Whispers in the Dark

Home . Such a strange word. One most people just take for granted. I’ve never really had a home. I used to think I had one with my mom, but I guess that was never really a home . Sometimes, when I watch the Way brothers interact with one another, I wish I had something like that. Someone who I loved unconditionally and who loved me the same way back. Sometimes I think I have that with Marc, and other times I think he just puts up with me because he feels obliged to look after his own blood. 

“Hey Frank, we’re here,” Alexander nudged me as we pulled up beside my school. “You okay?”
I smiled over at the blonde man who was seated behind the wheel, “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for the lift Alex. Tell Marc to get better soon and I’ll see him after school.”
He nodded and grinned  “Yeah, yeah and you love him. Now off to school.”
I climbed out of the car and made my way into the school, my mind still on my uncle who was lying in bed in the house he shared with me and Alex, suffering from a vile stomach bug. I was worried about him but I also knew that his boyfriend, the blonde-haired Alex would look after him. 



The school was bitterly cold and I shivered as I made my way through the busy corridors, pushing past fellow students to get to the bathroom that was nearest to my next class. People ignored me and I was okay with that, I wasn’t in the mood to talk anyway. My stomach ached and my entire face was covered in a light sheen of sweat. I wasn’t feeling too good and feared I was coming down with what my uncle had. 

I pushed open the door and rushed to the sinks where I turned on the faucet. The water was icy cold as I splashed it against my flushed face and I felt goosebumps at the contact. My reflection in the mirror shocked me. I looked so tired and ill. My eyes were huge and had bruise-like shadows beneath them, and my face was pasty with two red blotches on either cheek. In short, I looked like shit. 

I was so involved in analysing my appearance that, at first, I didn’t hear the other person who was in the bathroom with me. It was only the sound of retching followed by a pained moan that alerted me of another's presence. 
"Hello?" I called out softly, no wanting to alarm them. "You okay dude?"
No one answered me but I heard the sound of retching once again. This time I could tell which cubicle it came from and made way over to the door. 
I knocked on graffitied, blue painted piece of wood, "You okay in there? Want me to get the nurse?"
Whoever was on there was obviously too ill to be in school. I was about to leave and get someone to help when the person behind the spoor spoke, his voice hoarse and sore sounding. 
"No...Don't," The voice was fait but oddly familiar. 
"Gerard?" I called through then thin cubicle door. "You in there?"
"Frankie?" He sounded shocked and I heard the lock on the door scrape against the wood of the door. Then there he was. He looks even worse than I did. His usual porcelain skin was slightly grey with pink cheeks, and his eyes were bloodshot and sore looking. 
I knew he looked terrible and that I should be worried about his wellbeing, but I was distracted by the butterflies fluttering around my tummy. He had called me Frankie. No one had called me that before. It felt nice to have a nickname. 

"What's wrong Gee?" I let the nickname slip easily from my lips, as if I'd been calling him by it for years. "You got that bug too?"
He bit down on his lip and avoided my eyes, "Uh...yeah, I guess."
Instinctively, my hand reached out to run along his flushed cheeks and, although he tensed under my touch, he didn't move away. Instead his hazel eyes rose to meet mine and he smiled shyly, a blush turning his pink tinted cheeks a fire-truck red. My own feelings of nausea were forgotten as I tried to figure out how ill the raven haired boy opposite me was.

I spent about twenty minutes trying to convince Gerard to got to the nurse's office but he wouldn't listen. He said he was just going to go back to class. 
"But you're sick!" I exclaimed. 
"So are you," He retorted, resting his hand against the cubicle and pulling himself to his feet. 
I shrugged and began climbing to my feet too, "I'm okay, I think may have all been in my head."
It was true, I hadn't felt I'll since I had found Gerard. I may over overreacted due to Marc being ill. 
Gerard smiled faintly, "Maybe mine was all in my head too."
"Gerard, you were growing up! That's not in your head."
A rather shaky laugh spilled out from his mouth, "Sorry Mom."
I smiled and he made to leave. But, on his way to the door he stumbled and I had to reach out a catch him. On o my hands was under his t-shirt, resting against his stomach. My heart fluttered when I noticed this. 
"You okay?"
He nodded, taking a deep breath, "Y...yeah, fine."
I pulled my hand away from his stomach and, as I did so, I felt what was unmistakably a jagged scar just above the waistband of his jeans. Hurriedly I pulled my hand the rest of the way back, trying to not draw attention to what my fingertips had just grazed against, but I saw the looks on Gerard's face. His hazel eyes were wide and scared, and he was biting down on his lip so hard that blood was beginning to seep out and stain his teeth red. 
He pushed away my hands and ram a hand through his already messy black hair, "I...Uh....gotta get to class. See you at...at lunch."
And he was gone. I was left standing in the bathroom, my hands still outstretched to catch him. 
What had just happened?
Why was Gerard so scared all of a sudden?
What had caused that scar?
And why had his illness just disappeared before he ran?