They Found You On The Bathroom Floor

"Gerard? Gerard please wake up. I know you can hear me."

He shuffled his body slightly. He didn't want to talk to the intruder. He didn't want to talk to anybody.

"Gerard? Come on, man. Talk to me." Didn't that idiot get his obvious body language? He wanted the man and everybody else outside his peaceful sanctuary to butt out and leave him alone.

"Gerard, if you don't answer, I'll stay here and bang on the bars over and over again," Of course. He didn't get the obvious body language. Gerard closed his eyes and scrunched his temple, hoping to block out some of the promised racket about to be inflicted upon his eardrums. Silence.

Beautiful, calm, silence mingled with nothing but purity. No conflict, no emotions. Just - silence. Gerard smiled and let his temple relax slightly. This is what he’d become accustomed to. No need to spare a wasted thought to the outside world, when all they've done is hurt him and killed his brother.

"Gerard, I have some news about Mikey." They're putting him in a black coffin? They're not allowing his brother to the funeral? Gerard desperately wanted to roll over and tell his visitor about his lack of concern to Mikey's arrangements. But that would mean giving in and breaking the calming silence that draped itself everywhere around him. So instead, he sucked in a breath, louder than necessary and tensed his muscles.

Everything about him exuded the air of hostility and rebellion, but he could sense that his visitor remained. He can feel his pitiful eyes upon his lifeless weight. Gerard’s teeth grinded together, that was not good. Emotions were -

He could feel -

Gerard sat up. His eyes were watering with hot angry emotions, so long suppressed in his darkened domain. He glared furiously at the man at the bars, who was so casually biting his lip and peering at Gerard to predict the next move. Anger coursed through Gerard and he flinched. He hadn't felt this sort of hostility, or fury for so long. He had lost count of the days after it hit a month, and his calendar would lie in neat scraps on the floor. Frank seemed to mistake his tears of fury and denial for those of welcome - or something weird like that.

He nodded frantically, his fringe blowing from side to side, "Yeah, Mikey. They're letting him out of the hospital - today!" Gerard’s eyes widened, he could feel it rushing up, like the inevitable calm before a storm. A tidal wave of fresh emotions, and he clutched his head, running to the wall to press his forehead firmly against the concrete.

Pain, Mikey was dead. He was being discharged from the hospital. What could they do for a dead man?

Anger, Frank was bothering him. Why did he have to remind him of these emotional traits?

And a tiny glimmer of what - happiness. Frank cared.

Gerard turned to him and gritted his teeth as the force of all the suppressed feelings threatened to double him over. Frank looked mildly confused.

"He wants to come and visit you." He ventured. Gerard’s eyes widened once more, but this time, there wasn't a wall at hand. He screamed.

"What? What sort of sick, sick man are you? Don't you let my dead brother anywhere near me." He spat, surprised at the low gravely echo to his voice. He hadn't used it properly in a while, and now his throat ached from being kicked into action. Frank looked taken aback.

"Well, I didn't know you felt that way about him..."

"Of course I do!" Gerard threw his arms theatrically in the air and began to pace furiously around the room. "And there's me thinking that you cared for me, you bastard. Why the fuck would I want to see some twisted echo, or..." He grimaced at the word being formed in his mouth "Corpse of my murdered brother?" He wanted lunge at him for all the good it would do. His fists hardened into rocks, his palms were burdened by nails digging into familiar grooves. Then another voice startled him, rendering him silent once more.

"Gerard? Cool it, man. I'm just visiting you." He spun dizzily as a black haired boy rounded the corner, smirking with a superior air. Though he'd had stitches and a haircut, it was evidently Mikey. Gerard and Frank’s mouths dropped open in unison.

"But - but you're..."

"Dead?" Mikey laughed, and his face lit up. But it was cold and distant, as he surveyed them with humourless eyes. "No, Gerard. I'm not dead." He leaned closer and Gerard could smell smoke in his breath. "But if I didn't do this, I might as well be." There was a fumbling and the unmistakable click of a handgun. Gerard pulled his ear away from the bars and stared into the endless barrel of the gun with unbelieving eyes.

"So long and goodnight, Gerard."

The gun was pulled out. Bob leered in satisfaction as Mikey aimed as he’d ordered him to. Stupid kid had guts, he thought as Mikey stood, holding the gun calmly in an unshaken hand. He remembered how the conversation had gone. Just like magic.

”Toro. Get up. Now”

”Wha? Bob, no please! I – “

”Can it Toro, now you’re going to do something for me…” Bob chuckled throatily. The look on Mikey’s face swam into his mind.

“Gerard wouldn’t lie to me, Bob. I don’t trust you. Get out or I’ll call security.”

“Listen kid, fair enough not to trust me. But you’re brother’s not as saintly as he makes out.”

Mikey’s face had pulled into a confused look of denial.

”Yeah, right. What’s he done this time?”

Bob’s smile was more pronounced now, as Gerard attempted to plead with Mikey. Toro’s part had been the best.

“After your brother attacked you, Mikey, I’m so sorry. He was a maniac. His eyes were wild, and he spoke of murdering a… Donna?”

The gunshot dragged Bob from his thoughts.

He chuckled.