Smoke. |Frerard|

Pain.

A year of waiting can change a person. Usually, it's thought that a person can get over something as simple as a death. If it's a loved one, that person is usually forgotten. Except, in this case, that didn't happen. Frank didn't forget, he couldn't forget. There was no possible way to, he'd tried. Frank turned to drinking, but he soon found out that it made everything worse. He then turned to smoking again, but he never really stopped. Every cigarette lighted was another memory of Gerard. But, Frank knew he could get help any time he wanted. Except for the fact that Frank didn't want to get help. He was afraid that he would forget.

Frank didn't want Gerard to fade away. That would be putting him down, forever. So, he inhaled the smoke and exhaled it with a long sigh. He kept doing so, at least until Mikey came along down the path.

Mikey jogged over to see Frank at the same time that they always met at. Today was different, the sky was just as gloomy as the day Gerard died, and the kids screaming in distance provided a wanted distraction, but not necessarily wanted. Frank would watch the kids running around and tackling each other with their shrieks of joy, and it made him frown. In truth, Frank wanted kids. He wanted to feel the responsibility and know that he made the wonderful piece of life, but he never even got the chance to care for someone else's. And he wasn't ever going to, Frank would only want to feel that way with Gerard. He only wanted to be a parent if Gerard was around to help him, so they could sing their child to sleep every night and give blissful kisses to each other when the day was over. But that couldn't happen now.

Mikey tapped Frank's shoulder, clearing his throat as his eyes scanned the ground he was standing on. Frank blinked once, turning to see the younger Way brother. He nudged his shoulder, a small smile cracking on his face.

"Hey, Mikey."

Mikey smiled back at him, nodding and handing one of the cups of coffee to Frank as the steam rose from the lid.

"Are you sure you want to go back there?" Mikey asked, watching as Frank chewed on his lower lip as the clouds grew darker above them.

"Yea," Frank said quietly, then raising his voice slightly so he knew MIkey heard him, "Yea, I need to."

"Do you have it?" Mikey said, gesturing to Frank's jacket pockets. Frank nodded and swung his arm in a gesture for them to get going, heading right towards a place Frank hadn't been back to in a year.

The old therapy building was the same as Frank remembered, the brick walls even more worn than they ever were, but still holding the same memories that they always had. Mikey stood behind, walking slower than the smaller man he was walking with. Frank ran his fingers over the walls, his frown growing larger as everything flooded back to him. Gerard's first words to him, the ones that started it all.

"Want a smoke?"

And then, Frank laughed. It was more of a chuckle, but it was still quite unusual. Mikey caught up to him, giving a questioning glare to the man.

"Mikey, you know what?"

He shook his head, waiting for Frank to go on about why he had just laughed.

"I think it's really ridiculous. The way that it all started. Cigarettes started something that would become the center of my life. The way that it ended, the way that Gerard ended, it was the same way that he knew it was going to end. I mean, everyone knows that smoking will eventually kill you, but nobody stops when they first think of that. You know why? Because it's just so addicting. The feeling of escape. The feeling of the smoke filling your lungs and taking all of your problems with it temporarily." Frank knew he was just rambling now, but eventually he stopped, taking a sharp breathe in and pausing before continuing, "Mikey, I could have prevented  him from dying. I could have saved him."

"Frank, remember what Gee told y—"

"Mikey, don't tell me what he said. I know what he said. He just didn't see it. I could have told him to quit. I could've gotten him help. Gerard trusted me and I ended up killing him. I ended up killing the person I loved the most. And yet, he still acted so innocent about it all, blaming himself."

Mikey shook his head and put an arm on his friend's shoulder, "Listen, Frank. I know you miss him, I do too. But, you have to understand that it's his doing. Gerard was the one who started smoking in the first place. It's not your fault, please don't blame yourself. Gerard wouldn't want that."

Frank turned around, hugging the taller person and mumbling a small, "I just want him back."

"I do, too. Put the letter down, Frank. It's getting colder."

He pulled away and Frank grabbed an envelope from his pocket, running his fingertips over the edge of the paper. He set it down, resting it against the brick wall and Mikey pulled out a lighter that Frank had seen exactly a year and three months ago. It was Gerard's lighter, the one that helped to slowly, ever so slowly, poison him. Mikey knelt down, clicking the lighter on and placing the flame against the paper. Frank had Gerard's letter back at home, but he decided that the only way to get something to Gerard again, you'd have to destroy it. So, that's what they did.

And then Frank  thought, maybe that would be the best way to see him again. But, no. It was just a thought, a small, quiet thought. Besides, Gerard didn't want that. He said in the note that he didn't want to see Frank so soon. But, Frank was beginning to wonder how much more waiting and suffering he could take.