Education had always been a major priority for me, because despite how slow, long and boring the process was, it was the sole thing that could get you anywhere in life. Good looks and inherited riches could only go so for and I wasn't exactly that well equipped with either of the two, so sitting for endless six hour runs of the corrupted educatory hell our country likes to call school is a necessary form of torture for me. I hate where I am now and despite how much I hate that bloody school with its sadistic socialist hierarchy and corrupted policies, and of course the dickheads, such as my loving friends 'The Killers' who like to pick on the less fortunate, such as myself, despite all of that, I have to go every single day and listen to the mindless drivel of heartless teachers to drain the slightest bit of education from their irrelevant rants in a desperate attempt to pass any kind of exam that could possibly save me from this hell.

For one, it gives me six guaranteed safe hours away from home, my father and the violence that follows him like a swarm of flies on a rotting corpse with a particularly nasty and far too pungent stench. On the other hand, it's the only thing that's going to get me out of here, and some days that maybe the only thing I wake up for, make the effort for, keeping breathing for is that single strong hope that one day I'll wake up in a good world that I worked for myself. I'd smile because all of this paid off and I would have made my mother proud. She always said that you can do anything if you put your mind to it and those words shield me from the monstrosities that life just loves to throw at me. Life and I just get along brilliantly, as you can tell of course.

Because, no matter how downright shitty it is now, one day I'm going to wake up in my own house, a nice house and I'm going to walk past walls that aren't dented in by fists and doors that aren't barely clinging to their hinges for being slammed shut far too many times, and I'm going to make myself breakfast; there's going to be food that's edible, that I want to eat, that I paid for. I don't want to ever skip breakfast, I don't want to ever steal breakfast, I don't want to ever cut the mouldy bits off the end of my sandwiches. Because, I've done that all too many times and I need a change of fucking scenery.

Once I'd eaten breakfast and gotten ready in clothes that I liked and that fitted me, with no holes or stains or spiders nesting and breeding inside of them, (this actually happened once and believe me, for an arachnophobiac this is in no way fun) I'd then go to work. I'd have a job that well-paying, that I enjoyed, or maybe I'd be in a band; that sounded cool and despite how very well I knew how small the chance of it happening is, I'd like to be in band. I'd like to play my guitar and then I'd have friends that'd be in my band with me: I'd have this guy with crazy hair, you've got to have that one guy with the hair, or it really just doesn't cut it as a band; I'd have a guy that's quiet, but brilliant and hella awkward, but maybe sort of an asshole to his friends; then there'd be that guy that I just fucking hated, but also fucking loved, he'd be the outspoken guy with ideas and messed up past, I'd hate him to hell, but he'd definitely be my best friend - there was no doubt about that. I think I'd like to have a best friend, that'd be nice, but who knows? I'm hardly experienced in that matter, so maybe it could be downright hell. Maybe I'd have to experiment- No. Maybe he'd just be my friend that sounds a little less commitment heavy and therefore much more comfortable.

Then once I got home I'd get home to a house that was calm and empty- no wait, that'd be kind of lonely. Maybe I lived with friends; possibly we even lived together as band - that'd be cool. Or maybe I'd even have someone, a girlfriend what would her name be? Something cute, I don't know. She'd have red hair; I like red hair, and she'd be kind of creepy, but overall cute, and she'd like art and music and generally the same things as me and she'd take me to a new forest and show me something more to love and, I'd finally be fucking happy. No, to put happiness in one person is very unhealthy, because most relationships don't last forever; the truth is, they're either going to marry you or leave you. It's a rather dramatic and somewhat terrifying way to look at things, but it's realistic and realism doesn't make me sick to my stomach.

But, I gave that all up today - I skived. Goodbye nice life, good house, best friend, and girlfriend - it was nice imagining you.

For the first time in my seventeen years, I walked away from my education, I left that all behind. I was going nowhere in my life, but today, I was going to the woods. It seemed stupid, but today it mattered and surely what matters should be important? But of course, things could never be that simple now, could they?

I didn't even care about the consequences; if the school even bothered to pay any attention whatsoever towards my unexpected and only absence, which I doubted the fact that they would. The staff were all lazy bastards with degrees in shouting and extended tea breaks, not childcare and algebra. However, if on the off chance, they did today have someone competent and only minimally sleep deprived on attendance today, then it'd still be just okay, because I was used to it, I could deal with the aftermath - his aftermath. The rage and the violence, the soundproof room and the back of his hand. I knew it all too well. I hate to say it, but the violence had become a second mother to me. Not that anyone ever could replace her. Especially something as cruel and hell worthy enough to be conducted under his control.

I didn't just give up: I never just give up. I needed to go out here, into the woods, because I haven't seen him in about a week now and I need an explanation. He can't just spill his whole life story to me and finally be nice then just fuck off and never see me again, because now, now I think, I know it sounds fucking crazy, but, I think I care about him and I need to know all the answers to the thousands of unanswered questions spiralling out of control and sending my confused and rather fucked up brain further down the winding road that is insanity. Insanity is glorified all too much, because I don't like this road. It's a one way road that makes you drive for too fast with a horrible lack of speed bumps.

I need to know: was it really him at that hospital, that flash of red hair in the clinical white and hospital blue? Why does he never go to school? Why do we meet constantly and only in the woods? Why does he care about me? Why do I care about him? Why is he so important? Why can he be such an asshole? Is he really Mikey Way's brother? Is he even sane? And most importantly, is he even real?

Is Gerard Way real?

I don't know.

In this abundance of Gerards that is slowly becoming my life, I'm slowing growing mad, because I can't have imagined him, I can't live with having imagined him, in fact I don't want to live with having imagined him, but I don't want to give up either. I have to find him; I have to have my answers and without a doubt I'll be stupidly reckless in order to get them.

I tossed a coin this morning - heads: befriend and question Mikey Way, and most likely get beaten up in the hellish process, tails: camp out in the forest until I happened across him, however long it took. Neither of my options were exactly that preferable, but I had to find out what the fuck was going on here, for my sanity's (or lack thereof) sake.

I should've known - tails never fails. Goodbye education, but at least I have the comfort in knowing that I didn't, or at least haven't yet if this doesn't quite work out, stoop as low as Mikey Way, simply in an effort to find his maybe real, maybe not, maybe not even brother.

I should really get some friends that aren't imaginary, but that seems far too boring and Gerard Way is all too intriguing.

-

The forest smelled of cigarettes, far too much in fact. It was far too pungent to be Gerard and that wiped off the hopeful smile that found its way onto my face as the musky scent of tar, lung cancer and imaginary best friends slithered down my nostrils. It felt like choking, it felt like death, but I inhaled and inhaled until I was sure my lungs were fully intoxicated with the stuff. I could barely breathe, but what air I did manage to work through my clogged up, choked and nicotine pumping system smelt of Gerard and that brought me greater comfort than an extra ten years added to the end of my lifespan. I shouldn't be prioritising him this much: it was certainly unhealthy, and exceptionally so if I turned out the fucker didn't even exist in the first place, because then, I really was mental, wasn't I?

The cigarette smell did eventually begin to set in my partly drugged brain which in turn woke up to the severity of the situation; either the forest was on fire, or there were smokers, several unknown people with used matches littered at their feet and faulty lighters tossed unsafely into the bushes beside them and cigarettes between their lips, chapped and blackened as the nicotine ran through their systems, the tar annihilating and setting a light any functionality that still remained in their lungs and do that, I'm certain there was barely any functionality left in their brains. Says the boy who just inhaled far too much cigarette smoke for a non-smoker, simply because it sort of smelt like his sort of real, sort of not, sort of friend.

I wasn't sure which option was worse, but there were no flames and I settled upon the latter, less severe, but really all the more frightening situation. More frightening? You're confused, I very well understand. Nature, I could deal with; its disasters didn't scare me. People, on the other hand, did; people terrified me, with their guns and heads filled with psychotic pyromaniac notions and ideas and their wicked grins and their foul languages and automatically recallable chains of insults. Nature didn't mean to scare you, people did. And those people, they were polluting this forest, my forest and the worst part of all was that I didn't know them and I couldn't get them to stop. They'd carry on smoking, they'd burn this whole fucking forest down if they felt like it, because they didn't care and to them these were just trees and I was just a loser with a horrible case of insanity and social deprivation.

-

I ran until my already corrupted lungs gave out and collapsed into what I thought, what I hoped was a tree. I had gotten lost for the first time, the panic clouding my judgement and my navigational skills had been rendered rather useless, but of course, being me, I didn't just get lost, I got horribly, disgustingly lost, the branches clawing at me like talons and curling in on me like boa constrictors. I felt trapped and had to get out, but the more I tried, the more apparent the fact that I couldn't became. The forest had never worked against me before, I think it was the smokers and their nicotine plague messing with the forest, or messing with my head in fact.

And then, by the shaky grasps on fabric, I began to realise that this tree I'd fell upon, was not a tree at all, far from it in fact, because trees didn't carry cigarettes, trees didn't smoke and most importantly trees weren't douchebags called Mikey Way, with blonde hair, glasses and imaginary brothers, and let's not forget - a burning, passionate hatred for losers called Frank Iero.

Mikey pushed me off him immediately, slamming my fragile frame into a real tree and the pain that shot through my spine as I collided with the bark made me rather sure of that fact. I really felt like the forest was working against me today, which made me wonder if it too was grieving in the abundance of Gerards- Maybe it was angry at me, because it knew more than me and knew I'd caused this abundance; that thought made me sick to my stomach. I should never have grown attached to this fucking asshole. Ugh.

"What the fuck, you fucking faggot?" he threw his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out moments later with his shoe. At least he didn't want to start a forest fire, at least not yet. "You trying to molest me or something?" I'd clearly encountered the wrong Way brother. If there was in fact a second one at all; I still wasn't too clear on that fact. I hated that he smoked, because it reminded me of Gerard and Mikey was far from anything like Gerard, but maybe he was, because on the off chance Gerard was in fact real, Mikey'd be his brother and Mikey must have learnt to smoke from somewhere, so I wouldn't like to admit it, but maybe the Way brothers were quite similar in fact - they were both, smokers, assholes, far too clever and far too sarcastic. The only difference was that Gerard did in fact care about me, and far too much in fact. He cared far too much for either of us to be considered anything near sane.

"Oh my god-" I recognised Skully's taunting shout instantly and my stomach begin to hurl as I reminded myself that there were smokers, not one smoker, not Mikey Way who I can maybe handle and potentially squeeze some answers out of about his potentially inexistent brother, who may potentially be ruining and saving my life at exactly the same time. I'd encountered the whole pack of them, all The Killers and most likely, well at least for once I hoped not, no Gerard along with them. "It's Iero! Never thought I'd catch that one skipping class, would you?" Of course, of course he had to recognise me. There was no chance he wouldn't have, because he practically spent his whole school career picking me out of crowds in order to taunt, embarrass and harass me in whichever way he saw fit, or entertained him the most at that moment in time.

"What a faggot!" Thank you Ash. "I thought he'd be sucking cock right now." Maybe just befriending Mikey Way would've been the better option overall, because I really didn't want to deal with these guys right now, but I doubted dealing with a confused and rather pissed off Mikey Way would hardly be that much fun either.

"Yeah, sucking cock is what Frank Iero does best, other than be an emo gay." Vince snorted; was he laughing at what he said or just the piss poor grammar he had? No, the former, I doubted he knew what grammar meant. I doubted he even grasped the concept of homosexuality further than using it as an insult.

"Go back to school, fag." Skully snarled at me, his eyes filling with excitement, because we both knew all too well that I was his favourite kid to pick on. I guess he liked getting to me, because he was better it, the two of us having an awful lot of history now serving to haunt me. "or shall we take you there ourselves? We wouldn't mind, would we lads?" They chuckled as his taunting voice, following his every command like a pack of wild animals, except Mikey of course. Mikey was far too arrogant and his eyes were far too firmly fixed on me and his smile was far too permanently fixed on his face for him to be doing anything but planning my demise. I may be biased, but that didn't sound fun at all.

I scrambled to my feet, choosing the best direction in which to make a run for it in; I found that my options were rather limited, but I knew these woods better than them and that had to play to my advantage. I hoped the woods were being nice to me now. They may know things about Gerard, things about me that gave them reason to dislike me, but they must despise The Killers with their arrogance and pollution, so at least that ought to give me some kind of advantage.

"Let's take him; he looks pretty lost, you know?" Mikey sneered. "We're nice guys." If only so, but I don't think you come in any other variety besides asshole.

"Oh, like your brother then?" It was far, far too bold, especially since we were in the middle of a forest with no one, no supervision and no CCTV, they could quite easily kill me and I was far too aware of that, but I desperately, desperately needed a reaction. Mikey went as white as sheet, trembling slightly, his eyes widening as if he was on an exotic combination of drugs. I'd gotten a reaction, but I'd stepped far, far over the line and I needed to run; run far away and fast. Hella fast. Fucking fast.

"What brother?" Skully didn't know about Gerard, but from the look on that pale face, Mikey certainly did. This was great news, yet horrible news, because this gave Mikey all the more ammunition to use against me and surely he'd quiz Gerard about me and surely Gerard wouldn't like that and I'd be the one getting the backlash of that. No matter how much of an asshole Gerard was, I didn't want to lose the one closest thing I had to a friend.

I took this as an opportunity to run, to run and never fucking look back. I sped over tree logs and sprinted over piles of leaves, hurling myself in no particular direction whatsoever, I just pushed forward until I saw the sky and the sunlight again and I'd never once been happier to leave the woods in my life. I just worried how they'd trash the place, the place that meant so fucking much to me and maybe they'd figure that out and torch the entire thing, because they're just nice like that.

Maybe today was worth wasting my education, because I got Mikey Way's pale face and scared eyes, an image imprinted on my mind. You know what, screw school; I got my education today, I learned something far more important than psychics and geometry - I learned that Gerard Way is real.

DRAMMAMAMMAMA! Y'all excited for the next chapter now huh? You better be;) I'd really appreciate a like and/or a comment *hint hint* Love you guuys;)<3