There's not a dry eye in the church. I set the mic back on its stand, and turn to face Frank's beautiful bedazzled coffin. All Mikey had was a wooden coffin painted gold. I leaned down and kissed Mikey on the forehead, stroking his head. I turn around and see everyone leaving, no one is looking at me. So, quickly, I bend down and give Frank a kiss on the cheek. I put the band tee shirt that I grabbed in his coffin, along with the three butterscotch candies." I closed my eyes as a tear rolled down my face.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. Vi is standing there, Mallory a few feet behind her.
I breathe a halfhearted chuckle. "Who knew the most careful driver in the world would die in a car accident?" A tear made its way down my cheek.
"Oh, Gee," Vi said softly, pulling me into a comforting hug. I stay there for a few seconds, crying into her shoulder. Then I bolt up, running to the window and scanning the parking lot. No one had left, good. I looked for my mom's beat-down gray car. I saw plenty gray cars, but none of them were my mother's.
"She didn't even come," I said sadly. My sadness turned to anger. I threw open the door and ran home. I turn the rusty knob and step inside, throwing the door open. It falls off its hinges, which is self defeating, because I'll be the one to fix it.
"What the actual hell, Mom?" I shout.
"Whattayou wan?" She slurs from the other room.
"Your son died in a car accident and you're here drinking. His funeral just ended!" I scream, devastated that she's acting this way. Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting. She's an old drunk that's probably high on something right now.
"Oh," she says shortly. "Whawas his namagain? Murphy?"
"Mikey."
"Same thing. I'llgo to his grave or somethinglater," she yawned.
I was absolutely disgusted. I couldn't live with this as a mother. I ran to my room and packed the very few things that I owned into a drawstring bag. I grabbed some food from the kitchen and two water bottles before jogging off.
I look around at the pale orange and link sky. It looks so perfect, like someone splashed paint above me.
"Gee?"
I whip around. "Vi? Is that you?"
"Over here, silly," she grabs my shoulders and turns me to face her. "It's going to get dark pretty soon. Where are you going?"
"Away," I shouldered my bag.
"Away?"
"My mom is an asshole. She wasn't even at Mikey's funeral."
"At least crash at my place for the night," she took my hand.
I couldn't argue, so she pulled me along to her house. Reminder: we are both gay. Don't expect anything.
I've seen Vi's house before, usually from a distance. She has a beautiful white house with blue trim and shudders. I stare in awe for a moment before running to catch up with Vi as she holds the door open.
"C'mon, I'll show you to my room," she says, leading me up a spiral staircase. She leads me towards a room at the end of the hallway. "Wait here," she says, stopping me just outside the door. I can hear some ripping, or something. Soon, she pokes her head out. She nods toward the room, gesturing for me to come in.
I walk in slowly, her black walls making me more comfortable as I stepped through the doorway. I scan the room, my eyes eventually drifting to her garbage can. I see a ripped up poster, and all I can make out is "MY" in a spooky font.
"What did you have to do in here before I came in?" I ask, curious.
"Nothing," she says quickly.
I squint my eyes at her.
"Hey, um, do you want something to eat? My mom's making dinner, I'll ask if you can stay."
She flies down the stairway, leaving me in her room alone.
I shouldn't. I can't. I tell myself.
I do.
I close the door gently and lock it. I start going through the garbage and pulling out pieces of a ripped poster, putting the pieces together like a puzzle. I search Vi's desk and find tape, putting the pieces in place. When I'm done, I back up and look at the poster. It reads "My Chemical Romance" with a scene from The Black Parade.
I feel myself blush lightly. I put the poster back on her wall and take a post-it note from her desk drawer.
I think for a minute. Vi has been depressed before, and suicidal at some point.
Hey, don't give up on me, okay?
-Gerard Way
I stick it to the torn poster, stepping back and smiling. I hear knocking on the door.
"Gee? Gee, what are you doing in there?" I hear Vi's voice through the door. She pounds her fist on the wood. "Gee!"
"Sorry, Vi," I rush to the door and open it quickly.
"What the hell were you doing in here?" Vi demands, putting her hands on her hips.
"Vi," I start, trying to calm her down.
She scans her room, obviously upset. I back up and brace myself.
"Gee," her voice is no longer mad, it's thankful and it sounds like she's about to say you didn't have to do that. Right on cue, Vi follows up with "you didn't have to do that."
I shrug. She stares at the poster and I see her eyes glistening with tears.
"Oh, Gee!" She throws her arms around me, hugging me tight. I blink, then hug her lightly. She laughs, and I see tears on her face when she pulls away from me. "You're so awkward," she giggles, blushing. "Also, sorry," she says, changing her tone.
"That's okay," I say. "Um, so, what'd your mom say?"
She giggles again. "You can stay, Gee."
"Thank God," I sigh.
"Violet Adams! Get your ass downstairs now!" I hear a male voice from downstairs.
She wrinkles her eyebrows and let out a small whimper. "Oh dear lord Jesus on toast," she mutters under her breath." That's my brother," she said, voice shaking. "He hates that I'm gay. He hits me every day and I hate him."
"I have an idea, Vi. If it's okay with you."
"Anything."
I put my arm around her shoulder.
"Oh Gee, good thinking!" Vi whisper-shouted. "Thanks!"
"You're welcome," I grinned.
We walked downstairs hand in hand, Vi resting her head on my shoulder.
"Hey, Ryan," Vi said in a cocky voice.
He looked at me, stunned. I tried to look not-terrified, but I was. This kid looked 6'4" and was pretty buff.
"Oh, so you're not a faggot anymore," Ryan flicked her head. "You're getting there."
"Getting there?"
"Yeah, this guy is nowhere near as good as he needs to be. You could do better, Vi." He pokes my stomach. "He's a little, you know."
"Hey!" Vi spoke up.
"Just saying," he held his hands up in surrender. A smirk built on his face. "Kiss him," Ryan said.
"Excuse me?" Vi said, confused.
"Either you kiss him and I post it to my Instagram," Ryan paused and cracked his knuckles. "Or you and wussy boy over here get pounded into next week."
"Uh," she said, pecking me on the cheek. "Okay?"
He let out a laugh. "No, no, no, Violet." He pushed her head close to mine so our lips were almost touching. "Kiss him."
Vi and I looked at each other with an oh-shit-we-got-caught look.
"I thought so," Ryan smirked, raising his fist. "Gay bitch," he raised his fist in the air and brought it down.
I stepped in front of her.
"Gee!" She screamed as I was slammed in the stomach.
I grunted as I fell.
"Oh, you wanna go first, bitch?" He raised his fist again. "Fine with me."