Adrenaline Sisters// fall out boy & my chemical romance

Epilogue One: The World is Ugly

||First Person|| Revolution||

Nobody looks at me the same way after that.

Gerard doesn't trust me anymore, not that he ever fully did. His eyes, those pretty hazel eyes that he shares with his beautiful brother, are always searching, always watching, always careful. It makes me sick to my stomach the way he's constantly checking up on me, like I'm some sort of hazard that needed to be contained. But it is my fault. I could have controlled myself, I could have let the package of Adrenaline go and reasonably told Gerard about it. I could have stopped the whole ordeal where I ended up taking enough Adrenaline to make me a feverish, shaking, sobbing mess for nearly two days. I could have stopped myself from raising that gun and trying to shoot Kobra Kid, trying to kill my Mikey Way. I could have stopped. I could have stopped myself. Fun Ghoul confiscated my ray gun for two weeks before I was allowed to go on another Run with anyone, something about the fact that the only reason why I missed was because Mikey threw my wrist in the other direction when he tackled me. They all don't trust me with a gun in my hands, not after what they learned, not after what I did.

Mikey hasn't talked to me since.

That gets me the most, the fact that my own boyfriend hasn't uttered a single word to me for the past two or so weeks. I could still see that day if I closed my eyes; I could see the frantic, fearful look in his eyes as he pinned me to the ground and tore my gun from my grasp; I could feel his chest pressed to mine as his heart thudded wildly against me; I could feel the resentment as he pulled back from me and took a glance behind him at the shattered glass on the ground, the remains of the cup the ray I fired impaled; I could feel the betrayal he felt when he learned of my crime, when he found out that I killed my own father nearly eight years ago.

I could tell he didn't want anything to do with me.

I long for him. I want to feel his calloused fingers wrap around my hand in a warm, comforting embrace. I desire to feel his lips against mine in a sweet kiss. I need to feel his hands tracing the stars and moons that we fall asleep under every night. I need Mikey fucking Way, but he doesn't need me. He sure as hell does not need me as much as I cling to him because he wouldn't have been able to let me go as easily as he did. I never even got closure, just a sideways glance that day as he learned of what I really am and then nothing else. I'm a ghost— I hover around him and beg for attention, but I don't matter. I don't exist. I don't belong.

"What are you thinking?" I hear. My head snaps up from my clasped palms over the kitchen's table to see Gerard sliding onto the stool on the opposite side of the table. He has two cans in hand and two plastic spoons; he slides one of each across the table to me. I stare at the food blankly, unsure for some reason.

"Nothing." I mumble, staring at the can. Gerard pauses for a moment, studying my fidgeting hands, before he takes my can back and peels the lid off for me. He slides the now open can back to me.

"Eat," he says softly.

"How's Bomb?" I ask him in an attempt, raising my eyes from the can of Power Pup to him. He brushes a strand of red hair behind his ear before he opens his mouth to speak to me.

"Asleep," he says, "finally." He adds at the end. I bite my lip at that and nod, aware of my sister's difficulties with sleeping. Patrick left, or ran away you could say, the same day that Kobra and I unofficially broke off what we had together. The asshole took off running and left my poor, 18-year-old sister to fend for herself with their child, his child. The details are still unknown to me as to what made him leave her the way he did (couldn't he have been a normal person and, I don't know, not traumatize her by leaving while we're asleep?), but all I know is that Gerard is stuck trying to fill his shoes and help take care of Joan way more than he ever had to. My sister is depressed beyond belief— she's stricken with grief for a world of things out of her control. It's a mission to get her to sit up from the bed in our room. All she does is lie in bed staring blankly at the wall at this point. Before this whole mess happened, I used to let her bring Patrick into our room to help her with JoJo because I would stay in Mikey's room, but his door is always closed now. The once inviting space with the most inviting person residing inside is now off limits to me and my trigger fingers. I lost him.