Something to Live For [19/19]
Title: Something to Live For [19/19]
Author: xmychemx
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R.
Summary:What would you do, faced with the end of life as we know it?
Disclaimer: Not mine. I am not in any way affiliated with My Chemical Romance.
Author's Note: Under the cut
Beta: gee4president Thank you!
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18]
A/N: So this one is finally ending. And I know it took a while, and things were all over the place for a bit, and I'm sorry. But thank you to everyone who read this, commented, and stuck with it even through the hiatus. You guys are amazing. And now here's your ending.
Also, for anyone interested, the song that I wrote the majority of this story to, and that fits rather well with the entire feel of it, is Not Enough by Our Lady Peace. Download and listen to it while you read, if you're into that sort of thing.
Mikey’s death had been almost a surprise. Back when the war first began, when Gerard didn’t entirely understand what was going on. When he had no experience or knowledge of what the fuck he was supposed to do when there was a nuclear war, right in their hometown. When Mikey had been out, and Gerard hadn’t even turned the radio on yet. He supposed that was when Mikey contracted the sickness. Before Mikey had run back home, shouting something about a bomb, and the way all the neighbours were retreating inside and locking their houses down. Gerard hadn’t been ready for Mikey to die. He got sick so fast, and then he was gone.
Gerard thought that after watching the two people he loved most in the world die, he wouldn’t be so affected by it. He had watched Frank get sicker and sicker, and thought that when the time came, unlike with Mikey, he would know what to expect, he would be prepared.
He wasn’t.
Gerard sat and stared at Frank’s still body for longer than he could keep track of. Like if he kept waiting, Frank would wake up and say that he’d just been sleeping. In a daze, Gerard had even tried kissing him, a childish hope that it would bring him back. Because nothing else he did seemed to be working. Frank wasn’t waking up, and eventually Gerard realised that he wasn’t ever going to. And that was when he lost it.
Standing up abruptly, Gerard slammed his fist into the wall, feeling his knuckles take the brunt of it and biting his lip to hold back a cry of pain. He didn’t care anymore. Frank, his only real reason for holding on, was lying, unmoving, in that bed, and there was nothing left. He was left with nothing but broken fingers and a broken spirit.
He couldn’t do this. Not on his own, not without Frank. He couldn’t take being left to die alone. Frank had promised. Promised him he wouldn’t leave him alone, wouldn’t break, wouldn’t let go unless Gerard was ready to go with him. He wanted to hate him, wanted to loathe him for doing this, for leaving him, for going back on his word. Instead, all he could do was look at him and feel that gut-wrenching twist of his stomach. He wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t continue without Frank, wouldn’t keep trying to find something where there was nothing. Frank had gone, and Gerard was going to go with him, no matter what it took.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into Frank’s ear, and he kissed him once more before he got up and left the room.
When he was back out on the street, he started walking in the direction he had last seen them. Ironic, he thought, that he and Frank both got what the other wanted. To Gerard, it didn’t matter anymore. Didn’t matter because Frank was gone, and Gerard was left alone.
He kept walking, feet dragging him further, his mind numb. He didn’t want to think at all, because if he did, he’d think about Frank, and that was too much. Because deep down, he knew he’d gone back on his word, too. Frank had died, and Gerard had walked away. He hoped that if there was such thing as the afterlife, that Frank would understand. He thought that he would. Frank himself had wanted this very thing, so how could he blame Gerard? Surely Frank would understand just how hard it was to sit there in that room with Frank so nearby. Only, it wasn’t Frank. It was just a shell, a casing of what he had been, but lacking the sparkle of the eyes, the twitch of the lips as he smiled, the sound as he laughed. And it was the sounds that were the worst, Gerard thought. Pictures he could block out. Sound, he heard echoing around his head over and over. The sound of Frank’s laugh, his voice, the way he sighed happily as he buried himself into Gerard’s side. His last words before he slipped away, the way his voice had cracked so horribly when he tried to talk through the sobs. Gerard could still feel Frank’s lips against his own, and that was beyond unfair.
And oh god, Frank was gone. Frank had left and Gerard wasn’t ever going to hear those sounds again.
And despite his desperation not to, there he was, thinking of Frank and wishing he was back by his side. Maybe if he had stayed, he could pretend. Pretend that Frank was just asleep and was going to wake up eventually. And maybe Gerard could pass on like that, watching Frank and waiting for his own end to come. Gerard’s heart raced at the thought of it, and he kept walking, further away from Frank, further away from the pain.
He could see them in the distance now, and his heart sped up, hammering in his chest. He felt like he was going to be sick the closer he got, but he forced himself to continue. In a few minutes it would be done with. He was close enough to see them easily now. Close enough to hear them talking. He felt his eyes watering again, and his mind screamed at him to leave, to turn back and hide, but still he walked forwards. They turned at the sound of his footsteps, and Gerard held his head up high as he approached. He was shaking, couldn’t believe what he was doing, but at the same time knew that it was necessary. Frank had been ready to do it, and now Gerard was too. One of them shouted something, and Gerard stared at him until all of them were looking at him, guns in hand. One laughed, and Gerard stood his ground.
They were getting confused, but he wasn’t about to step down and leave. He saw anger flash over their faces, and they stepped forward, yelling at him again. Gerard had no idea what they expected of him, and he stood tall as they grew steadily more infuriated until one lashed out, reaching around and slamming the butt of his gun onto Gerard’s shoulder blades. Gerard fell to his knees, stared at the ground and held back tears. He wanted this, needed this, and he wasn’t going to cry.
They were still ordering him around, and when he looked up, there was a gun pointed at him. The soldier stepped forward, pressing the barrel against Gerard’s temple, and he flinched. He knelt, still, and waited. His hands shook hard, and he clenched his fingers into fists at his side. He could hear them yelling at him, hear the frustration in their tone, and he knew that this was it. Vaguely, it occurred to him that all the weeks he and Frank had spent running from them was now a total waste.
“Sorry Frank,” he whispered to the ground before he looked up again and this time, the shot was fired.
Author: xmychemx
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R.
Summary:What would you do, faced with the end of life as we know it?
Disclaimer: Not mine. I am not in any way affiliated with My Chemical Romance.
Author's Note: Under the cut
Beta: gee4president Thank you!
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18]
A/N: So this one is finally ending. And I know it took a while, and things were all over the place for a bit, and I'm sorry. But thank you to everyone who read this, commented, and stuck with it even through the hiatus. You guys are amazing. And now here's your ending.
Also, for anyone interested, the song that I wrote the majority of this story to, and that fits rather well with the entire feel of it, is Not Enough by Our Lady Peace. Download and listen to it while you read, if you're into that sort of thing.
Mikey’s death had been almost a surprise. Back when the war first began, when Gerard didn’t entirely understand what was going on. When he had no experience or knowledge of what the fuck he was supposed to do when there was a nuclear war, right in their hometown. When Mikey had been out, and Gerard hadn’t even turned the radio on yet. He supposed that was when Mikey contracted the sickness. Before Mikey had run back home, shouting something about a bomb, and the way all the neighbours were retreating inside and locking their houses down. Gerard hadn’t been ready for Mikey to die. He got sick so fast, and then he was gone.
Gerard thought that after watching the two people he loved most in the world die, he wouldn’t be so affected by it. He had watched Frank get sicker and sicker, and thought that when the time came, unlike with Mikey, he would know what to expect, he would be prepared.
He wasn’t.
Gerard sat and stared at Frank’s still body for longer than he could keep track of. Like if he kept waiting, Frank would wake up and say that he’d just been sleeping. In a daze, Gerard had even tried kissing him, a childish hope that it would bring him back. Because nothing else he did seemed to be working. Frank wasn’t waking up, and eventually Gerard realised that he wasn’t ever going to. And that was when he lost it.
Standing up abruptly, Gerard slammed his fist into the wall, feeling his knuckles take the brunt of it and biting his lip to hold back a cry of pain. He didn’t care anymore. Frank, his only real reason for holding on, was lying, unmoving, in that bed, and there was nothing left. He was left with nothing but broken fingers and a broken spirit.
He couldn’t do this. Not on his own, not without Frank. He couldn’t take being left to die alone. Frank had promised. Promised him he wouldn’t leave him alone, wouldn’t break, wouldn’t let go unless Gerard was ready to go with him. He wanted to hate him, wanted to loathe him for doing this, for leaving him, for going back on his word. Instead, all he could do was look at him and feel that gut-wrenching twist of his stomach. He wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t continue without Frank, wouldn’t keep trying to find something where there was nothing. Frank had gone, and Gerard was going to go with him, no matter what it took.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into Frank’s ear, and he kissed him once more before he got up and left the room.
When he was back out on the street, he started walking in the direction he had last seen them. Ironic, he thought, that he and Frank both got what the other wanted. To Gerard, it didn’t matter anymore. Didn’t matter because Frank was gone, and Gerard was left alone.
He kept walking, feet dragging him further, his mind numb. He didn’t want to think at all, because if he did, he’d think about Frank, and that was too much. Because deep down, he knew he’d gone back on his word, too. Frank had died, and Gerard had walked away. He hoped that if there was such thing as the afterlife, that Frank would understand. He thought that he would. Frank himself had wanted this very thing, so how could he blame Gerard? Surely Frank would understand just how hard it was to sit there in that room with Frank so nearby. Only, it wasn’t Frank. It was just a shell, a casing of what he had been, but lacking the sparkle of the eyes, the twitch of the lips as he smiled, the sound as he laughed. And it was the sounds that were the worst, Gerard thought. Pictures he could block out. Sound, he heard echoing around his head over and over. The sound of Frank’s laugh, his voice, the way he sighed happily as he buried himself into Gerard’s side. His last words before he slipped away, the way his voice had cracked so horribly when he tried to talk through the sobs. Gerard could still feel Frank’s lips against his own, and that was beyond unfair.
And oh god, Frank was gone. Frank had left and Gerard wasn’t ever going to hear those sounds again.
And despite his desperation not to, there he was, thinking of Frank and wishing he was back by his side. Maybe if he had stayed, he could pretend. Pretend that Frank was just asleep and was going to wake up eventually. And maybe Gerard could pass on like that, watching Frank and waiting for his own end to come. Gerard’s heart raced at the thought of it, and he kept walking, further away from Frank, further away from the pain.
He could see them in the distance now, and his heart sped up, hammering in his chest. He felt like he was going to be sick the closer he got, but he forced himself to continue. In a few minutes it would be done with. He was close enough to see them easily now. Close enough to hear them talking. He felt his eyes watering again, and his mind screamed at him to leave, to turn back and hide, but still he walked forwards. They turned at the sound of his footsteps, and Gerard held his head up high as he approached. He was shaking, couldn’t believe what he was doing, but at the same time knew that it was necessary. Frank had been ready to do it, and now Gerard was too. One of them shouted something, and Gerard stared at him until all of them were looking at him, guns in hand. One laughed, and Gerard stood his ground.
They were getting confused, but he wasn’t about to step down and leave. He saw anger flash over their faces, and they stepped forward, yelling at him again. Gerard had no idea what they expected of him, and he stood tall as they grew steadily more infuriated until one lashed out, reaching around and slamming the butt of his gun onto Gerard’s shoulder blades. Gerard fell to his knees, stared at the ground and held back tears. He wanted this, needed this, and he wasn’t going to cry.
They were still ordering him around, and when he looked up, there was a gun pointed at him. The soldier stepped forward, pressing the barrel against Gerard’s temple, and he flinched. He knelt, still, and waited. His hands shook hard, and he clenched his fingers into fists at his side. He could hear them yelling at him, hear the frustration in their tone, and he knew that this was it. Vaguely, it occurred to him that all the weeks he and Frank had spent running from them was now a total waste.
“Sorry Frank,” he whispered to the ground before he looked up again and this time, the shot was fired.