"All I can do is watch." Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
Imagine you have a diamond, something perfect and pure and precious and oh-so-breakable. Imagine that you have to do everything you can to protect it or else there is no point to your existence, you’ll simply just be a whisper on the wind with nothing to make you want to exist if you can’t keep that diamond safe. Imagine watching that diamond getting shattered by a pack of bloodthirsty wolves and being able to do fuck all about it.
Now you might just be able to get halfway to understanding how I feel right now.
Because Mikey is my treasure, my one thing that’s keeping me tied to the Earth through fear of truly abandoning him like I never can, and right now Mikey’s hurt. Properly fucking hurt; his face looks more scratched than my first ever CD from where those bastards shoved him into a bramble patch, his right eye is surrounded by a dark abyss of bluey-black from where one of those motherfuckers punched him, his body must be aching from where each kick rained down on him like a barrage of relentless atomic bombs.
I followed him around at school all day, even after the viciously cruel attack and I must say that I’m extremely proud of my baby brother for making it through the day at all; for focussing on his school work and then managing to survive the bus journey home before collapsing onto his bed, tears storming down his face like sinners fleeing Satan’s grasp. Because that’s what he’s doing right now, thrashing about on his new bed and sobbing his broken heart out for the millionth time since I abandoned him just over two weeks ago; breaking my own unbeating heart in the process. And all I can do is watch, just stand in the corner of his bedroom with nothing but soul-destroying helplessness infecting the stagnant air of his new bedroom.
I just want to be able to hug him, be able to dab a damp cloth over the dried blood that is staining his precious little face. I just want to be able to be his big brother again and make everything alright; I want to be able to scare away the bullies, cuddle him close until he feels like he’s worth something more than some little shits’ punching bag and soothe him until he can’t find the tears to bawl with anymore. But what I really want to do, maybe even more than I long to comfort my baby brother, is to slap Frank’s pretty little face until his head either falls off or until my hand loses all feeling.
He could have helped. I told that bastard exactly what my little brother has gone through, exactly how much he needs a friend and all Frank could do was hide away in the restroom. I can just about understand him not wanting to get involved with some sort of physical brawl, although by the looks of him I reckon he could have easily taken on the bullies, but him not even searching Mikes out? Inexcusable. For all Frank knew Mikey could have been beaten unconscious and yet he still did nothing, never came to where I was waiting helplessly with my bleeding baby brother and horribly unable to do anything to make him alight.
I haven’t seen Frankie since the restroom encounter; I’ve been by Mikey’s side the whole time, just making sure that he doesn’t pass out with nobody around to help him. I just can’t comprehend how Frank could not want to help such a meek and innocent kid, how he could just abandon someone as fragile as Mikey to the wilderness of his hellish high school. At the same time though, I can sort of see his reasoning; Frank doesn’t want to get hurt himself, even if he doesn’t like the idea of other people getting hurt his sense of self-preservation prevents him from ever doing anything about it. Because he’s a motherfucking coward in need of a good slap.
Because he’s just a confused kid who needs someone to understand him. And I will be more than happy to start trying to understand him when he starts trying to be nice to my baby brother; to my sob-wracked little treasure who needs someone to hold him right now more than ever. Someone who only Frank can be because he’s the only one around right now to offer any shade of comfort; I can’t appear to Mikes when I know how messed up it made him last time and Mrs Iero is still at work, leaving the poor kid to drown in his sorrow without anyone to throw him a float of hope.
Apart from Frank. A kid who is probably just in need of a friend like Mikey, someone who gladly accepts that people simply are who they are, as Mikey is in need of a friend like him, someone who could easily protect the kid should he feel motivated to do so. And I think I can motivate him to do so. I have to; it’s the only way that I can fulfil my brotherly duty of making Mikey happy.
So I concentrate my mind on Frank’s bedroom, I picture myself in there and close my eyes; just like I do when I want to be where Mikey is, I simply picture him and I’m there. One of the few bonuses of being dead, I guess. But I’d gladly trade it in for being able to hold my precious baby brother just one more time, for being able to make him feel like none of today happened and never can happen purely because I can keep him safe. I can’t though, not anymore and the only person who I think can is Frank Iero; someone who is about to feel the true fury of the pissed-off undead.
I open my teary eyes, teary from seeing Mikey so utterly distressed, to find that I’m exactly where I want to be; in the centre of that bastard’s bedroom.
A bastard who is currently sat on his bed, head in his hands and angry curse words slipping out of his mouth like rain from a storm cloud; the kid looks almost as bad as I feel. I would feel sorry for him, might even try to comfort him, if he hadn’t denied Mikey that sort of comfort himself like the cold bastard I can tell that he really isn’t.
Now to make him stop denying them both of the comforting friend that they both desperately need; it’s time to teach this fucker a lesson.
He hasn’t noticed me yet; good. I can definitely use this to my advantage and show him that he can’t fuck with my little brother without feeling the effects of pissing off his overprotective protector who just so happens to be dead. Which is another thing I can use to my advantage.
I pull together all of my negative emotions into my mind’s eye; all of my anguish at seeing my baby brother getting hurt but not being able to do anything about it; all of my burning anger at Frank not doing anything to make Mikes feel even a remotely better; all of my frustration at being dead and all of the inconveniences that it inevitably causes where comforting my baby brother is concerned. I don’t know how I know what I’m doing, but it’s like my subconscious is doing all of the work, is just listening to what I’m feeling and is acting upon it. I can feel pressure building up within me, like all of my despair and sorrow has been turned into a deadweight on my heaving heart; I feel like I’m going to either implode in putrid agony or explode in indescribable fury.
Apart from it’s not me that explodes; it’s Frank’s guitar amp. I can’t help the smug little smirk that forms on my lips; I can definitely use this as a weapon against Frank. As a weapon to force him into at least trying to befriend my little brother.
Frankie jumps up violently at the loud bang that resonates around the room from his smoking amp, revealing eyes that are almost symmetrical to Mikey’s; like he’s the one who practically got beaten to a bloody pulp with nobody around to actually care about his split lip and agonized limp. But I think that Frank cares and that’s why he looks like some sort of wreck right now, because his cocky little mind can’t cope with the fact that he’s done something wrong, that he’s a failure. At least he feels bad though, at least I don’t have too much of a lesson to teach him.
“What do you want, Gerard?” His voice is drained, not all conceited and arrogant like I’ve learned to associate it with being; he sounds like he is genuinely exhausted by remorse, like he just wants to curl up and die because of what he’s done.
Or rather, what he hasn’t done. And I feel extremely sorry for him, like I want to hug him and make everything better. But not until he’s done the same for Mikey.
“Look, I know I messed up, okay?”
“No, Frank, it’s not ‘okay’. Do you know why?” I pause, letting the brother in me take over from any sort of sympathy I may have had for his broken eyes. “Because you know exactly what he’s been through, what he’s still going through and you didn’t even look for him! You’re still not doing anything to help him; you’re just sat feeling sorry for yourself. Wanna know what I think?”
He shakes his head at my dangerous tone, tears gathering in his eyes like sinners in a church when the world is ending.
I’m going to tell him exactly what I think whether he likes it or not; I sincerely hope that he doesn’t. Not because I’m a spiteful and cruel person, but because I know that this is the only way that I’m going to get him to tend to Mikey’s wounds like I should be tending to them, all soft hands and soothing words.
“I think that you’re a fucking coward. You need to get over yourself and get your sorry ass over to where there’s a kid lucky to be conscious after what today’s put him through. He’s sobbing his heart out and you let it happen. You’re a fucking disgrace, Iero. You’re an absolu-“
“I’m fucking sorry!”
And with that, guitar amp still smoking in the background, he leaps to his feet with a look of determination painted onto his steely and remorseful face. A look of determination that makes me sigh in relief.
I’ve finally managed to do something right for my baby brother because Frank’s turned in the direction of his bedroom; because I’m sending my baby brother someone who I can tell really does care.
Even if it took a minor explosion to make him realise it.
Frank better not fuck this up or else I’ll make sure that there’ll be one more ghost haunting this house by sundown.
A/N Thank you very much for reading and I’m sooooo sorry that it’s so short and crappy! I probably won’t update tomorrow because it’s my fifteenth birthday, so sorry for that. Anyway, thank you very much for reading and please review! :)