When Our Brothers in Arms Are Gone (Frerard)

When Our Brothers in Arms Are Gone

Heyy, its mee, I'm publishing this instead of a new chapter for we're burning (it'll come out Saturday night as usual), its a oneshot. Please don't kill me, enjoy!

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"Please, Gerard, Please!" Frank cried out, tears rolled down his cheeks, and slid into his mouth that was twisted in a half open state; the salty taste of them enveloping his tongue.

He grabbed the sides of Gerard's head, forcing him to look at him. Or rather more accurately, forcing him to face him, for Gerard's eyes stayed as unfocused and vacant as always.

Gerard didn't budge, his hands rested lightly near his thighs, his fingers just almost falling off of the sides of the chair he sat upon. Frank's fingers dug into Gerard's scalp unconsciously, he yelled in frustration and desperation, more tears pouring out of his eyes.

"I'm begging you, Gerard!" Frank screamed in his face, but to no avail-no response came. "Fuck! Gerard, Please!" He tried again, his voice breaking on the last of words as the lump in his throat grew larger like a pool being filled with water, constricting his ability to talk.

"Mikey's gone, why can't you just accept that?! He's gone and he's not coming back! But you still have me, you still do! So please, Gerard, please, come back to me. Before you lose me too, because I-I don't - I don't think I'm-"

Frank was cut off with a wrenching sob that tore its way out of his chest, leaving him shaking and shaken. He loosened his grip on Gerard's head, and let his hands slide down to his soft cheeks, cupping them with the most gentleness he could muster.

With trembling fingers, Frank swept a lock of black hair out of Gerard's face, revealing his unfocused eyes more clearly. He felt as if someone stomped over his heart and threw it into a mixer or under a cook's knife every time he looked at them.

These eyes-Frank shuddered at their sight-they were not his Gerard's. His Gerard's eyes were green and sparkling, they were alive and happy, they were loving and comforting. His Gerard's eyes were like a field in the summer, green leaves moving lightly with the breeze.

These eyes though, these were dull and dead, and they lacked the light that was always held behind Gerard's two orbs of grass. These eyes were killing Frank, and more than he would have liked to admit.

Frank took a deep breath, and squeezed his eyes shut, he refused to look at those eyes. He didn't know them, and he didn't want to see them. Not anymore.

"I don't think I'm able to lose you, Gerard," he whispered in a brittle and croaky voice; it was wrecked from all of his crying and screaming.

But of course, Gerard didn't respond. Frank didn't know why he thought he would, perhaps he didn't really think that. Perhaps he was lying to himself, as to keep what was left of his sanity intact; but it didn't matter. Because at this point, Gerard was about as good as a corpse, and that hurt Frank more than anything, it was something that could not be expressed.

"Please, Gerard, please come back to me. I... I can't do this anymore, it hurts so badly." He begged, his voice thick with emotion.

Frank wished he could know what was going through Gerard's head at that moment, as his eyes flickered to the side. Not looking at anything in particular, just staring at nothing.

"I don't want to leave you," Frank whispered. "it'll hurt so much, but it'll hurt less than this, Gerard."

Nothing happened, and Frank wondered if Gerard could even hear him with whatever and wherever he was inside his head.