Born and Broken Every Single Time.

I sat on Mikey's bed for a good ten minutes, my back pressed against the wall as I waited for something to happen. Soon enough Mikey appeared with a goofy grin, making me smile faintly. He didn't pick up on anything wrong, reminding myself of Gerards words on his little brother. 'It's not his thing.' It wasn't down to insensitivity, it wasn't down to anything bad, he was just oblivious to the signals.

"My dad said there's a good film on later, we're having a movie night!" he squealed excitedly. "That okay with you?"

I nodded with a faint smile, admiring his enthusiasm of the situation and receiving a grin from Mikey. He headed down the hall to inform his brother on the evening's plans in the exact same way he had just told me. Unlike my polite acceptance of the situation, Gerard snapped at his brother and soon enough it was becoming a heated exchange.

"Look, dad thought it would be nice," Mikey snapped.

"Well good for him, but I'm not really in the mood for watching some shitty film with you lot," Gerard snarled. I'd never heard such anger in his voice; I couldn't even form a mental image of him being angry especially after our talk today.

"You're such an ass," he yelled at his older brother. "It's no surprise though, all you do is fucking sponge of them, heaven forbid you'd actually spend some quality time with them, huh?"

"Get out," Gerard balled. I could hear footsteps and presumed Gerard got up. Before I could think of what was going on I saw Mikey fall to the floor in front of his door and look with a frown in the direction of Gerard's room. Soon the door slamming resounded the house as Mikey stood up, returning to me calmly before explaining he'd just been pushed over, Gerard wouldn't do anything physically violent, he was a coward in that respect.

"He's such a dick," Mikey frowned. "Seriously, he won't even get a job. He just lives off our parents and it pisses me off that he can't even forsake a night and spend it with them. It's not that much to ask, if he took his head out of his ass he might even enjoy it."

"Hmm," I muttered, thinking of him sitting next door and wondering what he was like. I felt my heart sink even further as I thought of the looks he gave me, his tearstained eyes locking on mine, pleading me to stop asking questions. I started twiddling my fingers awkwardly as some distraction. I couldn't let myself think about this.

"Are you okay?" Mikey asked. "You seem like you're not here."

"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "I'm just thinking, nothing major."

"Cool," he smiled. "You coming then?"

I nodded and followed Mikey out of his room. I automatically looked around as we reached the top of the stairs, staring expectantly at Gerards door as if I thought something would happen. I guess inside I secretly hoped it did. I hoped he'd open the door right this second, ask to talk to me and tell me to ignore everything he said. I didn't know how I could cope losing the only person who offered me 'fucking stability' in their support, even though I'd been oblivious to how much he helped. But now I knew, I could see so much clearer what he had done, the little things he did helping me out.

"Son of a-"

"Watch your language," Mrs. Way intervened, stopping her husbands pending profanity as the power cut half an hour into the film. It was a horror from the eighties and although it probably was deemed scary at the time, I found more hilarity in it as I watched. I looked at Mikey, the streetlights from outside offered a faint illumination of the lounge so we could see and no more.

"You'd be as well going back to your room Mikes," his dad sighed. "Judging by usual standards we'll be here for a while."

"Okay," he sighed reluctantly. You could tell he had been really into the film even though he jumped at every poor attempt at horror that was portrayed. Tomato ketchup blood made me laugh. Tomato ketchup blood made Mikey cringe, that was just how it was. "Wait, wasn't I meant to call granddad?"

"Gosh, yeah," his father muttered. I giggled slightly at his statement, knowing he had just held back for the benefit of his wife who was nodding approvingly, a sly smirk gracing her face.

"You'd be as well heading up," he sighed, turning back to me. "I could be a while."

I grinned and patted his back as a good luck for the pending call. His grandfather was a nice guy, he just had a tendency to talk, talk some more and repeat himself that extra bit. Added to the fact he had some hearing trouble it made for pretty lengthy phone calls and although it was nice to talk to him, the frustration gained from it was understandable.

I dragged myself back up the stairs, glancing at Gerards door, which still remained shut as I strolled back into Mikey's room. I cast my mind back to the last time I was here during a power cut, that was months ago. It was strange to look back a certain amount of time and find you can recall every moment in perfect detail. I remember the yawn inducing game of I Spy and Mikey's desperation to get the right answer. I remember when he tried to keep playing after I told him to stop, then when he resignedly headed downstairs to get us drinks. I remember the split second talk I had with Gerard in the hall, then I remember… and Mikey stumbled in the hall, giggling as he couldn't feel his way to his room. I remember having to guide him there and then I played the guitar to pass some time.

Different power cut, same position. I sat in the middle of Mikeys' room on the floor, clutching the guitar that still remained in his room. I never understood why Gerard hadn't taken it back. Maybe he always knew I'd be back at some point. I didn't know anymore. All I knew was that he understood a lot more than I ever thought. He cared a lot more than I ever thought.

As I ran my fingers gently along the strings, I searched my mind for something to play. I strummed a few chords randomly in search of some inspiration but as I heard the door further down the hall open gently, I didn't have to search any more. As I heard him walk into the bathroom, I cleared my mind for what I was going to do. I took a deep breath before I attempted Sweet Child O' Mine again, just like I did the day Gerard gave me this guitar for my stay.

As few moments passed, I heard the door being unlocked before swinging open and closing again. I felt my muscles tense up as I realised he hadn't shut his own door, making me think he was still in the hall but I focussed on the song, not letting my thoughts make me mess up.

I heard a gentle thud against the wall and wondered what had happened, but I continued. Eventually I heard a faint humming of the lyrics from outside and I couldn't help but feel a sudden warmness spread over my body. I don't know if he knew I could hear him, I don't think he did or else he would have stopped.

I stopped playing and placed the guitar down gently. I dragged myself over to the door, crawling like I did when I was young and just slumping to lean against the doorframe and look at him. He sat with his back to the wall, his legs stretched in front of him. He had his eyes closed and didn't seem to acknowledge me watching him.

"Don't," he muttered. "I know. You just had to play that fucking song."

He opened his eyes and tilted his head so he looked over at me. I bit my lip nervously, unsure of what I could or should say in this situation. It turns out I didn't need to say anything. Gerard stood up without another word, casually throwing a plectrum in my direction and returned to his room, closing the door behind him without even looking back at me. I sat there, just staring blankly at the little orange plectrum before me.