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We Are (Not) Alone
0 reviewsGerard's fine with being invisible. Because at least he's not alone. Short FRERARD one-shot. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
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We Are (Not) Alone
I’ve never really had many friends. Then again, I guess I’ve always been pretty much invisible. A few friends and no enemies, unlike my poor baby brother who has none of the former and far too many of the latter.
That’s a point actually, Mikey’s my friend. My best friend.
Sad, huh? My best friend is my thirteen-year-old brother who only hangs out with me because he’s got absolutely no-one else. Not that I really mind; he’s a sweet kid and I’d much rather he was by my side then getting beaten up like I’ve often see happen to him. That’s what I don’t get about high school, the way the rough and ready kids get to the top of the ladder whilst genuinely nice people like my baby brother get shoved to the bottom. Below the bottom, to the depths of hell that would make the innards of a volcano seem pleasant. Kids like me though don’t even rank on the metaphorical ladder, we just simply don’t exist. Unless of course we suddenly set fire to our science teacher’s tie in which case we’re the talk of the school for around a week, but then we fade into invisibility again. Trust me, I should know.
I don’t mind. Not really. It could be a hell of a lot worse; I could be Mikey.
Okay, that sounded harsh but that just makes it all the more sickening that it’s true. He never lets it show though, the years of bullying I mean, always tries his best to smile at everyone and be friendly. Perhaps it would be easier for me if he was bitter about it, at least then I might find solace in the fact that he’d deserve it. But no. He’s easily the nicest person I’ve ever met and he still gets bloody noses and a broken soul given to him every day at school. Occasionally I’ll catch a horrific glimpse of what it does to him, like yesterday when I found him curled up and crying in his bedroom with all of his posters torn from the walls like he couldn’t bear the thought of his idols seeing him so shattered. I approached him slowly, eyes soft and smile gentle, wincing at the sight of a black eye tarnishing his purely pale features.
Poor kid.
He clung onto me like his life depended on it, asking me why he was so bad and what he did to deserve it. I calmed him down of course, rocking him and stroking him until he all but passed out in my arms. Arms that tucked him up in his bed, still with that old Smurfs duvet cover on it to remind that he is still just a kid, and then put all of his posters back up for him.
So there we have the two Way brothers; one falling fast into the oblivion of depression and the other fading into the background, only coming out of invisibility to help the younger. That’s all we are, the damaged and the forgotten. Two lost and alone souls in a sea of people too worried about themselves to care. Not that I blame them, it’s not like I care about anyone other than me and Mikey. It’s all I can care about when my baby brother’s getting hurt every day and I’m the only one who can see how deeply it truly is hurting him.
I just try to focus on me and brother and nobody else.
Well, not quite nobody else.
I guess you could say I only care about Mikey because he cares about me, of course the poor mite does; I’m all he’s got. So based on that assumption it would be safe to say that I only care about people who care about me, right? Apart from, based on what I’ve told you about me, nobody else other than my baby brother does care. If that’s what you’re thinking then you clearly didn’t pay attention. I said Mikey was the one with no friends I, on the other hand, have a few. Not enough to make me noticeable in the grand scheme of things, but enough to make life bearable.
When I say a few, I guess what I really mean is two. The first being Mikey. The second being one Frank Anthony Iero, a short punk kid with big bright eyes that remind me of a shimmering disco ball and the kind of giggle that would make even a convicted murderer want to see the beauty in the world.
Frank’s not even my friend, he’s my boyfriend. As in; someone who loves me enough to put up with the mood swings and incessant ramblings that make me so much of an outcast. But it’s okay that I’m an outcast. Because he’s one too. I don’t understand why though, he generally is a nice person and he has the bad-boy looks to match his reputation, yet he’s still just as invisible as I am.
Perhaps he chose to be invisible. In fact, I’m sure that he did. He saw what the kids at Belleville High are like and decided that he wanted no part in it, choosing to be invisible instead of mutating into something that he’s not in order to climb the ladder. I wouldn’t have him any other way though, he’s prefect just the way he is.
He can always make me laugh when I can feel tears welling in my eyes; he doesn’t even need tissues to dry my tears because his lips can stop them before they even fall. Just like the other day when he found me crying in the restroom like the coward I am. Coward because I wasn’t just hiding in there because of my tears, but because I’d seen Mikes getting beaten up. Again. By people I couldn’t have stopped if I had tried so, rather even attempting to look out for my baby brother, I ran and hid, terrified of what the poor kid would think of me if I tried to help him but failed. Frank just sat next to me, rubbing my back and sprinkling me with butterfly kisses until I’d calmed down enough to listen to him; to the boy who can always come up with precisely the right thing to say at precisely the right time. He told me that it’s not my fault, that just me being here for Mikey is more than enough because most people would have abandoned the kid to the harsh ways of high school life long ago.
He can always make ugly things seem beautiful, or dull things seem exciting. Like the clouds in the sky for example. Nothing special about them, right? Wrong. You can see all different shades of white in them, from pure snow to ominous grey, and you can even use them to tell stories. It’s a little game Frankie taught me; you pick a cloud, figure out what it looks like and then tell a story about it, involving other clouds when necessary. Mine are always boring, but his never fail to make me smile and love him that little bit more. The first time we played he’d seen an elephant, thus spawning some tale about a circus and two boys who run away to join it together. I think it was meant to be about us, the two boys with raven hair who had to run away from the flames of a forest fire and join a circus where they got put in charge of looking after a shy baby elephant. I think it was his own unique little way of letting me know that everything will be alright.
He can always make Mikey eat whenever I can’t. You see, Mikey’s got this thing about eating, like he’s scared he’ll get ugly and give them another reason to hurt him if he eats three meals a day. Apart from it’s more than that; he just doesn’t eat at all unless I can force him to sit at the table with me but even then I’m lucky if he chews on a mouthful of pasta where he would have once been wolfing down bowl after bowl of chocolate ice-cream. Frank always gets through to him though, always has those special techniques that make Mikey relax enough to almost eat whole meals. He just talks to him, makes him smile and giggle while Frank eats his own food, Mikey slowly joining in.
He can always give me hope when I think everything’s going to fall to shit like it always did before I met my Frankie. It’s just that smile of his, the one that comes from the lips that frequently are up against my own, it makes me feel like everything will work out for the best in the end. For me, for Mikey, for my Frankie; for us.
Because as long as we’re together it will be.
Because as long as we’re together we’ll never be alone.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading and I hope it’s alright. Please let me know what you think! :)
I’ve never really had many friends. Then again, I guess I’ve always been pretty much invisible. A few friends and no enemies, unlike my poor baby brother who has none of the former and far too many of the latter.
That’s a point actually, Mikey’s my friend. My best friend.
Sad, huh? My best friend is my thirteen-year-old brother who only hangs out with me because he’s got absolutely no-one else. Not that I really mind; he’s a sweet kid and I’d much rather he was by my side then getting beaten up like I’ve often see happen to him. That’s what I don’t get about high school, the way the rough and ready kids get to the top of the ladder whilst genuinely nice people like my baby brother get shoved to the bottom. Below the bottom, to the depths of hell that would make the innards of a volcano seem pleasant. Kids like me though don’t even rank on the metaphorical ladder, we just simply don’t exist. Unless of course we suddenly set fire to our science teacher’s tie in which case we’re the talk of the school for around a week, but then we fade into invisibility again. Trust me, I should know.
I don’t mind. Not really. It could be a hell of a lot worse; I could be Mikey.
Okay, that sounded harsh but that just makes it all the more sickening that it’s true. He never lets it show though, the years of bullying I mean, always tries his best to smile at everyone and be friendly. Perhaps it would be easier for me if he was bitter about it, at least then I might find solace in the fact that he’d deserve it. But no. He’s easily the nicest person I’ve ever met and he still gets bloody noses and a broken soul given to him every day at school. Occasionally I’ll catch a horrific glimpse of what it does to him, like yesterday when I found him curled up and crying in his bedroom with all of his posters torn from the walls like he couldn’t bear the thought of his idols seeing him so shattered. I approached him slowly, eyes soft and smile gentle, wincing at the sight of a black eye tarnishing his purely pale features.
Poor kid.
He clung onto me like his life depended on it, asking me why he was so bad and what he did to deserve it. I calmed him down of course, rocking him and stroking him until he all but passed out in my arms. Arms that tucked him up in his bed, still with that old Smurfs duvet cover on it to remind that he is still just a kid, and then put all of his posters back up for him.
So there we have the two Way brothers; one falling fast into the oblivion of depression and the other fading into the background, only coming out of invisibility to help the younger. That’s all we are, the damaged and the forgotten. Two lost and alone souls in a sea of people too worried about themselves to care. Not that I blame them, it’s not like I care about anyone other than me and Mikey. It’s all I can care about when my baby brother’s getting hurt every day and I’m the only one who can see how deeply it truly is hurting him.
I just try to focus on me and brother and nobody else.
Well, not quite nobody else.
I guess you could say I only care about Mikey because he cares about me, of course the poor mite does; I’m all he’s got. So based on that assumption it would be safe to say that I only care about people who care about me, right? Apart from, based on what I’ve told you about me, nobody else other than my baby brother does care. If that’s what you’re thinking then you clearly didn’t pay attention. I said Mikey was the one with no friends I, on the other hand, have a few. Not enough to make me noticeable in the grand scheme of things, but enough to make life bearable.
When I say a few, I guess what I really mean is two. The first being Mikey. The second being one Frank Anthony Iero, a short punk kid with big bright eyes that remind me of a shimmering disco ball and the kind of giggle that would make even a convicted murderer want to see the beauty in the world.
Frank’s not even my friend, he’s my boyfriend. As in; someone who loves me enough to put up with the mood swings and incessant ramblings that make me so much of an outcast. But it’s okay that I’m an outcast. Because he’s one too. I don’t understand why though, he generally is a nice person and he has the bad-boy looks to match his reputation, yet he’s still just as invisible as I am.
Perhaps he chose to be invisible. In fact, I’m sure that he did. He saw what the kids at Belleville High are like and decided that he wanted no part in it, choosing to be invisible instead of mutating into something that he’s not in order to climb the ladder. I wouldn’t have him any other way though, he’s prefect just the way he is.
He can always make me laugh when I can feel tears welling in my eyes; he doesn’t even need tissues to dry my tears because his lips can stop them before they even fall. Just like the other day when he found me crying in the restroom like the coward I am. Coward because I wasn’t just hiding in there because of my tears, but because I’d seen Mikes getting beaten up. Again. By people I couldn’t have stopped if I had tried so, rather even attempting to look out for my baby brother, I ran and hid, terrified of what the poor kid would think of me if I tried to help him but failed. Frank just sat next to me, rubbing my back and sprinkling me with butterfly kisses until I’d calmed down enough to listen to him; to the boy who can always come up with precisely the right thing to say at precisely the right time. He told me that it’s not my fault, that just me being here for Mikey is more than enough because most people would have abandoned the kid to the harsh ways of high school life long ago.
He can always make ugly things seem beautiful, or dull things seem exciting. Like the clouds in the sky for example. Nothing special about them, right? Wrong. You can see all different shades of white in them, from pure snow to ominous grey, and you can even use them to tell stories. It’s a little game Frankie taught me; you pick a cloud, figure out what it looks like and then tell a story about it, involving other clouds when necessary. Mine are always boring, but his never fail to make me smile and love him that little bit more. The first time we played he’d seen an elephant, thus spawning some tale about a circus and two boys who run away to join it together. I think it was meant to be about us, the two boys with raven hair who had to run away from the flames of a forest fire and join a circus where they got put in charge of looking after a shy baby elephant. I think it was his own unique little way of letting me know that everything will be alright.
He can always make Mikey eat whenever I can’t. You see, Mikey’s got this thing about eating, like he’s scared he’ll get ugly and give them another reason to hurt him if he eats three meals a day. Apart from it’s more than that; he just doesn’t eat at all unless I can force him to sit at the table with me but even then I’m lucky if he chews on a mouthful of pasta where he would have once been wolfing down bowl after bowl of chocolate ice-cream. Frank always gets through to him though, always has those special techniques that make Mikey relax enough to almost eat whole meals. He just talks to him, makes him smile and giggle while Frank eats his own food, Mikey slowly joining in.
He can always give me hope when I think everything’s going to fall to shit like it always did before I met my Frankie. It’s just that smile of his, the one that comes from the lips that frequently are up against my own, it makes me feel like everything will work out for the best in the end. For me, for Mikey, for my Frankie; for us.
Because as long as we’re together it will be.
Because as long as we’re together we’ll never be alone.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading and I hope it’s alright. Please let me know what you think! :)
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