---Patrick---

Everything looks so far down.

Especially the street. It's like a small black strip the size of my thumb with tiny, tiny white specks lining the middle. Ants are walking the sidewalks, some wearing hats, some wearing hoods, some letting their hair flow in the soft autumn breeze. I wonder what they would do if I fell. No. I wonder what they will do when I fall. Will they stop or just keep going? Would anybody even care? No. Nobody cares about me. Nobody except Megan and even she's tired of me. I know it. I deserve this, and honestly, it's the first thing I deserved that I also want. I'm craving it. Just one step and I'll be falling, the wind whipping my hair. My hoodie possibly flying off and landing somewhere else. My fedora falling maybe ten feet away and my glasses glued to my face. My heart is racing. Am I really going to do this? Oh fuck, I want to... But what if Gerard does love me...? What if-

Stop.

Oh god. It's back.

Yes, I'm back you little whore. Just do it. You're such a fucking pussy.

I step up to the ledge. The thrill of it all is sending my heart pumping in my ears. I want to scream. Oh god. I'm going to die. I'm just going to kill myself. My eyes are wide as I take in my surroundings for the last time. The adjacent buildings. They're gray and worn out but much newer than my neighborhood. The white clouds in the sky. The occasional pigeon flying by and landing on the rooftop beside me. I look straight up into the sky, and I shut my eyes, but I don't dare fall. Not yet. I want to remember everything. I want to take in... Life... It's the last time after all...

The cracked pavement of my street is the first thing that flashes through my mind. It's a dark gray, not black, though. It's much too old to be black. I remember tripping over one of the larger cracks once. I was on a walk with Mom, and I didn't see it, so I ended up tripping and falling, landing on my hands and scraping them up pretty bad. I was... Four I think... She picked me up while I was crying salty, salty tears and even though the memory is slightly fuzzy, I remember her taking me home and cleaning me up while calming me down whispering, "It's going to be okay, Honey, shh, it's okay."

Kevin and I got along back then. He'd always tease me but in a big brother sort of way. He was always a lot of fun to hang around, and when Megan was born, he teased her more, and I honestly got a little jealous. I remember how he'd always blow a puff of air into my ear and make me squeal.

Then there was the time I got the talk. Crap, that was cringy. I remember running straight to my room and screaming into my pillow because I was so embarrassed. Dad was laughing his ass off the whole time, and Mom was there glaring at him with her light green eyes and huffing slightly. Megan and Kevin had been sent to bed early that night, but it didn't matter because they were soon awakened by my hysterical screaming.

Time passed. I grew a little more distant from Mom and, frankly, I felt guilty. I was spending more and more time with Pete, Brendon, and Joe. I laugh slightly to myself, my breath showing cloudy in the cold, late September air. I remember when I first met Joe. That was awkward, I was eight, he was seven, and we had both been dragged to the bookstore by our moms.

He was pretty outgoing and me, well I was shy. I'm still pretty fucking shy. I'd always hang out behind my mom's leg until she told me to go socialize. That day, though, she didn't push me to leave her side because she was looking through books. Then the next thing I know, though, this kid with short, curly brown hair comes sprinting at full speed down the aisle and stopping right in front of me. I was looking at him like he had just grown a horn from his forehead and you know what he did? He just got real close, my mom was completely oblivious, but he leaned into my ear, and he whispered five words which immediately sparked a friendship, "I really like your shirt."

I looked down and saw the American Idiot logo on the front of my shirt. The red grenade heart held in a fist and the words 'American Idiot' printed right beside it.

I looked back up with a grin ear-to-ear on my face. He was smiling back at me and giggling slightly.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Joe, what's yours?"

"Patrick."

"Nice to meet you." He says. I blush slightly before I hear another voice in the aisle over.

"Joe, it's time to go." It's his mom. I'm pretty sure at least.

He gives me one last smile before running into the next aisle. The next September, when school started again, I saw him, and we quickly became friends, we were in the same class, and it turns out we'd been going to the same school since kindergarten, but we were never put into the same class. He introduced me to Pete, and the three of us became fast friends. Soon enough, we met Brendon, and we hung out all the time. Ryan and Frank came a little later. So most of the time it was Joe, Brendon, Pete, and I hanging out, but there were special occasions when I could invite Frank and Ryan, too.

I remember once when the four of us were hanging out at Joe's house. His parents were gone, and he'd got hold of some beer. Now, he wasn't a heavy drinker, and he knew full well that what we were doing was illegal. We were halfway through seventh grade, and his parents had the smart idea of leaving alcohol in the fridge.

"So I know it's probably not smart to drink a ton, maybe a bottle a person?" Joe suggested, dividing the bottles between the four of us, I didn't take mine, though. It stayed in the middle since I refused to drink.

"That's fair," Pete agreed.

I only shrugged and whispered out a, "I'm not gonna..."

Thankfully, neither of them pushed me. Brendon, on the other hand, was pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Joe, you're doing it wrong." He said, pulling out a white and orange cigar and biting it before lighting it. The flame was warm for the split second it was lit, but once it was gone, I was embraced again by the cold of Joe's room. He handed over the pack to Pete who only rolled his eyes and gave it to Joe (he took it and lit himself a cigarette).

"That stuff's bad for your lungs you know," I said. I was a little worried, but I knew that they almost never smoked or drank. Only on special occasions like this so I didn't usually push them to stop.

"Eh, it's nice." Brendon shrugged. Joe was plugging his phone into the speakers and playing his playlist which he'd named, "Joe's Badass Playlist of Badass Shit." Which his parents had found a little bit afterward and quickly told him to change it to leave out all the cussing. He'd only changed it to, "Joe's Slightly Less Baddass Playlist of Slightly Less Badass Shit." But of course it was so long, it only showed, "Joe's Slightly Les-" So his parents didn't bother him about it after that. He put it on shuffle before taking a long swig of beer and leaning back against the edge of his bed.

"Show me how to lie,
You're getting better all the time
And turning all against the one,
It's an art that's hard to teach,"

Pete quickly began singing along, me picking up right after and Brendon and Joe tagging along. We listened to lots of songs, we could honestly listen to Green Day, Blink-182, Nirvana, The Offspring, and Shinedown all day every day and the songs would never get old. None of us cared for pop music, only the comfort we found in whatever genre this is.

I open my eyes to find myself still on the edge and vertigo takes over, the world spinning around me. I have to step back to the platform of the building to gather myself, but once I do, I step right back up and look down. Mom is dead. Kevin is a rapist. Dad abuses me. Megan is a victim. I'm suicidal. Gerard is done with me. All my old friends hate me, too. My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I don't want to take it out. I only have the will to fall forward into the black street.

A strong wind rips through making me shut my eyes and clench my jaw. My fedora flies off of my head, and even though I try to grab it, it's gone. The wind carrying it to the street below. I guess it doesn't really matter... It's not like I'll need it again.

I sigh. Time to do it... Oh god... Am I really doing this...?

Just do it you, coward.

I lean forward slightly, my heart quickening impossibly faster and my stomach dropping as I feel myself begin to fall forward. Off the building, to the black street below.

This is the end of your life, Patrick. Enjoy your last few seconds.

I'm on the edge of losing control. I'm about to fall forward, I'm about to die, and at that moment, fear has a death grip on me. I'm terrified and second thoughts take over my mind. I'm falling, I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'll never breathe again. I'll never see Gerard again. Pete, Brendon, Joe, Ryan, Frank. I'll never be able to see any of them again. I'll never have to chance to fix the broken relationships with them. Never. Do I really want that to happen?

Fuck.

I jerk myself back just in time, falling back onto the platform of the roof. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. My phone vibrates again, but I can only feel tears of fear and self-loathing rise to my eyes. I bury my face in my arms, pulling my knees up. I can't do this. I can't fucking do this. I feel myself falling apart, I feel my heart shatter in my chest and leak through my eyes. My chest is heaving, my hands are shaking, and one more vibration from my phone sends me over the edge. I yank it out of my pocket, tears streaming down my cheeks and I don't even read his texts before sending Gerard a message.

Patrick: STOP TEXTING ME I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT HOW MAD YOU ARE. I WANT TO DIE. ISN'T THAT ENOUGH FOR YOU? I just want it to end. I want it all to end. I don't need your insults pushing me on because I swear I'm going to do it. I know I'm a disappointment. I know I'm a slut. I know I'm worthless and a faggot and a whore and a fat pig. I know I'm a fucking mess and I know you don't love me so stop texting. I don't want to hear how pissed you are at me. I'm going to kill myself. I promise... So stop because I know what you're doing. Please.

I lean back against the short wall surrounding the roof of the building and feel myself begin to cry. I'm so pathetic. I can't even kill myself when I most need to... I have to kill myself. That's what everyone wants, isn't it? Just to die? I know it... That has to be it. Otherwise, my life would be at least a little bit better.

My phone vibrates. I let out a long sigh... I should probably just read it... Gerard's last words to me and then I'll work up to courage to do it again. I can do this, I will do this. I deserve it just like I deserve every scar on my arm. Just like I deserve every last insult Kevin screamed at me. Just like I deserve every hit my dad put on me. Just like I deserved what Kevin did to me Friday night. I deserve it all just like I deserve Gerard's last insult. I type in the code to my phone, slowly. I don't know why I put it in so slowly. Maybe it's because I'm so ashamed of myself for giving up. Maybe it's because I can't stand to see the boy I like put me down. My eyes dart over the text.

And then they dart over it again.

And again, more slowly this time. I must be misreading something. He didn't really say that. He... couldn't have... Nope. It's the same thing. W-What? Before I know what's happening my phone is dropping onto the solid concrete, and I'm covering my mouth. The message still playing through my mind, crystal clear. He couldn't have said that. He... He doesn't mean it, does he? Oh god, oh god. How could I be stupid?

Gerard: I know I can't stop you. I wish I could. I don't want you to go, but if you will, I just want you to know that the world is ugly, but you're beautiful to me. Please don't leave. I need you.

I grab my phone again and rush through all the past texts, my heart dropping to my stomach.

Gerard: Talk to me. Check your phone. Please. Please, please.
Gerard: I understand if you didn't like the kiss, that's completely fine but please. I'm so worried about you. I need you to text back, please.
Gerard: Where are you? I'm so worried, Sugar.
Gerard: Goodnight, Sugar, sleep well.
Gerard: I loved it, though... The kiss... It was nice and... I want to do it again... I really want to... I'm so sorry... I'm such a creep...
Gerard: I love you. I'm in love with you, and I've loved you ever since I met you. I was so scared that you didn't love me back and I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm so fucking sorry that I'm like this. But I wanted to know if you maybe want to get together? Would that be alright? I mean I understand if you don't want to. It was kind of spur of the moment...
Gerard: I need to tell you the truth. I'm so sorry I've been holding back but...
Gerard: Hey, Patrick

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. This can't be real. He didn't send those texts. I roll up my sleeve and pinch one of my scars as hard as I can, making me nearly yelp in pain, but I hold it back. I'm awake. This is my reality. He actually sent those texts.

Gerard loves me.

Gerard fucking Way loves me.

No, he doesn't you-

Shut the fuck up. Can't you read?

I push myself off the ground and sprint down the stairs to the elevator where I stand impatiently, getting some weird looks from a few people, but I don't care. My adrenaline is overpowering my anxiety, and I feel like screaming. I'm not sure how to feel about this, but one thing is for sure. If he wants a goddamn kiss then I'm going to go all the way from this skyscraper, through the streets, past everything and I'm going to go straight to his house, and I swear to God (That little shit up in heaven who's been giving me a hard time these past three years) that I'll give him that goddamn kiss. The elevator stops at the bottom floor, I immediately squeeze through the door, and I sprint out the front door of the building. I completely ignore my surroundings, not even stopping to pick up my fedora from the ground, to run down the route leading toward my house. Toward the Thurman flower shop. Toward the cemetery. Toward the mausoleum. Toward the cafe. Toward the bridge and to Gerard's house. I keep sprinting as fast as I can despite the growing fire in my lungs which scream for me to stop but I can't. If what Gerard said is true then I need to go to him. I need to find him. I need to tell him the truth. I need to tell him everything, and I need to kiss those delicate thin lips.

I don't think, just act. I don't regret, just embrace. I don't stop myself as I pass the Thurman bouquet shop. I don't stop at all even when I pass the cemetery gates and the mausoleum. I don't stop once as I pass the cafe. I don't stop. I don't even stop when I find him sitting on the bridge, tears flowing from his eyes as the sun makes his dark hair glow. I don't stop myself as I pull him up, his eyes wide in surprise and I don't give him anytime at all to process what's happening as I press him against the railing roughly with want-no need-in my movements. I let my face hover for just a split second. Stopping for once and taking in what I'm about to do before I kiss him, hard. Shutting my eyes with tears dripping down my chin. Tears I didn't realize were there until they're mixing with Gerard's and he's pulling me closer in the bright sun. His hands wrapping around my waist and pulling me so close that our chests are touching and I can feel his warm breath on my cheek.

That bittersweet taste fills my lips again. That beautiful, addictive taste. Like... Like...

Sugar with a hint of black coffee.

The taste of Gerard.