---Patrick---

The voices. The scurrying. The shuffling. The stares.

My feet carry me through the crowded halls, the voices of teenagers echoing off of the white walls and the shuffling of feet emitting from the floors as I make my way through the crowd, trying my best not to shove everyone out of the way. I feel like screaming because people won't hurry up but I don't show my frustration. I only bottle it up and hide it. Nobody needs to know I have emotions. It's not like they pay attention to them anyway. I finally squeeze through the traffic and speed walk over to my locker, my feet moving as fast as I can make them without running because I know I'll only get detention if I run. I don't want to miss The Black Parade.

I see Spencer, Jon, and Bob out of the corner of my eye and quickly hunch down, afraid they'll see me. Thankfully, they haven't been bothering me much these past few weeks. I don't know if it's because Gerard hangs out with me all the time now or what but I still like to be careful. This time is no different.

I'm so lost in thought that I completely pass by my locker and I have to turn around. Everyone's staring at me. Everyone's watching me. Laughing at me inside. They think I'm an idiot. I am an idiot.

I turn the lock on my locker, but as I try to unlock it, my hands get more and shakier. So much that I can barely get a grip on the lock. I slam my hands against the locker, desperate to calm down and get out of there but I can barely focus. My mind is mush because I'm scared and I can't get oxygen to my lungs. It's escaping me, and I can't breathe, making me panic more.

Haha! Gerard's going to leave you, you're so pathetic, just wait until he sees you panicking over nothing at all.

Everyone's watching, but they're doing nothing as I'm lost in my doubt, I can't seem to... Focus... They're going to laugh at me. Pin me down and hurt me until I bleed out and the walls are all stained red.

You're going to mess up, you pathetic, fat pig. You're going to go home early and get beaten by Dad because he doesn't want to see you. He wants someone who isn't a failure like you! He wants a son who didn't cause The Incident! It's all your fault. You can't blame this on God. It's all you, you sick whore!

"Patrick!" I don't know whose voice that is, but it's familiar.

Stupid prick! It's surprising they haven't killed a pathetic cutter like you yet. They'll get to you soon enough.

"Hey! Patrick! Take a deep breath, name five things you can see," Gerard says. When did he get here? W-what?

"Do it, now." He demands a little more roughly. I'm a little hesitant to comply, staring at him instead with a helpless, blank look on my face but soon enough, I realize I have to.

Inhale

"L-lockers, you, teenagers, Bob, Spencer, Jon, hands, feet-"

Exhale

"Good, deep breath again. Four things you can feel."

Inhale

"Locker, cold, floor, clothes."

Exhale

"Inhale, three things you can hear."

"You, the teens, me."

Exhale.

"Two things you can smell."

"Coffee a-and perfume."

"And one thing that makes you happy."

I open my eyes, and exhale softly. One thing that makes me happy?

"You."

I blink and pull away from the locker, looking around to see nobody is focused on us, there's too much chaos surrounding us for anyone to notice us. It was just my anxiety. That's it.

Gerard's hand is in mine, and the other one hand is pressing my shoulder against the locker, making sure I don't run away. He has a sympathetic look in his eyes, immediately sparking my anger. Nobody should feel bad for me. I deserve it...

Before I can stop myself, I'm pushing his warm hand away from my shoulder and turning back toward my locker, with tears lining my green eyes. I don't want him to see how broken I am. I don't want him to see all this pain. I don't want him to know how much I want to be with him. How much I would risk just to be normal. I don't want him to know how miserable I am, without him and in general.

"You alright?" He asks as I finish with my lock and pull out my bag. I don't want to reply, but it would be rude to ignore him, so I do reply, it's a lie, but it's better than embracing the silence, "Yeah, sorry..."

I shut my locker and immediately fall back, so my back is leaning against it. I need to regain my control before I end up having another panic attack. I just need to catch my breath. I don't want Gerard to worry about me while we're at the parade. Come to think of it, what even is The Black Parade? Is it just like every other parade but with like... racial equality? Or maybe they just ran out of names and called it The Black Parade? Is it about death, maybe? I have no idea. It seems interesting, though, so maybe it's not that bad.

My mind continues to wander as I leave the locker by Gerard's side, my bag slung over my back, my hands in my pockets, and my head down, making sure not to lose the young boy. As we reach the front of the school, my heart begins to sink, and my eyes look up. They shouldn't have. Joe and... and Pete are there... Time kind of just stops. Pete and I haven't been this physically close since I shut him out. He always stayed away, and I tried not to get in his way. But he's here... and I can take him in again...

He's wearing a black Metallica shirt. A white logo on a faded black fabric. It's more of white on gray now, but the blocky letters are still outlined in a black that's unfaded and still good as new. His denim jeans are used, but the holes are still decorative. They haven't been made by him, there are two holes on each of his knees and one just above his right shoe. The white strings covering his skin are no longer white, but a dirty gray and I know that part is his work. He was never one to just sit around and be lazy. He was always out, finding new adventures. Living a rebellious life with his girlfriend... or me.

His shoes, which were once white, are now a brown and green, probably from dirt and grass stains while his hair is up and spiked, unlike three years ago when he had his emo fringe. It's still its regular dark black, though, so he hasn't dyed it. His forehead shows, but I know it couldn't compare to Brendon's.

I remember when we used to joke about how big Brendon's forehead because we'd always pull his hair up. Those were the days when I was still happy... I mean I am happy now. It's just not the same with my ex-friends around. It's not the same with all this anxiety. It's just not the same as what it used to be. You know?

I turn my attention back to Pete. His eyes are full of joy and still their dark hazel color with spots of dark brown, but they're no longer outlined with his black eyeliner. What happened? What happened to the Pete I used to know? Oh yeah, he's happier without me. He's probably gotten over his depression because I'm out of his life. That's why there's a smile on his light lips because I'm gone. Because I was just a problem to him... What has he been doing lately? Has he found another girlfriend? Is he always busy with her now? Or does he just make a living of stealing friends like Gerard?

That's a stupid thought, and I'm quick to realize it. Gerard chose him. He didn't choose Gerard. Gerard chose him over me. Him to hang out with instead of a pathetic monster like me.

Joe's there, too. His afro is a little shorter than it was three years ago but it's still there. I remember I used to weird him out and bury my head in it when I was bored because I loved the texture. Ryan, Pete, and I would also take bets on how many pencils we could stuff in it before he noticed. Ryan would always get the closest with three or four pencils, but Pete and I would always bet six or seven. Way too high. We lost a lot of money to that game, and now I almost laugh at the thought because it was a fun game. Almost. Because I'm not part of it anymore. I wonder if they still play it. Probably. They wouldn't let a small problem like me end their fun, would they? I can already tell because they're both smiling to each other and laughing. They'd never let a minor setback like me ruin their lives.

Beneath his hair, his blue eyes are crinkling with joy, without me... and oh my goodness, the closer I look, the more beautiful they are. I mean I don't like him in that way. I probably wouldn't date him, but I do have to admit, he is fairly cute. His smile, playing across his face moves as he says something to Pete and it softly transitions to a neutral expression. He's wearing a sleeveless Green Day vest. It only reminds me of the countless times we'd turn Green Day up to full volume and scream out the lyrics. That was before they applied to my life. Before I really did have cuts and bruises, before I really was the minority. That was before The Incident, but those were my favorite days.

We'd just hang out at Joe's house, and he always had these speakers that were really, really loud. We'd sing along off pitch and with terrible tune, but it was fun. It was one of my favorite memories of us. Of what we'd do. Does he think of those things, too? Does he think about me, before he starts his day, does he think of me as I think of him? Does he miss me? No, he's probably happy I'm gone. He doesn't miss me as I miss him... He's probably happy that someone as pathetic as me is gone. I want to believe he misses me, but... the best part of believe is the lie, isn't it?

He looks to me and immediately the neutral look on his face is gone. Like a flash, he looks... sad? Is that sadness? No, he wouldn't feel sad about me. Maybe it's something Pete said, and he accidentally looked at me... Maybe... I'm immediately feeling conflicted as I continue down the stone path, following close behind Gerard and they leave my sight. I'm shaded by the various trees planted across the school grounds and a soft breeze rolling through is only making me feel colder. My hands bury themselves in their pockets as I feel more and more self-conscious.

Why was Joe looking at me in the first place? Why would he notice someone like me...? I don't know. I don't want to think about it right now. I just want to focus on the fact that Gerard and I are going to a parade together. Soon enough we'll be sitting on the city block watching instruments pass by as they play, but they're not going to take my mind off of Joe and Pete... I just hope Gerard won't notice how down I'm feeling. He hasn't noticed it yet. I want it to stay that way because I don't want to start talking about depressing things when we have something so big to watch. I want to enjoy it while I can.

We leave the school grounds and reach the sidewalk where we walk side by side, his hands are in his pockets as well, and he seems slightly troubled like... he doesn't want to go? Is that what's playing across his face right now? It's hard to tell since I don't have a lot of experience with this sort of stuff. I'm not as social as I should be. He, obviously, is a little more social than I am. Just a little bit.

He swallows as we continue to walk downtown. I'm not sure where we're going downtown, all I know is we're going to a corner and watching the parade. I don't know how many people will be there, how many people will be watching as well. But more importantly, why does he look so sad? Like he doesn't want to go? Is it because of me? Is it because I'm here? Is it my fault that he looks down? Why doesn't he want to go?

I don't want to ask because the silence is comforting, but it looks like he's about to interrupt it anyways. I can't stop thinking about Joe and Pete, even though I'm trying to get my mind away from it, they keep coming back. Why have they changed so much? Is it because I'm gone or is it just the passing of time? Is it because I haven't talked to them for three whole years?

"Hey, Patrick, you alright?" Gerard asks me, a tone of concern in his gentle voice. How? How does he make out every little detail? How can he tell that I'm not okay just by looking at me? Why does he care about me so much? It's just so weird. Nobody has ever done that for me before besides Pete. Why does he always study me like I'm a work of art? Like he has to take in every single detail?

"What do you think?" The words come out much more hostile than I mean them to and in a flash, I want to take them back because I didn't mean for it to sound so rude but he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, he just sighs and looks at his feet. Why is he sad? Why does he look so down? He didn't even bother with his hair today... What's troubling him? He asked me... so why can't I ask him, "Why are you down?"

He seems a little surprised that I asked, but he replies with a smile. The exact same smile Megan uses when she tries to look for the best in a situation. The sorrowful smile with just a hint of hope. But there is no hope in Gerard's smile, only nostalgia. He replies, his voice makes it sound like he's close to tears and he's trying to clear it up, but he's failing, "Just... brings back sad memories... I guess... I... I'll tell you later if that's alright? I just... don't really want to talk about it right now..."

He sounds so sad, and it breaks my heart. I want to make him happy, I want to show him that there's nothing to be sad about, but first I guess I need to know why he's sad, shouldn't I? It would probably be a good idea. Will he be alright with me trying to cheer him up? I can't tell... What if it's something he shouldn't be happy about? What if it's okay to be sad about this? I'm not sure. I am curious, though. What does he have to tell me? Is it going to be something big? Is it something that really affects him or will it just be a small thing? It'll probably be something small. He doesn't trust me with something that big. I shouldn't be trusted with something like that. I'm so pathetic.

"Yeah, that's fine," I reply. We walk in silence for a little while longer, my foot beginning to hurt from the day before when Dad beat me. He pushed me, and I ended up tripping over something, I can't remember what, and it hurt my foot. It takes all my strength not to limp but eventually I can't take it anymore, and I'm limping slightly. I don't think Gerard notices, so I just give in and limp the rest of the way there.

We walk past buildings and trees, and there are several times when I think we'll stop, but we keep on going. Cars and buses pass us, but I don't focus on them. I'm focused on Gerard, instead. The way he shuts his eyes gently when he walks. There are bags under his eyes. Has he not been getting any sleep? Why not? Has this been bothering him? Does he not want me here? Is it too personal? Is he regretting inviting me? I'm worrying too much. I don't know why I'm so worried, but I can't stop. I can't help it. The thoughts just keep coming back over and over. They won't leave my mind no matter how much I want them to go.

Gerard stops all of a sudden, we're at a corner, and there aren't very many people around but I can tell the street will be filled up soon. That makes me a little nervous because I'm scared I'll make a fool of myself and make Gerard look like an idiot. That wouldn't be good... It's going to be fine, though. I won't make an idiot of myself. It'll be okay. We'll just sit the whole time, won't we? The black haired boy looks to me and smiles brightly before gently saying, "We're here." He takes a seat on the edge of the curb, letting me follow suit.

And together, we wait for the parade.