It's been two years, three months, and twenty-seven days since you left us.

So much has changed, my love. So much has changed since you left. Jet dissapeared a few weeks ago. We have no idea where he even went, but I know he's not coming back. He'll never come back.

SCARECROWS have been everywhere lately. They took Grace. I let them take her. It was my fault. I was supposed to be watching her. But she had to pee, and, well. I was awkward. Jet's always been so much better with her. But he wasnt here. I let her go alone, and some SCARECROW appeared out of fucking nowhere and just took her. She didn't even scream. I didn't even try to stop them. I let them take her, Frankie.

Kobra was ghosted, too. That was my fault. It's all my fault. I was supposed to have his back. I was supposed to be the leader. Now you're gone, and so is my brother. They killed my brother. Mikey is FUCKING BABY BROTHER IS DEAD. Ray loved him, you know? When he got ghosted, Ray was right there, holding him while he died. Just like I held you. They could've been happy together, like we were. They could've survived this war. They could've won.

I'm all that's left. I haven't seen another Killjoy in weeks. I've been walking nonstop for days, I think towards Battery City. I don't know anymore. I haven't eaten in three days, and I have no appetite. I'm thirsty, but I've just been drinking the rain. It burns, a lot, but oh well. I'm just hoping I can deliver this to the mailbox before the chemicals kill me.

Funny enough, I haven't seen a trace of anything even remotely BLi related since they took Grace. I mean Missile. Fuck, I haven't been using your code names. Oh well. Does it even matter now? You're dead. You all left me to wander this fucking desert alone. You're free.

I haven't used my ray gun for a long time now. I'm not going to. I'm done fighting them. I know, you told me to keep running. Those were your last words to me. I remember. You looked at me, I could hear the agony in your voice, you were trying to mask it with calm. But I know you too well, I've been in love with you for 12 fucking years. You looked into my eyes, and you whispered, "I love you, Gerard. Keep running." And then the life drained out of your beautiful hazelish eyes. And then I pulled your mask down, because I knew you'd have wanted it that way. Your blood was way too warm. I left you there. You could've still been alive, for all I knew. I should've taken you to Dr. D. But I knew it. You really were dead. I could feel you leave, I could feel the world splitting as I knew that, you were gone.

That was when I really died. I died right there, with you. I held on for Jet and Kobra, and Grace. But I was a shell. They all knew it.

And eventually, they all left me, just like you did. Left me to wander this goddamn desert. It's so fucking HOT. I'm literally in hell right now. I don't know why I'm still alive, I should have dropped dead from starvation or dehydration or exaughstion days ago. But something, God or whatever sick fuck is playing this game, is keeping me alive.

I haven't slept in days. I can't. I'm too cold. After they took Grace, I just laid there shivering. I'm so cold Frankie. I need you to warm me up. I need you to come kiss me, with your burning lips. Come touch me. One last time. Please Frankie. Please. I need you.

You aren't coming back. I know that. You fucking left me, because you don't want me anymore. I have no idea why you ever would. I'm fucking fat and ugly. I hate my face. But, I'm allowed to hate my face. Because it's my fucking face. You wouldn't agree though. If you were here, you'd slap me, playfully. You'd tell me I'm beautiful, and you love my face. And then you'd kiss me, and we'd sink back into the sand, and everything would dissapear for little while.

But you aren't here.

Remember what you told me, our freshman year? Before this fucking war started, back when you were just Frank and I was just Gerard, and there was no Fun Ghoul or Party Poison? The first time we kissed. Your dad had come home drunk again, and beat you up. Your lip was split. I had just wanted to kiss that little bloody splotch so badly. You said you were going to either kill yourself or run away, and you meant it. I knew you meant it, by the tone of your voice. You were crying. You never cried, Frankie. You rolled to me, laying your nose against mine. I still remember how sweet your breath felt on my face, and the look in your eyes. Agony, that's what your eyes held. I had started crying too, and you wanted to know why. I told you, if you killed yourself then you might as well kill me too, because I couldn't live without you. You said you didn't understand why I cared, you were a waste of time and space and energy, you were a stupid ugly fucking faggot that deserved to die. And I didn't know how to respond, so I just kissed you. And you kissed back. And after that, you said you were still going to run away. And I started crying again, because I though you were going to leave me. But then you grabbed your face in my hands, and whispered, "You can run away with me. Anytime you want." We kissed again, and then we went back to my house, and you spent the night. We stayed up all fucking night, talking. About our feelings, our unspoken attraction to eachother. My life was fucking perfect.

And then fucking BLi came along and ruined everything. Because same-sex couples were an "abomination" and were completely outlawed. And you kept your promise, we ran away a few weeks after BLi invaded. We took Mikey and Ray with us, and Bob stayed behind to watch over the rest of our families. I wonder what ever happened to Bob. I guess I'll never know.

Remember when I said I wasn't gonna use my ray gun anymore? Well, I lied. I have one last shot to make, and I'll make it count. I promise.

I'm coming, my love. Count to seventeen and close your eyes, I'll keep you safe tonight...

xoxo, Gee