And I'm Paralyzed

Mikey:

I couldn't explain it, but I knew that Gerard would find a reason to hate himself for what had happened to me. He would hurt himself and say it was for me, and I didn't need that. I was cleaner now, the only thing that was still bleeding was my nose, and I was doing my best with that, and I was numb on the inside. I was afraid to go downstairs, I knew he already assumed I hated him, and I didn't want to face him bruised and broken like this.

I avoided the moment when I would be forced to face him until Mom got home and called me down to eat. If there was one thing that woman was strict about, it was the intake of food by her children. I think it came from a mix of our Italian heritage and Gerard's unwillingness to be a part of our family.

Sighing, I trudge down the stairs, dragging my feet and keeping my head low. My mom didn't notice the damage in the beginning, but just as Gee showed up, she gasped loudly.

“Michael James Way, what on earth happened to you!?” her voice was shrill with distress. I had forgotten the black eye, the most obvious of my injuries. I didn't answer.

Gerard let out a short breath, his hazel eyes shining with an emotion I was afraid to classify. If he wasn't careful, Mom would catch on that we weren't distant anymore. I could feel his eyes burning into me, but I kept my own fixed on the grey carpet.

“Mikey,” she said shortley, “did you get into a fight?”

I don't answer for a moment, but my mother opens her mouth to begin again, “No, Mom. I just, uh, got pushed around in the halls today. There was, erm, a pep rally and everyone was in a hurry. The guy who punched me even apologized and stuff, it wasn't like he did it on purpose. Don't worry.”

She glared at me in a way that told me she didn't quite believe the story, but she nodded curtly, “I have heard those events can get out of hand...” she mumbled, trying to reassure herself.

Gerard, on the other hand, was anything but fooled. He was a master of deception, he had to be, our parents didn't know he cut himself the way he did, and he saw straight through his little brother's cheesy lie. The look he was drilling into me told me that after we ate, I'd have some serious explaining to do.

Dad got home just in time to eat with us. It was a rare occurance, but we didn't mind so long as he didn't talk about shower curtains or ducks. Today, he told us about shower curtains with ducks printed on them. What fun.

He didn't notice my eye until Mom very smoothly pointed it out. At which point he asked if I had received the wound from a duck-printed shower curtain. Gerard laughed.

And the whole table went dead silent. Everyone turned to stare at him. He blinked and turned around quickly.

“Whut? Don't you fucking tell me I missed Spiderman AGAIN.” Gerard exclaimed.

Mom chocked for a moment before staring between me and Gee, “G-Gerard, don't cuss.”

I almost laughed at the looks on their faces. He had laughed, which had caused them to freak because their emotionless shell of a son suddenly has a sense of humor. Not only that, but he made a witty Spiderman remark. Oh, fucking noes.

At least he had succeeded in turning their attention away from me, which was his goal the whole time, I think. Dinner eneded, with more splutters of disbelief from both of my parents, before I caught Gee mouthing “Downstairs in five” which I took to meant I had to sneak downstair in five minutes.

I waited, or dreaded, the moment when my parents finally left and I managed to squeeze down into the basement stairwell, quietly making my way down to his bolted door.

I knocked four times. He answered imidiatly, drabbing my arm and dragging me into his room before promptly shutting it and locking all of his locks. He turned to stare at me.

“Mikey,” he began, “that was a terrible lie. What happened to you?”

I sighed and sat down on his bed. I was going to keep him as far drom the truth as possible, because the last thing I wanted was him throwing a tantrum about this and blowing my injuries out of proportion. It's not like I was dead or anything.

Gerard took my silence as a comfermation of his worst possibilities, “Mikey, you can tell me what bastard did this to you, or you can stay quiet and I'll... well, I'll force it out of you.”

I snorted, “How do you plan to do that?”

He gave me a quizical look before pushing me back on his bed and starddling me. My eyes were the size of dinner plates, and his warm breath carressed my neck and ear, “Feel familiar, Mikey?”

I shivered as nerve endings all along my sides and spine burned, but in a good way. He was adressing the time I'd teased him, and I didn't think he had the courage or discipline to attempt the intimacy between us.

I am surprised by how hard I'm shaking and how tight my stomach feels. I'm surprised when he leans down and trails butterfly kisses along by searing skin, I'm surprised he doesn't feel the heat, I'm surprised when he breaths into my ear, “Want to tell me me what happened?”

I'm quite surprised at the tightness in my pants, but I try (and fail) to ignore it, trying to force the words out. Gee's making it incredibly hard for me, rocking our hips together slowly and still trailing those tantalizing kisses up my skin.

“I- uh, well, these, uhm, guys, they, uh...”

His lips brush my ear once more, and he whispers, “Wouls it be easier of I got off you?”

I nodd hastily, and Gerard pulls himself off me, giving me a moment to let my heart rate return to normal. After a few minutes, he sits down next to me and scruffs my hair. Certainly a more brotherly thing to do that what we were going a minute ago...

He looks smug, I don't know if it's because of the rape (I wouldn't call it rape, you can't rape the willing...) or because he's going to find out what happened. Then, in a sudden transformation, he looks truly concerned about my injuries.

“Please tell me what happened Mikey.” he says quietly.

I nod and proceed, “I got my ass kicked.”

There was a long silence, before, “I assumed as much. Wanna give me more, uh, info there?”

“Ya, I got my ass kicked by two jocks named Travis and Derek-”

Gerard cut me off, “No. Fucking. Way. The hell would they pick on you for? They usually only bother Seniors... Oh, oh no. It had to do with me.”

It wasn't a question. Both of us knew. I stared at the ground, not meeting his eyes. He blew out a long sigh.

“God, Mikey, I'm so sorry. I... wow. I can't believe this. I just... I'll kill them.”

It amazes me that he can go from dead calm to pshyco killer in an instant. And he doesn't use chainsaws. If I had to guess, I'd say his weapon of choice would be a spork. That aside...

“Gerard,” I began, only to be cut off once more.

“No, Mikey, they deserve to hurt for hurting you. I'll rip their fucking dicks off. I bet they don't even have dicks. I'll rip their mama's dicks off.” he growled.

I don't know if I'm messed up for finding that amusing, but I'm messed up for various other reasons, so I just learned to go with it, “Gee, don't get yourself into trouble...”

A look came into his eyes, and I knew he was thinking about it being all his fault. I grabbed his shoulders and shook him, hard, “Listen to me, Gerard. This isn't your fault. It's not your fault. If you hurt yourself tonight, I'm going to stand up to those bullies and get my ass kicked two times harder. I'll cut myself. If you hurt yourself anymore, I'm going to hurt myself. I'm tired of you hurting yourself. I know. I know it's an escape, I know it's your way of coping with your feelings for me, but Jesus, Gerard, I feel the same way towards you and I don't cut.”

He stared at me, his eyes wide. At first I didn't understand why he was just gaping at me like that. But then it occurred to me what I had just admitted. I swallowed.

“You feel the same way?”