You're accusing, you say I'm not here. But I'm here, yes, I'm here.
But, even now, after crying out every inch of sorrow from within him, he felt like he could burst into tears.
The worst thing about it was that he felt as if Frank was still alive. No, it was more like a gut-feeling. But he saw the body. He saw Frank, dead.
And that's all he ever sees, nowadays. It's the only thing that fogs, clouds and crowds his mind. The only thing that he can ever think of, imagine: his mangled body as it was suspended from the roof of the room, neck red with rope burns, fingers jolting and flicking. He still had a slight pulse as he was rushed to hospital, but Mikey was told there was no hope.
So, from then on, that's all there ever was. No hope. No faith. No happiness.
Mikey thought that when you found that special person the noise stopped. The noise just went away. But when that one person leaves you, what happens? Well, from then on, Mikey knew. The noise turned louder than ever. Like a buzzing, a constant buzzing; loud, high-pitched paeans of buzzing and fuzzing.
It was like nothing.. like nothing could ever make it go away again until you were reunited with that one person and you could love again. That's why Mikey liked to be alone, to have the silence around him, to not speak - because his head already made so much noise.
Of course, the trauma of seeing the love of his life dead was also enough to scare him into an eternal silence. The trauma was enough to make him want to be silent, because what was the point in talking to anyone that wasn't Frank? Beautiful Frank..
Mikey knew that the only reason he'd ever speak again would be to see Frank.
But that wasn't going to happen.
Frank was dead. And there was nothing that could change that.
By now, as Mikey stared down to his cereal, he noticed each ring of luminous colour was soggy and spoiled. Mikey cursed the day he first let his thought wander. But, then again, he supposed that's all his thoughts ever did these days apart from ripping at his very soul.
It was at that moment that Gerard came tumbling down the stairs, jeans a little more than 'too tight' and his black hair disheveled. He still looked like he was asleep; his eyes were almost shut as he fumbled round the cupboards looking for something to eat.
Gerard and Mikey lived together for no other reason than one: no one trusted Mikey alone.
So, Mikey wasn't ever alone. Gerard's and Mikey's shifts at their jobs started and ended at roundabouts the same time and, of course, because Gerard lived with Mikey, he was there to look after him.
This also meant Gerard had no social life. He didn't resent his little brother for it, but he sure fucking wished he could go out and talk and have fun. All the things that Mikey never did these days.
Talk and laugh and flirt and have fun.
Gerard pushed some bread into the toaster, set the time to two minutes, and started to prepare his coffee.
"Hey Mikes," he mumbled, yawing and running a hand through his hair lazily.
Mikey simply glanced up at his brother, gave a weak smile, and looked back down to his cereal. His face wasn't visible as one, crystal tears crawled down his face and plopped into the milk of his cereal.
The poor boy was in shreds. On the one hand he loved Gerard, but on the other he couldn't stand him; hated him; loathed him; resented him. And between that, despising himself, loving Frank so much it hurt, missing Frank so much it drew him to the edge, having a dysfunctional, uncomprehending and mistrusting family, dealing with the stress of work, the stress of everyone making fun of his muteness - teenagers especially, listening to his family and friends talk about his 'problems' and 'pact of silence' and more often than not, bitch and talk about how he should have gotten over Frank, Mikey had already fallen off the edge.
He wasn't on the edge. He had jumped from it many years ago.
"Did you get any candy for tonight?" asked Gerard.
Mikey nodded, and quickly pointed to the bowl by the door.
"Cool," Gerard yawned humongously, hand to his mouth. "What time are you in work today? Usual time?" The eldest of the two spooned some sugar into his coffee, mixed it into the silky liquid, and turned to his brother, indulging in it.
Mikey shook his head.
"What? You going in later?" frowned the older.
Mikey shook his head, eyes still glued to his cereal.
Gerard suddenly looked wide awake. "You're not going in at all?!" he asked. "Mikey, you have to go in! You can't just not go into work! I mean, you're not even ill! And you've had way too much time off recently due to your Depression. It's not fucking wise and I wont allow it; no, I can't allow it. You're my responsibility and.."
Mikey tuned out.
It was always like this. It was always Mikey's fault; always an idiotic decision to stay home from work. Gerard never understood.
And it just made Mikey worse.
Oh, how much Mikey wished Gerard could just understand; wished Frank was alive; wished he and Gerard were the best of brothers again; wished he, Frank and Gerard could hang out like old times.
But, as he tuned back into his brother's ranting, he realized, with tears in his eyes, that none of those things would happen.
Gerard hadn't even mentioned what today was.
Mikey glanced at his phone next to him and just stared at the date.
Frank's birthday. And also the day he left.