Ever since he was fourteen, Frank has just had this idea in his head that life is utterly meaningless, and one day everything he knows will just fade away into nothingness, and maybe he wanted to be prepared for that, but after these years, he knew that he could never be prepared for that, and he knew everyday that he'd wake up with an ache in his chest as he buried a thought or two that had resurfaced from the depths of hell he called his subconscious at something like half two in the morning, but he'd never quite expected this.

This unshakeable hopelessness in the form of an anonymous letter detailing too much and too little at the same time; he wanted to know more to know everything, and now not just to rid his stomach of that awful sinking feeling every stomach, when he awoke to early, and with ears red and raw, and a world outside: a sunrise outside, and Daisy sleeping at the end of his bed, and silence and loneliness and the empty world.

But it's not like that come October fourth, because Kat's an early riser, and a silent one at that, and the two share the oddest look, of shaken, half tear stained gazes and words never uttered, because they both know more than they're willing to admit it.

And it's too early, and Frank's too scared, and his hands have already made it half way to the drawer where the letter was hidden, and Kat's lips have every question on them, and Frank's absolutely terrified of every single one.

He's scared; he's scared of Kat, he's scared of everything, he's scared of the person who wrote the letter, he's scared of the letter himself, he's scared of thunderstorms, he's scared of the rain, he's scared of early mornings, he's scared of sleeping in too late, he's scared of himself, he's scared of what will become of him, and most of all he's scared of November 1st.

And he knew that at least he's not alone, because there was someone else out there in this town that felt the same way, someone else that the dreaded date meant so much too; someone Frank wanted to know, someone Frank already did, but not quite.

Frank knew he couldn't just go back to sleep, especially with Kat looking at him like they were: all wide eyes and awkward looks, and he shouldn't say anything at all, but Frank did, because Frank's an idiot, and he wore that title like a crown, "why are you looking at me like that?"

Kat let out a sigh, pushing their hair out of their face, "you talk in your sleep; you have some fucked up dreams."

"I... uhh... what kind of fucked up... I?" His face flushed a bright shade of red, and he was pretty damn sure he didn't have a boner, but-

"Dark, just... twisted, I guess... from what I heard anyway... do you really not remember a thing?"

Frank shook his head, uttering a simple and somewhat flustered, "no."

"It's probably better you don't." Kat let out a sigh, "I think it's an okay time to get up now anyway, just take twice as long in the shower and forget about it." And Frank tried to, as he stumbled to his feet, but the tone in Kat's voice ensured that he couldn't shake it.

And he knew that at some point, the dream would come to him, and everything would change, and with Frank's luck, for the worse.

-

Kat was good at pretending: that everything was okay, that they'd apologise to their parents, that they'd even come back home, that they'd do it for Gerard, that they'd call Pete back, that they wouldn't judge Frank for what he said in his sleep.

Kat was perhaps even better at lying, and it showed, because they told the world that they were fine, and they told themself that they'd go back home and make things right, and they'd told Pete that they'd sort things between them too, and of course, they'd lied to Frank earlier like it was little more than routine, and they'd let Frank make his way to school, with some nonsensical promise about going home first and that maybe they'd see each other there, but maybe there.

Kat would do none of those things, and they reinforced that reality, as they made their way to the beachfront, caring little for the ocean, but for the privacy the rocks gave them, as threw themself down behind one, with their back pressed up against it, and within moments, a cigarette at their lips.

And that was that, they were elsewhere, and they'd only broken a minimal amount of promises to achieve such tranquillity, which, of course, in their mind was little short of an achievement.

Though, they weren't a bad person and they'd argue that case to their deathbed, they were just perhaps misunderstood, or perhaps just slightly immoral in some cases, better off alone, all that bullshit; they just knew they could keep themself going like this, with lies to their family and friends, and even themself.

Because they cared little for what people thought of them, just how they managed to get through the day, and that was perhaps the sole thing that they were deadset upon: making it through okay.

And they would, of course, because they didn't need to see their parents again, or for Frank to think well of them, or for Gerard not to breakdown and miss them, or for Pete... just to see Pete again, but they did, and perhaps it took Kat too long entirely to realise that.

They wondered if Pete would be in school right now, because Pete would always be their first call even if they could never quite bring themself to call back. Pete was just... Pete, and they had something, and there wasn't quite a word for it, but Pete would still be calling them Mikey, and they had to rectify that at least.

So armed with a lacklustre excuse, Kat dialled his number, and held the cigarette loosely in their left hand as they held their cellphone up to their ear: the sounds of the tide and the coast, and the world, seeming to drown out around them as the monotonous beeps of dial tones seemed to suck the soul of everything in, as hearts stopped, and consciences halted to let anxiety take reign.

And Kat would succumb to this, and if only this, then they certainly made a show of it, because they'd make themself out as a strong person, as an independent person, who didn't need love from their parents, and didn't need to make sure their brother was okay, and didn't need friends, and didn't need Pete, but they did, and it all became so fucking apparent behind the rocks, alone with the early morning low tide and one hell of an excuse of a phone call.

"Mikey?" Pete was almost a little startled to find them attempting to make any sort of contact with him, and he had already half convinced himself that was some sort of accident, or prank, or cruel joke, or something, despite the fact that Kat wasn't much of a cruel person.

"Yeah..." They let out a sigh: breath almost forced, "it's... Kat now, by the way?"

"What?" Pete asked, confusion evident in his tone.

"My name." Kat clarified with yet another sigh, "my name is Kat now. It's recent, I'm just letting you know... I just don't... I don't like Mikey anymore... it feels too connected to Michael and who people want me to be, and I just want to get away from that bullshit: I want to get away from it all."

"Isn't Kat a girl's name?"

"Names don't have fucking gender, Pete, gender's fucking bullshit, I tell you, okay?" They shook their head in disbelief. "Gender neutral." They repeated, perhaps as a reminder to Pete, perhaps as a reminder to the world, "and names are just fucking words, fucking collections of letters, sounds, they're like noises we use to refer to people. There's no such fucking thing as boy noises and girl noises."

"I'm sorry, I know, I just..." Pete groaned a little, "you're pissed at me now, and you're always pissed at me, but more so now, and I was hoping we'd get somewhere, because you can't keep ignoring me, Kat, you really can't."

"I can, but I'm not pissed at you, Pete." They added, and with conviction too. "I'm pissed at myself, more than anything, and my parents, too, but that's a given, I hate this town-"

"Calm down, I wasn't aware I was on the phone to a pop punk band here-"

"Fuck off." Kat rolled their eyes, taking a drag of their cigarette as they let the world around them sink in, "I just need to get out of here, out of this headspace, out of this peer group, this family, because it gives me such bad thoughts, such a destructive mentality and I care about you, Pete, of course I do, things are just difficult, and you know that, and I just don't want to get you into any more trouble."

"And you're doing that by getting yourself into trouble? Because you should be at school right now, and I heard you didn't come home last night-"

"That's none of your fucking business, Pete." Kat paused, just taking a moment, because Pete knew them well enough to know that they didn't mean it, "I had one fucking hell of an argument with parents yesterday: about gender and my name and it was nasty, and I just stormed out, and I stayed with this guy overnight, and he wasn't a creep or some cannibal or something, calm down, he's like our age, it's all fine, but I haven't gone back yet, and I really don't want to, you know? They didn't want to call me Mikey, getting them to call me Kat will be impossible."

"Gerard will do it, though, Gerard will do anything you tell him to, and I don't mean that in a bad way, but literally, he'd probably step right off a cliff and into the middle of the ocean if you asked him to."

"Can we not talk about Gerard walking off a cliff, I'm worried about him as it is."

"I know." And silence, because Pete did, because he knew so much, he knew too much.

"Can I stay at yours tonight?" Kat asked, their voice barely a whisper.

"Yes, but don't tell me it's because you love me again or some bullshit, tell me like we know it is - because you're scared of facing the world."

"Of course I'm scared, I know I'm scared, but don't tell anyone."

"I wouldn't dream of it. See you, Kat."

-

In Gerard's head, he sees the end of all things; he sees the water growing taller and the waves growing into beings, human, but so not human, but they're human enough to crawl upon land, and their not human enough to kill another, and the end of all things is salt water lungs and words so beautifully strewn, but utterly nonsensical in nature, because no one needs this, even he doesn't need this, but of course, Gerard likes to think he does.

Gerard needs something, he just doesn't know what, and at one point down the line, he figured that this may as well do.

The ocean, this affliction, and what happens after death, because one day there will be a world without Gerard Way, and knowing that seemed to wear him away a little, and in the most odd kinds of ways, because he wanted to die, after all, this was his decision, but he was scared of what he couldn't imagine and what would come the morning of November 2nd, and the unlikelihood that he'd live to see it.

He finally grew the guts to face his reflection in the mirror: all dark strands of greasy hair, skin as pale as the white bathroom wall behind him, and a revolting shade of red rimming his eyes, fading out into the darker, bruising tones of his eye bags, and the other marks upon his body and their own private mysteries.

He needed to get his head out of there: out of the future, out of November 2nd, because the date was October 4th, and he had a long way to go yet; he this month, and he had himself to face in this empty house, alone.

Because although his parents were here, that had never really meant much to anyone or anything, and perhaps Mikey, well, Kat, as Gerard didn't quite yet know them to be, had shown them that.

Gerard wondered if it hurt, he wondered if he wanted it to, because he was sure as fucking hell itself that he was hurting, and it wasn't fair if they got off okay, because they didn't deserve that, and they never fucking would.

And Gerard wasn't a spiteful person, just a delicate one.

And he knew he'd made the right decision in turning away from his reflection and the reality as he stumbled into the living room, and yearned for the ocean outside, and his mother had instructed very specifically that he stayed inside, even in his room, until she got back.

His mother had insisted many other things to.

Most of them wrong.

His mother had insisted that Kat was a boy, his mother had insisted that he was sick, his mother had insisted that his father was useless, his mother had insisted that she loved Kat, his mother had insisted that she'd only tried to do her best for them.

Gerard knew better.

Gerard knew better than to listen to her.

Gerard wasn't a vengeful person, just not a stupid one.

And his whole body shook as he grabbed his coat, and locked the front door behind him, as he stumbled down to the beachfront, and the ocean waves, and the high tide, and suddenly it seemed like the world had stopped for him out there on the sands.

And it wasn't even much of a beautiful beach, not that Gerard much valued the typical beautiful in anything - it was the ocean and it served its purpose, as did the sky, and the horizon where it met the sea, and the late afternoon sunset, and the sinking feeling in Gerard's stomach: in time with the movements of the tides.

It was odd, but everything was odd, and Gerard knew that by now.

He'd discarded his sneakers half way down the beach; he didn't particularly care much for this pair - his mother had bought them and they were a size too big on the pretence that he'd grow into them, but that was bullshit, and it would always be.

Gerard hadn't expected or perhaps even wanted to see his sibling sat behind a rock with a cigarette in their mouth, and was here in search of solitude and the comforts of the open ocean and the burning feeling in the back of his throat as he coughed up salt water, but beside him was none other than Kat, or Mikey, still in Gerard's mind.

"Gerard?" Kat exclaimed, perhaps with a little too much surprise in consideration of the location and their brother's tendencies. "Well, it wasn't like I could spend the whole day here and not even just catch a glimpse of you at one point..." They rolled their eyes, pulling the cigarette away from their lips and gesturing for Gerard to sit down beside them.

"Mikey-" Gerard began, sitting beside Kat.

"It's Kat now, or at least, I guess so... I'm fine, I just... I don't want to use Mikey anymore... she's ruined that for me, but this is something different, and maybe I feel just a little more comfortable in my own head today, even if I haven't moved in hours, and even if I'm down to my last cigarette: I told myself I'd get over myself and go and met Pete after this, but I still don't feel ready- Gerard," Kat exclaimed, their eyes falling upon Gerard's feet. "Where the hell are your shoes?"

"I ditched them like ten metres down the beach... I don't like them... they're wrong, they're the wrong shoes, they're just... just wrong... and I-"

"The ones mum bought?" Kat raised an eyebrow. "A size too big?" Gerard nodded. "Thought so. You've still got shoes at home though? Good shoes that are okay?" Gerard nodded again. "They'll laugh at you if you walk around with no shoes on, Gerard."

"I know." He let out a sigh, "they laugh at me whatever I do. I've stopped listening now, anyway."

"That's good - it's all bullshit anyway." Kat finished their cigarette, laying back against the rock. "I should go and see Pete now, shouldn't I? And you should walk home before people notice your shoes-"

"What are you seeing Pete about?"

"Doesn't matter..." Kat shrugged it off, getting to their feet, and holding out a hand for Gerard, who followed suit.

"Does it not?" Gerard looked on in concern, "I think it matters."

"That's a polite way of me saying that it's private and I don't want to tell you, Gee." Kat let out a gentle laughter, making sure Gerard caught their smile. "Come on, get home, it's gonna get late."

"And what about you?"

"I'll come home tomorrow, after I see Pete, I promise."

"Promise." Gerard repeated with a small smile.

-

Pete was all impatience and nerves, and he'd always be as such, and he'd always know Kat well enough to know that they wouldn't think any much less of him if he stood out and waited for them on his porch, with his hands shaking a little, and the stupidest shirt he owned on, perhaps just to make Kat smile.

Pete didn't quite know what he was doing with his life, not anymore at least, or in particular what he was doing with Kat Way, and why they'd started talking to him again all of a sudden, because it never was as simple as an 'I miss you' with Kat, and perhaps Pete had learned that the hard way.

But he'd say he was okay now, despite the porch and the shirt, and the pack of beer at his feet, because Kat would drink, and perhaps it would make things easier, perhaps it wouldn't - nothing could be predicated or controlled with them, and Pete did often wonder what he was even attempting to get out of this.

But the reality hurt more, because all in all, he honestly just cared about them, and what they had to say, and what they would never say, and whether they'd come home or not, whether they'd leave this town or not, whether they'd even turn up or not.

What kind of mood they could possibly be in.

Of course, Pete had never once thought that Kat was in fact just as nervous as he was, because he'd painted this picture of them in his head, and a pedestal to go with it, because Kat never took off their leather jacket, and they looked like a sleep deprived pile of punk rock shit everyday, but still that was beautiful.

Pete had been the one to fuck it all up, of course, because people couldn't know, and people would never know, besides Pete's mother, of course, who wasn't here anymore, and Kat had reassured Pete that it was nothing to do with the fact that she'd caught the two of them: Kat with their mouth around Pete's cock.

But it had everything to do with that, and the reality of that was unavoidable.

Because perhaps Kat had ruined Pete's life, but Pete still cared about them, deeply too, despite the whole world.

"Hey..." The voice: shaky and rough with nicotine, yet instantly recognisable, caught Pete just a little by surprise, and he nearly had a heart attack as his gaze fell upon Kat, because he hadn't adjusted his fringe, not once in the past three minutes, and for his emo reputation, this was of course a true tragedy.

"H-hey... h-how are you?" Pete stuttered out, running his fingers through his fringe awkwardly as his cheeks flushed the worst shade of red in the goddamn world, and Kat tried their best not to smile, even slightly.

"I'm... I'm good." Kat swallowed and forcefully so, and that wasn't the kind of swallowing the two were used to, but nothing in the nature of swallowing, or anything of the like at all had occurred for months now, and neither was as content with the aforementioned as they pretended to be.

"Good?" Pete repeated, the words lodging in his throat. "I'm g-good too, I guess- I have beer," he gestured to his feet, "because you always wanna get drunk around me now, don't you? I don't take it personally, I get drunk with you, so it's fine, but the house is empty tonight, so we don't have to go down to the beach, unless you want to- I mean, you like it there, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do." Kat let a small smile flash over their lips for even just a brief moment, "but I reckon I've spent the whole day there, and I doubt I can even remember what your bedroom looks like... or house, bedroom was perhaps the wrong word- it had connotations, and I'm... I'm... we're not gonna do anything tonight, if that's okay? And don't let me change my mind, because I have enough shit in my head right now- not that you're shit, you're... beautiful, and great in bed and at sucking cock-"

"Kat, shut up, you idiot," Pete rolled his eyes and handed them a beer, "I understand."

"I wish you were my parents." They let out an awkward laugh, "because if I need anyone to understand right now, it's them."

"I know, but you have to go home, Kat, eventually, anyway."

"I know." They nodded, biting their lip.

"And is this the 'I know, I'm sorry', or the 'I know I'll never do that'?"

And Kat met Pete straight in the eye and uttered, "the latter."

"You can't stay with me forever-"

"You want me to-"

"Kat-"

"Don't lie to me."

"We haven't spoken in months, you can't just, do this, you-"

"I'm not doing anything."

"I know, and I think that's the problem."

-

hey buds !!! lmao ayyy ayyy im dead im so tired im so tired all the time how do i stop being tired its not like i dont sleep like i get a decent amount of sleep probably maybe i mean... i dont even know what im saying pls vote and comment help me i love brian molko more than i love myself and im really arrogant so that says a lot