For the second time that night, I was awoken by someone moving around my room. My mother was charging down my stairs and shouting for me to wake up.

"Gerard! Wake up! Mikey's not in his room!" I sighed.

"Mum, he's here," I said, gesturing to my semi-clothed brother lying next to me with his arm still draped over my bare chest and his head still buried in my side. My mother paused.

"Oh… ok honey. Why is he down here?" My mind went blank.

"Umm… I was looking after him. Bad nightmares, you know." She looked at me sceptically.

"Ok… well can you wake him up please, Gee? He has to go to school in half an hour. Can you make sure he gets there, please? I'm late for work already," she said whilst climbing my stairs.

"Sure, mum. I'll see you later, what time are you finishing tonight?" I shouted after her, but I received no reply.

I gently shook my brother awake. He yawned, stretched and rolled on top of me, but instead of kissing me he just laid his head on my chest; I was sure he could hear my fluttering heart beat.

"Mikey, baby, we just had a close run in with mum, and she says you have school today. Go and get ready please," I said in my sternest voice. He ignored me. I rolled to my right, consequently causing Mikey to crash heavily to the floor next to me. I peered over the edge and waited for his response. He giggled.

"Ok, now go and get ready for school, Mikes. I'm serious. I'm going for a shower and you had best be ready by the time I get out.

15 minutes later I emerged from my steam-filled bathroom to find Mikey sat on my bed, dressed and ready. He sauntered over to me, swinging his hips and biting his lip. I realised how lucky I was to have this boy as my own. He kissed me, but it was confusing. Soft yet hard; delicate yet rough; desperate yet reserved. He had his arms around my neck and mine were around his tiny waist, pulling him closer to me.

After he broke away we walked through the house hand in hand until we reached the door. Out neighbourhood was small and news of our partnership would reach our mother fast if we were caught. Once we were confined in the safety of my old car, Mikey placed his hand on my thigh and rubbed slightly. I tensed visibly.

"Mikey! I'm trying to drive!" I exclaimed, trying to keep my eyes on the road and not on my brother's face. "Do you want me to crash or something?"

"Yes," he whispered. I pretended not to hear him. "But I'm going to miss you, sweetie," Mikey mumbled, his face showing the raw emotion of sadness.

"It's only a few hours, babe. Stop being so dramatic, that's my job," I chuckled. Mikey grimaced.

We pulled up outside his school after 10 minutes of driving. I looked over to my brother and noticed how little effort he had put into his appearance this morning; this was highly unusual for little self-conscious Mikey. Suddenly he pulled me into an unexpected embrace.

"Ok baby… school time. I love you, gorgeous."

"I love you more, Gee. Don't forget that." And with that, Mikey clambered out of the vehicle and walked up to the school gates with his head down and his hands deep in his pockets. I sighed and drove back home.

When I got back home, I sat in the empty living room with my sketch pad and began to draw some comic book characters, each as unoriginal as the next. I was half way through the body of one at 11:30 when the home phone rang. My pencil skidded across the page as I jumped, completely ruining my sketch.

"SHIT!" I yelled, getting up to answer the phone. "Hello?" I mumbled in an angry tone.

"Hello, is that Mrs Way?" asked an unfamiliar voice from the receiver; I scowled to myself, annoyed that I was being mistaken for a middle aged woman.

"No. This is her son, Gerard Way. My mum is at work. Who is this?"

"Oh, I'm Mrs Davenport, head teacher of Mikey's school. We were just calling to enquire as to why Mikey is absent from school for the second time this week, Mr Way." My entire body froze. I couldn't comprehend what this woman had just told me.

"But… that's impossible," I finally managed to croak out, "I dropped him off at the gates myself."

"Ah… well, there may be a problem then." I resisted the urge to scream down the phone at this stranger.

"I-I'm going to go and find him. I will notify you if there are any developments," I babbled before hanging up without waiting for a reply.

I ran down to my room to grab my hoodie and wallet. As I passed my bed I noticed a piece of paper with untidy handwriting on its surface. I picked it up and read its contents:

"Dear Gee,

Baby, I can't fight this anymore. I'm broken and I can't be fixed this time. I hate myself. I hate everything. I hate what this is going to do to you. Don't blame yourself, okay? I love you, don't forget it. Don't try and find me as I will be dead by now. Say sorry to mum for me? And look after her. I'm sorry. Goodbye.

Mikey x"

I began to cry. I stumbled blindly to my chest of draws. The razors were gone.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," I began to mutter to myself between sobs.

I clutched the note to my aching chest and debated calling mum. I couldn't. I promised that I wouldn't let this happen, and it was all my fault. Where would he have gone? I had heard him talking in his sleep about suicide a few times in the past, so I made a mental list of likely places that he had mentioned: The woods, the park or the motorway. I planned my route as I ran out to my car. The motorway was first on my list.