Passing Looks and Disappointed Faces

[Gee's P.O.V.]

It pains me dearly to see this broken young man in front of me. It hurts to see the way he cracks and splinters and smashes before my very eyes. And to realize that there is nothing I can do to fix him makes everything a thousand times worse. My hands shake as I hold him but he barely notices; he shakes much harsher than I do. This whole event haunts me, though obviously not as much as it does to him. It was just another man; another dying man that will end up on the news. Shit.

Once the press coverage begins, everything gets worse; press does that. And it's this thought that makes me press him closer, tighter. I fear that if I let him go, he'll disappear from me, become a victim of a crime committed in self-defense. I should have never hid him; running away was what incriminated an otherwise innocent civilian. If he would have only stayed maybe all of this could have been resolved in a matter of minutes. Instead I hold him close to me, willing this nightmare to disappear and for us to return to our sheltered world.

There's no turning back now. Still, I cradle his body close to mine, burying my face in his soft locks. I wish to escape reality for just a few moments so I can continue believing everything will be perfectly fine. Life is not a fairytale. There is no way for me to be his knight in shining armor; there is no way to absolve his sins and make this entire situation fade as if it never happened. My heart constricts deep in my chest and I breathe in the scent of his shampoo as I try to take a deep breath.

He pulls away and the constricting feeling increases. His eyes don't find mine and the rope keeps tightening around my blood-pumping organ. I let out a wheeze accidentally and his eyes finally fall on my figure. Curiosity and a slight worry are etched on his features but I smile in an attempt to reassure me. He cocks an eyebrow; I let out a cough. He takes a step towards me and I cough again. I grit my teeth, willing my heart to expand again and my coughing to cease. It was probably the consequence of too much vodka and nicotine. He takes another step towards me and I turn my face away; I will not expose any weakness.

My hand is resting on the counter, holding me up, and his fingers lightly brush mine. I jerk away; this is not healthy in the slightest. He must realize it as forcefully as I do but he seems unfazed by this entire situation. This angers me. He should be scared, panicked; instead he continued staring at me with those gorgeous green eyes of his. "You know what, Frank?" I finally whispered, closing my eyes as I fought back a harsh cough.

"What?" he asked, almost fearfully. I opened my eyes, looking into his concerned face. I sigh, raising a hand to rub at my chest; it hurt.

"Go to the living room; the others are there. I'll be there in a moment." I can't bear tell him to leave the house. He nods but doesn't move. "What are you waiting for?" I asked, my voice nearly a growl. I shook my head, grimacing slightly.

"Where's the living room?" His voice was small and he had taken a step away from me. I smiled apologetically; I never meant to speak that way.

"Sorry. It's just down the hall. There's no way you can miss it." He nods, walking at a quick pace away from me and down the hallway. Once I'm certain he's gone, I let myself cough. And I can't stop. I continue coughing loud harsh coughs, sinking into a stool as I can't hold myself up any longer. My hands shake on the counter, my lungs heaving, my heart thudding fast. This will all kill me in the long run. Still, I force myself to quell my coughs, containing them in a painful concoction in my chest. My footsteps are languid, heavy; I can't go any faster for the pain in my chest.

I forced myself to walk to the end of the hallway, entering the living room where I can see the guys have already begun a stealthy inquisition on poor Frank. I chuckle to myself, though the mere act hurts my lungs, walking to sit on the empty spot next to him on the loveseat. Honestly I'm not entirely sure why we have a loveseat. I guess it was because my mother wanted a full furniture set and the living room would not possibly be complete without a loveseat. Resting my arm over the back of the loveseat, I gently tap Frank's shoulder. He looks to me, his eyes pleading for me to stop the questions. I smile at him, looking back at the guys.

"Listen; don't you think you should save the questions for tomorrow? Things will have cooled down by then and we'll all be nice and calm and relaxed and not tired."

"Well, Gee. If you want to give Frank space, why don't we just ask you? It seems you know all about this, huh?" I raise my eyebrow at my brother's sarcastic, snarling response. It's very unlike him to snap at me; we have a relationship that's more "best friend"-like than anything else and for him to respond in that manner suggests there's something more underlying there.

"Well, Mikes. I honestly know shit here as Bob so nicely put it earlier. I don't know shit or do I, Bob?" I hadn't really meant to put my frustrations on Bob; he really had done nothing more than tell me the truth. And it wasn't his fault (at least, I don't believe it was) that Mikey was suddenly turning on me.

"Stop it; the both of you. We all know the real issue here is Frank and whatever happened in the last hour or so, not whatever is making the both of you so angry."

"I did nothing," I said, my voice high-pitched and hysteric. There was no way I was going to take the blame for all this. It was bad enough having my brother throwing snappy comebacks at me without him accusing me of having something to do with this entire thing and putting the entire blame upon Frank.

"Okay, this is going way too far. I'm sorry for imposing upon the lot of you. It was nice; you're all great. But I'm not about to be the reason for tearing apart everything you guys have. I knew I was overstaying my welcome but stupidly I stayed. So I'm going to be leaving now. Again, I'm really, really sorry." He stood, his face contorted in controlled anguish, his shoulders hunched and his back bent forwards, his arms crossed over his upper abdomen. He turned swiftly away and it was obvious he had not been lying; he was honestly going to leave. And no one was protesting.

He exited faster than I had thought, nearly trotting down the hallways and out of my house. I knew that if I let him leave now, I would be letting him exit my entire life. What were the chances of me finding him again if he didn't want to be found? Sure, we lived in the same city but it didn't mean he couldn't hide from me forever. I followed him swiftly, the pain in my chest forgotten. It didn't matter if I had a myocardial infarction the second after I caught him and convinced him to stay; I was not about to let the angel that had drifted from my dreams escape. Damn; that sounded incredibly corny.

Still, I managed to catch him just outside the house. Now, I'll admit that the measures I took to stop him where a tad drastic. I tackled him, sending him crashing to the dry grass on my front yard. He grunted, struggling beneath me but I didn't move. The thought that if I let him up he would disappear forced me to remain lying upon him until he quieted and fell limp.

"You're not fucking leaving," I muttered in his ear, the back of my eyes pricking harshly. "You're not." He sighed, lifting his face ever so slightly so that it was not pressed against the grass.

"Gerard, please get off me."

"Tell me you're not leaving."

"Honestly, Gee; why do you care so much? Ever since I met you, you've cared more for me than even my own mother has. And I met you today. Understand that, Gee? Today. You're getting too involved in someone who's going to die. I'm not going anywhere; I'm nothing special. Please Gee. I need you to understand that." His voice cracked and I felt moisture slipping down my face. Confused, I brought a finger to my cheeks and I realized they were tears. I stood slowly, looking down at the drop on my finger. I was crying? But, how could I? He stood and stared at me; I simply stared at the teardrop on my finger. I was crying.

And the pain in my chest increased and my lungs were suddenly robbed of precious oxygen. Something welled in my throat, pushing past my lips. It was a sob. Frustrated, angered that I was participating in the act of crying, more sobs passed my lips. And I stamped my feet, wiping away the tears angrily. I couldn't cry; boys don't cry. "Stop it, Gerard," he suddenly said, his voice loud and high-pitched, grabbing at my wrists, forcing me to pause in the middle of my tantrum. "Just stop, okay." There was no way to stop now.

I fell to my knees, pleading, cursing beneath my breath. I'm not entirely certain what I said; every thought made its way past my lips to the point where I couldn't even understand my own babbling monologue. My hands gripped his wrists, his hands still situated at mine, grasping tightly. I was afraid to let him go, afraid that if I relaxed my hold even slightly he would fade away like every dream. I was afraid that if I let go, I would lose everything that tethered me to reality, which kept me from falling into another dream. I was afraid to lose the key that would let me out of my own twisted mind.

"Gerard, you're scaring me. Please, Gee. C'mon, I'll stay; I won't leave. I'm sorry." I shook, my head, unable to breath, unable to speak any longer. My breath was haggard, painful. My chest felt as if it had been set aflame. The only thing I could do was hold onto his wrists, feel his skin against mine in a reminder that I was alive; that I was here.

"Frankie," I managed to whisper through my desperate weeping. "Frankie, promise me...promise me you'll stay."

"I promise, Gee. Now please, will you get up?" He was desperate; he was scared, hysteric. He had no way of knowing what was plaguing me. I felt as though this were all a dream and he would disappear as quickly as every other illusion.

"Are you here? Please...tell me...are you alive? Are you real?" He nodded, biting his bottom lip as he stared at me.

"I'm here, Gee. Now come on. We'll go inside and make coffee or something." I smiled sadly at him; in all his childlike naivety, he believed things could be resolved over a cup of coffee. My problems were impossible to resolve in such a manner. And in that instant I knew that he was completely sincere; he believed he had brought the gravest of curses over all of us. He believed he was the cause of everything bad that occurred. And it hurt me greatly to come to the realization. There was no way this angel standing before me could possibly bring any plague upon us. And I felt as though I had lost my sanity.