg lifted with his foot flat against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. He loosens his stance as I walk over towards him.
"How've you been?" He asks, his voice soft and calm though it broke dams inside of me. I try my best to keep my composure.
"Not too bad," I respond, trying to mask the shake in my tone. I feel my heart beating rapidly in ears and I can feel a constriction in my throat.
"You still sound good, man," he remarks, pointing aimlessly towards the stage. I can see in his eyes there's a flicker of sadness.
"For a minute, I felt like I was up there with you and almost had to leave. After that, I figured I'd stay close to the door, you know, in case," he continues talking, but I can tell there's a deep wound he reopened by coming here. I know him well enough to know that and I'm sure he can sense that I'm not exactly as strong as I'm trying to be right now.
"Yeah, no, you were amazing up there. Just, yeah, wow, so good," he trails on, continuing to look at the stage rather than make eye contact. I stand there, unable to string enough words together to rectify his pain or enough words together to convince myself that everything will be okay. There's a knot in my throat and I can't even bring myself to form a sound. I watch as he walks closer to the stage and further from me. I kick my legs into gear and follow behind him. He makes his way to the stage and places his palm on elevated platform. He lifts himself and swings so he's sitting up on the stage. He crosses his legs and stares towards the empty room, still avoiding my glance. I can see the shine of his eyes becoming more intense as tears well up. I pull myself up and sit down beside him, finding the spot in the distance he's focused on. I look down at his hand, and place mine over his. He flinched slightly but doesn't pull away. He looks over at me and a tear slides down his cheek. He pulls his hand from underneath mine and jumps from the stage. He begins to run towards the exit door.
"Frank, wait!" I call, racing after him. I run after him, following him out of the venue and onto the sidewalk where I find him gripping onto his cardigan as he sobs. I place a hand onto his shoulder and he turns around, giving me a haunting look like a deer in headlights.
"Why did it have to be this way?" He yells, sobs muffling his voice.
"Because I love you," I respond as calmly as possible while tears begin to fall from my eyes. I blink rapidly, trying to clear my eyes to see his reaction.
"I know but that doesn't change anything, does it? It only ever made things worse. It was a mistake coming here. You know, I was hoping to get some closure or something but all I got was heartache," he shouts, using his arms to show me his words.
"This was a mistake," he mumbles, taking a deep breath immediately after.
"But... I love you," I try again, softening my voice.
"And I loved you too but that doesn't change a fucking thing. You know it's too late for that. Our lives are well past that. You had your chance and you squandered it," he replies.
"You think three little words can heal years of pain but they can't. Maybe if the wound hadn't scarred over but now all the scartissue would have to be cleared away for it to even be a possible remedy," his voice calming considerably as he continues talking.
"I'm sorry," I choke out.
"I'm sorry too, that I don't know if you'll ever see me again because I really don't know if I'll want to see you again." He turns and continues to walk away. His figure shrinking from view. He fades into the night as he walks away and he's right, I don't know if I'll ever see him again.
