Troubles

I wake up, and the first thing I notice is that I'm wearing a soft, cotton pyjamas. I look around and recognize Mikey's room, but Mikey isn't here. I can hear the rain drum against the window and sometimes the wind makes is creak. It's a cozy sound – safe, in a way.

I sit up and look over at the dark-blue curtains. There's a dull light coming through them, which makes me want to just stay under the covers all day, but I get up anyway. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and place my feet on the carpet. The fabric of the carpet is obviously worn – so worn that I can feel the rubber bottom of it – but it's a carpet. It's warm and homey, and even soft compared to the floors at the homeless shelter.

I've never felt the floors of the homeless shelter with my bare feet, though.

I crumble up my toes and stretch them out over the carpet. It feels so...safe.

I get up out of bed and walk down the hall and into the kitchen, but no one's there. I poke my head into the living room, but it's empty too.

I frown a bit, wondering where everyone are. I can hear noises, telling me that someone's home, but I can't find them.

Gerard?

I walk back through the kitchen and over to the staircase leading down to the basement. I can hear booms and thuds. It sounds like music.

Quietly, I walk down the stairs towards Gerard's door, but halfway down the stairs, I quit being quiet. He wouldn't be able to hear me walk down the stairs anyways, because of how loud he's playing his music. I don't really recognize the band he's blasting, but then again, I haven't really had any opportunities to listen to a whole lot of music for some time.

I knock on the door, but I don't think he hears it. I wait a little while to see if, by any chance, he did hear it, but when he doesn't open the door, I do.

I step inside.

Everything is a mess. There're clothes everywhere, just like usual, but now there are also pieces of paper all over – on the walls, the floor, his bed, his bookshelves, his TV – and his CDs are spread all those places too. He's usually got his CDs stacked or at least in some sort of order, but now, they're everywhere.

And I didn't know he drew.

Gerard himself is sitting in the middle of this huge mess, on his bed, with a sketch pad in his lap and a pencil in his hand. He isn't drawing anything. He hasn't started on anything yet. He's just staring at the paper.

“Hi!” I scream.
He jumps.

I smile and wave at him, but for 5 seconds, he just stares back at me. Then, suddenly, he jumps out of bed, tossing the sketch pad aside and runs over to his stereo to turn down the music. Even though he doesn't turn it completely off, it's suddenly very quiet.
He turns around and looks at me again for 5 seconds.

“Hi,” he finally says.

“Hi,” I say back, at a lack of anything else clever to say. Not that that was clever. In fact, it was stupid. I should've just kept my mouth shut.
Why does my stomach hurt?

“Sleep well?” he asks before he quickly shifts his gaze to the floor and walks over to sit on his bed again.

“Yeah.” I go to sit next to him.

Why did he have to find out? Now everything is so awkward. He can't even talk to me. Maybe we didn't talk a hell of a lot before this, but we could at least find something lame to fill in the silence with. Some lame conversation about the weather or what kind of car we would want if we could ever afford it or who we'd never sleep with. The last one I've even talked with Mikey about a couple of times, so I think Gerard and I could at least be qualified as being friends.

So why is everything so tense and silent right now?

“I'm sorry,” Gerard suddenly says. I lift my gaze from my hands to him. He's not looking at me, but at something behind me.
“About your mom.”

My stomach suddenly feels like it's made out of cement, and for a moment, the world goes a little blurry from all the tears that try to press their way out of my eyes.

“It's not your fault,” I say quietly and look down at my hands again.

A long silence stretches out in the room, making it seem like the music is turned down even further, just because we go quiet.

I wish he would just tell me that it will all be okay. I know he doesn't know that, but if at least one of us believes it, then maybe it will happen. Maybe everything would turn out okay.

But I know he can't promise me that. Even if the Ways took me in and let me stay here, then I just know that the authorities would somehow be told or figure out that I wasn't their son and then they'd take me away. I'm only 16. I'm not old enough to take care of myself, and even though living with the Ways wouldn't be taking care of myself, the authorities wouldn't accept it, because they're not my real family. Even though I want them to be.

“Are you okay?” Gerard asks. My heart skips at the sudden question, and then it skips because I know what I have to say isn't what he wants to hear. It isn't even what I want to hear. But it's the truth.

“No,” I whisper. My voice is all broken and worn from the suppressed tears I've been keeping in my throat. It hurts.
“I feel so alone,” I whisper a little quieter, as if it'll make the truth less true. But I know I can't lie. I've got this stabbing, empty, burning feeling in my chest and my stomach that seems to just grow and grow each second. All I feel like I can do is cry, but I don't want to. I don't want to break down, because then the pain would just get even worse.

Suddenly, with no warning, no notice, no preparation, Gerard kisses me. He presses his lips against mine. Even though my head is hung low and my lips are quivering, he keeps his lips pressed against mine in such a gentle, yet persistent, way.

They're so warm. I miss them when they suddenly disappear and the cold air from the room hits my lips again. I open my eyes even though I didn't notice having closed them.

Gerard is looking terrified. He looks pale and his breaths are short and uneven. His eyes are wide open and his mouth slightly agape.

I stare at him. I just stare. I can't do anything but stare.

Until I kiss him back. I place my lips on his, parting mine to meet his perfectly, because of his open mouth. I press my lips against his and move them slightly.

And just as I'd latently hoped for, he moves his as well. He kisses me back. We move our lips against each other, creating a warm, breathtaking, comforting friction that heats up my entire body. I don't think about what I do, I just do it. I don't care what I do, as long as it will continue feeling this...
Amazing.

I never knew I felt this way. I never knew that I even could. But I do.

I'm safe.