Passing Looks and Disappointed Faces

[Gerard's P.O.V.]

Sweat was the one thing on my mind, to be honest. Those betraying droplets of guilty sweat running down my flushed face. That was what I was thinking about as I tried to think up a suitable explanation. I couldn't tear my mind from the water dripping from my open pores to my chin. I couldn't stop thinking about how flustered I was as I scrambled for a simple explanation to give him. He would know I was lying about my having a reason I didn't want to share with him, though it wasn't all false.

Still, I kept thinking about the drops illuminated by the bright screen in front of me, flashing green, yellow, red, blue, red. Always red. The beeping and explosions coming from the speakers unnerved me. He was calm, though the game must have been bringing back memories. Sure the game consisted of shooting at zombies, not people, but nonetheless it still involved killing. So nervous was I that my health meter was at an all-time low on one of the simplest levels and I was in grave danger of being dead myself.

Finally I simply grabbed his controller from his hands, pressing the necessary buttons to quit the game. He stared at me in confusion as I shut off the game system, leaving the game inside because I couldn't think to take it out.

"You going to tell me?" he asked quietly. I swallowed hard, looking into those wide, innocent eyes of his.

"No, I'm not. I'm not going to tell you anything because you shouldn't hear any of my thoughts," I muttered in reply, frantically, desperately. I couldn't bring myself to give him my reasons for the sweat rolling down my face. "I'm sorry Frankie but I can't." He was crestfallen, looking down at the floor as he poked his shoelaces into my carpet just as he had done at the beginning when he first arrived at this accursed house of mine. The apologies kept rolling off my tongue in jumbled messes as I stuffed everything I had taken out into the box next to my T.V. I wanted nothing more than to get out and walk mindlessly down the street as I did whenever I had to think thoroughly about something or drown my problems in alcohol: another great option.

"Gerard?" he whispered, which stopped my incessant apologies. "Just tell me why. That's all I want to know, Gee; that's all I've asked from you in all this time. I can take whatever you tell me, I swear to you. I know I don't look it but I can be strong. Whatever you tell me will never be as bad as what I have done. Nothing you say could make me think less of you or change my opinion as to who you are, I swear it. I just need an explanation for all of this because I just don't get it. You swore you would tell me."

He stood nimbly, walking towards my form over at the closet when I had mindlessly begun to pick up random CDs to place them back in the spot I had picked them from. He was graceful, despite everything, when he walked. He was fluid in his movements and his arm moved so slowly as he reached up to touch my face. He could feel the sweat still running in streams down my face and I jerked away as if I had been burned. "Frank," I implored, trying to not look into those horribly young but gorgeous eyes staring into mine.

"Why can't you tell me all of a sudden, huh?" he suddenly demanded, eyes turning stormy as he narrowed them. They weren't a child's eyes anymore but an adult's eyes, the eyes of a man that had to grow up in a short amount of time. "You see what I do, you give me vodka, you give me blowjobs but you won't tell me this. Why not Gerard?"

"Why are you asking so many questions?" Try as I might, my voice was no higher than a whisper as I backed up against the bundle of hanged clothes, tripping over the stacks of CDs which had been so tenderly organized.

"Because I'm out of the loop here, Gerard, despite everything. I don't really know anything about you and this whole situation confuses me. You've got the answers so help me out here." He was pleading now, pressing my back against the closet wall. In desperation, I pushed him, making him stumble out from in front of me. I got no more than two lengthy leaps away before I felt a small body colliding with my own, throwing me off balance. It reminded me of what I had done to keep him from running away.

I managed to squirm out from under him, panting from the small tussle I had to go through to get out from under him. I whirled around quickly, taking him by surprise as I pinned his shoulders to the ground. He swallowed hard but his gaze never tore from my eyes as he defiantly stared me down. I leaned down to gently press my lips against his, feeling the silky smooth texture of that rose Cupid's bow. He didn't respond and I pulled away, looking down at him. His eyes were slightly clouded but were still determinately focused on me, on questioning me. I rolled off of him in order to allow him to move away but instead he crawled into my lap, resting his head on my shoulder.

"Fine, Gee; I give up. Just don't expect me to tell you anything more about my life or what I think. I'm not going to tell you anything at all until you give me either an answer or a really good excuse." I sighed in relief, though it constricted my heart to know he wasn't going to willingly tell me anything anymore. With a pending trial, I didn't want that, not at all. I wrapped my arms gently around his warm body and he squirmed briefly, gaining a more comfortable position over me.

His hair tickled my neck but I didn't dare ask him to move it. I didn't want to ask him anything for fear he would bring up this topic again. Besides, it wasn't bothering me, not that much. "Gee?" he muttered and his voice was tired, hoarse.

"Yes, Frankie?"

"You haven't told your brother anything, have you?" My heartbeat began racing, betraying the cool expression I had already placed on my face.

A smirk curled my lips as I replied, "No; I'm not sure he even needs to know." A smirk mirroring mine spread across his lips. He grabbed one of my hands from his waist, interlacing our fingers.

"You should tell him."

"Why? It's my life," I retorted, squeezing his hand gently. He gave a laugh, pressing a fluttering kiss against my jaw.

"Actually, you're wrong. It's mine. And you're going to explain everything to him, even if you don't tell me. You're close to him or at least you appear to be. Tell him all you possibly can about this whole situation. Besides, he's entitled to know, this being partly his house as well." I sighed, taking a deep breath as I allowed the smirk to slip off my frozen features. I tightened my hold on both his waist and hand, mumbling my plans to tell him later on; I wasn't about to move.

He laughed, a high silvery giggle that sent chills running up and down my spine. I brought my lips down to his, engaging him in a short, gentle kiss. This time he responded, matching the force with which I pressed against him. He was the one to pull apart though, resting his head against my chest this time. "Your heart's speeding up," he muttered, another giggle passing his lips.

"It's your fault," I pouted, surprised at how corny I could sound. He laughed for real this time, separating from me to look me in the face.

"Are you serious?"

"No, Frankie. It's the undeniably sexy pink gay fairy in the corner that turns me on. I'm sorry," I said using as much sarcasm I possibly could, a smirk twisting the corners of my lips. He laughed, pushing me lightly.

"You're such a retard."

"As if you aren't."

"Well, but I'm not the one that has fucking lip gloss on their bedside table."

"That is not lip gloss!" I shouted indignantly. "That's ChapStick and I only have it because my lips get dry and chapped. Now, do you want to kiss a guy with chapped lips? I think not-"

"Stop rambling," he ordered, laughter pouring from his lips. He pushed me lightly again and I couldn't help but grin, reaching up a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear. He gave me a crooked grin, leaning forward to place a sloppy kiss on my cheek. "Now get up and go talk to him."

"You sound like a girl...or my mother," I said in mock disgust, pushing him gently so that he toppled over.

"I do not!" he replied indignantly, his voice squeaky.

"Puberty?"

"I will have you know I am well past the age of puberty."

"Sure you are because seventeen is light years past it."

"I'll be legal at the end of the month."

"Ah ha, but see, there you're wrong. You've got years ahead of you before you can even legally drink alcohol. That means I will be prohibiting your consummation of any alcoholic beverage until you are twenty-one."

"You suck Gerard. And stop going around in circles to avoid talking to your brother." I chuckled, leaning in to kiss him but he placed a hand over my face, pushing me away. "Not until you've explained everything."

"Damn it, Frank. I hate you." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Of course you don't. You can't get enough of me."

"Cocky, aren't you?"

"Ah, if you can be cocky, I can be cocky. And I am prohibiting touching from now until you speak up."

"You can't be serious," I laughed, extending a hand towards his cheek. He swatted my hand away, giving me a pointed look. "Okay, fine. Damn. Guys trying to be mothers and whatnot," I mumbled, struggling to my feet and walking towards the stairs. I continued my mindless rambling, annoyed that I couldn't even give him one last kiss before facing my own brother. It just wasn't fair. Then again, I was acting like a teenager once more, not that I was far from those years. Frank had me thinking only of him and it was driving me insane.

I sighed, pushing away every thought as I stood in front of my brother's room, my hand hesitantly held over the wood. I knocked firmly over the blaring sound of music coming from within, the steady noise of a bass throbbing over everything. The bass stopped as I knocked louder until I was virtually punching the door. "What do you want?" he demanded as he opened the door, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"We've got to talk, Mikey."