He stood atop the chair.  He felt empty, his outlook bleak.  He reached for the rope hanging from the ceiling light.  As he held it in his hands, he realized that this was wrong.  This wouldn't do him justice.

He got down from the bedroom chair and headed for the kitchen.  He thought maybe a glass of water would clear his mind.  Deep down he knew that water wouldn't wash away his pain.  When he was in the kitchen, he went to the knife drawer.  He knew full well that there were no glasses or water in that drawer, but something drew him to it.

He opened the drawer and saw the knives glint in the fluorescent light.  He picked up the handle of a thick knife with a long blade.  He examined the blade and dragged his finger along the flat edge.  He maneuvered his finger to touch the tip.  It was sharp, the point of the knife pricked his finger.  He took his finger away and watched the blood bubble up before spilling down his index finger and palm.  He licked his finger to stop the bleeding.  His blood felt warm and metallic on his tongue.  As he retracted his tongue into his mouth, he looked at his finger and smiled.  Oh how beautiful his red blood was.

He left the kitchen with the knife held at his side.  As he walked down the hall, he could feel the daylight seeping in.  He paused and faced a window.  He felt the sun beat down and warm his face.  Then he turned and con tined down the hallway.

He entered the room with the chair in the middle and stood on the cushion.  He looked around the room, noticing the posters of enlarged comic book covers, the various drawings and quotes that hung on the walls.  He saw a sketchbook and some calligraphy pens sitting on the desk.  He decided not to write anything.

He paused, then raised the knife high above his head.  He took a deep breath, then forced his hand downward.  He felt the knife puncture his flesh, sliding into his abdomen.  He didn't feel pain.  He looked down at his gut, the blade was completely immersed in his body.  He saw that his blood was staining his white T-shirt red as it pooled around the knife.  He saw his blood flow down his legs to where it was soaking into the chair.  For a moment, he wondered if he had made a mistake, but he knew there was no going back.  He could feel he was slipping, like his life was flowing out of where the knife had entered and was seeping into the chair.  He could see the shadow of death looming over him, preparing to engulf him.  He just smiled and said, "Goodbye brother."

Frank's POV
It had been a rather calm couple of weeks.  At first, things were hectic with what people said about Gerard and I, but then I decided I didn't care.  After I accepted that people would gossip, I realized that I was happy.  I was glad that I could be open about my relationship with Gerard.  It felt wonderful to hold hands as we walked down the sidewalk to Gerard's house.

Gerard's parents still didn't know that he was gay.  Gerard said he would tell them when he was ready.  On the bright side, we didn't have to worry about being too discreet when we were at his house because his parents worked a lot and Mikey already knew.

It felt different when we walked inside Gerard's house this time.  Mikey was usually doing something in the living-room, but he wasn't there today.

"Mikey?" Gerard called, "Just wanted to let you know I'm home."  No answer.  Even though Gerard and Mikey had a big fight a couple weeks ago, I could tell Gerard still cared about his little brother.

Gerard looked for Mikey in the kitchen, but he wasn't there.  He went to Mikey's bedroom door and knocked, "Mikey,are you in here?"

When no one answered, Gerard opened the door.  Gerard looked confused when he saw that Mikey wasn't in there.  Gerard turned to me and shrugged, looking a little concerned.  I half smiled, but stayed quiet, not knowing what to say.

Gerard went over to his own bedroom door and opened it.  He stopped dead in his tracks.  When I came up behind him, I saw what made him freeze.  There was Mikey, laying awkwardly on the ground with a knife in his stomach, next to a blood soaked chair.  I gasped, which seemed to shake Gerard because he ran to his brother.  "Call an ambulance!" he cried.

Quickly I reached for my cell phone and dialed 911.  By now Gerard was sobbing, he had picked up his brother's stiff shoulders and was cradling Mikey in his arms.  I went over to him and put my hands around Gerard's shoulders.  I could feel him shaking from the tears.