I See Your Face in Everything

Someone who used to know me.

Those words continued to replay over and over again in my mind throughout the rest of the day. Whenever I tried to decipher what they meant my head only started to hurt.

How was it possible? Had they died? Maybe it was amnesia? Who was the person anyways?

“God,” I groaned rubbing my eyes tiredly as I lay on my bed.

Rolling over I grabbed a pillow and pulled it under my chin where I rested comfortably and stared at the design of my pillow case.

I didn’t understand him. That was my biggest problem. I wanted to, desperately in fact. I wanted to know how that brain of his worked. Why certain things seemed to be such a joke and why others came off as such a personal matter.

Then there was the fact that he was from Europe which I was finding hard to believe. How old had he been when his parents had died? How long had he been in the States? I wanted to ask Mikey, but I knew he wouldn’t give any answer his brother wanted me to find out on my own.

There was a soft knock on my door catching my attention and I looked over, “yeah?”

“Is there anything in particular you wanted for dinner tonight? I can’t decide,” Mom asked as she cracked open my door.

“It doesn’t bother me,” I sighed letting my head fall back down to the pillow.

Nodding she went to shut the door but stopped, opening it back up again with a frown.

“Are you okay, Frank?”

“Yeah,” I nodded but changed my mind and sat up on my arms.

“Hey, Mom, did we ever know any Way’s? Like did they ever live in town?”

She stood there thinking on it before tapping her finger to her lip and looked at the floor, deep in thought. Finally she looked up at me.

“No, at least not that I can remember that is. Why?”

Shaking my head I went back to resting on my bed, “No reason. Just curious is all. Thanks.”

With that my door clicked and I knew she was gone, leaving me alone to my thoughts once again.

Giving in and deciding I would talk to Mikey, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my phone before finding him in my contacts.

Mikeyyy… I need to talk to you.

Rolling onto my back I rested my phone on my stomach and turned my head towards my nightstand where I picked up my stereo remote and turned it on. A random rock song filled my room along with that of my ringtone just a few moments later.

Um, about what exactly?

Smiling I couldn’t help but laugh.

About the migraine that is your Brother.

I didn’t have to wait nearly as long before he responded. Only it wasn’t exactly what I had expected.

Why don’t you just talk to him then?

Huffing I glared at my phone and sat up.

“Because,” I stated as I pressed the buttons, “he’s confusing and doesn’t answer me.”

Hitting send I tossed the phone on my bed before pushing myself up and walked over towards my stack of CD’s. Scanning them I decided upon Rancid and quickly put it in the stereo, grinning as Tim Armstrong’s voice filled my room.

When I walked back to my bed, my phone was lit up and I eagerly opened the message wanting to know what he had sent.

Dude, seriously just get your short self over here and talk to him. I’m playing a game and you keep getting me killed. Mikey no likey. -_-

Laughing I shook my head. He was addicted to video games, I was convinced that he was.

Nevermind. I’ll just deal with it later.

Tossing my phone back on my bed I went over to my guitar stand and picked up Pansy. Looking at the strings I noticed that the guitar pick that I usually had placed snug between them was gone. Scanning the floor I couldn’t find it and groaned.

Carrying it over to my bed anyways I noticed that once again my phone was lit up from a text. Sitting down with my guitar in my lap I opened it. Surprised by what I read.

Too late, I already told Gerard you were coming over. Now you have to. :)

You’re an ass, Mikes. Thanks so much for that.

Looking down at Pansy I sighed shaking my head, “guess we aren’t practicing.”

With that I put the guitar back up just in time for my phone to go off again.

You’re welcome. xD

Rolling my eyes I stuffed my phone in my pocket and grabbed my jacket off the floor before leaving my room. Without thinking I left the house without telling my Mom and headed down the street to the house I had been in not so long ago.

I wasn’t so nervous this time around as I walked up to the door and knocked. I wondered if he would ignore me again though. It wasn’t something that I wanted to deal with again. Knocking I was quickly answered with a shout.

“Just come in! I’m not going to die again just to open a door!” his words traveled through the wall and I opened the door to see him on the couch staring intently at the TV.

Looking at the screen I noticed that I didn’t recognize the game, but whatever it was involved what looked like zombies.

“He’s down in his room, let me know if he’s being anti-social,” he stated never looking away from his game.

“Uh okay, thanks.”

Taking a few steps back I turned towards the door that led downstairs and opened it, this time no music poured out. Looking back at Mikey one last time I descended the stairs in darkness again. Coming up to his door I knocked twice, upon the third try the door swung open.

“So I hear I’m a migraine now. I’m flattered that you’ve been thinking about me, Frank. I truly am,” that smirk was back on his face.

“Don’t be. I wasn’t thinking about you, more like what you told me,” I explained but the smirk stayed.

When he didn’t move and his eyes never left my face I frowned.

“What?”

“You’re lying to me. What did I tell you about that?”

My mouth dropped in shock as he walked away. How did he always know what I thinking? Was I that much of an open book? Even if I was an open book, it wasn’t that easy was it? If so, then why couldn’t I read anyone?

“Okay… so I was. But I only thought about how confusing you are,” I stepped in and shut the door behind me.

He was back at that same desk again, working on art that I couldn’t see from where I was standing.

“So are you going to ignore me again?” I asked not expecting an answer.

“If you want me to, I can. I have a feeling though that you don’t want that,” he answered letting the pencil fall to the wooden desk before turning in his seat to look at me.

“You’re right, I don’t. Does this mean you’ll answer my questions?”

“Maybe,” he replied running a hand through his hair.

“Maybe? What do you mean maybe? You’re not being fair, Gerard. I have no idea what’s going on. You tell me that I act like someone who used to know you and that I need to remember something. I have no blanks in my memory and my Mom said that you’ve never lived in the neighborhood before.”

“You asked your Mom about me? I bet that was interesting,” he stated in amusement.

“Just the opposite really. She had no idea who you are,” I replied and rolled my eyes remembering the event from earlier.

What happened next confused me more than anything that had happened within the last few days. While his face remained passive, his eyes had changed. Quickly they went from curious to what looked to be almost pained.

“What’s wrong?”

He looked back to me and shook his head, hiding the emotions in his eyes by turning away.

“Nothing,” he answered and went back to drawing.

I didn’t know what to think as I stood there, waiting again. I was bored of him acting like this. I was tired of being confused.

“Why can’t you just… just talk to me? I mean this is seriously annoying me, Gerard. If you don’t trust me because you don’t know me then that’s fine, but at least tell me so. God you’re more cryptic than Clue!”

He sat in silence, his shoulders hunched which was unlike him. Every time I had seen him he’d had such perfect posture. There was no sound other than my breathing as I stood there waiting for a reply. I was tempted to go up to Mikey, even if it would seem childish, telling him that his older brother was ignoring me.

“Did you draw a lot as a child?”

The sudden question caught me off guard. What was the point of it?

“I’m waiting on my answer, Gerard,” I stated, refusing to be sidetracked.

“You’ll get one, after you answer mine. Now, did you draw a lot as a child?”

He turned and stood up, his stature made me feel small as he approached me.

“Well?”

He pressed the question now standing only a foot away, head bowed causing his hair to fall like a curtain around his face as our eyes locked.

“No... I mean not that I know of. I’ve never seen any of them,” I answered unsure if that was what he wanted to hear.

Nodding, I think to himself he looked away and straightened while tucking hair behind one ear and looked back to me.

“I do trust you, its just a matter of you understanding. Now, I think that you should ask your Mother.”

“Ask her what?”

“What I asked you,” he answered placing a hand on my shoulder and looked past me before letting it fall back to his side.

“I have to go, I’ll see you at school, Frank.”

Stepping by me he disappeared out his door, not even the faintest thump came through the room as he made his way up the stairs.

Looking down at his floor I frowned and shook my head before following his path, only instead of leaving the house I stayed in the living room. Sitting down next to Mikey, watching as he played his game.

“So how’d it go?”

He asked monotonously, obviously too engrossed in the game to actually pay attention, but showing that he didn’t want to ignore me.

“I’m still confused as shit if that’s what you wanted to know,” I replied earning a laugh.

“That’s Gerard, for you.”

I stayed for another hour. Laughing as he died, getting punched in the shoulder for laughing. I tried playing too, only I found that I was better off just staying dead. It seemed every time my character would come back to life I would die within a minute. Mikey found it humorous while I only grew annoyed.

It was at the end of that hour that my phone rang loudly in my pocket. Instantly I realized that I hadn’t told my Mom I was leaving. My ear aching as she yelled at me, worried. It seemed that every time I tried to apologize her voice only grew louder. After a good five minutes of being chewed out in one ear and being laughed at in the other I was finally on my way home.

Dinner was quiet, and tense as I kept my eyes on plate. My punishment being dishes and cleaning up. It didn’t bother me because I usually always helped out anyways.

When that was finally done I found my Mom in the laundry room folding clothes, humming to herself.

“Hey, can I ask you about something?”

Turning to me she nodded and laid what looked like Dad’s shirt in a pile.

“I know its random, but did I ever draw when I was younger?”

“You’re right, that is random. What brought this up?”

“I was asked about it today. When I thought about it, I couldn’t remember. I mean I’ve never seen any of them around the house. I was just curious.”

She continued to fold, occasionally looking at me. Sighing she threw the clothes from the washer in the dryer and began to put the folded ones in a basket.

“No sweetheart, you didn’t,” the answer was direct but it sounded forced.

“Seriously? Every kid does it. You can’t expect me to believe that not once did I ever draw something.”

“Frank, I don’t know what you want. You asked a question and I gave you an answer. Make and expect whatever you want, but its the truth. Now do your laundry will you? I’m beginning to wonder if your floor will ever see the light of day again,” she ordered and left me alone.

Groaning I left the room and trudged upstairs. Was anyone going to give the answers I needed? There was no way that I could have not drawn at least once as a little kid. They draw all the time, and over everything. Even if I couldn’t remember, I surely had to of done it sometime.

Walking by the door that led to the attic I paused. The last time I had been up there I’d found a bunch of boxes with my name on it. There had to be something in one of them. Looking down the hall to see that I was alone I opened the door and climbed the stairs.

It was dry, and stuffy. I flipped the switch that turned on the two lights, illuminating everything that had been stored. Making my way towards the stacked boxes I saw my name clear as day on almost all of them.

One after another I opened them, after three I realized that the lower in the stack I got the lower in age I did as well. Which meant that it was all at the bottom. Determination outweighed my annoyance and soon I hit the jackpot.

I could see through pages what looked like scribbles from markers and I closed it up before carrying it down the stairs and snuck it to my room. There I reopened the box and simply tipped it over, dumping all of its contents on my bed. Drawings littered my comforter and I grinned.

“I knew it,” I laughed grabbing a handful.

I leafed through the first few. None of them seeming out of the ordinary, other than the fact that they were all done in what looked like a black sharpie on stationary paper.

Was I a bland kid?

Tossing them to the floor I grabbed another handful and noticed that these were done in color and on regular copy paper. It was then that I noticed something, a figure. Flipping quickly through the stack in my hands I found the same thing in every single one of them.

This was crazy, there was no way it could be possible. It was the only thought running through my mind as I tossed them away from me and went through the rest of the drawings on my bed.

“Oh, holy shit,” I breathed staring down at the mess in front of me.

How the hell did I not remember any of this?