MURDER MACHINE;; Mikey Way, 005

Gerard was in art school when I eliminated a person from this world for the first time. We'd been living in an apartment, even smaller and grimier than this one, and he came home from the library one night to trip over the dead body that laid on the hardwood floor of our doorway. Her name was Ginger Elizabeth Mason, and she was golden. Ever read Sin City? She was my Goldie. My lover, my fighter, my gem.

Gerard did not scream and he did not even say a word. It wasn't like he didn't expect it - come on, he's Gerard. If anyone were to know about my first murder, it'd be him. And he just picked himself up and looked at her and her open wound. Then he went to the kitchen to fetch the Swiffer.

It was on his way to throw away the crimson-soaked pad that he heard the sobs erupting from my bedroom that wasn't occupied by only me. Frank's distinct voice was heard above all my small cries, and I remember being wrapped up in his arms like I was being baked and I wouldn't be let out until I was ready.

Frank was just like that.

You see, it's always been us three. Four, if you count the unsinkable Ginger Mason. She was passed around the circle a few times but she always ended up swimming back to me. She always found a reason to complain about Frank and Gerard; like, Frank talked too much or Gerard didn't talk enough. But don't get me wrong, she...was the most incredible girl on the face of the earth. Until we all just couldn't take her anymore.

So why do I still think about her without a grin on my face? Why do I wish her body was on top of mine when I have Frank's gorgeous self lying safe and sound right next to me instead? He is all I need. He is my new life, my drug, and my sanity, even though I have yet to feel him even near to close enough. Every corner of this apartment has lit up from behind my glasses since he moved in. But still, I need him so much closer.

Gerard is drawing on the couch when I leave my room the next morning, careful not to shake the other side of the bed. I observe over his shoulder that Gerard had drawn so little that I can't quite make out what he was attempting to create yet. "What are your plans today?" I ask him quietly, as Frank is only several feet away.

He puts down his pen softly. "'Was gonna head to the college maybe...draw a little there."

His voice is nervous-sounding, and it's getting to me. I feel what this kid feels. I have no connection and no trustworthiness with anyone comparable to the kinds I have with Gerard.

I scoff. "Now what are your real plans?"

There's a stir from my bedroom and my brother and I look up. I hear a tiny patter on the floor, like baby footsteps. Frank walks so slow, so careful in the morning, until he is completely ready to function. His black hair is in all directions, when it usually moves to the right. I know this kid inside out, I swear.

It's a blessing from the planets or something that I have him next to me every night. But I feel it somewhat as a disadvantage as well, because the night, the night and my sleepiness is the one time that I am weak. And I want nothing more than for Frank to think I'm strong. He has to, or else what am I? I'm just another kid he messed around with in college - all weak and torn up on the inside and just looking for a soft pair of arms to catch them when they fall down from too many drugs. That's not completely me. That's not completely me at all.

I need Frank's arms.

Not like Adam or Bill or George or...Quinn... No, they never needed him the same way I do now. Or ever. They have no idea what it's like.
we are restless and tired, sleeping with giants.
Phew...thanks for reading :) I know it's short, but...what do you expect from the worst updater in the world?