Author: Meera Flame
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Being left behind isn't always easy.
Disclaimer: I play guitar in My Chemical Romance and I'm such an awful liar.
Note: I apologize if any spelling or grammar mistakes has occured. In my defense; I am not English.
My Street
Gerard walks down the street, old memories flashing through his mind as he keeps on walking toward his parents’ house. The house he calls home. He smiles, for the first time in weeks. It’s only on rare occasions that he gets the opportunity to visit his parents now that his life is turned upside down.
He spots a bench only a few meters away. He fasten up, trying to get to it faster.
Fell in love for the first time in my life, here on this bench, he thinks, eyeing the bench with passion. The white paint that once covered the whole thing is starting to faint. It reminds him of his life. It’s fainting now that Frank’s out of it. His former boyfriend is getting married. Married with a girl he wants to hate, but can’t. She is too nice, just like Frank. Impossible to hate, even though he really wants to. She ruined his life, after all.
He sits down. Watching an old guy with a broom in his hand, cleaning up what’s left. The wind around him is cold, and it hits his exposed skin hard. Just like it did that night when Frank promised it would be the two of them forever. The night he said they would face good and bad times together till the end of their lives.
So much of a promise, Gerard thinks bitterly, and if it wasn’t for the cold, he might have cried.
His hands roams over the bench, wishing it was Frank. Wishing it was that warm body, instead of the cold planks. And all of a sudden he’s back in that hot summer night, cuddled up in Frank’s arms, right there, on that bench. He remembers it as if had happened yesterday. He remembers Frank’s plush lips on his for the first time, and the way his tongue twitched inside his mouth. The night he fell in love for the first time. Oh, he remembers it very well.
How could he forget? Forgetting it would be like forgetting his goddamned life, because his life was Frank. Well, used to be anyway. Until she came along.
He sighs as he’s forced back to reality. His cell phone is calling.
“It’s Gerard,” he says, sounding a little too pissed.
“Hey Gee, it’s Mikey,” he hears his brother say softly in the other end of the phone.
“Hi, Mikes.”
“Guess you’re not coming, huh? Frank wants you to come.”
“No. Too hard, you know?” Gerard says, his throat starting to hurt. He’s at the verge of crying.
“Yeah, I know, Gee,” Mikey soothes, and tries to tune up the mood as he adds, “It should have been you in that white wedding dress.”
Gerard is unable to restrain the smile forming on his lips. His brother really knows how to tune up the mood when it’s needed. “Tell Frank I’m sorry.”
“I will,” Mikey vows, taking a deep breath before he continues. “Don’t you worry about it, okay, Gerard? Frank will understand.”
“You think so?” Gerard sniffs, not able to restrain the need to cry anymore. His tears flowing freely as he buries his head in his hand while he holds his phone with the other.
“I know so, Gerard,” Mikey says, listening to his brother’s soft sobs. “Now go and take a long bath before going to bed. It will do you good.”
“Okay,” Gerard says after a while.
“I’ll call you first thing tomorrow morning to see how you’re doing. Take care, Gerard. It will be okay.”
“I just want him back,” Gerard replies and once again bursts into tears. “I just … what did I do to deserve this, Mikey? Why did he leave me? What did I do wrong?”
“You didn’t do anything, Gerard. Stop blaming yourself. Now go and do what I said. And don’t do anything stupid.”
“Okay,” Gerard sniffs and wipes his tears away with his sleeve. “Sorry for being such a girl.”
“Don’t worry about that. Now go home and take care of yourself. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mikey. Talk to you later,” he says and ends the phone call. His eyes are still hurting but he ignores the pain. He raises himself up on shaky legs, slowly but surely starting to walk again.
He still loves Frank, and probably always will. And if Frank ever decides to come back to him, he will be right there. On that street. On that bench. Waiting.
The End
