My head was an absolute mess as I ran out the house after my the wreck my boyfriend had left behind in us, Mikey still sobbing on the kitchen floor with hurried promises that he'd been fine and for me to go and stop his asshole of a brother from doing something even more stupid than usual before it was too late.

And reluctantly, I left him, I left Mikey like that despite every vein in my body telling me it was wrong, I just did, because of his asshole of a brother, and I couldn't help but hate how I could dismiss what was clearly hurting Mikey here; the underlying meaning to this all and the secret that gave me all the answers, and perhaps, if I had my sense with me, a secret it better I didn't know.

I guess I lied to myself, to my conscience, allowing myself to leave Mikey like this with the thought and the hope that his mother would come back from work eventually, because with the stubborn qualities that Gerard just couldn't help but persist with, I knew this was going to be far more complicated and difficult than just finding the asshole in the first place.

Which even on its own wasn't the easiest of tasks.

And the only clue I had was the name of a man I didn't know, and yet could do nothing but hate - Bert McCracken. Hell, I didn't even know where the hell this guy lived and how the hell Gerard would even go about getting there.

I ran down the street, thanking the lord and everything above that the Way family happened to residence at the end of a one way street, leaving there only one direction in which Gerard could have set off in, and with the arrogance he up held in his appearance and demeanour, I reckoned he wouldn't chance the embarrassment and questioning looks that running down the street brought him.

I however, couldn't care about anything besides finding Gerard, and finding him safe, and before he got back to Bert, because then I knew that things would be even harder, when someone was back Gerard up in his stubborn and almost childish behaviour.

And still, I just couldn't stop the sickening feel in the bottom of my stomach, screaming out that this was nothing more than my fault. I wondered if Gerard would even care enough to correct me at this point, because with the look he gave us as he left, I knew that it was nothing more than the look of someone who didn't care.

And that hurt.

But it wasn't important, not right now, not even my lack of breath was important as I sprinted down yet another street corner, my eyes scanning people and buildings ahead of and around me, only for all to be devoid of the one thing, the one person, I needed to see right now, and fuck.

This was hopeless, we were all fucked.

And that was how it always was from the beginning with Gerard, and I knew that, I never knew the details of how so but that never seemed to make itself prominent or matter at all. All that mattered, and has always mattered has been him, and I stopped myself from collapsing into a nearby bench and giving up, because if I was giving up here, I wasn't just giving up on myself and my boyfriend, I was giving up on Gerard, I was giving up on Mikey, and I was giving up on poor Mrs Way with two sons that both could have so easily been dead.

But I didn't keep running, I grabbed my cellphone, trying what seemed to be perhaps a stupid idea, but one I found myself desperate to try nonetheless, dialling an all too familiar contact and putting the device to my ear, biting my lip as I walked forward, drowning myself in the anxiety that dialling tones brought me.

My heart sank as it became evident that he wasn't going to pick up, and I guess I kind of knew that from the get go, it being Gerard after all - he made a point of making sure that things were never quite that easy, he was Gerard, after all.

But I wasn't going to let things be that easy for him either.

So, I called again, and winced at the dialling tones but sat through them, wincing further at the almost plastic monotonous voice of the answering machine women and I heaved out a sigh, ready to hang up, the beep signalling for me to leave a message echoing throughout my ears and I did.

"Gerard, you fucking idiot, please pick up the phone, you're going to do something stupid, and please just let me talk to you about this, even just over the phone, you don't even have to see me again, I just please, I lo-"

Beep.

End of message.

I held the cell phone in my hand for several seconds after that, contemplating the nothingness that had just been brought to me in the shape of a message time limit, and I shook my head, texting Mikey instead, with the hope that he could possibly have any idea as to how and where I should go on from here.

hey do you know where bert lives?

It was a long shot, especially with the state he'd left the younger Way brother in, and chances were that the last thing on Mikey Way's mind right now was checking his cellphone, but I tried nonetheless, because at this point, what else could I do?

I just hated how fucking irrational Gerard could be. How all of a sudden despite what we'd been discussing, despite how bad he felt for even knowing Bert in the first place only hours ago, despite that how one single argument with his brother could sending him going right back to the asshole that had ruined him so much in the first place.

Or maybe he wasn't quite so stupid, simply knowing that we were and exploiting the fact that Mikey and I cared, wanting some sickening apology as he made a scene out of nothing, simply going to sit in a fucking coffee shop somewhere, and I hated to say it but something like that was overall far too 'Gerard'.

I checked my phone, and of course, still no reply from Mikey, and my heart sank as I tried to call Gerard once more, the dialling tone almost deafening me with the heartache it brought and the inevitability of the answer machine lady talking before Gerard could ever.

I didn't bother with a message this time, hanging up before it even beeped, sliding my phone into my pocket and walking down the road now - a slow pace, giving up I guess, and I didn't want to, but it was hopeless.

And then I stopped, the coffee place Gerard had taken me too what seemed like years ago stood in front of me, and I just couldn't, I wanted to go in, perhaps talk to Lindsey, as I reckoned she'd have a clue as to where the hell Gerard could be, but I just couldn't do it, I couldn't walk in there, not in the state I was now, and I wanted coffee as well.

Coffee would clear my head surely.

Or perhaps I just wanted a break.

It didn’t matter by now anyway, as I walked past the coffee shop and tried not to think of the conversation we'd had in there, and how that too had revolved far too much about a certain asshole by the name of Bert McCracken.

And to say I hated Bert, I guess that would be an understatement.

-

I went into the next coffee shop though, it was larger, and I reckoned to be part of a chain judging by the professional design and appearance of the place. I guess that was what I needed right now, professionalism - something I could count on and a place I could be certain of the absence of Gerard. He hated places like these, he hated professionalism, and mostly he just said this place did bad coffee the time I'd suggested we go in weeks prior.

I took that at face value, although it was probably more true that Gerard simply felt better, more mysterious, and elusive curled up at the back of some little empty coffee places than a busy, noisy Starbucks, polluted by people - the kind of place where they looked at you funny if you were wearing a Madonna shirt with a massive stain down the front, and therefore not Gerard's kind of place.

And perhaps most importantly, this was unlike the small place Gerard usually resided in, as that shop had come to realise that the fiery haired man was pretty much their main source of income and in return seemed to turn a blind eye to him lighting a cigarette in the back corner.

This place, however, wasn't like that, and for once, I found a certain comfort that in that - in the long queue for the counter, where they'd probably charge you extra for breathing in their shop without having purchased anything. It stank of that weird caramel syrup that I could never quite stomach with out a terrible sickening feeling, but I knew, even with reluctance, that this time it was thoughts of Gerard that had created the sickening feeling in my stomach.

But I comforted myself with the fact that I was only stepping inside with the sole intent just to grab a latte and my thoughts before heading back out into the cold and mess that Gerard Way had created once more, and then set back out on a wild goose chase in the attempts of finding him as he went off back to his abusive ex-boyfriend. But for now, I just wanted to focus on my latte and my sanity, and perhaps it would've been so.

Perhaps it would've been so if it wasn't for that stupid fucking colour.

That stupid fucking unmissable colour, which could never mean anything more to me than him.

Because that was the first thing I laid eyes upon as I entered the coffee shop - fire truck red, sat at the table in the back corner, coffee on the table in front of him and phone in his hand - texting, and most definitely purposefully ignoring my calls.

And fuck, he really was an absolute asshole, but even I had figured that by now - I, the one, who'd dismissed everything all so clearly fucked up with him in simple favour of the fact that he seemed nice to me, and that he was pretty cute. That was surely ignorance at its finest, and all courtesy of the asshole sat in the corner of the coffee shop, oblivious to my presence as I walked in his direction and oblivious to just what I wanted to scream at him and just how much I wanted to slap him against that pretty little face of his.

I didn't want to think that Gerard really could have done this - to stir up so much worry and panic in me and Mikey, to go and just sit in a fucking coffee shop, biding his time away and waiting for someone to go pick up the fucking pieces for him.

He wanted attention, and he was certainly going to get it in the form of a black eye on that pretty face of his, but even after this, I just couldn't bring myself to hit him again, I found myself staring from barely a meter away, time seeming to slow and my breathing seeming to stop completely as my footsteps went into half speed, yet eventuality having so that I was always going to reach him in the end.

"Gerard." He jumped at the mention of his name, and less so of the stern and generally pissed off tone I used, his hazel eyes peeling themselves away from the LED screen of his phone to meet mine as I stood at the table, my eyebrows raised, waiting for an apology, an explanation, even a hello. Anything.

And I got nothing.

Nothing but the way he looked at me as if he was utterly shocked at the fact that I'd come after him, and was even somewhat embarrassed at that fact, his hands nervous and twitchy, his whole body shaking a little as if he was anxious for me to leave, but I had already established with my tone of voice that that was simply not something that was going to happen.

And from the look in his eyes, he understood that at the very least - I guess an understanding between us would really be something new. But of course, it seemed right now the only understanding we'd ever reached is a mutual hatred, and despite what my head was screaming at me, my heart just always had other ideas, especially when it came to Gerard Way.

"You ignored my calls. You're using your phone right now and I called you three times and not once did you pick up." I continued, glaring at him in the hope of some kind of explanation whatsoever. I just needed an apology; something with which I could justify his actions and then try and fixed what had happened between us, because I was never as strong and stubborn as I'd like to be, more so when it came to him, and I wanted to give in all too easily.

"I can't talk to you, because I can't explain, and Frank, I'm sorry, please just go, tell Mikey I'm sorry, just I need, I need you to go." He spoken in broken words annunciated with a tone sporadic in nature, cracking in pitch at random intervals like he was a thirteen year old boy, or as if he was trying his best not to cry. And it seemed more likely to be the former, because Gerard never did seem like the type to cry, even if I had seen him do so myself.

"Well, fucking tough, Gerard, because I'm not, especially not without an explanation - you can't just run off like this, you can't just do this, it's no way to sort things out and face your problems. Mikey and I care about you, and if we didn't do you think I would have run off after your fucking ass, if we didn't care you'd be here alone right now and there wouldn't be three missed calls and voicemail on your phone - that sounds a lot like you don't care about us, actually."

I was being cruel now, and I knew it, but a rather large part of me couldn't find the heart to care anymore than necessary, and perhaps he deserved it, because unlike the rest of us, he seemed to feel no pain at all in his actions - he seemed to feel nothing by running away for nothing only hide purposefully in the back of a coffee shop he knew I wouldn't look for him in.

"Frank, please don't, I, just please, I'll just fuck things up again, I need some time alone, I need you to go, call me back this evening or something and I promise I'll pick up and we can talk then but not now, not now - I need to clear my head." Gerard struggled to explain, and I struggled to understand, simply because there was very little that you could, and perhaps I was being ignorant here, but perhaps Gerard had been ignorant from the start, so really I reckoned I was allowed a little slack here.

"You need to stop talking with your head stuck so far up your asshole that I'm surprised I can even hear you from here. You need to just calm down and explain, just tell me, it worked before, didn't it? You told me the truth and I accepted it and we were fine, and that was the best time, because I thought we were so good then, but no, you have to run off again with no excuse and no explanation, leaving your brother a mess, crying on your kitchen floor."

Thankfully Gerard chose to ignore the fact that I had too left Mikey crying on the kitchen floor, but I could let me conscience rest easy with the fact that, unlike Gerard, Mikey had asked me to, and of course the only reason he'd done so being nothing other than the fault in his brother, the world's biggest asshole, sat opposite me, without the need to rationalise anything he'd done so far at all.

"I didn't tell you the whole truth." Gerard admitted, and I exhaled an enormous sigh, preparing myself for what would come next as I struggled to see if I could cope with it at all - the likelihood would be that I'd end up reconsider punching him in the face.

But the thing holding me back was the thought at the back of my mind, the thought that was never quite settled, because I never would know just how bad Gerard had it with Bert, and just how bad I'd been to make him want to go back. I couldn't help but think that it was ever since I hit him, and Gerard didn't mind, that it'd been that which had sparked this all, putting me on the same level as Bert, prepared to hurt my boyfriend to get my point across, and I didn't want that at all, especially if it was going to fuck with Gerard’s head like that.

"I could never tell you the whole truth, because I let more things happen than you would have wanted me too, and those things relate to Mikey. I said a lot to Mikey, I let a lot of things happen to Mikey and I did that without remorse. And you need to go, Frank, because I'm not sorry, and when I apologise, I need it to be genuine. I need to clear my head, please go, let me."

And perhaps I would have, perhaps with an explanation such as that, I would have. Perhaps I would have believed him if it wasn't for the man that appeared beside us, stood at the front of the table, his eyebrows raised as he glanced between the two of us, anger evident in his eyes.

And the words that Gerard ushered out in instinct, "Bert, I... it's okay, I... Frank was just leaving."

Gerard was wrong.

I most certainly wasn't.

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