LIGHTS. ~ frerard ~

~Chapter 1~

~ Occupations, the opportunity to see yourself in a light... (We Don't Need Another Song about California)

·Gerard's POV

I still can't believe it.

I've spent almost my whole life being kicked out from everywhere, being an outcast, desperately searching for my place in this world. Everybody told me I was not enough. Always.

But here I am: Gerard Arthur Way, graduated at School of Visual Arts in New York, now happily working as an intern for Cartoon Network. Fuck yes. I can say I deserve it.

It's been a few months since I got the job, and I'm putting my heart and my soul into it. When I first achieved the career of my dreams, I thought it would've been an opportunity to tell the world that I wasn't different, but then I realised that "different" doesn't mean "bad", and today I can say that I'm proud to stand out.

So, now I'm here on my way to work on the ferry, drawing some drafts of what I hope will be my first graphic novel, or cartoon or whatever. I can't actually imagine myself being interviewed, invited at conventions all over the world, having fans, signing autographs... That possibility seems so far away from me, and I probably don't even want to be, like... Famous. Woah that's a big word! My only intention is to express my creativity, and if that could make some people happy, then I'm one hundred percent into it!

I guess this sudden lightness is what common people call "happiness"; I could even get used to it.

It seems just another normal day, and I'm trying to enjoy it as much as possible, so I open my sketch folder and shove my hand in it, searching for a thing I drew this morning while having breakfast at Starbucks: examining my sketches always gives me some satisfaction.

I lift a bit my draft of some sort of superhero: it's a young man with quite long black hair in black skinny jeans and a t%t vest with bright yellow sleeves. It's really weird, because I dreamt him last night and I can't get him out of my head.

I slowly put it in the folder, and that's when I hear a tremendous explosion.

Everybody around me starts shrieking and panicking and I bet no one is aware of what's happening, until a kid points out the smoke coming from the World Trade Center.

After we get off the ferry, thousands, hundreds of people gather all around the zone and watch the disaster. And then a second explosion.

The smoke, the fire, all the destruction is unbearable for my eyes, but I can't stop looking, my sight is stuck there.

- What happened?! -

- What the hell?!! -

- There were two planes! They crashed into the Towers!! -

- Oh my God... -

- I'm telling you, officer! I saw it clearly! This plane shifted away from its course and went straight into the North Tower first, and 15 minutes later a second one hit the South Tower! How can you still believe it was an accident!?!? -

Everybody around me is yelling, it's all noise and chaos, while I'm just standing here, staring at the Towers, not saying a word. All these people are arguing about what they saw, but what about those who are in there right now? Did they ever see what was coming? Did they realize what was going to happen?

I finally get to see the burning top of the North and South Towers and ask myself a last question:

Did they know that they were going to die?

It's been almost an hour since the first collision, and I'm still here, surrounded by firemen, police officers or just curious people; all I hear is loud talking, the sirens of ambulances and firetrucks, and crying. The crying hits me the most: some of these people have relatives or friends in there; maybe a guy who died today was the only son of that old lady who's sobbing at my left. We're all witnessing the worst tragedy of this decade, and I have nobody to be concerned for, besides the ones around me in this moment.

As soon as I start thinking about this sensitive topic and try to be empathetic, the South Tower, which was the last one to be attacked, collapses on itself, making everything around us shake: the glass of the windows breaks, people scream and protect themselves by laying on the ground, as a dome of fire, smoke and ashes stands from the Twin Towers.

The sound of the collision is still ringing in my ears and I feel like I'm in a sort of bubble, barely keeping myself on my feet through the wind and the wreckage.

It's the worst occurrence I've ever been a part of, the worst thing I've ever seen, it makes me feel the worst pain I've ever felt. And, worst of all, it doesn't make sense to me.

This is the kind of stuff that only happens in disaster films, or at least it should. All these human beings that surround me should watch this only at the movies as an amazing blockbuster, not with their own eyes as a sad proof that this world is all screwed up.

And the ones who were inside shouldn't have died.

A/N Hellooo! Here's the first chapter. I hope you like it and also that it doesn't end up like the other two stories I've published... Please I'm begging you, give some support. lol bye