Troubles

Mikey opens the door, just as I'm about to ring the doorbell a second time. He pulls me inside by my arm and steers me towards the living room.

“Frank,” Donna says relieved from her spot in – what I thought was – Donald's chair. Donald is sitting on the couch next to Gerard. He's looking up at me, while Gerard has got his head hung low and his fingers tangled up in a big mess in his lap.
“Are you okay?” Donna asks. I tear my eyes away from Gerard and look at Donna. I notice that my eyebrows are raised, as if I'm surprised.

“Yeah,” I answer weakly. Donna looks at me sympathetically, and I realize that my voice sounded...disappointed.
I look down at my hands as I start rubbing them together.

“Maybe you two should go to bed,” Donna suggests. I don't argue, knowing it would be no use – not by Donna's tone of voice, but by the situation. I have no right saying anything. This is a family matter, and I'm not family. No matter how safe and comforted and at home I felt tonight – just by being around the Ways as a family – I'm not part of them. I'm just a guest.

Also, Gerard should be the one to decide. And since he doesn't object to Donna's suggestion, I turn around and walk down the hall. I can hear that Mikey doesn't follow me, but I just keep walking. They deserve their privacy.

When I get to Mikey's room, I sit down on the futon with my legs crossed. I look down at my hands like before.

What did I do to deserve all of this? For the first time in so long, I ask myself this. I asked myself when my dad left, and again when my mom decided we should separate, but this is the first time since. But no matter how many times I ask that question, I never get an answer – there just doesn't seem to be one.

I look up when I hear footsteps, and I smile weakly when Mikey walks in. He smiles back with his eyes, then turns his back to me and sits on the futon. He leans back against his bed and I do the same. He sighs.

“They seem to be pretty acceptant,” Mikey mumbles. He sounds let down: just what I feel. I look over at him and for a moment feel just a tiny bit more hopeful. I look down again, trying to preserve the feeling for as long as I can, but after a quick moment, I feel alone again. It's ridiculous since I know Mikey feels the same way as I do, but still, I feel like we can't be compared.

He feels let down because his brother didn't tell him he was gay and in love with his best friend. And his best friend didn't tell him either. Well, his best friend never knew he was gay – that is if I'm gay – but he did admit that he felt something for his brother when he actually realized that he felt something.

I'm disappointed because Gerard...just...left.

Why is it that I can describe Mikey's disappointment so much better than my own and still feel that mine is greater?

Maybe it's because Gerard left me. He didn't leave Mikey. In fact, he seemed to go to Mikey for comfort. But he didn't come to me. He left me – ran off – when I tried to make things better. I wanted to talk with Donald. I wanted to tell him that he shouldn't be mad at Gerard. Or at me. And then, Gerard just left. And worst of all; he left for somewhere that I couldn't find him. He found me! The least he could do was let me find him!

I just wanted to help and make him feel better. I just fucking tried to fucking help him.

“Are you okay?” Mikey suddenly asks.

I sob. I try so hard to hold it back and stay strong, but the sobs just keep coming. Within seconds, my eyes, cheeks and hands are soaked. I try to hide my face in my hands, but soon enough, Mikey's arm helps hide my face from the world. He leans his chin on the top of my head and just wraps his arms around me, pressing me against his chest. And though the pressure inside and around my head hurts, it's the comfort that I need.

And yet, there's this gnawing feeling in my gut that I've come to know all too well. It's this hollow feeling. It's like there's someone digging a hole in my stomach with a tea spoon; it's slowly getting bigger and bigger, and no matter what, I know that there's only two ways it can go away, and as much as I hate to admit it, it's the truth.

One is if my mom was holding me instead of Mikey.

The other is Gerard.

“I just wanted to help,” I sob out. Mikey wraps his arms around me tighter, rubbing my back and pressing my head against his chest.

“Where did you go?” Mikey asks, though I can barely hear him for my sobs and for the fact that he's covering my one ear.

I sob, trying to get words out and answer him, but the pressure in my chest is just ever-growing. The hole just keeps getting bigger and bigger, and there's nothing I can do to stop it – not even crying helps. I just can't get it out. I can't get the anxiety out.

My tears fade quickly when I realize this. They just seem to automatically stop when they find out they have absolutely no purpose. My breathing, on the other hand, becomes faster and more irregular. I gasp for breath, then hold it to try and gain control, but that only makes me more anxious.

“Relax. Just relax. Slow breaths. Just breathe slowly. Real slowly,” Mikey says rushed, as if he's desperate for me to calm down. I know he must be; he's always uncomfortable with people being upset, so of course he wants me to calm down as soon as possible.

And I try. I really do try. I try to control my breathing, but all it does it make the hole bigger. It just hurts so much.

And then, suddenly, it's all over. Mikey is rocking me back and forth softly as I breathe calmly and just rest in his embrace. I don't know what happened. Maybe I blacked out, or maybe it all just stopped for no reason at all; just like it seemed to start for no reason at all. I don't know why I panicked. I don't know what happened. And I have no idea how I calmed down so sudden.

“The bus stop,” I whisper into Mikey's chest.

I don't feel anything. The pain is gone; the anxiety has vanished. My eyes and cheeks are dry, though Mikey's t-shirt is still moist.

“Gerard found me there last week. I thought he'd be there,” I say softly, my voice slowly – carefully – getting louder and louder. It's as if I don't wanna risk breaking down again, even though, right now, I feel more numb than ever.
“I thought he'd let me find him. I just wanted to help,” I say, my voice suddenly smaller.
“I just wanted to be there for him.”

Mikey doesn't say anything, but I can feel him move. I think he's nodding by the way his chin in rubbing against my scalp.

I think this is the closest I've ever been to him. We've hugged before, but this isn't really a hug. If it was, it would've been awkward by now, and it just isn't. He's just holding me and being there for me. I'm not holding him. If I held him, it would've been a hug, and then it would've been awkward almost immediately. But this is just an embrace – a comfort. And I love him for that. That's why he's my best friend.

But I also love Gerard. I love Gerard because he took care of me, without pitying me. He never pitied me. He didn't give me sad looks or treat me any different when he found out. He treated me differently when he thought I volunteered to help the homeless, but when he found out I was one, it was as if he didn't care – like nothing had changed.

I guess that's when I realized he'd always been there for me; one way or another. He had supported me and subconsciously understood when I couldn't make a book report or when I didn't have any lunch money. Even after he found out, he still understood.

How could I have ever been so mean to him? He never deserved that. He never deserved me treating him like a cheat or a pitier. He never felt bad for me. And I never felt bad about him. I've felt nothing but good around him.

He makes me relaxed. When I see him, I automatically feel relieved, even when I didn't even know I was tense and worried.

He's always helped me out, whether he's known or not – just by being there.

I feel Mikey take a deep breath and it isn't until I've pulled away from him and look at his face that I realize that he was about to say something, and still, I say something before he does:

“I love him, Mikey.”