Think of the Angels
Rain in Hell
(Gerard’s P.O.V)
“Why didn’t you tell me about this? WHY?”
“But Mikey –”
“No ‘buts’, Gerard. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried, Mikey! Really, I did!” I threw up one hand into the air, the other running through my newly dyed black hair in frustration. Damn, Mikey! Why can’t you understand?
I tried, okay? I tried!
“Yeah, but why did you have to let me find out for myself?” My little brother was screaming, pointing an accusing index finger at my probably very guilt-ridden face.
Yeah, sure. Everything was my fault.
“Mikey…” I took a tentative step forward, reaching a hand out for my brother.
“No!” he spat, slapping my hand brutally away, tears flooding his eyes. “Don’t come near me,” he choked. “Don’t come closer!”
“Mikes -”
“WHY DON’T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?” He exploded, running out of the house, slamming the front door shut in his wake.
I gasped; racing after him and wrenching open the wooden door, watching my brother’s shadow disappear down one of the deserted streets of Jersey.
“MIKEY!”
-------
“Mikey! MIKEY!” I ran down the tenth street in a row, yelling myself hoarse. “Mikey!”
Damn my bro with his health.
Damn me and my guts. If I had the courage to actually tell Mikey that he had been diagnosed with cancer days ago, maybe he would still be with me.
But he wouldn’t take it very well either way. Maybe he’d go insane like Frank did.
I shivered involuntarily. Even I hadn’t wanted Frank to end up in a sanitarium. Maybe it would have been better off if I’d been the one that drove the dude bonkers rather than some random fucker putting a bullet through the back of his head.
Besides, Frank still seemed sane – only he didn’t seem to remember me (or My Chemical Romance) anymore.
“MIKEY!” I let out one last, defeated and desperate cry. A plea for my little shit of a brother to show his sorry face.
I sighed as my cry echoed throughout the deserted street. Might as well leave.
I turned around. Next stop…
Wait! What was that?
My ears had picked up a sound. Sobbing?
No way…
Mikey.
It clicked in my brain (the laggard) and I ran towards the source of the disturbance, feet streaking across the concrete pavement like some kind of Olympic athlete. Although, to tell you the truth, I’d never ran a mile in all thirty years of my miserable little life here on Planet Earth.
The sobs were coming from an alleyway, and without hesitation, I dashed down it, ignorant of the claustrophobic effect the close, narrow and tall brick walls had on most Homo sapiens.
So I’m not human? Haha, I’m God. Sue me.
A little figure was huddled next to a dumpster, form racking with sobs. As I drew closer, I recognized the figure.
As predicted – Mikey.
“Mikes?” I took a hesitant step forward, bending down.
As he made no attempt to:
a) Rip out my throat
b) Slap me silly
c) Chase me away,
I decided that it must be safe to make an approach.
“Mikey?” I reached out a hand, placing it lightly on my brother’s shoulder.
To my complete (and utter) surprise, instead of pulling away, Mikey sobbed even harder and wrapped himself around me. Great change from cradling his own knees, if I do say so myself.
“Waa…? Mikey? You okay?” I put a comforting arm around his thin frame, the other running through the sweaty strands of his light brown hair.
“I just can’t believe it,” he sobbed into my shoulder. “I’m gong to fucking die! In three fucking days! Fuck life. Screw dying in ‘The Ghost of You’, I’ll take back what I said about it.”
“Sshhh…” I comforted, whispering into his ear, holding the sobbing body close. “It’s going to be alright. Embrace death as it comes, remember? Death is a beautiful thing, not something to be feared.”
“Easy for you to say!” Mikey pulled away from our embrace. “You’re not the one that has to die early! You’re the dude who’ll get to live a long life, have babies with god knows who, and eventually die a doddery old fool! You’re the dude who wouldn’t mind vampirism as a religion! I’m not like you, Gerard!”
“Mikey! Calm the fuck down!” I screamed at my brother, more out of hurt than anger.
Fuck his logic.
“It’s just…NOT FAIR!” He burst out. “Oh, fuck.”
Life was always unfair.
“I know, Mikes.” I drew my brother in closer, wrapping my arms once again around him and giving that frail body my support. “I know.”
I paused, only to wipe the sweat off my brow. Fuck the summer weather.
As if on cue, the sky split open and the fluffy white clouds were replaced by stormy grey ones, rumbling with the prospect of thunder and crackling with the raw power of lightning. The signs of a storm yet to come.
So I could control the weather. As I said, I’m a friggin’ god, apparently.
“I’m scared, Gee.” Mikey whimpered like a little child against my chest.
What, the weather?
Oh shit. Dying. How could I even forget something like that?
I did a mental facepalm. Stupid brain, I was probably dropped on my head as a child.
“It’s going to be alright, Mikey.” I whispered as I hushed the trembling figure in my arms. “It’s going to be alright.”
How could I convince my own brother when I couldn’t even manage to convince myself?
(Narrator’s P.O.V)
As the brothers Way looked up to the darkened sky, the vast expanse finally opened up, crying for their plight, letting out the million droplets of water that mingled with the salty tears they cried, soaking the two of them to their skins.
Little drops of crystal clear liquid, falling from the heavens, gracing the Earth with their cool touch.
Rain.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this? WHY?”
“But Mikey –”
“No ‘buts’, Gerard. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried, Mikey! Really, I did!” I threw up one hand into the air, the other running through my newly dyed black hair in frustration. Damn, Mikey! Why can’t you understand?
I tried, okay? I tried!
“Yeah, but why did you have to let me find out for myself?” My little brother was screaming, pointing an accusing index finger at my probably very guilt-ridden face.
Yeah, sure. Everything was my fault.
“Mikey…” I took a tentative step forward, reaching a hand out for my brother.
“No!” he spat, slapping my hand brutally away, tears flooding his eyes. “Don’t come near me,” he choked. “Don’t come closer!”
“Mikes -”
“WHY DON’T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?” He exploded, running out of the house, slamming the front door shut in his wake.
I gasped; racing after him and wrenching open the wooden door, watching my brother’s shadow disappear down one of the deserted streets of Jersey.
“MIKEY!”
-------
“Mikey! MIKEY!” I ran down the tenth street in a row, yelling myself hoarse. “Mikey!”
Damn my bro with his health.
Damn me and my guts. If I had the courage to actually tell Mikey that he had been diagnosed with cancer days ago, maybe he would still be with me.
But he wouldn’t take it very well either way. Maybe he’d go insane like Frank did.
I shivered involuntarily. Even I hadn’t wanted Frank to end up in a sanitarium. Maybe it would have been better off if I’d been the one that drove the dude bonkers rather than some random fucker putting a bullet through the back of his head.
Besides, Frank still seemed sane – only he didn’t seem to remember me (or My Chemical Romance) anymore.
“MIKEY!” I let out one last, defeated and desperate cry. A plea for my little shit of a brother to show his sorry face.
I sighed as my cry echoed throughout the deserted street. Might as well leave.
I turned around. Next stop…
Wait! What was that?
My ears had picked up a sound. Sobbing?
No way…
Mikey.
It clicked in my brain (the laggard) and I ran towards the source of the disturbance, feet streaking across the concrete pavement like some kind of Olympic athlete. Although, to tell you the truth, I’d never ran a mile in all thirty years of my miserable little life here on Planet Earth.
The sobs were coming from an alleyway, and without hesitation, I dashed down it, ignorant of the claustrophobic effect the close, narrow and tall brick walls had on most Homo sapiens.
So I’m not human? Haha, I’m God. Sue me.
A little figure was huddled next to a dumpster, form racking with sobs. As I drew closer, I recognized the figure.
As predicted – Mikey.
“Mikes?” I took a hesitant step forward, bending down.
As he made no attempt to:
a) Rip out my throat
b) Slap me silly
c) Chase me away,
I decided that it must be safe to make an approach.
“Mikey?” I reached out a hand, placing it lightly on my brother’s shoulder.
To my complete (and utter) surprise, instead of pulling away, Mikey sobbed even harder and wrapped himself around me. Great change from cradling his own knees, if I do say so myself.
“Waa…? Mikey? You okay?” I put a comforting arm around his thin frame, the other running through the sweaty strands of his light brown hair.
“I just can’t believe it,” he sobbed into my shoulder. “I’m gong to fucking die! In three fucking days! Fuck life. Screw dying in ‘The Ghost of You’, I’ll take back what I said about it.”
“Sshhh…” I comforted, whispering into his ear, holding the sobbing body close. “It’s going to be alright. Embrace death as it comes, remember? Death is a beautiful thing, not something to be feared.”
“Easy for you to say!” Mikey pulled away from our embrace. “You’re not the one that has to die early! You’re the dude who’ll get to live a long life, have babies with god knows who, and eventually die a doddery old fool! You’re the dude who wouldn’t mind vampirism as a religion! I’m not like you, Gerard!”
“Mikey! Calm the fuck down!” I screamed at my brother, more out of hurt than anger.
Fuck his logic.
“It’s just…NOT FAIR!” He burst out. “Oh, fuck.”
Life was always unfair.
“I know, Mikes.” I drew my brother in closer, wrapping my arms once again around him and giving that frail body my support. “I know.”
I paused, only to wipe the sweat off my brow. Fuck the summer weather.
As if on cue, the sky split open and the fluffy white clouds were replaced by stormy grey ones, rumbling with the prospect of thunder and crackling with the raw power of lightning. The signs of a storm yet to come.
So I could control the weather. As I said, I’m a friggin’ god, apparently.
“I’m scared, Gee.” Mikey whimpered like a little child against my chest.
What, the weather?
Oh shit. Dying. How could I even forget something like that?
I did a mental facepalm. Stupid brain, I was probably dropped on my head as a child.
“It’s going to be alright, Mikey.” I whispered as I hushed the trembling figure in my arms. “It’s going to be alright.”
How could I convince my own brother when I couldn’t even manage to convince myself?
(Narrator’s P.O.V)
As the brothers Way looked up to the darkened sky, the vast expanse finally opened up, crying for their plight, letting out the million droplets of water that mingled with the salty tears they cried, soaking the two of them to their skins.
Little drops of crystal clear liquid, falling from the heavens, gracing the Earth with their cool touch.
Rain.