You're Not In This Alone
Chapter Two: And You Can't Touch My Brother
His eyes snapped open.
A cold sweat created a film on his pale skin, he wiped it away quickly. He scanned his surroundings through squinted eyes. The gloom began to lift and he remembered where he was, and regretted it.
Reminders of how life had, could have, should have, been surrounded him in the thinning darkness.
Pictures of the two of them glittered in the street light filtering in through the gap in the curtains. He didn't know why he kept coming back here. Too many memories haunted the, now yellowing, walls. The smell of his own cigarette smoke sickened him.
He thought of all the times they had spent here together, even though Gerard didn't really live here, he'd spent more time here than his own apartment. He didn't regret it, but it didn't comfort him that it now felt so...empty.
He shook his head to try and displace the memories there. Failing, he stood up and made his way to the bathroom.
The gaunt face that looked back at him in the dim mirror, edges softened by darkness, was a mere shadow of the youthful face that he'd had a few weeks ago. It was worse when he eventually turned found the light switch. He hardly recognised the thin, unhealthy face he saw before him, though he had seen the bloodshot eyes before. He just hadn't seen himself like this sober before.
He splashed cold water, guttering from the broken tap, onto his new and familiar face, letting it wash away the little sleep he'd been able to get. The nightmares hadn't left him alone all night, from what he'd done...to what he wanted to do.
He'd been missing for three weeks. His brother, his little brother. The only family he had left, and he'd gone missing.
Little Mikey.
He swayed back into Mikey's old living room, almost trying to kid himself that the sweet little brother he knew and loved would fall through that door, blind drunk, fall into the well worn couch, murmuring something about needing a strong coffee.
A cold sweat created a film on his pale skin, he wiped it away quickly. He scanned his surroundings through squinted eyes. The gloom began to lift and he remembered where he was, and regretted it.
Reminders of how life had, could have, should have, been surrounded him in the thinning darkness.
Pictures of the two of them glittered in the street light filtering in through the gap in the curtains. He didn't know why he kept coming back here. Too many memories haunted the, now yellowing, walls. The smell of his own cigarette smoke sickened him.
He thought of all the times they had spent here together, even though Gerard didn't really live here, he'd spent more time here than his own apartment. He didn't regret it, but it didn't comfort him that it now felt so...empty.
He shook his head to try and displace the memories there. Failing, he stood up and made his way to the bathroom.
The gaunt face that looked back at him in the dim mirror, edges softened by darkness, was a mere shadow of the youthful face that he'd had a few weeks ago. It was worse when he eventually turned found the light switch. He hardly recognised the thin, unhealthy face he saw before him, though he had seen the bloodshot eyes before. He just hadn't seen himself like this sober before.
He splashed cold water, guttering from the broken tap, onto his new and familiar face, letting it wash away the little sleep he'd been able to get. The nightmares hadn't left him alone all night, from what he'd done...to what he wanted to do.
He'd been missing for three weeks. His brother, his little brother. The only family he had left, and he'd gone missing.
Little Mikey.
He swayed back into Mikey's old living room, almost trying to kid himself that the sweet little brother he knew and loved would fall through that door, blind drunk, fall into the well worn couch, murmuring something about needing a strong coffee.