Disclaimer: I do not own My Chemical Romance and do not know them personally. The events of this story did not happen; that's why it's called fanfiction. However, I AM negotiating the purchase of the Way brothers for my personal use as we speak. ^>^

***

"Boring, boring," Gerard Way mutters under his breath. He's sitting in his senior English class, staring off into space while his English teachers drones on and on about Shakespeare. He pulls out his sketchbook and starts drawing. A line here, a curve there, some shading...and there it is. A beautiful, perfect piece of steel. Except today, he's not happy with it. There's something missing. He frowns down at it and thinks for a minute before adding a couple of blood spatters to the Colt .45, leaning back to admire his work. Now it's right. The bell rings and Gerard springs up from his desk, gathering his stuff with speed far removed from his usual slothlike pace. As everyone else says goodbye to their friends, Gerard Way walks alone to his little suburban house, four blocks away. Of course, no one's home. It's better that way, really. Gerard feels a momentary stab of guilt at what he's about to do. How will Mikey feel? Mikey is the only person that loves him...well, too late for that now. Gerard steels his resolve and strides down the hall into his room. He pulls a gun out from under his pillow and turns it in his hands, admiring the way it gleams in the sunlight filtering through his window. The window...Gerard hastily tugs the blinds down. In this small town, anyone might be watching. A shiver runs down Gerard's spine as he looks around his room nervously. A flash of bright orange catches his eye and he turns around, facing his mirror.

Gerard Way is not, at seventeen, a heartthrob. With his 280 pound, 5 foot 6 inch frame, he's not the kind of guy you would look twice at. He has short, dorky-looking brown hair and he always wears band T-shirts and Chucks. But if you look a little closer at him, you'll see a gorgeous pair of hazel eyes and a sweet smile...well, you'll see the eyes anyway. His smile is on hiatus.

Gerard's ignoring his mirror right now and staring at the flyer on his wall. His mom slapped it up there a couple of weeks ago and he hadn't really noticed it. It reads, "SUICIDE HOTLINE 555-DONT." Gerard sighs. Why not call? It can't hurt anything. It might even be fun.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jasmine rushes into the small office, her black hair windblown and wild. The half-dozen people in the room look up at her briefly before returning to their phone conversations. She throws her backpack down and collapses into her chair, breathing hard. A woman with flaming red hair walks up to her and demands, "Jasmine, where have you been?"

The girl flushes with embarassment at her coordinator's tone of voice. "I'm sorry, Molly," she says sincerely. "The traffic was horrible."

Molly sighs. "Miss Stone, it's not that we don't appreciate your time, but could you please try and stay for all of it?"

Jasmine casts her cerulean gaze upwards with as much innocence as she can muster. She begins to open her mouth, but is cut off by the ringing of her phone. Molly nods at her to answer at and she picks it up hastily. "Suicide Hotline, how can I help you?"

A young male's voice answers her. "You can't, really. You see, I'm here, at home, with a gun to my head, and you're there."

Jasmine inwardly panics. A serious case right at the beginning of her shift. "Sir, please put down your gun."

"Why? Do you know me? Do you care about me?"

She chooses her words carefully. "Even though I don't know about you, I care about you. And I don't want you to die. What's your name?"

"Gerard," the boy answers warily.

"Okay, Gerard, listen to me for a second, okay? Someone loves you. And for their sake, don't do it."

"My brother loves me," he says half to himself. "But he's not enough. In this whole wide world, just one person is not enough. Just one person doesn't matter."

"Everyone matters, cause God loves everyone," Jasmine responds, wincing at the hypocrisy in her voice.

"I don't believe that," Gerard says, a bit of anger in his voice.

"You know what? Neither do I."

"Then why did you say it?" he challenges.

"Because they tell us to here and if we don't, we get in trouble."

Gerard sounds intrigued as he says, "Really? That must suck. At least you get paid to do it."

"Actually, Gerard, I don't. I'm a volunteer."

"You WANT to talk to depressed people all day, then? Whoa."

Jasmine's voice rises in annoyance. "I just want to help people! Jesus, you make it sound so dumb!"

He bursts out laughing. "You're arguing with me? What if you push me over the edge? You must be the worst worker there."

"I am not!" she snaps.

Gerard chuckles to himself. "Let's make a bet, then."

"Okay. What is it?"

"I'm going to call here at 5 PM every day, ready to shoot myself. If you can keep me from doing it, then you aren't the worst one there and I won't ever try again."

The blood drained from Jasmine's face. "That' s a lot of responsibility, Gerard, I really don't-"

"You really don't want me to kill myself." There's a tone of finality in his voice that says this conversation is over.

Jasmine sighs deeply. "Fine. Call every day. Someone will be here."

"But I don't want someone on the other end of the line. I want *you*." He pauses. "What's your name, so I can request you again?"

"I'm really not supposed to give you my name."

"But I really need it."

"You worry me, Gerard."

"Don't be worried!" he chirps. "I'll be fine for today. For today," he pauses dramatically, "you have talked me down."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you had a gun to your head five minutes ago. I'm not supposed to worry after that?"

"Aww....you're sweet. In fact, you're so sweet, that I'm gonna start calling you Sugar."

Jasmine blushes furiously. "I would really rather you didn't."

"I'll call you tomorrow, Sugar. Be here!" He hangs up the phone.

Jasmine stares at her handset glumly. "My name is Jasmine," she whispers at it.

Part 2

Jasmine lays awake for hours that night, tossing and turning, trying to get Gerard's voice out of her head. "He's crazy," she says to herself. "I shouldn't even listen to him. My volunteer credits aren't worth it." But then a little voice pipes up and says Jazz, you got in this to help people, not just to make your resume look good. Are you really going to let him kill himself?

"No!" she answers herself out loud. "I'd feel horrible." She drifts off into an uneasy slumber only to be awoken thirty minutes later by her alarm clock. She stumbles to the bathroom, showers, throws on jeans and a T-shirt, and goes to school, yawning the whole way.

Her best friend Will greets her as she walks into 3rd period. "Hey, Jazz! What's up?" She flops down into the chair beside him without saying anything. He scrutinizes her face closely. "You look really tired."

Jasmine leans back with her eyes closed and replies, "You don't even know the half of it." She opens her eyes and sighs, running a hand through her inky black hair. "This guy called the hotline yesterday and made a bet with me."

Will raises one eyebrow in curiousity. "What kind of bet?"

"He bet me..." She giggles deliriously to herself. "He bet me that I can't keep him from shooting himself for the next week."

Will's jaw drops. "You have got to be effing kidding me."

Jazz shakes her head. "I wish I was kidding you, babe, trust me."

Will puts his arm around her and draws her closer to him, hugging her gently. "You can do it, Jazzy." He ruffles her hair in a brotherly way. "You shouldn't have to, but you can."

Jasmine smiles up at him, unshed tears sparkling in her baby blue eyes. "Thanks, Billy. I needed to hear that."

"Anytime, sweetheart, anytime."

The rest of her day is a blur, but at least she's got her mind off Gerard's phone call. At least until she walks into the hotline office and her phone rings. Hesitantly, she picks it up and says, "Hello?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Hey, Sugar," Gerard drawls playfully. His gun is laying out on the bedside table, ready and waiting. But he won't mention it; the girl is clearly frazzled enough. "How was your day?"

"Awful," she replies. "Yours?"

"Bleak as usual."

She sounds close to tears as she asks, "You don't feel worse than yesterday, do you?"

"No, a little better. You're not going to cry, are you?" Gerard says, alarmed.

"No!" she snarls defiantly, though he hears the tremor in her voice. "I'm not even thinking about crying, thank you."

"Tough girl, eh? Daddy's little soldier?"

"How did you know?"

"I've got an uncle in the military. My cousin's an army brat like you. Never cries."

"Wow...seems like we have more in common than we thought."

"Yeah, that makes two things now."

"Oh, because neither of us believes in God?"

"Well, that, too, but I was referring to a certain rebelliousness that we both possess. We're fighters, aren't we, Sugar?"

"I wish you wouldn't call me Sugar."

"I wish you'd tell me your real name," he counters.

She sighs loudly. "Fine. It's Jasmine."

"Jasmine," he repeats, savoring the sound of it. "I like that." Their bantering conversation continues for the next hour before Gerard concedes defeat. "You did it, Sugar! You talked me down."

"Yay!" she weakly cheers.

"Same time tomorrow?"

"If you really feel like it, Gerard."

"Trust me, I will. My life sucks." He hangs up the phone as his bedroom door opens a crack.

"Gee?" a small voice issues forth from the doorframe. "Mom says dinner's ready if you want it."

"Okay, Mikey, thanks." He stashes his gun back under his pillow and stands up. The mirror on the wall reflects his image back at him and he's puzzled at what he sees. Surely he's not that dirty? He smells his shirt and makes a face. Uh, yeah, he is that dirty. Gerard makes a mental note to shower soon and heads down the hallway to the dining room. The smell of his mom's world-famous, super-special lasagna wafts down the hallway, reminding him of the woman she got the recipe from. Grandma Elena...she's the best grandmother anyone could have. Gerard can tell her anything. He resolves to give her a call. But not right now. Right now, he needs to go eat dinner with his family, if only for shock value. He hasn't said a word to his mother in four days.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Miss Jasmine, would you come here a second?" Molly calls from her desk. Jasmine stands up and walks over to her.

"Sure, Molly, what is it?"

Molly holds up the caller ID printout from Jasmine's phone. "This is the same guy two days in a row. Now, I'm not accusing you of taking personal calls, but you must know how that looks."

"I can explain," Jasmine says. "There's this kid, he keeps trying to kill himself and he says he'll do it if I don't talk him down every day this week and I really don't want him to die, so-"

Molly cuts her off. "Honey, you're rambling." She looks at Jazz kindly. "He's not stalking you, is he?"

Jasmine looks horrified at the thought. "No...I don't think so. How can you tell?"

"I think you would notice if he was, Jasmine," Molly comments dryly. "Can you handle that kind of pressure?"

Jasmine hesitates for a moment. "Yeah. I can."

"Okay, then. Carry on." Molly waves her off and returns to her paperwork. "But as a warning?"

Jasmine turns around. "Yeah, Molly?"

Molly looks at her knowingly. "Don't get emotionally involved with him. I know it's easy to, but this is the kind of job where you can't."

Jasmine flushes slightly. "Got it." But she doesn't really...she's getting attached to Gerard already.

Part 3

Gerard wakes up on time the next morning, eats breakfast, kisses his astonished mother goodbye and sets off for school. He has effectively broken four records of his own making in less than an hour. Something's going on with him.

"Something's going on with you, Gerard," Mikey comments as the two brothers walk along the sidewalk.

Gerard looked down at his bespectacled younger brother. "Well, I guess you could say that."

"It's good, though. I like seeing you happy," the fourteen-year-old boy speaks. His brown eyes are full of innocence and sincerity.

Gerard hugs his brother briefly, making sure nobody sees. After all, you're not supposed to love your younger sibling. "Ditto, Mikey boy."

Emboldened by his Gerard's sudden kindness, Mikey asks, "Gee, do you think we could go to the movies tonight?"

Gerard raises an eyebrow at him. "What's on?"

"It's cult films week and tonight they're doing Rocky Horror Picture Show."

"Hell yeah, we can go!" Gerard exclaims.

Mikey smiles in his shy way. "Cool." They reach the front of the school and part ways; Mikey is a freshman and therefore has very different classes than Gerard. Despite the school's mission statement of 'promoting diversity and a community environment', there is little to no mingling between students of different grade levels.

Gerard's day is surprisingly easy. He wonders what's changed in the syllabus, but everything is the same. The only difference is, he's paying attention. Funny how that helps.

"Gerard, you're not paying attention!" Mikey reprimands him. They're standing at the ticket counter where a bored-looking guy with a desperate need for Clearasil awaits their movie choice.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Gerard sheepishly apologizes. "Two for Rocky Horror Picture Show."

The guy rips off two tickets and hands them to the boys, not even bothering to tell them to enjoy the show. "Didn't know they let zombies work here," Gerard mutters under his breath once they're out of an earshot. Mikey laughs and they sit down front, right in the middle. They're just in time for the beginning. The screen crackles to life with a loud pop that sends a familiar tingly feeling through Gee's nerves. He's a hardcore movie buff, able to recite every line from Rocky Horror. But the audience would probably prefer that he doesn't.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jasmine has taken very few calls in the last two hours, not because she's not answering, but because her phone is nearly silent. She has dark circles underneath her tired eyes, but she could really care less how she looks. Right now, all she cares about is Gerard dialing that hotline number.

"He was supposed to call at 5 and it's 6:30 now," she thinks to herself. "What if he shot himself already? What if I drove him over the edge by not being sensitive enough to his problems?" Molly walks up behind her soundlessly and puts a hand on her shoulder. Jasmine jumps 3 feet in the air and then whirls around, hand over her heart.

"Don't...ever...do that...again!" she gasps.

Molly grins and says, "Sorry, Jazz, but I just came by to see what you're so worried about."

"That kid I told you about hasn't called and he said he would...I'm afraid that he's dead already," Jasmine confides. "Do you think I should call his house and make sure he's okay?"

Molly frowns. "Jasmine, I don't know...that seems above and beyond what your job is, don't you think?" But Jasmine disregards this statement and starts dialing Gerard's number. Molly walks away tut-tutting to herself. Sentimental young girls...why do I let them work here? she wonders.

A woman picks up the phone and says, "Donna Way speaking, who is this?"

"Hello, Mrs. Way, this is Jasmine Stone. I'm an, um, friend of Gerard's."

Donna exclaims, "I didn't realize my son had any friends...what a pleasant surprise!"

Jasmine blushes slightly as she lies, "Yeah, well, we met at school...He was supposed to call me about something and I just wondered where he was."

"Well, Jasmine honey, he's at the movies with his brother right now."

"Oh..." She breathes a huge sigh of relief. "That's really sweet of him."

"Yes, he's a very sweet boy," Donna coos.

Jasmine hadn't exactly carried away that impression of Gerard, but she doesn't contradict Donna. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Way."

"It's no problem, sugar. Do you want me to tell him you called?"

Jasmine smiles to herself as she realizes where Gerard gets his habit of calling people 'sugar' from. "No, that's not necessary. I'll talk to him at, um, school tomorrow."

"Alright. Nice talking with you, Jasmine!"

"You too, Mrs. Way." She hangs up the phone and gives a thumbs-up in Molly's direction. Molly rolls her eyes in reply, but she looks happy, too.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mikey and Gerard get home around eight, laughing and talking to each other as they walk through the door. Donna smiles at her boys and asks, "Did you two have a good time?"

"Yeah, it was fun," Mikey answers. "We got up and did the Time Warp in the aisles."

Gerard smells the air in the kitchen. "Whatcha cookin', Mom?"

"Chicken parmesan. If you're not too full of popcorn, you can have some." She turns back to the stove and adds, "By the way, Gerard, a young lady called for you today. Said her name was Jasmine."

Gerard realizes he didn't call the hotline. She must've been worried to death. "Did you tell her I was okay?" he asks his mom.

"I told her you were at the movies with Mikey." Donna looks at her son in puzzlement. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, Mom, it's cool. Trust me."

"Alright, if you say so." She stirs her pot of pasta peacefully. "You should bring her over sometime." Donna is speaking to empty air, though. Mikey and Gerard have retreated to their respective rooms. Donna shakes her head with amusement. "Teenagers. Always wanting their alone time."

Part 4

"So his mom says he's just been at the movies and I was like, thank good-" Will puts his hand over Jasmine's mouth with a smile.

"Slow down, honey, you're talking a million miles a minute." He laughs. "You always get so worked up over stuff."

"Just because you're Mr. 'Nothing-Excites-Me' doesn't mean I can't be enthusiastic!" she exclaims. But she has a grin on her face. "It's just...people matter to me. You know?"

Will nods sagely. "I know. You're a marshmallow."

"I'm a s'more. Marshmallow on the inside, chocolate in the middle, and graham cracker on the outside." The two of them burst out laughing and the choir director shushes them loudly.

"I think Mr. Taylor's about to go graham cracker on you, S'more Lady," Will whispers, sending Jazz into a fit of giggles again.

"I'd like to see him try. I'll beat him down, old man or not."

"You couldn't beat up a squirrel, Jasmine." She shoots him a dirty look and punches him in the arm. He doesn't say anything, but out of the corner of her eye, she sees him rubbing the spot where she hit him as if it's sore.

"Wuss," she coughs quietly. He reaches over and pinches her. She suppresses a squeal of annoyance, but Mr. Taylor sees it anyway.

"I've had enough of you two in this class! We're supposed to be SINGING, not making out or fighting or both at once!" he shouts. All the girls in the room laugh hysterically as Will and Jazz make their way up the steps of the room and out to the assistant principal's office.

Mr. Stephens looks up at them curiously as they walk in. "Hey Jasmine, hey Will. Running errands?"

They look at each other with guilt and hand him the disciplinary notice. He looks at it with amusement. "Fighting/public display of affection? I think Mr. Taylor's getting dementia." He studies their faces with a smirk. "Unless you're one of those kinky couples."

"EWWW!!!" Will and Jazz interject at once.

"I don't-" Will began.

"-think so," Jazz finished. "We're not even-"

"-going out," Will added.

Mr. Stevens rips the discipline notice in half and tosses it in the wastebasket. "Fine then. Go back to class and pretend I punished you, okay?" They nod and back out of the doorway as he shouts after them, "And keep your hands off of each other!"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gerard walks through the halls of Belleville High weighted down with supplies. His backpack is full of heavy senior textbooks and art supplies, his arms loaded full of binders and notebooks. He watches where he's going, looks around corners, and always walks on the right side of the hallway. But nonetheless, he bumps straight into someone in the middle of an almost empty corridor. The other person falls to the floor with a loud smack and Gerard stumbles backwards, dropping all his things. "Sorry, sorry!" they chorus simultaneously. Gerard bends over and extends a hand to the girl on the floor. He can't help but notice her striking blue eyes, highlighted by eyeliner the same color as her obsidian hair.

"I'm so sorry, I should've been paying attention," she apologizes, her cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.

"No, no, I should've-" He stops and stares at her for a second. "I know your voice."

Her eyes widen and she says, "Yeah...I know yours, too. Gerard?"

"Sugar?" he asks wonderingly.

"We go to the same school???" they blurt out at the same time. Gerard smiles widely at her and shakes her hand with vigor.

"This is too cool! I can't believe you go here!" he says happily.

Jasmine smiles back. "Yeah, me either. I told your mom we met at school, but I didn't know we really did."

He raises one eyebrow. "You lied to my mom?"

"Well, what was I supposed to say? Your son's suicidal and I've been his personal therapist lately?" Jasmine replies defensively. She covers her mouth almost immediately as she realizes what she just said. "Oh, damn, Gerard, I'm sorry. That didn't come out right at all."

Gerard courteously answers, "Why, it's quite all right, Sugar. It was worth it to hear you swear." He looks at her brown oxfords, blue plaid skirt, and white blouse with amusement. "You really don't look like that kind of girl."

"Well, you'd be surprised..." There is an awkward pause where they both look at the hideous orange tiles on the floor.

"Looks like all the cheerleaders puked on it at once, huh?" Gerard jokes. Jasmine laughs genuinely with him.

"Hey, Gerard, I have to get to my next class right now, but would you-"

Gerard interrupts. "Oh yeah, I understand. I'll see you around, okay?"

Jasmine's smile sags a little. "Okay. Yeah. Around." She waves as she turns the corner and he waves back.

I wish I was brave enough to ask her out, Gerard thinks to himself. But she'd never be interested in somebody like me. She probably makes straight A's and never drinks. He thinks about the bottle of vodka under his bed and feels slightly ashamed. Even if I was a straight edge kid, I'm fat. And she's... He whistles out loud. ...not fat. To say the least. But as Jasmine said, you would be surprised as to her behavior. And maybe Gerard will. If he gives himself the chance.

Part Five

Jasmine drives to the volunteer center after school in a thoughtful mood. "How incredibly strange it is that we go to the same school," she muses. "What does that mean?"

It probably doesn't mean anything, idiot her brain retorts. You just read too much into things.

"No, I don't!" Jasmine indignantly replies. She pauses and sighs, realizing that she just talked back to herself. "I really do have a problem."

Mhm. A mental problem. Hey, speaking of people with mental problems, do you think Gerard's gonna call today?

"I don't see why he would. And I really don't care," Jasmine mutters darkly to herself.

WhatEVER. You care about everyone. That's why you're so easy to bother.

"Why don't you just shut up!" Jasmine shouts.

See? Even YOU bother yourself. Her brain is silent for a few moments. Why do you like him, anyway?

"I don't," she firmly states.

Her brain clucks kindly. Honey, maybe you don't understand. See, I am your brain. If I say that you like him, then you do.

"Love's not about your brain!" Jasmine exclaims in frustration.

So you admit it! You love him!

Jasmine sighs angrily. "I don't. At least not yet." Jasmine falls in love easily, like a tiger falling into a covered pit. And, like the tiger, she often has trouble getting back out. It's sort of baffling as to why; her objects of affection never give her a reason to stay. She just sees the best in them and loves it...too bad they never feel the same way about her. Anyone that actually does have feelings for her isn't good enough by her standards. She's starting to give up on ever finding someone like her. And if she does find them, why would they like her? They could have it so much better...so she thinks.

He does have a certain...thing about him, though. I think that he's different.

"Nobody's different." Jasmine pulls up in her driveway and gets out of her car. She repeats the mantra to herself. "Nobody's different."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"She's different," Gerard tells Mikey. They're sitting on his bed, reading comic books and occasionally speaking. "She's not like every other pretty girl out there."

Mikey looks up at Gerard thoughtfully through his square-rimmed glasses. "Like how?"

"Well, she laughs at my jokes. And she's smart. And we like a lot of the same stuff."

"You found all this out in a short hallway conversation?"

"No, silly. Over the phone. I called the Su-" Gerard stops short. He knows that he just stuck his red and black Chucks firmly in his mouth.

Mikey looks sharply at him. "The Su?" He looks around the room for an answer and finds it in the orange flyer on the wall. As bright as it is, it's amazing that he hasn't seen it before. As he mouths the bold words across the top, an expression of infinite sadness washes across his face. But he replaces it with a tenous smile as he turns back to face his brother. "A volunteer. Well, that's sweet of her."

Gerard has his round white face buried in his knees as he mumbles something inscrutable. "What was that, Gee?" Mikey asks sarcastically. "Was it an 'I'm sorry?' Was it an 'I'll never think about it again?'" Mikey's voice rises. "Maybe it was 'Mikey, you obviously don't mean a damn thing to me because I was going to leave you here by your fucking self!" He's trembling with anger and fear, his face bright red. Gerard looks up at him with guilt in his eyes.

"Mikey, that's not true. You know how much you mean to me." Gerard half-smiled. "You're my brother." Gee pats the imprint of the bed where Mikey had just been sitting. "Now, sit down and chill out, okay?"

"No!" Mikey spat. His eyes were tearing up. "I won't! I shouldn't!" He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I might forgive you for this, but I'm not going to forget about it."

"I don't want you to forget," Gerard says softly. "Because if you did, there would be nothing to stop you from becoming just like me."

Mikey's tight jaw relaxed a little. He spoke more gently as he answered, "That's the problem, Gerard." He walked to the doorway and turned around to look at Gerard one last time. "I want to be like you." He walked out and left his older brother sitting on the bed. Gerard stares at the space where he was, his face blank. He needs to get out of here. He grabs a Ramones hoodie and pulls it on, looking around for his sketchpad. He's about to leave his room when he realizes that he would probably have to walk past Mikey if he does. That's definitely not an option. So Gerard opens his window and climbs down his mother's rose-covered trellis to the ground. He winces as he picks the thorns out of his hands and tries not to look at the tiny cuts all over his palms and fingers. He's never been too fond of losing blood.

Gerard walks down the street through the crunchy autumn leaves, watching the sun set in the distance. He walks a little faster, trying to make it to the spot in time. The tangerine light coming from the horizon is too beautiful to miss. The chilly air slices into his lungs, making it even harder to breath than it already is. He reaches his place as the sun is halfway down. It's a large rock on a hilltop, surrounded by trees on three sides. The fourth is facing east and as clear as day, the perfect place to sketch. So it's really no surprise that Gerard has found someone else sitting there in his place. He quietly walks up behind the silhouetted figure as it sits watching the dusk set in, a black shadow in a watercolor world. "You're in my spot," he says quietly.

Part 6

Jasmine is sitting in her place on the rock, staring out into the sky as the sun set. She usually comes here at dawn to watch it rise, but today has been so hard on her that she needed to come back later. The serenity of nature fills her up and she is almost entirely relaxed when a voice whispers in her ear, "You're in my spot.

Jasmine jumps up in fear and faces Gerard. "Jesus H. Christ!" she exclaims. "You scared me half to death!"

Gerard laughs and puts his hands on her shoulders to still her trembling form. "I'm sorry, Sugar, I didn't realize you were so in the zone."

Jasmine half-smiles and says, "Yeah, well, this place kind of makes me that way."

"Me too," Gerard answers. There's an awkward pause for a moment before he silently takes her hand and pulls her down into a sitting position on the rock beside him. She doesn't take her hand away, just looks out through space. Gerard looks sideways at her and sees a tear trickling out of the corner of her eye. "Are you okay, Jasmine?"

She bursts into tears at the sound of her name and hides her face in her tiny white hands. "I'm not okay," she sobs.

Forgetting that for a moment that she's beautiful, Gerard loses his fear and scoots closer to her. "What's wrong, Sugar?" He tucks an errant strand of black hair behind her ear. "Maybe I can help."

Jasmine looks up at him with pain in her blue eyes. "I seriously doubt that, Gerard."

"Well, give me a chance. What's the problem?"

Jasmine laughs bitterly. "I am. I don't know who to be anymore, what to want and I'm so confused...it's like the world could tip over any moment and we would go falling off this rock into outer space."

Before he can stop himself, Gerard says what he's really thinking. "I would fall into outer space with you any day." Jasmine looks at him sharply and he turns away, blushing. "I'm sorry, Sugar, that didn't come out right."

"Gerard." She says it with such intimacy that he can't help but look at her. "You're a really bad liar."

He runs a hand through his brown hair and sighs. "Yeah. I am. It came out perfectly." Jasmine looks at him for a minute and then gently places one hand on his arm. He looks down at it. "What are you doing?"

She says nothing, just runs her hand up his shoulder and to the back of his neck. "I'm doing whatever I feel like doing right this minute." She brings her face so close to his that he can see the little green stars in her cornflower blue irises. "Because I might not feel like this again for a while." Jasmine softly presses her lips against Gerard's and for an instant, he's so surprised that he doesn't kiss her back. But this soon passes and his jaw meshes with hers just right. He has the same feeling that he gets when he draws something just right: the feeling that this is how the world should always be.

Jasmine runs her hand through Gerard's hair as they kiss, but stops midway through. "What's wrong?" he asks with confusion. She unlaces her fingers from his and stands up hurriedly.

"I am," she replies. "I'm sorry, Gerard. I never should've done that. It wasn't fair." She walks quickly away and he follows her, still reeling from the taste of strawberries on his lips. "It was wrong."

"It wasn't wrong at all! It was so right!" He stops to think about it. "The rightest thing I've ever done," he whispers to himself. Gerard realizes that Jasmine is still walking away and begins to run after her. "Sugar! Don't leave!"

"Don't stop me, Gerard!" she calls back. "I need to go."

He sighs resignedly and stands there at the bottom of the hill. She's right...she needs to go. He wonders where she would ever get the idea to kiss him...probably temporary insanity.

Jasmine runs blindly home, not answering her parents' greetings as she slams the door shut. She takes the stairs two at a time and opens the door to her room. Her wall is covered with French posters in cheery colors, but she doesn't feel cheery at all as she throws herself down on the bed. "Why did I do that???" she mumbles into her pillow. "What's he going to think of me?" She rolls over and presses her pillow to the face to muffle a scream of frustration. "Was I any good?"

"Were you any good at what, honey?" Jasmine's mom asks, standing in the doorway.

"Nothing, Mom."

Her mother raises an eyebrow at her. "Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about anything."

Jasmine forces a smile, but her words are real. "Yeah. I know." Her mom smiles back and shuts the door before going back downstairs. Jasmine presses two fingers to her forehead and rubs it in little circles, trying to make her headache go away. How is it that she can make any complicated situation even more so? Is it some sort of evil inborn talent? Some kind of curse? She stops trying to think about it and soon falls asleep, breathing softly in the almost-faded light of her room.