(A/N) SUPERSADONESHOTHELLYEAH!
Okay, so legit, I cried while writing this. It's wicked sad. I'm not even joking. Why am I so terrible?
Anyways, this is based on the GIF of Frankie in his Fun Ghoul outfit, standing next to the Mailbox from the Na Na Na video, ruffling his hair like I describe in the story. I just saw it for the first time today, and was very struck by it. So struck that I wrote this story.
Here you go, and have tissues nearby! xD
Fun Ghoul stood, alone, next to the Mailbox.
The Mailbox was located at the very outskirt of Zone 6, the weariest, most gruesome, and most dangerous place in the Zones. Generally, everywhere you looked, ray gun battles ensued, and lasers dotted the skies, slashed threw air and space. The sand is stained blood red, and bodies lay around. But for about a mile radius around the Mailbox, peace reigned.
The Mailbox was decorated with paints and words like "Love" and "Forgive." Little presents were scattered around it, but no one ever stole. They knew these gifts belonged to someone else. Someone who would never come to collect their things.
Its purpose it, truly, to be a mailbox. People drop letters and gifts in it, with people they wish they would be sent to. Except, the mailman would never come; the people the letters dropped inside or words floating around belonged to can never be found.
Fun Ghoul never liked the Mailbox. He always thought it was sad, although, more times than not, people came to terms with themselves and the dead, and got closure, here. Still, he felt "closure" was a luxury he'd never be able to enjoy.
He stood there awkwardly. Why was he doing this? He didn't need to come here. He shouldn't be here. But, he was; and he would do what he came for.
He had his right hand in his pocket; his left was ruffling his hair from the back, massaging his neck. He stared at his boot- clad feet, feeling stupid beyond all belief.
He can't hear you, dumbass, he thought to himself. He's dead.
Tears momentarily blurred his vision, filling his green- yellow eyes. He pulled himself together, and sat down on the sand beside the Mailbox, hugging his knees.
"Hey, Party Poison," he began. "It's your birthday today…"
He sniffled, preparing, but tears never came.
"It's been six years since Kobra, five since Jet. Only one since you, Poison. I've only been alone a year.
"You'd be, how old, now, thirty five? Wow, thirty five. I turned thirty just this past Halloween, Poison. I'm no longer young!" he stopped to chuckle.
"I once told you that thirty was the new twenty… for trees. Really, I feel old. Thirty years old, Poison, thirty years old!"
"I never did catch those fucks who killed you. I ran so far, so fast… but they had a car, Poison. I tried, so hard… all I wanted to see was them, dead. It didn't happen. But out in the Zones, no one ever lives too long, especially people like them who go around looking for trouble. I mean, what did they want from us? Just two guys with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Our ray guns, they can't take those. It's like a law, you know. You kill someone, its okay, but you leave their ray gun with their body. That's what I did with you, Hun. I went back to you after they got out of my reach, praying and hoping, but I knew in my heart you were gone. Right when it happened, I felt this pang in my heart, as fuckin' cheesy as that sounds. Five random guys had just ripped away the last thing that I had left, the last thing that I cared about. You anchored me, Poison… you were the last humanity I had. What left do I have to live for? What do I have to fight for? Everyone I love is gone… why am I still here? It won't be for long, I promise you, Honey. Alone, I don't stand a chance. The only keeping me alive is luck and wit. I don't really believe in luck, but I haven't encountered many groups like the one that shot you. If I did, I would just hide. Why did I hide? Now I'll have to do it myself."
He stopped to sigh. He pulled a pack of smokes out of his pocket and lit up, taking a drag.
"You know I always loved you, Poison. I knew it, and I knew you knew it… so why didn't we ever do anything? We've known each other all our lives, but never made it into anything much bigger than a joke. Why is that, Poison? It's the one thing I regret."
Ghoul sighed again and stubbed out his cigarette in the sand, watching as the little red embers died.
"After I ran back to you, I checked everything. You were dead, and I knew it, too. I tried to revive you, though. Everything, I tried EVERYTHING! Please, forgive me…" A large tear dropped from his eye and implanted itself into the sand, disappearing.
"I don't have anything to give you, Babe. People usually leave something of their departed loved ones here, but I have nothing of yours. I buried you with your ray gun. What else did you have? Nothing, really. You were buried in the only clothes you had. Would you like something of mine?" he asked.
Ghoul stuck out his arms in front of him, examining himself for something he could leave. "Uh…" he said.
Suddenly, it struck him. The perfect thing for Poison. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his last mortal possession.
Rubbing his thumb over the worn, black guitar pick, he sighed. Etched on it was My Chemical Romance, written in their Black Parade logo font. He flicked it onto the sand beside the Mailbox and whispered, "Making music just isn't the same if I can't make music with you, Gerard."
He buried it with just enough sand so that it won't blow away, and the rested his head on the metal side of the Mailbox. He saw in the sand a black sharpie, 'use me' written on the white part. He picked it up and uncapped it. On the side of the Mailbox, he wrote, "Miss you, Gee, but I'll be with you soon. Trust me. And until I am, everything I do, I do it for you."
Frank started humming a familiar tune, one he hadn't given thought to for a long time.
Everything he did, until the day he died, he did for his love.
This song, he sang for Gerard.
Now this could be the last of all the rides we take,
so hold on tight, and don't look back…
(A/N) Review, please my sweeties? :3