(Still Gerard's PoV. I just find it easier than Frank's, I don't know why. ._.)---An honest smile spread across my face for the first time in what must have been months, long before I came out to Mikey and mom. Before I was a monster. I smiled softly as I looked at my bluish, worn timetable. Art. I wrapped my hand around the cold iron cylinder of a street lamp, letting gravity pull me in tight, spinning circles. The wind whistled through my hair and played deafening music on my eardrums, vibrating in my head. Happiness, I think was the feeling it was called. A foreign, but pleasant sensation. I was determined to stay “happy,” to stay sane, at least for a while longer. Even though the same little demon inside me told me it wouldn't last; it was synthetic and fake. After all, no one is truly happy anyway; he is not human. --- The familiar smell of gel paint and brushes enveloped me, following me wherever I went. On my apron, once pearly white, surreal stains, splashes and rainbows of color have formed, covering the denim. I furiously rubbed at a deep, lime-colored stain, only to receive a green blush contouring the bones of my fingers. I stopped short when a paralyzing thought came back to haunt me. “Someone is coming to take you away.” My brain quoted Mikey's harsh words from the previous day. I involuntarily relived our late-night conversation, recalling the scene that surprised me the most. “They're coming to get me…” I breathed in horror, directly to myself. "Who?" I jumped. backwards and gasped. Frank stood behind me with a sardonic expression and a raised eyebrow. "Who?" he repeated emphatically. “Who is comi-” The double doors flew open. Two men where... middle of paper... they didn't put this fantasy in a cell." I point to the decorative ivory panels that run up and down the walls, and the achromic leather sofas that adorn every corner .It's not often that I get locked in a room, alone with you, Frankie dear... I chuckled under my breath as I saw my mind being contaminated. I don't think he heard. Our heads were whipping at the same time. There was a small army of in the doorway men, all systematically dressed in banal white suits, whose frontman gave me a sickening churn in my stomach. “It's them,” I choked out, tugging at his faded green sleeve. Standing in a V formation, they advanced , followed by Victor and Kellin, who were succeeded by Andrew, Oliver and Billie. The chain hung loosely from Grant's breast pocket, on the end was a small silver key which I guess was the key to our cell.Works CitedPoV Frankie