We're All Just Victims of a Crime

The night was calmer than the afternoon we had shared. Shouted words were replaced with stifled laughter as we tried to focus on the sounds of Bob arguing with himself in his room. Hurtful words became melodies we hummed together while listening to whichever CD Frankie randomly selected.

Time had passed in a flurry as we rested on my bed. At times wrapped up in one another so tightly I forgot who was who. Others I sat with my back along the wall watching him intently as he stood around my room. His fingers traced my walls and furniture enough that I was convinced my room was burned into his memory. For someone who had only dealt with the loss for such a short time he managed to look graceful.

He was restless again and I found myself slouched back. The coolness of the wall was welcoming as I brushed my unruly hair back from my face. The glare that had shined through my window during his last lap around the room had disappeared.

“It’s late isn’t it?” I glanced over to find him standing only feet away.

“Yeah how’d you know?” I stretched feeling a pop in my tired shoulders. Sighing I slid back down pressing my face into my pillow smelling his cologne.

“I don’t feel the heat anymore. I should be a detective.” He mused making his way around, this time without an extended hand as if he were testing his memory.

“As awesome as that would be I really don’t see how that would work. I’m sorry if that crushes your hopes and dreams.” I mumbled rolling onto my back and stared at the pasty white ceiling.

“Whatever shall I do with myself?” He cried out sarcastically causing me laugh.

“Join the circus maybe?”

“Oh I know! I’ll be the one who throws the knives at the person on the spinning wheel. Gee you don’t get motion sickness do you?”

“On second thought how about you don’t join the circus. You’ll end up chopping off my hair.”

“Damn,” with a frown he plopped back down the bed and landing on top of me.

“Ow! You know you’re not that comfortable from a falling point.” He groaned as he used his elbows to push himself back up.

“No shit and your elbows are really bony. Did you know that?” I asked as he finally rested against my side. Lips pressed to the side of my arm.

“Yeah what can I say I’m a growing boy?”

“Growing?” I snorted earning a slap to my chest.

“Alright I’m sorry.” I laughed turning to pull him towards me.

Silence filled the room as the last song came to an end yet neither of could be bothered to move from our spots. With tired eyes I rested my forehead against the top of his. Feeling his warmth and the tapping of fingers against my back I was content. Everything could disappear, school, work, and I would happily rid myself of the nightmares just to stay awake and lay in the very spot with him.
Those nightmares that felt too real. They lingered for hours and sometimes days. I was still convinced there was more to the story and that there was no way it could be chocked up to coincidence. Frankie was so determined to convince me it was nothing and its done nothing but convince me otherwise.

“Hey, Frankie?” I whispered hoping he hadn't fallen asleep.

“Hmm?”

“I just want you to know that if I had done it, it wouldn’t have been your fault.”

The drumming of his fingers came to a stop as he cleared his throat. “Done what?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Gerard don’t… please let’s not talk about this.” His voice was quiet as he tightened his hold.

“No. I need to talk about it and you’re the only person I can talk to about it. I can’t with my parents because I know they won’t understand. They’ll try but they can’t and I’ll only make Mikey feel guilty. So please just listen? Please just bear with me for a few minutes?” I begged.

“Alright.”

“First and foremost understand that you were never the reason for my depression. I’ve been like this for so long Frankie. For years I’ve felt incomplete. Like I’m this book or a piece of art that’s just laid out and forgotten. Abandoned as if the original artist had walked away and I came in to finish it and I don’t know what it is. I don’t know what it’s meant to be just that every time I tried to make a decision it was a wrong. Everything is always wrong and I’m corrupting something that could have been great. I’m so tired of corrupting everything, Frankie.

They tried to help me in the beginning you know, my parents? Even Mikey, but when I didn’t get better things just went downhill even faster. I would hear them talk to each other about how they didn’t know who I was anymore. How much they missed the old me. It would make me so angry because I couldn’t understand how they could talk like that. I hated myself because I couldn’t be that person. I resented who I had been because that was who they wanted. They wanted the son who could laugh and smile freely. I couldn’t give them that but Mikey could.

Mikey’s the pure one. He isn’t an abandoned piece of art. He’s so smart and there are times I’ll just sit and listen to him and these things he comes up with or goes on about leave me amazed. Its so hard to stay away from him because I’m so proud but everything in me tells me I’ll only ruin him. I can’t ruin him.

Nothing makes sense to me anymore, Frankie. I used to look at a piece of paper and I could picture an entire world that was just waiting to be created. Now I look at paper and I see something I’m wasting. That day you showed up when I was out by the tree during lunch? I had been drawing that same damn picture every day for almost a year. Everything is a repetition and I’m tired, I’ve been tired and I’m falling behind. I see everyone moving and doing all of these things with their lives and I’m stuck in the same spot staring at something that was never finished.

Everything in me feels wrong and I don’t understand why. Why I feel so erratic or why I just want to lay down and never get back up. I didn’t use to be like this Frankie. I don’t know how I became this and it makes me so angry. I wanted to end it and I was going to. I just wanted silence. I wanted everything in me that was screaming to stop. I want to create things again. I want to be close to people and not feel like I’m ruining them or that I’m the cause for every horrible thing.”

I hadn’t realized how worked up I was until warmth touched my lips. Taking a deep breath I closed my eyes listening as he shushed me with fingertips trailing my cheek.

“Deep breaths,” he whispered as I finally got my breathing back under control.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, Gerard why would you be sorry? I can’t imagine how hard that is to get off your chest.”

“I feel so fucked up. I don’t want to feel fucked up.”

“Gerard,” he demanded with fingers gripping my chin, “you are not fucked up. Depression doesn't mean you’re screwed up it means you’re depressed. So maybe you’re not all together, maybe you’re not perfect. I don’t give a damn. You’re you and if this is the version I get then I’ll take it. I’m not going to lose you again.”

Nodding I pressed my forehead to his and took another deep breath. Feeling exhaustion spread through my body I held him tighter. He made everything sound better and I only hoped it was as easy as he made it seem.

“Feel better?”

“Mhmm… I just have one question.”

“What’s that?” he asked as he trailed his fingers through my hair.

“You said you won't lose me again. When did you lose me the first time?”