FicWad

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The drive home was anything, but quiet. Mom's voice ran a million miles a minute. The whole ride to the house I tuned in and out of her "everything is going to be okay" speach. My mind had been too preoccupied with the days to be bothered by such hopeful promises. I just fixed my gaze out the passenger's window and occationally mumbled a 'yeah' to keep her from feeling ignored. I did appreciate her effort to comfort me, but now wasn't the best time to try to console my ill spirit.

As she cut the engine and began to get out from behind the wheel, I stayed put. "Are you coming...?" She frowned, knitting her eye brows together in concern.

"Yeah," I horsely whispered, "Just gimme a minute..." She knodded, gently closing her door and slowly headed for the front of the house. I sighed and slumped low in my seat. Glad to have a few uninterupted moments to myself, I tinkered with my thoughts that had been nagging at the back of my head. Frank... Poor Frankie, he didn't deserve any of this. Did I deserve this? I'd say yes, but Frankie says otherwise and I already trust Frank more than I trust myself... He must think I'm a fucked up, weirdo like everyone else now... He has seen my secrets that I had tried ever so carefully to hide from the rest of the world. Well, most of the world... Mikey knew. Mikey knows many of my secrets. The drinking, the cutting, the self medicating, my attraction to other guys, and everything else. Mikey knew about my 'addictions', but he doesn't really know how bad it is and I wasn't about to give up my only numbing excape from my pain because of a simple slip of the tongue. No, those secrets are locked up in the deep, dark vaults in my mind.

I must have been in the car for longer than I had planned because I could see mom poking her head out from behind the living room curtains to check up on me. Groaning, I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door to me greeted by the crunching sound of gravel under my shoes. Without bothering to wipe my feet on the well used 'welcome' mat, I stumble into the house and into the kitchen for some much needed coffee. I reach for my favorite mug and started to pour the delicious hot liquid into my cup, until I find it being pulled from my grasp.

"Sorry dear, the nurse said no coffee for awhile... Or anything with caffeine for that matter. It thins your blood. Caffeine makes it harder for your blood cells to clot and heal your wounds," Mom said sympathetically as she read the distress on my face. She handed me a glass of milk instead. "I know it is hard, dear, but things-"

"Will get better..." I finished her statment with a glum expression, "Um, I'm going to go to my room, okay?" I turned and headed for the basement.

"S-sure... I'll be up here if you need me," Mom said, sounding a bit taken aback. I felt a pang of gult knowing that I had hurt her feelings, but I hoped she would understand that I was too hurting, in more ways than one. I clumsily made my way down the steps into my horrible excuse for a room and hobbled my way over to my cover-bunched bed where I collapsed in exhaustion. I closed my eyes and just let my mind go blank. I focusd on my breathing. In... Out... In... Out...In... I was perfectly content until my brain caught up with me and flooded my mind with thoughts, emotions, and memories. They all collided into one big heap and began to drowned me in my, all too well known, pit of despair. My eyes snapped open and I bolted up right. Sighing, I decided to preoccupie my darkly, plagued thoughts. I let my eyes wonder about my dim lair and rested on my art desk. Smirking at my exellent choice, I hobble over to my stool and grab a fresh sheet of paper.

Allowing my mind drift, I subconsciously let myself draw whatever came to me. I started with a boy; a small boy with big eyes and a lopsided smile. I drew him wearing a plain black t-shirt and grey skinnies. My eyes grew wide when I realized that I had been drawing Frank. Frowning, I quickly balled up the picture and tossed it on the floor near my chair. Sighing, I grabbed another blank sheet and started a new one. This time I had began to draw a concert stage with crowds of people gathered in a mosh pit. Lights were fixed on the middle of the picture to direct the attention to the silhouette of a person who was playing the guitar. He had his head bent back which made his small, serpant-like hairstyle whip wildly from side to side and one leg sticking up in the air. His mouth was slightly parted as if he was trying to intake as much air as possible. This rock star was playing with every ounce of his being. He looked as if he belonged on stage. Satisfied with the beginning stages of the picture, I sat back in my seat to look at what I had just scribbled. I bit my lip and smirked at the person in the spotlight. My smile quickly vanished when I noticed the boy on stage was once again Frankie. Fuck. Frustrated, I crumpled the paper and threw it to the floor in disgust. I began a new picture...
"Ugh...." I put my head against my head down. "Okay... Let's try agian."
Trash pile. New sheet.
"Dammit, Frank again!" I groaned.
Trash pile. New sheet.
"Shit!" I hissed, as I pounded my fist against the desk.
Trash pile. New sheet?
"Oh-my-mother-fucking-God!" I yell, mostly at myself.
"Gerard! Watch your language!" I hear my mom warn through the door.
"Okay, sorry," I mumble through my palm-covered face. Leaving my art area as total disaster zone, I shuffle over to my radio and pop in an Iron Maiden CD.

"Covered in sinners and dripping with gilt
Making you money from slime and from filth
Parading your bellies in ivory towers
Investing our lives in your schemes and your powers"

Skip

"I am a man who walks alone
And when I'm walking a dark road
At night or strolling through the park"

Skip

"Lights out - We live in a world of darkness
No doubt - Everything's up for sale
We sleep - All of the world is burning
We pray - To god for better deal
Nothing is sacred - Back then or now
Everything's wasted...
Is that all there is ?
Can I go now ?"


Skip, Skip, Skip

"Maybe one day I'll be an honest man
Up till now I'm doing the best I can
Long roads.Long days, of sunrise, to sunset
Sunrise to sunset-"

The song cuts off as I unplug the player, gabbing the nearest comic book, and flopping onto my bed. Reading always seemed to calm my nerves ever since I was little. I flipped open the cover and scanned the contents. I read two pages before I giving up. Chucking the comic at my door, I smothered my face with my pillow. I lay in silence for a few moments, with labored breath due to the soft fluff that was blocking my air ways until I heard the front door open and slam shut, only to be followed by foot steps above me. Mikey was finally home from school, I wonder if he knew what had happend yet. The rushed hello and the hurried thumps toward my room comfirmed my question. A hesitant knock sounded on my door.

"Come in," I groaned through the feathers in my pillows. I struggled to sit up, but pulled the pillow into my lap and hugged it to my chest. The door slowly creaked open to reveal my concerned looking brother.

"Soooo.... Again, huh?" Was all he could manage as he took in my freshly beaten figure. I just sat there, looking at him and picking at a loose thread on my bed spread. He slowly made his way down the stairs, trying to avoid tripping on some of the shit I had kept on the steps. I could tell he was trying not to upset me any further, he knew I was quite fragile and that I wasn't easily mended. "Care to talk about it or is now not a good time?"

"I don't know Mikes..." I start, avoiding his gaze, "Um, could you stay for awhile? I am driving myself crazy," I half heartedly chuckle. He gave me a knowing smile back and maneuvered his way to my bed. He stopped short when he took notice of the small mountain of wadded papers by my desk. I felt my heart sink into my stomach as he picked one up and opened it. He looked at it, puzzled, holding his head unaturally high to look through the glasses on the very tip of his nose. He bent down and picked up another. And another. And another. With each picture, his eyes narrowed further and further while his forehead creased more and more.

"Someone you know?" He asked, pointing at the boy that was in everyone of the destroyed drawings at the base of my desk. I sat in silence for a moment, measuring his expression to see how to proceed next. His face held confusion, suspicion, curiousity, and the slightest glimmer of hope.

"Sort of... I guess you could call him a friend," I said slowly, still watching his reactions like a hawk. A sly smirk crept to his lips as he peered back to the pictures.

"What kind of friend?" Mikey challenged, still smirking deviously. Am I transparent? I swear he can see right through me sometimes. My eyes bugged out of my head a bit as I gapped at him.

"JUST a friend and nothing else!" I say a bit too quickly which only is proving Mikey's point.

"You know you are blushing," taunted my brother, "you've turned at least 7 different colors of red! Ha, you like him! What's his name?" He was now grinning ear to ear and skipped over to my bed, still clutching the pictures.

"No I don't, he is just a friend! And that's none of your business!" I glare, so much for Mikey trying to be delicate with my feelings... At least behind the teasing there was some excitment and pride dedicated to me.

"Okay, okay, what is your "friend's" name then?" He said, gazing at me intently. He was now sitting on my bed, nearly ontop of me, and propping his head up with his hands as he laid on his stomach. I kept my posture and just hugged the pillow tighter to me, refusing to budge. "Pleeeeeeease, I wanna know," Mikey begged, "I am actually really glad that you made a real friend..." I softened a bit.

"Er.. Frank...Um, Iero," I squeaked, instantly regreting saying it as soon as the words had left my mouth. His eyes told me that he had no recognition of him, but Mikes continued to glow with interest.

"Do you like him? Like more than a friend. Don't lie!" He warned while jabbing an accusing finger in my face. I whined and gave him a pleading look to just drop it, but he just rolled his eyes and motioned for me to spill my feelings.

"It... I... Uh...Well... Um, sorta?" I choked out, "Fuck, I don't know, Mikey... I really don't know. I hardly know him. I met him yesterday, but we just really click. It is like we've been friends forever. I can't stop thinking about him... I've tried and those drawings are proof that I cannot go a minute without him popping back into my head."

"Do you think he feels the same way?" Mikey questioned while nibbling away at his nails as he listened intently to my ramblings.

"I doubt it. I don't think he's gay and even if he was, he could do much better than me anyway..." I replied, weakly.

"Stop being so negative! You are the best brother I could ever wish for, why can't you see that?" He said sturnly, but with an edge of sorrow.

"Because I'm a fuck up, Mikey! No one likes me at school... Did you know they cheered when I got my ass kicked today? They cheered." I said with venom lacing every word. Each syllable tasted sour as it danced off my tongue.

"Frank seems to like to be with you... And fuck the others, Gerard, they aren't worth your time," Mikey reasoned as he placed a hand on mine for comfort.

"Frank... Frankie won't be there for me next time," I whimpered, busying myself with the loose thread again.

"Well, why not?" He asked, once again puzzled.

"He... He saw these," I whispered while rolling up my sleeve to expose my scars.

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