Welcome to the Black Parade (TYftV Sequel)

Chapter 5: So You Think You Can Just Forget About Me?

"That's not true. You're thinking about something else. Come to think of it, you always seem to be thinking about something else. What's even the fucking point of all this if you're not even here half the time?" Lindsey snaps, shocking me slightly. I wasn't expecting her to raise her voice at me, but I can't say I'm exactly surprised.

"What do you mean; I'm right here, am I not?" I reply, frowning slightly to match our words.

Lindsey shakes her head, the volume of her voice raising further, "No, Gerard, you don't get it. Fuck, why don't you understand? If you were here, I'd be able to feel it. Maybe you're physically here, with me, but your mind is elsewhere. I know there's something on your mind, I just want to know what it is, I want to help you," she confirms, returning to a calmer state.

"What are you trying to say, Lindsey?" I spit, gritted-teeth, anger flooding my veins. Blood rushes to my cheeks, my face reddening as I try and contain my fury. In the light of this, I clench my fists, holding them at my sides.

It's not as if I were going to punch her, I wouldn't even consider it, however maybe I did want to unleash on a nearby inanimate object. That could wait though, I suppose.

"I'm trying to say that I can't deal with having a boyfriend that doesn't give a shit about me or about us. I'm leaving, Gerard. And I'm not necessarily saying that I'm coming back."

And with that, she stands up, dusting off her skirt and storming away from me. She disappeared, leaving me alone once again. Maybe that's nothing new, though, maybe that's how it's always been for me. Maybe everyone always leaves. It seems incredibly fitting though, wouldn't you agree?

Alas, I suppose I can be alone with my thoughts now, at the very least.

"It's been a while, Gerard."

The sudden voice startles me slightly, especially considering it being one I didn't recognise. It causes me to jump a little, cocking my head to the side in seek of the voice's source.

"Aren't you going to speak to me? Maybe you could start with telling me who the fuck that girl is, and why exactly you've been spending so much time together, huh?" The speaker enquires, voice laced with disgust so strong it may even be considered hatred.

"I- s-she's my girlfriend, Lindsey. Why d-does it ma-matter?" I replied honestly in some violent kind of stutter. I'm not scared, not exactly, I just dislike talking to strangers, especially when they're unhappy, even more so when they're unhappy with me.

"Your girlfriend? But, Gerard, what about..." The other boy trails off, yet soon appears to lose whatever ounce of hope remained. His eyes turn wide, glossing over with tears. He stands beside me, staring at the ground, an aura of defeat emanating from his body. And for a split second, I feel it too.

"What about what? I don't understand what you mean," I explain hurriedly, eyebrows knitting together in utter confusion.

"What about us?" The boy elaborates, although he still appeared to have given up on whatever he'd previously aimed to achieve. I wished I knew what he meant, if only to understand.

"Us?" I question curiously, uncertain I'd heard him correctly. There's an 'us'? I don't even know who this person is, but then again, I do recognise him from a fraction of one of my memories. Well, I would suppose it's him, although it's unclear.

"Yes, Gerard. Us; you and I," he meets my wandering gaze, as if he'd be able to transfer the memories himself.

"There was an 'us'? Sorry, I don't..." I try to explain, yet somehow result in worsening the situation.

"You really don't remember me, do you?" And by this point the other boy looked like he was about to burst into tears, but I couldn't really blame him. If there really had been an 'us' and it's something I'd forgotten, I'd imagine it to be pretty upsetting.

I almost wanted to comfort the boy, to reach out, maybe even hug him, but something about that thought unsettled me. I'm scared that if I even try to touch him, if I do as little as place a single finger upon his skin, he'd shatter.

I don't want to break him.

Fuck, why don't I remember? I need to remember.

"No, I'm sorry, I-I really have no idea who you are. It hurts to say that, but I really don't. I can't remember a goddamn thing. I'm so fucking sorry," and now I too am defeated.

The boy sits beside me, leaving a fair gap between us. Maybe it's just because I don't remember and he doesn't want to alarm me, or maybe it's because he really would shatter if we made physical contact. Shards of him would fly in all directions, piercing my skin, me, my memories, and I would remember. If his glass needles wounded me, I'd have a chance to feel, and maybe my memories could come flooding back. He may even simply disappear from his location beside me, or my hand would just pass straight through the apparition that is his body.

I can't risk it, though; I can't chance ruining him further just to satisfy my own selfish wishes and curiosity.

I do wonder how he got here, though. If he really knew me in life, what happened between then and now? Surely to be here he must've died along the way? Guilt settles in my stomach, a sickened feeling erupting within me.

"I- Maybe you could reintroduce yourself to me? It might trigger something, I-I don't know, I'm sorry, I understand it must be hard, I- but it's worth a try, right?"

He nods, the corners of his mouth curling into a melancholy smile, "My name's Frank, Frank Iero. And you, Gerard Way, you mean the world to me."