Death-Wish Kids

When we got home on Sunday, Ryder was still ignoring me due to the fact that I wouldn't let her take Micah and I to Mitchell's house to 'surprise' him and his parents. And when I explained that I didn't want to see him (or them, for that matter), she offered just to drive by and vandalize his house.

Our dad picked us up from the airport on Sunday afternoon and was all smiles, but Ryder was ignoring him too, still holding onto the idea that she was angry at him for making her spend time with the woman who gave birth to us. She went to her room, claiming she was going to take a shower first, and I carted mine and Micah's things inside while my dad greeted the little boy like he hadn't seen him in years.

"I'm going to start on lunch," Dad said as he held Micah and the open the door for Noah and I as we carried our things inside, "You two go get settled, bring Ry back down when you come."

"Do you want me to take him?" I asked, reaching out for the rosy-cheeked child.

Dad shuffled back and shook his head. Micah grabbed the collar of his shirt and my father turned around and headed through the swinging door into the kitchen. It was a strange sight to watch my father with my son, it was almost as though Micah was his rather than mine. He took on the challenge so easily and loved every minute of it.

The sight of him and Micah made me wonder if he would've wanted more children had he met someone after Felicia.

I carted mine and Micah's things up to our respective rooms and dropped down across my sheets, thankful to be in my own bed, to have a minute to be able to think without my past suffocating me.

When I opened my eyes, my sister was standing over me, shoving my shoulder and saying my name harshly, demanding I wake up. Her eyes were hard, like usual, but wider, excited, intrigued. I sat up on my elbows and looked at her.

"Ryder, what's going on?" I asked through the grogginess in my voice, "Is it time for dinner, already?"

"Yeah, actually, but that's not why I'm waking you up," she answered, grinning at my confusion.

"Is Micah alright?" I asked as I climbed out of bed and slipped my jacket off since I'd been sweating in my sleep, "Dad said he would look after him for awhile."

"Yeah, the baby's fine," she said, brushing it off quickly, "But hum, Gerard Way is here to see you-"

I turned to her quickly, looking at her with wide eyes, wondering what the heck kind of joke she was making. "You're kidding," I answered, staring at her.

She raised her eyebrows. "Why would I?" she replied, "If I was going to make a joke about a guy showing up here for you, it wouldn't include Gerard Way." She crossed her arms over her chest and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"What the hell is he doing here?" I asked, turning back to pull my hair down from the matted pony-tail I'd put it in on the way home, "I can't believe he would just show up here like this."

"I thought you didn't really know him?" she asked sourly.

I gave her a look as my only reply.

"Cyren, he's twenty years old," she answered, "plus, what are you even doing hanging out with someone like him?"

"Just because he's different than you doesn't make him a bad guy, Ryder," I replied, trying to step around her to intervene whatever conversation my father was having with him.

She stopped me from leaving the room. "He has a reputation, Cyren," she answered, as though someone else's opinion would change my mind as long as it wasn't hers. When she saw the apathetic look on my face, she added, "It's not good, Cyren. People will talk if they see you with him."

"I'm not with him," I argued, shouldering past her, "and I don't care either." I stepped out of my room and left her in it as I carefully walked down the stairs, peering around the corner so that I could see them before they saw me.

When I looked out, I was stunned by the sight of Gerard - not because he was simply standing here but because the messy crop of hair on his head had gone from white to the darkest shade of black I could imagine. It took his eyes and made them darker, making the brown more prominent instead of how the green had been when his hair was colorless.

It was a drastic change and I couldn't keep myself from analyzing every difference that the color change made in him.

He stood just inside the doorway and my dad stood three or four feet in front of him, talking easily. Gerard was smiling lightly as he spoke, nodding to what my dad was saying.

When I peered too far around the corner, watching them, Gerard's mixed up eyes darted to me over my dad's shoulder. He smiled wider and turned his attention back to my dad, his slight change in expression the only giveaway that he actually knew I was there.

"Yeah, Cyren is a great," he said, keeping his eyes from mine, "but she's more friends with my brother and Frankie. I'm mostly the chauffeur." He shrugged his shoulders, smirking secretly.

"Is that why you're here now?" my dad questioned, "I didn't know that Cyren had plans for tonight."

Gerard frowned. "Mikes is running late… he asked me if I could stop and grab her on my way home from work. I thought you knew."

My dad was about to turn and call for me when I bounded down the last step as though I was just coming down now. "Gerard," I greeted, honest surprise in my voice, "Where are the guys? You're early."

"You're going somewhere tonight?" my day asked, cutting into the conversation before it could go any farther.

"I was just coming down to ask," I said, quickly glaring at Gerard when my dad glanced towards the kitchen where I assumed Micah was with Noah. "Mikey and Frank want to study for our English thing tomorrow."

"It's late notice," he answered, glancing towards the twenty year old standing just feet away with his hands shoved into the pockets of his black jacket. "We haven't really had a chance to talk about this weekend."

"I saw Mom, I slept at Mom's, I came home from Mom's," I answered, "Is it okay if I got out for awhile? Their mom invited me back the first time and I feel bad that I haven't been back since."

I knew that he wanted to argue that it was dinner time and sit me down and have a long conversation about pulling things like this, but with Gerard standing in front of us, his eyes trained on us and hands shoved into his pockets, he bit his tongue.

"You can go for awhile but make sure you don't overstay your welcome and please, Cyren, be home to put Micah down."

I nodded. "Thanks, Dad. I'll definitely be home by bedtime." I turned to Gerard and grabbed his arm. "You're early, so I need a few minutes." I dragged him past my father and up the stairs. As I turned the corner to pull Gerard up the stairs, I caught the sight of Ryder darting back into her own room.

"Nice place," Gerard said as he followed me up the stairs.

"Dad loves this house," I answered, my hand still in his as I pulled him past Micah's room and to my own. I pushed the door open and Gerard stepped inside, his eyes raking over the large space.

My bed was in the center of the left wall with two tables on either side and across from that, in front of the wall-long closet, was a TV with rows of books and movies piled on the shelf underneath. The windows spanned most of the far wall, but my blinds were pulled closed, darkening the entire room. I flipped the ceiling light on.

Gerard stepped over towards the right of the room where Micah's toys were piled next to his playpen and picked up one of the stuffed animals. "Even your space isn't your space," he commented, his eyes studying the monkey.

I looked over my shoulder as he dropped the toy into the pen and looked up, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. "Your hair," I commented, watching realization come to him. He ran his slim fingers through it again, musing it nonchalantly.

"What do you think?" he questioned as it settled messily into place, "I figured it was time for a change."

"It looks nice," I answered, my eyes looking to meet his as he smiled lightly and sat down on the edge of my bed without saying anything more. So I continued, "What are you really doing here? The guys and I don't have any plans."

I was standing a few feet in front of him, just off to the side and he looked at me as though he had no idea what I was asking. "You didn't get my message?" he questioned, reaching to pull his phone from the pocket of his jeans. "I called, said that I made plans for tonight."

"I was asleep," I answered, stepping around him so I could pull my phone out from underneath my pillow, "I didn't even know you called."

That only caused him to grin, his expression arrogant. "You had no idea and you still went along with it?" he asked, referring to the lies he told my dad. He stood up and turned around to face me, hands tucked under folded arms.

"Well, I wasn't going to out you in front of him," I shot back. "He would never let me out of the house again if he knew either one of us was lying to him and he certainly wouldn't let me see you again."

His narrow fingers fiddled with the top of the lamp that was sitting on the nightstand and he peered at me through his lashes. "Wouldn't want to get on your dad's bad side," he said softly, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he blinked towards the carpet.

I knew what he was implying, what I was supposed to take from his words, but I didn't speak them, unsure if I wanted to vocalize it and set us back on that path again. I went to step around him, the thought of his not-girlfriend in my head, so that I could grab clothes from my closet to change into, but he gently side-stepped so that he was in front of me, his slender body half in front of mine.

With just an inch between us, I turned my gaze up from the floor and we were practically eye to eye. He spoke first, the tips of his fingers pressing into my palm. I gave him a questioning look and the corners of his mouth turned up.

"So you're coming out with me tonight?" he asked quietly, his fingers slipping between mine, "because I'm not going to drop you at my parents' house so you can do homework with my little brother and cook dinner with my ma."

"Why would I want to do homework?" I questioned, peering at him arrogantly, "when there are so many other things to do."

"Mm?" He tilted his head down. "Like what?"

I grinned as he moved to press his mouth against mine and I stepped away from him, moving to my closet so that I could change. "We could actually get dinner seeing as you're pulling me away from a delicious home cooked meal."

He turned after me and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, sure," he answered, "That's exactly what I was thinking."

"Good," I replied, "Now turn around."

He gave me a look but spun around to face the other way so that I could change my shirt and slip into a pair of black jeans that could actually be considered clean. When I was buttoning them up, I told Gerard it was okay to turn around.

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. "If we both go downstairs together and you're wearing different clothes, your dad won't kill me right?" He crossed one leg over the other and peered at me with that familiar cockiness.

"My shoes are downstairs," I said, "Can you grab my backpack? It's behind you." I motioned to the bag between the nightstand and bookshelf.

He grabbed it without a word and slung it over his shoulder, rucking up his jacket on one side. He looked at me expectantly and I stepped in front of him to lead the way down to the living room.

"Shit, that smells good," Gerard said as he followed me down the stairs. The kitchen door was propped open and the scent of my father's newest culinary creation was wafting through the door.

I grinned back at him. "Now you see why you owe me a good dinner."

He dipped his head in a nod.

The two of us headed across the empty living room and through the open swinging door. The family wasn't around the table yet, but the smell of food had enticed my sister from her room. She and Noah stood around the island and Micah was pulled up next to them, sitting in his chair.

All three of them looked to us as we stepped through.

"We're gonna head out," I said to my dad, watching as Gerard made a B-line for the baby in the high chair, playfully shouting out his name as he lifted him from it.

"Hey, man, how've you been?" he asked, holding the blonde little boy to his side.

Both my sister and my dad looked surprised by his familiarity with my son. "Okay," I muttered out quickly, pulling Micah from Gerard, "We're leaving. I'll be home before bedtime. Love you." I situated Micah in his chair and grabbed the sleeve of Gerard's jacket to yank him out of the kitchen and the house all together.

He was grinning as I dragged him through the front door and to his car. He shuffled to the other side and unlocked it with the click of a button. With a smile over the hood, he opened the door and dropped down into the car. I followed suit and he started it up, neither one of us oblivious to my sister watching from the living room window.