---Patrick---

And just like that it's three more days. Three more days and I'll be in downtown Summit beside Gerard watching The Black Parade. The sound of drums and flutes. Trombones and clarinets. Saxophones and tubas. All of them, filling the silent air with notes and tones. No cars. No distractions. No Dad. No Kevin. No flashbacks. Just me, Gerard, and the city block lined with stone buildings and filthy glass windows that can barely be seen through until someone goes to clean them.

I don't understand how they can do it. How people can just get on an unstable platform, be raised to as tall as a skyscraper and just start cleaning dirty windows. I don't understand how they can be that brave and I can barely take a day of school. It must take a lot of self-control, how much training to they go through? How long do they have to practice? Do you get a college degree for that? Can you get a Nobel Prize for having no fear of heights? What if you fell and ended up a jello splat on the ground? That would be disgusting to watch. How many kids would be scarred from that? And then the next generation of people would never want to work as a window cleaner. So nobody would apply for the job and-

Damn, I can really get lost in thought.

What was my original thought? Um... Oh! Right, The Black Parade.

Three more days and I don't know what I'll do.

What if I say something wrong and he leaves? What if I break down? What if he sees my scars? What if he sees my bruises and cuts? What if I go to the wrong place? What if I get the date wrong? What if I get the time wrong?

I'm scared. No, I'm not scared, I'm nervous. I'm anxious. This is my anxiety.

You're pathetic, Patrick. You can't even go to a stupid parade without having a million worries.

Gerard's at the lunch table eating a sandwich and it looks fucking tempting. So tempting that my stomach growls as I'm watching him. I'm hungry since I haven't eaten since the day before yesterday and I'm actually considering eating today.

No. I'm not talking about Gerard. I'm talking about the sandwich. I mean... He's tempting, too. But I'd never in a million years do anything like that if he didn't want it. I mean-

You know what? I'm food hungry. Not sex hungry. And I want to eat.

You fat pig! What is wrong with you? Do you not want people to like you or something?

No food today, then.

"Hey, kid, are you gonna pay or not?" The lunch lady snaps, dragging my attention from the beautiful boy at the lunch table, in a slightly less commanding voice she asks, "You like him?"

I fluster a little bit at that question as I type in my student ID in the keypad, why would she, of all people, ask me, of all people, something like that? "Y-yeah..."

"You gay, kid?"

"Y-yes, Ma'am." I stutter out. Why am I telling her this? Is that a lie? Why is she asking this? Why is she interested? Is she trying to help me?

"Why haven't you asked him?"

"E-Excuse me, Ma'am?"

"Why haven't you asked him to go out with you? He's gay, too, you know. You don't have to be afraid." She says, her soft arm draped over the cold cash register. It looks uncomfortable, but I don't question it any further. How does she know he's gay?

I hum slightly as I think up the answer to her question, but I reply, my voice untainted by nervousness or worry, "He doesn't deserve me... I think he's too beautiful to me..."

She snorts, taking me by surprise and making me hunch my shoulders in embarrassment, "Kid, there ain't nothin' to be embarrassed about, you got that? And don't put yourself down, it's unhealthy. You know what? You ask him. You ask him for me."

"W-why, Ma'am?" I'm so fucking confused...

"Because you're really gonna go far, Kid. Now, no more questions, go." She orders in her commanding, intimidating tone again. I nod, stuttering out a quick, "Thanks," before walking over to Gerard.

He's sketching in his sketchbook now, touching up Mikey with a pair of skillful eyes and an even more experienced hand. His black brows are furrowed like they normally are when he's drawing. I can't help but stare at everything as I sit. His ebony black hair. It's messier than usual, probably because, I realize with guilt, I kept him up last night with the flashback and the wet dream. Some strands are pointed to the left, some to the right and a couple brush against his nose. One or two even point straight towards the ceiling. It's cute. His soft brown eyes. They're tainted with a smudge of hazel, but it's so amazing. I could get lost just gazing into his eyes in an unsolved maze of thought. He blinks. Every time he blinks is lost time. Lost time where I could still be gazing into those brown orbs. It annoys me slightly.

His lips are dry and chapped, his tongue coming out every thirty seconds or so to moisturize them. Those thin lips are beautiful. The way they fold and turn white when he purses them in concentration. But he'll never be mine. He doesn't even acknowledge me as I start nibbling on my sandwich despite the fact I already told myself no. What if I shouldn't have sat here? Oh my god, he probably thinks I'm weird from last night. I fucked up so bad.

Just leave. Leave before he talks to you about it. You know he will, and he'll ask why you're such a fuckup. More importantly, he'll talk about you being gay. Don't forget you told him last night you pathetic fuck.

"Hey, you okay?" Gerard asks, an edge of concern in his voice. I realize I was staring right into his eyes, making me blush, my face burning from pale to a deep red as I look away.

"Yeah, s-sorry..." I whisper, "I'm fine."

"Lies." He says, "You're blushing, you're fumbling with your hands. Why are you so anxious around me? I'm not going to hurt you. I told you I'm your friend and there's no reason to be embarrassed or nervous. Just forget last night happened. You needed help. I was there to help you." I blush even harder because he notices all the small things and that might mean just a little bit to a normal person, but it means so much more to me. Because somebody actually notices.

Gerard actually noticed. Gerard. That beautiful guy. Yeah, he noticed the little things about me. He actually cares.

Idiot, of course, he doesn't. It's your imagination, stupid. Honestly, Ashley was right about you. You should go burn in hell. You're pathetic. You're such a nervous wreck.

"Sorry..." I whisper, complete seriousness in my voice and a shameful expression on my face. I should be more comfortable with him, after all, he is my only friend at the moment. Why don't I trust him?

Because you're scared, he'll turn out like Kevin. Because you're a coward.

I am. I really am scared. That's why, isn't it? How have I not realized this before?

He will turn out like Kevin. He'll turn out exactly like him. He'll touch you just like Kevin does and maybe even rape you. You know it. He's going break you even more than you are, you miserable fuck.

"Don't say sorry. I'm just trying to make you blush, it's cute." Gerard replies with a smile and scrunched eyes.

My whole world falls apart at those words. I don't know how this boy does it, but my mind becomes mush. Absolute mush.

Did he just call me cute!? Did he just say I'm cute when I blush!? Oh, my goodness and holy smokes! What does that mean? Does he like me in a romantic way? Does he want to be with me? Does he think it was cute that I had a wet dream last night or something? What do I say?

Patrick. Martin. Stumph. Calm down. No, he did not find it fucking cute that you had a wet dream. That's not cute. That's disgusting. He does not want to be with you. He does not like you in a romantic way, he'll never love a fat pig like you. He's just a friend, goddamn! How stupid do you have to be to think he'd ever love you it like you as something more than that? It probably just slipped, and he doesn't mean it. Go ahead. I'll prove it to you! He'll say it just slipped. He doesn't mean it.

I can't find my words. It's not like I don't want to reply. I just don't want to know the answer. I don't want to know if it's true or not. I don't want to confirm that he doesn't love me. I want to believe he loves me. I want to believe it all.

Ignorance is bliss... isn't it?

Pathetic!

"Do you mean it?" Is what I wish I would say. Those four words are on the tip of my tongue, begging to leave and be heard. Begging to be spoken. Just begging. But I can't risk it.

"Th-thanks..." I whisper, my cheeks still warm. I swallow, feeling embarrassed and awkward.

There's a small silence between us, one where I take a bite of my sandwich and he continues to draw, eventually, though, his mouth tilts to one side in a smirk, "So last night, you uh... you said you had the dream about Hayley Williams, but you said you were gay. Any explanation behind that?"

I blush a little, then reply, avoiding his gaze, "I-I was just kind of uh... scared that you'd disprove of me being... gay... I don't know. S-Sorry, I lied."

He lets out a snort, then hugs me close, "You're so cute. You honestly have no idea."

I blush harder and look away, but I still have a smile on my mouth as he pulls back.

Those same two feelings that I get around Gerard are coming back. The same two feeling that usually means something bad. But now, they're good. They make me happy. My throat closes up like I'm sobbing. But oh no, I'm not sobbing. I'm so, so happy.

Happy. I'm actually happy! My stomach knots up, butterflies are swarming again. It feels so good how they flutter around. Like autumn leaves on the ground after a soft breeze. It's not normal. I'm not normal. But I don't care right now. I just want to embrace this warm feeling while it's here.

I want to cherish Gerard while I can because I'll never know when he'll leave.

I'll never know when our friendship will end.

"Hey, Gee!" A familiar voice calls from another table. Gerard's warm eyes look up from the drawing to a table farther away from ours. My eyes follow his and I have to grip the end of the table to stop myself from falling out of my seat.

Frank. Joe. Pete. They're calling for my one and only friend. Taking him from me and I can't... I... Gerard looks to me and with a slight smile says, "Can I..."

"Y-yeah, talk to you later," I whisper, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice. He doesn't seem to notice. I don't matter anymore. They do now. Gerard hops up and takes his lunch and sketchbook with a smile before taking quick, energetic steps over to my ex-friends. He sits down and acts like he's known them all his life.

And I try my best not to run to the bathroom. Not to break down again.

And he'll find a new friend, better than I'll ever be.

I walk away, no matter how much I try to resist, leaving my lunch and finding the bathroom. Emptying the contents of my stomach and becoming just as miserable as I always am.

But now, I'm alone again.

I'll always be alone. Pathetic. Disgusting. Stupid. Ugly. Fat. Tainted. Sinful.

Nobody ever really likes Patrick Stumph. Nobody ever really understands Patrick Stumph. Nobody. Patrick Stumph is just that weirdo at the back of the class with cuts up his arms and a raw throat.

I'm just a fuck up. That's all I ever have been and all I'll ever be. Who could ever really understand someone like Patrick Stumph? Nobody. Because nobody cares about him. Nobody.

On Wednesday, the first three periods are by in a flash. Gerard sits by Pete, Joe, and Frank for lunch. It looks like he enjoys them much more than he enjoys me. I cut that night. I also feel so dizzy that I almost pass out, so I eat my first meal in a while and drink lots of water.

On Thursday, I puke it all back up. It doesn't stay down no matter how hard I try. The first three periods are slower this time, but still quick. Gerard is getting closer and closer to Frank and still hangs out with Pete and Joe. Brendon and Ryan hang out with them, too. Gerard seems a little spacey during art class. When I ask him about it, he says he's fine and goes back to drawing. Am I doing something wrong? Is it my fault? Does he not like me? I get home, and my dad beats me. I'm bruised, and my back is red and torn from his belt. Megan cleans the cuts, and we talk for a while, she falls asleep beside me that night because she's afraid she'll have a nightmare. I don't cut that night, and I eat dinner alright. She's a heavy sleeper, so she doesn't hear me texting Gerard. He tells me to meet him at the bus stop after school, and we'll go downtown together.

It's Friday, today we're going to The Black Parade.