Status: Ongoing writing process. R rating will not become apparent until later. Just FYI :)

Butane and Bullets

Chapter 3 - "Screaming in silence"

Gerard opened the front door, knowing he had no reason to try and use the key. The house was already unlocked. Everyone was waiting for him. He wasn't sure whether to call out that he was home or not, and instead just stood awkwardly in the hallway after he'd shut the door behind him. It actually just felt nice to stand in silence for a couple of minutes. Outside the world was alive with noise. Sirens, screaming, crying, talking, transport, the honks of angry drivers trying to get home... the silence of the house was welcome and in turn welcoming. After a few minutes of alone time, Mikey popped his head round the corner of the lounge door.

"He's home!" he cried to everyone else, and rushed towards his brother. Immediately he drew him in with his arms, as Gerard rested his hands lightly on Mikey's back.
"How long have you been standing there? Why didn't you tell us you were back?"

Gerard simply shook his head, and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of family and familiarity. He felt his mother's hand snake its way into his hair, and leant into the touch appreciatively. When he opened his eyes again, he was faced with his mother's which were streaming with tears. Mikey stepped back and Donna practically fell into Gerard's arms.
"Whoa, mum!"

He had to adjust his stance to support her weight balancing precariously in his embrace, hands fisted in the shirt he'd put on to go to work that morning. She sobbed away into his clothing, and he shot Mikey a pleading look. Gerard had spent those precious minutes inside the door locking away his feelings so that he could deal with the situation at hand, but he still needed help. Because he'd fought to make himself feel numb, the emotion streaming from his mother seemed foreign, strange and altogether difficult to handle.

"Mikes. A little help."

Mikey helped prise Gerard's shirt out of Donna's hands, only for her to fling them around his neck instead, still sobbing. The two brother's eyes met above her head as they decided to shuffle her into the lounge. As her hands were locked in an iron vice behind his neck Gerard had to do most of the work, but Mikey put his arm around their mum and helped as best he could to manoeuvre her into the sitting room.

The second they got through the doorway Gerard's eyes lightened, and he had to fight to keep his emotion-block intact.
"Grandma."

Elena rose to her feet and advanced towards the two boys, eyes fixed firstly on her daughter.
"Donna, come on, let the boy sit down, won't you? We should be fussing round him not you" she chuckled. "Come here, come sit." Donna unlocked her hands from Gerard's neck and Elena took one of her daughter's arms before beckoning to Mikey. "Michael."

He came forward and helped set their mum down on the sofa where he passed her tissues and tried to help her compose herself. Once Donna was seated Elena turned to look at her eldest grandson. He stood awkwardly, arms hanging limply at his sides, embarrassed to have caused his mother to become so overwhelmed with emotion. He half expected Elena to grab hold of him and sob as well, but he swiftly realised she knew him better than that. Lost eyes searched hers. She nodded at him slowly, eyes glistening, and merely ran a soft palm across his cheek.
"Why don't you sit down, Gerard? You must be exhausted."

He knew she was right. The balls of his feet were throbbing from the walk home from Newark, but it was that very pain that he was holding onto. However everything else was so numb that it was nice to feel some sort of sensation, albeit a negative one. And so he remained.
"No, uhh, actually I'd rather stand. You sit though."

She did just that, and took one of Donna's hands in her own.
"Have you calmed down now?" she smiled at her daughter.
"Yes, I think so. Oh Gerard I'm so sorry. I'm just so glad that you're okay."

He shifted his weight to the other foot.
"Yeah, I know. I am okay though." His throat constricted right after he said it, but luckily no one noticed. "Do you think I need to call into work, or...?"

He worked as an intern at the Cartoon Network at that point in time. He got the train from Newark to New York every morning and this one was no exception besides the fact that he'd been told to go straight back.

"They know where you're travelling from, don't they?" asked Donna.
"They'd have to be living under a rock not to notice what's happening just down the street from them" Mikey snorted. "I'm pretty sure they get why you're not there, bro."

Gerard nodded, and the four of them fell into an uncomfortable silence. They all stared up at Gerard clad in black trousers, an ill-fitting jacket and his black and grey pinstriped shirt with the wet patch his mothers tears had created, internally thanking either God or luck that he'd gotten home safely. He soon regretted not taking his grandma's offer to sit. Standing made it even more obvious that he was the centre of attention. She always did know best. Eventually someone had to break the silence, and he decided it was best to take matters into his own hands rather than leave it to the mercy of emotion.

"Where's dad?"
It was his grandmother who answered. Donna and Mikey suddenly seemed to look down into their laps with shame; anywhere but at Gerard, which seemed strange in comparison with the intensity at which they'd both been gazing at him for the past few minutes.
"He went into work. Your father didn't see any reason to stick around once he knew you were safe."

To anyone else Donald's actions might have seemed callous and uncaring, but Gerard kind of wished that the rest of his family had been the same. He needed time before he could let his feelings run free again, whereas they immediately needed to base themselves around him in thankfulness. Not that he blamed them of course. Had it been Mikey hanging around in New York the morning something so horrific had happened he would currently be glued to his brother's side, unwilling to let him out of his sight. He shuddered briefly at the thought. Gerard was of the firm opinion that nothing should harm Mikey, ever, and it helped him realise that this was the way his family must also feel about him. However it still didn't stop the awkwardness.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and began intricately examining his shoes; converse sneakers that didn't really fit with the rest of the baggy suit he was wearing.
"Darling, do you want to talk about what happened? Do you want to watch the news reports?"

Immediately Gerard raised his head and shook it vehemently.
"No."
"G, you know you should talk to someone. This morning must have been pretty traumatic for you" urged Mikey.
"Mikes, I'm really not up to it. Please. And no news reports. Not yet, while I'm around. I just want to go and get some rest if that's okay."
"Of course it's okay" answered Elena firmly, before either Gerard's mother or brother could protest.

Elena's word was final. It was an unwritten law in the Way family, but one they all abided to stringently. Gerard was simply thankful that she was on his side rather than ordering that he recount the tale to them all. Mikey and Donna forced smiles onto their faces, letting Gerard know that it was "okay" to retreat to his room.

"You wanna hang out later, bro? I think a couple of people wanna come over to see you" asked Mikey.

Ugh. Of course they do. Any lick of impending tragedy and the sheep flock. He supposed he shouldn't be so negative, and reasoned with himself that after some alone time he would be better equipped to handle both his own emotions and those of others. He lifted one corner of his mouth up in a weak smile and then spoke.

"Maybe. I just need to rest awhile, straighten my head out. Not truckloads of people though, yeah? Don't want to disappoint if I don't feel up to it later on."
"No way, just a couple, tops."

He nodded at them all sitting together on the sofa, and really did wonder why it was he standing calm and collected whilst they had to sit and fight not to break down to varying degrees. It all felt a little topsy-turvy. His grandmother wiped her first tear away from her eye as his mother spoke, voice shaky and tearful.
"I love you, Gerard."

He felt his heart twinge, in a pleasant way, but still wasn't ready for massive displays of affection, so he simply smiled timidly and returned the sentiment.
"Love you all. ...See you in a few hours."

His muscles relaxed the second he left the room. The atmosphere was far too heavy in there for him to sustain himself for too long. He descended the stairs to his room in the basement and was immediately glad for his surroundings. He closed his curtain, blocking out the single beam of sunlight that shone in; blocking out the confusion of the world if only for a few hours.

Gerard stripped himself of all clothing and left it in piles on the floor. He never slept naked; hated it in fact. But he didn't quite feel himself, somehow. He clambered into bed and curled the duvet around him like a cocoon. He wanted to feel invincible so that nothing could get in, nothing could hurt him. He willed himself to remain in a state of emotional numbness until he woke up. However when he closed his eyes he saw the two burning buildings towering above him etched onto the backs of his eyelids. He opened them again in fright, and let a shaky breath out into the air.

His throat constricted with the onslaught of emotion, remembering the pure stream of stranger's emotions that had assaulted him on the train home, the memory coming back to him however hard he willed it to remain at bay. It was too much to bear, too much to carry on his shoulders. Submerging his head under the covers he curled up even tighter into a ball, and wrapped his arms around his legs. Disgusted to feel skin he leapt out of the bed again, throwing on the nearest t-shirt he could find and digging out a pair of pyjama bottoms from a drawer. Standing in the centre of his room Gerard ran his fingers through his long knotty hair and held it against his jaw on both sides, squeezing his eyes shut as if it would stop the tears from coming. Of course it didn't. That image was still burned into his brain. When his eyelids were forced apart again by the wetness his bedroom swirled in a blur of salt water. He cried those tears upon his cheeks and wept for the smell of loss that had coated the air of New York City.