I was completely stunned. Worry filled me up like someone inflating a balloon. My Gerard has been poisoning himself with liquor. I had no idea what to do, but I knew that it would be best to just lock the nightstand back up and return the key to its home.

I was laying on Gerard's bed trying desperately to sort this newfound mess out when I heard a soft knock on the door. Gerard walked into the room in his boxers and wet hair looking, well, rather attractive. I had not noticed how long I had been staring at him until he looked at me and asked, "Are you alright, Frank?"

Being the socially awkward emotional teenage boy that I was, I simply nodded feeling completely and utterly like a moron. In return, Gerard smirked a bit, and walked over to his dresser I had not noticed until now. He reached inside and pulled out a red tee shirt and a pair of black sleep pants with skeletons plastered all over them.

"You won't mind if I just dress in here, will you?" he asked me, skeptically.

"Yeah, uh, that's-that's fine," I stuttered. Way to play it smooth, Iero.

Gerard gave me a little nod and pulled his shirt over his pale, white chest. Afterwards he bent over to step his legs into his pajama pants, giving me a very good 'view' of behind. I really had to stop staring...

Unfortunately, when Gerard turned around, he noticed me looking at him… again. This made him smile his charming, toothy grin. He slightly shook his head to settle some strands of hair over his eyes to hide his slight blush. When I fluttered back to reality, I returned the blush, only mine was more intense and I did not have any way of hiding it.

Time passed and we really did not feel like going to sleep. It was around one in the morning and we had taken to watching zombie movies in Gerard's living room. It was fun and all, but I could not stop reminiscing about all the events that had occurred in the past few days. Suddenly, a wild question appeared in my mind.

"Hey Gerard…" I began, shakily.

"Yeah, Frank?"

"Back when we were in the park, you said, 'You are not going back to that man.' How do you know my father?"

"Oh, uh, you caught that, did you? Uh, I…"

"Yeah?" I urged, more intrigued now than ever before.

"Well, you see, Frank…" Gerard began.

"Go on…" I urged.

"Uh, you know how we went to school together when we were really little kids?"

"Sure I do,"

"Well, before you moved away to a different development for a while," I cringed at this because I didn't really move away. This was the time period after my mother's murder, but before my stomach scar. When I moved to another house for a while, I was really at my grandparents house, locked away from school for weeks at a time thrown down there in the furnace room.

"Go on," I commanded shakily, tears forming in my eyes.

"Frank? Are you alright?"

"Yes." I told him a bit more harshly than I had intended, "Go on."

"Before you moved away, we used to live in the same area and I could never remember the route home. So after school was over, I used to trail behind you until we reached our development and I could spot my house. You used to live only two houses down in that blue one over there," Gerard motioned his hand to point in the direction of that house I used to call hell… I mean home. Not that my new one is any better.

I smiled ever-so-slightly, still with newforming tears in my eyes. I had never noticed that when I was a kid. Surely I would have, saying as I had taken such a fancy to him. However, he was so quiet and meek that I had never heard even one of his footsteps behind me.

"I remember one day you went inside your house and I heard a lot of screaming and glass bottles breaking. I was very scared, but did not go inside my house. Instead, I tiptoed up to one of the bushed that was underneath a window. I had a good view of the kitchen from there, and I used it to see what was going on. I remember seeing a lot of blood and beer bottles on the white-tiled floor. You were on the ground clamping a hand over a gash in your cheek and your father was grinning down at you. I was thoroughly terrified, I must say. He kicked you and hit you and the blood was spilling out. I was not sure what to do. I thought about calling an ambulance or telling my mother, but I was just so upset that your dad would see me and hurt you even more. I was just a little kid and I should have done something! I'm sorry Frank! I should have never let him keep doing that! I should have gotten help!" Gerard was streaming buckets of salty tears from his gorgeous hazel eyes.

Just the look of him in pain weakened me. That incident was not his fault! Whatever I did that day, I probably deserved. It hurt to know that Gerard had seen me in such a manor. I would never want to upset him, even thought I felt as though he could care less about me.

Still tearing, he continued, "A-after th-that I followed you all the way to your house every day and hid in the bushes until I was sure you were safe. Some days it would be a few m-minutes, some days for hours. And if your d-dad hurt you one day, I would tuck a pack of fruit gummies into your cu-cubby at school the next morning."

I was stunned. Why would he go through all the trouble for me? I was worthless!

"I-I thought the teacher did that…" I was at a loss for words.

"Nope, it-it was me," he was still a bit shaky. "And then you moved away and I couldn't check on you. I didn't know where you went! I looked inside the windows of the house every once in a while and even went in your room one time. You left this in there when you left."

Gerard walked over to his desk and pulled a little drawer out. Inside were coloured pencils and pens, but there was another item inside. Carefully, Gerard placed it inside his palm and brought it over to show me. Slowly, he turned out his fingers so that I could see the little object in the center of his palm.

I remembered the item so well. How could I forget it? I always went to that item after my dad beat me or when I felt particularly upset. That object gave me hope when I needed it and I recalled searching everywhere for it after the move. The object was not a blade or a bottle, but was kept inside a little tiny black box with the letters, "When You Go," scripted in red letters on the top. I had, in fact, taken the box with me and still had it in my room for all those years. I remembered how I had gotten the object and the box. A year after my dad had become very violent, my mother gave it to me for my birthday. That was the last present I had ever gotten, and the last time I had ever seen my mother. I would never forget that night.

I reached out to pick up the item in Gerard's hand with eyes filled with tears. He held it out to me, and I took it into my own palms. I smoothed my fingers over the surface of it and held it close to my chest, feeling as if my heartbeat would make her come back.

I then received a feeling of security that overwhelmed any sadness of the fact that I did not have it for the majority of my life. This thought comforted me. I felt as though the owner of the item was watching over me; first my mother, then Gerard. I grinned a teary smile at this revelation. I felt kind of okay at this moment. Even though I missed my mother terribly, it was a bit like I had someone else to protect me.

I ran up to Gerard and threw my arms around him. This caught him by surprise, I noticed. Did he think I would be upset?

"Frank, I'm sorry I took it… it probably meant a lot to you; I'm sorry! I just needed to remember you and this was a way to. After you left you still went to the same middle school as me, but I barely ever saw you! You were never at school! I was scared and worried. Even when you were at school everyone would always be so mean to you and I never did anything and I'm sorry! I-"

"Shh," I placed a finger over his lips. "You don't know how happy I am that you kept it. You watched over me… after she left. Thank you."

Gerard looked a bit confused as to what I meant, but did not feel the need to question it at this moment. I went to sit down on his bed, him trailing behind. Once we were comfortably placed, Gerard whispered to me, "I'm sorry I didn't help. I was scared,"

"It's okay, Gerard. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes I did! You were getting hurt! You could have died on many occasions! I never did anything!" he yelled, sending drops of salty water down his cheeks.

"Gerard, it's oka-"

"It's not okay! You were dying, Frank! Dying! He was killing you inch-by-inch every day! I didn't know where you went! I thought you were dead!" He was screaming now.

Gerard's face was hot and sticky from tears. I guided his head down to the pillow. I cooed him messages such as, "It's okay," and "I'm not that important, trust me."

Apparently he caught the last one and whispered, "You don't know, Frank. You don't know how long…"

I was unable to hear the rest of his sentence as he repeated it a few times before falling soundly to sleep.

"You don't know how long…. You don't know…how long…"

Gerard was so beautiful asleep. He was like an angel; my angel. If only he were mine…. But this event would never occur. It was probably best for me to leave his life now. His life would not benefit from me. It did cross my mind, however, why he cared so much about my health and state of being.

Before I lied down to doze off with Gerard, I held my long-lost item up to my eyes again. The object brought a slight smile to my face as I realized how much I had missed it. I placed a kiss on its surface before I returned it to its new home in Gerard's desk drawer. It felt better knowing that he had it.

I placed my head on the pillow, falling asleep with my last thoughts being of my precious possession; my first guitar pick. It was tied around a dogtag chain and tied onto the chain was a little strip of white ribbon. In my mother's best script in thin Sharpie marker, it read,

"Just know that I will remember you."