27: It Ends Wtf HeLp me What Am I Going To Do Now?

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It was over.

Well, the conflict was over: it was over in general, but for Frank Iero that was really not the case.

When Frank woke up on Bob Bryar's living room floor, at first, he thought he was dead, but really, everyone was glad to hear that that just wasn't the case.

It was over, and Frank could quite believe it.

The town was empty and desolate: devoid of life, but devoid of them, and somehow, somehow Bob's plan had actually worked, and the five of them found themselves alone, but alive in the remains of what was once the town that Frank had been moved to for his own safety.

Safety.

That fucking made him laugh, because really, this place had been nothing more than the cause of all his problems, but he wouldn't have it any other way, because Gerard Way stood in the kitchen, talking to Bert: unaware that Frank had woken up yet, and really, Frank was happy to just watch him for a moment or two, because everything felt fucking surreal with his head spinning like this.

He couldn't quite hear their conversation from here, and he couldn't properly read either of their facial expressions either, which made it pretty hard to decipher just as to exactly what was being said, but the fact that Gerard was alive right now mattered for more to Frank, because the nineteen year old really couldn't ever even dream imagining losing him at all.

Perhaps they'd move on and Frank would accept an apology, but he wasn't sure yet: it wasn't easy, though, and he was sure of that at the very least, because damn, his head was a mess, and it always had been ever since he got here.

And really, he couldn't help but remember when things were innocent and it was all nerves and mystery and Frank didn't even know who Gerard was and what he was capable of, let alone what he'd done and why he could never help but mean so much to Frank.

Maybe Frank wanted those days back: when Ray was still goddamn alive, for real, and Ray was his best friend, and Mikey was okay, and Pete was no one, and Gerard was just the shadow behind him in the record store and the chills running down his spine - everything felt pretend back then, but now it was just a constant headache, and Frank was going to be sick any moment now, and Gerard could feel Frank's eyes in the back of his skull, and he turned, and everything went wrong.

Frank recognised the tear stains on his face immediately: Gerard most certainly didn't make a habit of crying, but it was rather evident as to what had turned his eyes so red and his face so pale, well, paler than usual.

And Frank was frozen upon the spot as Gerard met his gaze, and everything felt static, and it was lost: Bert miles away from the two of them, despite standing within reaching distance of Gerard.

It was complicated: it always had been, and it always will be, and it was Frank decision from here. He could leave right now, now it was safe to leave this town, and he could make his way back to New York and start a new life and pretend this was just some distance daydream: that one winter you won't remember by the age of forty three, but it wasn't right, and Frank was frozen right on the spot, and Gerard meant far too much to just leave alone.

"Gerard- I..." Eloquence proved not to be Frank's strong point, as he finally found enough energy in his body to make his way across the room to Gerard, and to figure this all out.

"He's dead, Frank. Mikey's dead- I... I could never save him, and this is my fault.. I killed him in the end, Frank- why did you? Why did you let this happen, I... I... I don't matter... I... he's dead..." Gerard met Frank's gaze with an unplaceable anger, and Frank was a little nervous to say the least: searching his wrong doings in the nothingness, and resorting to turning to Bert, who simply stood wide eyed and guilty.

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