Descending Angel

I bolted up off of the couch, wondering just how many more times it would take before the pounding in my heart would trigger a stroke. Gerard popped up belatedly, dazed. His eyes were glazed over despite the shock that was slowly setting in. We turned to the door as a single unit, both reaching out our hands to each other.

"..."

I had no comment. Well, I had quite a few comments, but they mostly would have come out as 'ZOMGBOB'. And that comment is total shit, and no one would have got it. Or maybe they would, considering present conditions, but I was so above saying ZOMG outloud.

"Bob," Gerard breathed. He blinked, I blinked, Bob stayed right where he was.

And, and the thing is, I expected him to be really surprised. Or pissed or just have an emotion at all. But he didn't. He stood there in the doorway for a little while, until Gerard and my eyes were back to their normal diamater and our breathing had dissipated into the shallow, slow course of air it should be. He was leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed but not reprimanding us.

"Bob," Gerard said again, sitting up straight. "What..."

At this Bob snapped to attention, bending down to grab the book from where it had dropped on the floor. It was old, musty, brown. There were mottled pages sticking out of it, pages that slipped out of it when he started walking to us. He dropped the book on my lap and plopped down on the recliner adjacent to us.

"Go shut the door," Bob said, motioning to Gearard with a flick of his wrist.

I didn't make a gay joke. Mostly because technically, I could be called gay now if I am a boy. And I am. I've decided that I am of the male variety, since, you know. The appearance of a dick in my nether regions. That is what separates males from females, other than their maturity levels, and let's face it, I'm a little shit.

"So I'm a boy..." I reflected when Gerard was seated next to me, his head resting on my shoulder.

"You are?"

"I think I am."

Bob nodded. "Dicks, dude," he lamented. "We're all boys here, I suppose."

I wondered why he was picking up on this so easily. He didn't know that I was a girl. I think.

"Bob, are you psychic?"

"Yes."

My eyes widened. So Bob was a psychic, and he knew that I was a girl, and he knew this whole time?

He started to crack up. "Eric, you don't actually believe me, right? I'm not psychic." I looked at him skeptically, with my eyebrow drawn up into the point where it was inseperable from my hair, and everything. "I'm not. Notnotnot."

"Then what's this book about?" I asked, glancing down at the title. Mysteries of Angels. "Why the fuck would you bring this here if you're not psychic?"

"I overheard you once, when. Well, you told Gerard once that you were dead. Or. Or something, and I believed it, and I wanted to know more. I didn't know whether it would all be a hoax, just some morbid shit that the two of you came up with, but it's not, is it? I went to the library, and I did some research on angels and otherworldly beings, and there's been too many sightings. I had to believe it, kind of. There's facts and reports, and you're an angel, aren't you?"

I stared at him. I wondered how long he's known, why he didn't tell me before. He let me hide this for this long, and he's known. He stayed with Gerard, knowing it all along.

"Devil's aide. I'm no angel. I came from hell."

"Is it all that it's cracked up to be?" Bob asked. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned in. "Since we're all gay and going to hell anyway."

"Yeah," I said softly. "It sucks. I don't want you guys to end up there. I don't want Gerard to end up there. That's why I'm here. Or did you know that already?" He shook his head and I launched into my story, the same one I told Gerard--leaving out the bit about Mikey.

"So someone's going to die."

At least Bob had the guts to say it. I nodded, biting down on my lip. I didn't want to face facts. My time here is nearing its end, and. And I love Gerard and I love Mikey and I love Frank, and fuck, I even love Bob; they're my friends, and I'm going to be leaving them forever because I won't be Eric anymore. They won't be able to find me in hell. Not as the girl that I really am.

"I'm going to die," I reiterated, sighing. Gerard drew a shaky breath beside me, and I slipped my hand into his. His hand was sweaty and clammy, and. I love him. Really. He squeezed my hand and I saw him lick his lips from the corner of my eye.

"Does it have to be you?" Bob asked.

"Me or Gerard. And it's not going to be Gerard. Bobbie, you make sure he doesn't kill himself, okay? Because then I would have done all of this shit in vain. And Gerard, don't--don't put that on me. It's not fair. I want you to be happy. Not dead."

"But--"

"I'll smack you," I threatened. "And I'll probably have mega-awesome hell-powers, and you soooo don't want a hell-enhanced bitch slap, mister. You have a brother who needs you! You have people here who love you, and. I swear, Gerard Way, don't do anything stupid, or. Or I don't know, man. I can't even come up with a threat that meets the needs of that. You have a family. Okay?"

I stared him down until he lifted his head up and stared back. His eyes were watering again. His lip was sucked into his mouth and his forehead was furrowed, and holyshit, he was going to start crying, and that would make me cry, and I can't--

"Okay..." he whispered. His head plopped back down onto my shoulder and he buried his face in my neck. "I don't want you to die," he mumbled against my skin, making it wet with the condensation of his breath and maybe even some tears in the mix.

"It has to be one of the two of you? It can't be--someone else can't take your place?" Bob asked, leaning forward more, until he was almost on the couch with us.

"..."

I didn't know.