The Blue Streaked Boy and Me| frerard

18.gotta go my own way

this is the last chapter, also i s2g if no one gets these chapter title themes I'm gonna cry (also don't forget to vote and comment)  i love you all

Three weeks later, I struggled to walk to the mailbox with my crutches. The doctor said it would be good to build up my endurance, so everyday this was my job, getting the mail. As I got the letters out of the post box and began to wobble back up the driveway, a familiar red Ferrari pulled up. And a familiar boy, minus his blue roots stepped out. I suppressed the urge to fuck up my foot anymore by making a run for it. I stood my ground as the sports car parked in my driveway and tried to fix my face so it didn't seem like I hadn't been suffering the past month entirely.

"Frankie?" He walked over holding a small white box. I took it only out of curiosity.

"Thanks," I said emotionless.

He put his hand on my arm, "Frank, I'm really sorry about what happened. I'm free on–

I shrugged away from his touch.

"Look Gerard, I'm sorry but I'm not ready to get back in a relationship with you right now. I understand that you didn't say those things, Hayley did. I should have known from the start."

"If we're going to do this again, you need to trust me. I'm not Mikey's age."

"Whoa, whoa," I took a step back, "if you think that that's gonna make me come crawling back to you, then you got another thing coming for you Gerard."

He rolled his eyes, got back in the car and drove off. I didn't really care.

I limped into my house as quickly as I could to get rid of the mail I still gripped so I could get to my room to open up the box. When I made it upstairs, I tore at the package to see what was inside.

Wrapped in delicate layers of white tissue paper was the locket with our pictures from Alcatraz.

A laugh escaped my lips, classic Gee. Instead of putting it on, or being irrational and throwing it away, I wrapped it back up and put it in a desk drawer, where I knew it would be safe. I knew there would be a time again where I would feel comfortable wearing it. But now was not the time. Loving him was blue. Everything about Gerard was blue, his hair, his jeans, his dreams and it tore me apart. He was blue and he liked me because I was red. We touched and suddenly we were a lilac sky, and then I decided that purple–or blue for that matter–was not for me. And that was okay because I knew our colors would collide again.

happy new year, there will be a sequel that will hopefully be up tomorrow (the ballad of blonde haired gerard)