Passing Looks and Disappointed Faces

[Gerard's P.O.V.]

As moments usually are, the time spent grasping the fragile boy in my hands was short-lived, disrupted by the unfortunate appearance of my brother. I shouldn't have been angry at him because obviously it was not his fault; he had no way of knowing that it was a delicate moment he was going to intrude upon. Still, I felt the blood rushing to my head, my heartbeat quickening.

"Mikey!" I yelled, subconsciously tightening my hands on the folds of Frankie's shirt, twisting the material in between my fingers. That fragile structure we had constructed, the house of cards had collapsed. I continued screaming, shooting profanities at his frozen body situated at the top of the stairs, trying not to stare at the mutilated remains of the building that had fallen at the slightest movement, at the sudden entrance of the confused boy at the landing.

Frank had long since disentangled himself from my grasp and was now staring, horrified, at the pile littering the ground. He didn't say anything in the slightest, simply staring down at the mess on the carpet. Cursing still but quieter now, I stamped my feet, crossing my arms over my chest. "You better have a good reason for coming in here, Michael," I growled, aiming my furious gaze at his stricken features.

He stuttered for a moment, suddenly unsure of what he was to say. He remained that way for a while, failed attempts at speaking tumbling from his trembling mouth. After a long while he was able to squeak out, "M-Mom wants to talk to you, Gee." Just as quickly as he managed to speak, he turned around, tearing off down the hallway without even trying to close the door behind him. He was probably fearful that I would begin yelling at him again. A sigh crossed my lips as I allowed my body to collapse on the mattress on the floor, running my hands desperately through my hair.

"He ruined it," I moaned, burying my face in my hands. Sure it was a childish reason to cry but I could actually feel my throat beginning to swell shut and my eyes begin to prick with stinging tears. A wry laugh escaped my lips as I stared at the wreckage, running a hand over my stinging eyes. "He fucking ruined it."

"A-are you crying?" he asked incredulously, running a hand through my hair tenderly, massaging my scalp expertly with his fingers.

"Of course not," I replied though my voice was choked and my hands shook in my lap as I continued staring at the bent cards.

"You're about to," he then said, a smirk tainting his voice as he took a seat next to me, still stroking my scalp. I sent him a glare, crossing my arms over my abdomen, averting my attention back to the ground. I gave another groan, looking at how all the hard work we had put into such a thing had crumbled so easily.

"We worked so hard on it," I mumbled, running a hand over my face, clutching my aching stomach with the other. "We spent so much time making sure it was going to stand up; making sure it was going to last. And then he came in and ruined it in a single moment." I sighed, noting the fact that it was quite immature behavior to sulk over a collapsed stack of cards. Promptly afterwards I decided I didn't care at all.

"Life's like that sugar," he spoke, voice choked. I looked at him, watched as his green eyes sparkled with liquid, his tear ducts working, working. I removed a hand from my abdomen, pulling him closer to me, allowing him to place his head on my shoulder.

"Well, it sure as hell shouldn't." He didn't respond, burying his face into the crook of my neck, breathing softly. His breath tickled my skin, made the locks of hair tumbling down over my ears flutter in the gentle breeze he was creating. Not another word was exchanged between us as we simply sat there, our breaths at the same tempo, our hearts beating at a gentle pace.

"You should go talk to your mom," he finally muttered hoarsely, his lips brushing my neck. I shook my head, looking down with some difficulty to where his head was situated on my shoulder, eyes closed.

"That's fine; I'll talk to her later."

"Gee," he said, a warning tone inflicted in his voice. I sighed, giving a passing glance to the debris on the floor before closing my own eyes, resting my head on his. His wandering fingers found my side and pressed lightly, motioning me to stand. I opened my eyes to roll them, gently moving away from his soft form.

"I'm going," I muttered, standing up from the mattress with a groan. Stepping lightly around the demolition, careful to not step on any card, I began walking towards the stairs that would lead me out of my room. I paused at the highest step, looking back at the figure sprawled over the mattress. "Frankie, you going to come with me?" He turned his head towards me, olive eyes shining in the semi-dark. He gave a brief sigh, eyeing me for a moment before he struggled to his feet, realizing that his loneliness might just lead to another unwarranted visit. I didn't want him to be tortured by the image of the man that haunted him anymore and he sure as hell didn't either.

"Gee, I really think I should be heading home by now," he whispered as he stood by me after bounding up the stairs two, three, at a time. My breath stilled in my throat, a lump constricting my airways, cutting off my respiration. Irritated coughs escaped my lungs without any warning, pounding against my chest, speeding up my heartbeat.

"Why do you say that?" It was amazing how he kept feeling the obligation to leave me. And what was I supposed to do here, knowing he was back with his mother? How was I supposed to sleep easily thinking he could be in danger? Paranoia was overtaking my senses – I realized this to a very vague extent – but still could not control the worry from creeping up my spine, spreading its vines over my mind, over my entire body. He kept his mouth closed though a sigh escaped those rose lips of his as he opened the door, heading out into the hallway without another glance at me.

I realized that I was keeping my angel tied here. I had wrapped a rope around his leg, tethered him to this house, promising everything and nothing to prevent him from realizing that he was trapped. There was a possibility that I had attempted to injure those gentle, fluttering wings of his in the vain hope that he would remain by my side. In the search for comfort, in the constant search for satisfaction, for pleasure, I had found him. Unfortunately, once I get my hands on something I adore, my stubborn mind refuses to let it go. I had done the same to him.

"This isn't like the dozens of kittens and puppies you tried to bring home; this is a responsibility far past all that. This is another human being, Gee, who has feelings, who's got problems. And you're responsible for his well-being..." I took the words to heart, had attempted to be completely responsible for him, had tried to keep him safe from the world. Foolishly I believed I could save him from his impending trial; naively I believed I could save him from the ghosts that haunted him. I couldn't do all that. I couldn't keep him tethered here, couldn't keep him from the dangers that would face him outside.

There was no possible way for me to prevent his returning to his home, where he truly belonged. Despite the fact that I cared deeply for him, he didn't belong in this house whatsoever. The angel I had captured didn't deserve to be kept in a cage, despite my strongest attempts to make it feel like the Home I had torn it from. He had his mother, his father, his grandparents. He had me; he wouldn't be able to get rid of me if he tried at the moment. Still, I was keeping him from his life; from everything he had before I had to step in, before I had to take him.

These thoughts nipped at my ankles as I walked down the hallway, never once paying attention to my steps, never once giving heed as to the direction I was headed in. With every step, the thoughts nipped harder, trying to rip out the flesh, trying to leave only rent flesh and blood-white bone. Saccharine lips and dancing laughter. Angels were never meant to be captured; were never meant to be kept bound to a miserable home in a dingy town.

I sighed once, looking up from the crumb-encrusted carpet. His olive eyes shone before me, a strange look etched over his smooth features. Now, as I stared at him, boring my eyes into every feature of his face, into every line that made up the curves of his lithe frame, I could see the ethereal light that surrounding him, murky now, dirty now. Without thinking, never giving it a moment's consideration, I reached out a hand, tracing the lines of his jaw bone. It was as though I had become blinded; I needed to memorize every dip and curve using my hands.

I couldn't see; I was suddenly fearful that his image would be lost from me. I had to let my angel go; I couldn't keep him chained here any longer. "Promise me that tomorrow you'll come here and visit," I muttered, fingers curled in the dark tresses of his hair. A look of confusion overtook his features, his head cocking to the side, a gentle pressure against my limp hands.

"What are you talking about, Gee?" he asked sweetly, softly, bringing his face closer to mine. His gentle breaths soothed me, reestablished the conviction that had overtaken me as I had walked my solitary path.

"You've got to go home, sugar; I can't keep you here any longer." Shock registered in his gentle features and hurriedly I began to run my fingers over the smooth contours of his stricken face. Stutters crossed his lips, worry creeping into his wide eyes.

"I thought I was going to stay here."

"And how long where you going to stay here, angel? How long before you got tired of all this? How long before you missed your home? How long before you wanted to go? You've got to go because, darling, I can't keep you tied her any longer. No angel deserves that." The realization of my words hit him at full force and he reeled backwards, despite the steady presence of my hands on his head.

"Gee, I'm not an-"

"You're not an angel? Frank, you are. Don't doubt yourself. Don't doubt me. I'm not leaving you; I'm not going to desert you, you've got to know that. I just can't keep you from your life, I can't." I was virtually pleading with him, begging for his understanding. The confusion still seemed to riddle his bright eyes but comprehension was beginning to drive it out. "I'm never going to leave you, Frankie; please remember that every fucking second of the day. Don't forget it." I pulled him near me, pressed his lips against mine in a sweet, innocent kiss. Oh, how far we were from chaste at that moment! His eyes swam with moisture but he nodded, expressions of love pouring from his tortured lips. I had released the shackles but he had to take the reigns and fly away.