Chapter Twenty-Two - Frank's POV

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Hey everyone, how are you? Just a few things before we get to the story:
1. I'm gonna' do some shameless self promotion and say that you guys should all check out / subscribe to / join my website, http://contentsofmymess.webs.com/. I post blogs, poetry, prose, and playlists. (I might eventually post pictures too, but I'm not sure.)
2. Sorry this chapter is kind of short, but I'm a sucker for cliffhangers... (You'll see what I mean.)
3. I'm working on ideas / brainstorming for my next frerard fic already (don't worry, Folie a Deux is far from over,) but I did think that I should go ahead and say that my next fic will not be a Folie sequel, nor will there ever be a second Folie. When Folie is over, it will be over. There will be no follow up story, there will be no short story from Pete or Mikey's point of view (though I have considered that,) and there won't be any other sort of short story with these same characters. I will post some sort of epilogue, if all goes as planned, but considering I haven't really planned much of anything in this story (I tend to let my writing flow, rather than planning it all out,) there's no telling what will happen regarding the final chapter. I think once it's over, though, the story will be over over. Anything after that will be open to reader's interpretations.

Enjoy,
Eve.

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I don't know what I was thinking, right then, the thoughts were too jumbled to understand. My heart was too broken and my head was pounding too much for me to make sense of anything.

All I knew for sure, the one thought that stood out to me most, was the fact that Gerard Way didn't love me.

"Fuck," I yelled, for what felt like the hundredth time, as I stomped into the room that was so much his that it felt like my own personal hell.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if I should be angry, or disappointed, or if I should cry. I didn't know if I should try to talk to him about it, or if I should beg, or if I should should leave.

I wanted to curl up right in the center of his obnoxiously warm bed and cry myself to sleep, but I also wanted to scream and yell and rip my own heart out with my bare hands.

Seeing as I'd never been one to be good at controlling my anger, I started yelling the second I saw him.

"You're such an asshole, Gerard!" I said loudly, not being able to look at him, turning around and kicking his bed roughly.

"Frank, this isn't going to change anything, we've gone this long without-"

"You ruined my fucking life," I snapped at him, kicking his stupid fucking bed again. "Do you know how much time I've wasted on you, on this relationship? You can't just fucking say- you can't, Gerard, you can't. You can't just say that we're going to be okay, because we fucking won't, okay?"

Hadn't he been the one to start this stupid thing, anyway? Hadn't he been the one to convince me that he was worth it, that we'd fall in love one day?

Why was it that when that day actually came for us to fall in love, he backed out on me?

"It's- we can work through this, Frank, can't we just talk about it?"

"Talk?" I said disbelievingly, spinning to face him. I was clenching my fist so hard I thought I would break my own fingers. "You- you made me think you loved me, and then- then- fuck." I rolled my shoulders, not sure what to do with the anger, not sure what to take it out on or how to get rid of the feelings. "Fuck you," I spat eventually. "You don't just lead someone on like that, you can't do shit like that, Gerard! It hurts, you hurt me."

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