Brick by Boring Brick

-Gerard’s POV-

Rolling over in my bed, I squinted at the clock on my bedside table, as I tried to kick my feet free of their tangled covers.
My head felt like a garage metal band was jumping around and screaming in it. Holding my head in my hands, I groaned. Drinking never solved any of my problems, only made them worse. But I still tried to find an answer at the bottom of a bottle.

I slid my eyes shut and listened to all the movement coming from upstairs. The sickly meaty smell of bacon floated in front of my nostrils, teasing my empty stomach. My hands abandoned my pounding head and clutched at my lion of a stomach instead. As much as I wanted to run up those stairs and devour all that meat, I knew my alcohol infused body would just reject it and I’d spend my morning head first in the toilet.

Humming contently to myself, I pinched my nose and thought of anything other than food. The sound of footsteps on the stairs that lead to my room made me open one of my eyes curiously. Blonde hair that belonged to my brother snuck past the end of my bed and over to my desk. He disappeared for a second, as he picked something up. As soon as he was back in my view, I could see a disappointed look on his face and my sketchbook in his skinny hands.

Pulling my legs under me, I sat Indian style on my bed and raised an eyebrow at Mikey. Why was he suddenly so interested in my sketchbook? It didn’t exactly hold my greatest drawings; my favorite ones were already on my wall. The only drawing I actually liked in there was of my dream Frank…. Oh shit.

I flew into a panic, jumping off my bed and rushing at my brother. “ Mikey, it’s not what it looks like! I wear on my pathetic useless life! I can explain! Please Mikey.” I could feel tears swimming in my eyes as I looked at my younger brother, pleading him with my eyes and words.

“Well, start explaining then Gerard. Because this looks pretty bad.” Mikey stated. He held my sketchbook out to me and with shaky fingers I accepted it. Looking down at the open book, I smiled as I looked at the sketch. It had to be one of the best ones I had ever done. My dream Frank looked so beautiful, his eyes looked like they were dancing and his smile held a million unspoken secrets.

“This is my Frank..” I started softly. I didn’t need to look at Mikey to know that his eyes would be mixed with confusion and his eyebrows bunched together as he listened.

“Your Frank?” came the question in my brother’s voice that would allow me to continue

“Yeah.. You see for a while now this Frank has been coming to me in my dreams. You know, just a figment of my imagination or something like that. He’s been kind and sweet to me and most importantly; I could count on him, unlike other people in my life. He doesn’t judge me like everyone else, he just loves me.
It’s nice you know, to have someone there for you, even if he is only in my dreams. He’s literally my dream boy.”

Quickly stealing a glance at my brother, I noticed he was watching me with wide eyes filled with sympathy. He probably thought I was crazy with this huge confession of mine.

“So, you’ve been dreaming of a Frank without tattoos and piercings?” he questioned. I nodded, my black hair hung around my face like a curtain, hiding my guilty eyes from my brother.

“Pretty much.. and then along came this real Frank. Who looks exactly like my dream Frank, only with tattoos, piercings and that eyeliner. I thought I was going crazy at first, because honestly how could he be real! He was supposed to be in my head, not in real life.
But now he is real Mikey and my dream Frank is telling me to get closer to the real Frank, but I really don’t want to.”

Looking back up at my baby brother, I could see the wheels turning in his head as he processed the information I had given him. I had to admit that it was a lot of information, but I felt like it was needed. I needed to cleanse my body of its secrets.

“If the real Frank looks so much like the dream Frank, then why don’t you want to get closer to him?” trust Mikey to simplify everything and make it sound like I had spent the past half an hour rambling on like a drunk man. Actually come to think of it, I probably was still kind of drunk.

“Because they have completely different personalities. My dream Frank is sweet, caring, kind, loving and treats me with respect. The real Frank is harsh, angry and honestly treats me like I’m nothing..” I trailed off. I found myself hoping that Mikey didn’t need to know any more details. I honestly didn’t want to talk about how my dream Frank was dying of cancer. Just thinking about it killed me. I didn’t want to find out what talking about it did to me.

“Hmm, okay.. well you kind of need to talk to the real Frank about all this.”

“What do you mean? I asked curiously. In my mind I remembered seeing Frank rush out of our house, with tears running down his face. Had he seen my sketchbook, containing this drawing? If he ah then I knew I was going to have to makeup some story about it all and to be brutally honest, I didn’t have a very good poker face. Everyone could tell when I was lying, even people who didn’t know me very well.

“well, he was the one that found this drawing.” Mikey said, as flicked through my sketchbook.

“fine. I’ll talk to him at school..” I muttered, slightly annoyed.

“Uhm, Gerard.. it’s Saturday.. but hey if you can go to school if you really want to.” Mikey said, a chuckle hidden in his voice. He bounced off my bed, with a smile on his face and laughter in his eyes. I growled and threw a pillow at my brother’s face, making his glasses go all lop-sided. Now it was my turn to try not to laugh as he fixed his glasses and flattened his hair.

“Fuck off.” He growled lightly, but that laughter was still twinkling in his hazel eyes.

“Love you too Mikes.” I laughed. My brother stormed out of my room, only pausing at the door to flip me off.

-x- -x- -x- -x- -x-

Three hours later and I was still lying on my bed, letting my life waste away. I wanted to get out of my room, out of this house and out of my life. Normally I would just sleep and dream of my Frank, but those dreams were almost as painful as real life.

I was staring at a poster of ‘The Misfits’ on my wall, like it held the answers to all of my problems. Unfortunately it didn’t. I was acting like a moody teenaged girl on her period. I needed some fresh air to help clear my head.

I launched myself off my bed and up my stairs, only pausing to grab my leather jacket and house keys. Shrugging my jacket on, I breathed in deeply, inhaling the leather smell that always seemed to comfort me. A light breeze danced through my hair, tussling it in a carefree manner. It was almost enough to relax me, especially with that afternoon sun shining down on me.

Walking down the streets a small smile flirted with my lips. I actually felt rather calm and slightly happy, out here in the Jersey air.

Holding my head high, I practically strutted into a small grassy park. Sitting on a bench, I placed my hands behind my head and leaned back., my legs crossing at the ankles. I smiled and tilted my face towards the sun. sighing lightly, I allowed myself to relax and let the warmth wrap my body in a tight hug. I felt like the sun was warming my soul and heart, which made me feel a flutter of happiness. A happiness I only felt when my dream Frank smiled at me.

I found myself frowning as I thought of my dream lover. He was dying slowly and painfully. He was trying to be strong and not show me that pain but I could see it in his eyes. Those big beautiful eyes of his.

He was so much stronger than me and I admired his strength. I was weak and pathetic. Why did life have to take away the only thing that made me happy, the only person that gave me hope and made me feel complete. I knew as soon as my Frank left me, I would slowly start to shut down and there would be nothing holding me to this earth.

Why did life have to be such a bitch?