And I'm Paralyzed

Mikey:

The next day was one of the most uneventful of my entire life up to the point when I got home from school. I threw my stuff in my room and when downstairs to look for something eatable to consume, finding potato chips and settling on them. I collapsed onto my couch and flicked on our T.V, finding a hot anchorwoman and watching her lips move without registering any noise.

About five minutes later, Gerard got home, slamming the door hard enough to shake the house. I looked up at him, but he was cussing under his breath and growling things like, “Fuck them,” and “Only one who can hurt me...”

I called his name, but he ignored me, throwing the door to the basement open and aggressively shut it behind him. He crashed down the stairs and into his room, shouting now about something I couldn't hear.

I hated when got like this. It took him hours and a talk from me to calm down, and even after he did, he was often quite moody afterwords. I waited until the shouting and banging had stopped for a whole ten minutes before going down and standing at his door. I could hear heavy breathing, but nothing else. I wondered what he was doing. I reached forward and twisted the doorknob, slightly surprised when it opened.

I stuck my head inside, “Ger- Oh my god, no!”

He was standing with his back to me, a gun to his head and one finger teasing the trigger. I almost leapt into the room, but he turned and faced me, a look that told me if I came closer he'd pull the trigger. I slipped all the way into his room, closing the door slowly and using a reassuring tone, “G-gerard, come on, there's no reason for this. Please put the gun down.”

He just stared at me blankly. It registered in my head there were blood stains on his shirt and dripping down both arms. “Why?” he asked.

“Because, y-you can't kill yourself, please! I need you, y-you're my brother! You can't so this, please. Please, Gerard, put the gun down. You're my best friend and my brother... please....”

His hazel eyes were full of pain, “Why don't you hate me? You should hate me. Why don't you want me dead? Why don't you hate me?”

“Because...” I searched frantically for a reason to make him put the gun down, “because you're my brother and I love you!”

Far from helping him, his eyes flashed angrily and his finger tightened slightly on the trigger, “No you don't.”

“I-I do! I do, please, Gee. If you kill yourself, I'll kill myself with the same gun. Won't you stop this, please, for me?” I whimpered, pleading with the resilient death-wish firmly lodged in Gerard's mind.

His shoulders relaxed and he whispered, “No, Mikey, don't kill yourself once I'm gone, I'm not worth it.”

I didn't even realize it, but tears were steadily flowing down my face. I forced my voice to be cold, “Gerard, stop. Put the gun down, now. This is stupid. I understand it hurts, but you told me you wouldn't ever intentionally hurt me, and you're threatening to kill yourself. That would hurt me. Do you want me to spend my life locked in my room crying and never losing my virginity or doing anything with anyone because you killed yourself.”

Gerard glared at me, casting the gun onto his bed. I ran forward, grabbing it and holding it away from him. I put the gun down as far away from him as possible before walking over to him and hugging him tightly. Some of the blood was still wet, and I'm sure it soaked into my shirt, but it didn't matter.

“Come here,” I whispered in his ear. He nodded and followed me as I led him to the bathroom across the hall from his room.

I closed and locked the door, walking over to the tub and plugging the drain before turning up the water as hot as it would go and left it to fill up the tub. “Take off your clothes.” I told him.

He obediently stripped his bloody shirt, revealing his even more stained chest. There were long incisions in his shoulders that were apparently where the blood had come from, though I saw some up his left side as well. I didn't know he cut anywhere other than his wrist.

I helped him with his jeans, and he was left in his boxers. I didn't attempt to remove those, turning away so he could remove them himself. I helped him over to the bathtub, as he lowered himself into the hot water, he sighed, a mix of pain from the hot water on his wounds and comfort from the warmth.

Gerard closed his eyes and leaned back. I took his soap and lathered it on a washcloth before taking one of his arms out of the water gently and carefully washing the dried blood from his skin. I proceeded to wash his entire upper body in this manner, appreciative sighs and whispers escaping him every now and then. I'd never thought of myself taking such care of him. I was glad I could prove I loved him, though.

I got considerably more nervous as I ran the washcloth beneath the water over his thighs, biting my lip as I moved it around and along his inner thigh. I felt Gerard's body stiffen, too, and the washcloth brushed his length. He bit down on his lip, blushing lightly. I tried to imagine anything that would keep me from getting hard, but it was too late.

I continued stroking him, but no longer just to wash him. I watched his face contort into one of pleasure and lust as I continued running my fingertips along his shaft.

“Gerard?” I whispered, squeezing him slightly.

He moaned and stuttered a response, “Y-yes, Mikes?”

I took his member in my hand and pumped slowly, causing him to shudder and moan again, “I think I can try to love you back... but I don't know if the feelings are real.”

“K-kay. Mikes? Thank for... mm- oh, s-saving me.” he whispered, his head fell back on his neck slightly.

I released his length, leaning forward and kissing him on the forehead before pulling my hand out of the water and turning away from him.

He cussed loudly as I left him in the bath in a state of sexual frustration, “You fucking tease!” he screamed after me.

I giggled and headed back up to my room, but not before steeling into his room and taking the gun up with me.