Status: Finished. No sequel.
Hypocrite
Profound
I woke up to the humming from last night. I should be outraged that Mikey was laying in my bed while spooning me, but it was warm and comfortable, and I felt a little less bad about the present. He shifted to rest his chin on my shoulder, and I stiffened as he told me he got rid of all the drugs and alcohol he could find in my house. I didn’t hide it very well, so I knew it was all gone.
“I’ll help you with your art. You don’t have to do that stuff anymore; we can do it together, alright?” I didn’t answer, but he gave me a quick squeeze before sitting up, “I’ll make breakfast. Go clean up, and then we can watch the Jetsons.”
And we did.
It took exactly two days before withdrawals set in. I could hardly keep my hands steady enough to work, and it pissed me off enough to angrily throw paint across the piece I was working on. Mikey dropped his comic book to snatch the paint brush from me, but I roughly shoved him away and stomped out of the room. The neighbors below hit their ceiling with a broom, but I ignored them. Bunch of old assholes.
Mikey wasn’t far behind, and he reached around my shoulders with his left arm and pulled me to his side, “Just give it a few days, and you’ll be back to normal. Probably.”
“Probably. Right. You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t be rude, at least I’m trying to help you! Where has Terra been?” He looked down at me, and I tucked my mouth into a frown.
“Sucking Frank’s di-“
“She hasn’t been here, that’s right. So just calm down and we’ll go back to painting in a while,” I rolled my eyes before looking across his chest to see his other arm. He tried to shift so it was out of my line of sight, but I saw the angry red scratches anyway.
“What did I do!?” I demanded, shoving his left arm off my shoulders and reaching for his right. He hissed as I grabbed it too hard, but I yanked him into the bathroom to try and clean him up. I snatched the lighthouse-printed towel hanging next to my sink, and doused it in water. Mikey sat on the toilet and propped his battle-scarred arm on the sink so I could clean it up.
“When you pushed me, I stumbled onto the nail box you keep for building canvases. It’s not a big deal-“
“It is a big deal, you idiot,” I interrupted, rubbing the washcloth along his arm a bit too roughly. The nails weren’t rusty, so he shouldn’t need to go to the hospital, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted like that.”
“Don’t worry about it. I knew this wouldn’t be easy.”
“Your mom’s gonna kill me,” I grumbled, remembering that Mikey did indeed still live with his mother, and she wouldn’t definitely not be happy with me. I’d met her once – Mikey and I had gone out to get something to eat, and passed his house. His mother was just stepping out of her car, and forced us to come inside and talk for a minute. I saw Mikey’s baby pictures. They weren’t anything special.
Mikey slumped his head to lay on his arm, and gave me a goofy smile, enough to almost make me smile. He didn’t miss it, “I’ll just say I fell at work, you’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine. Where are your band aids?”
I took him out to eat at Starbucks as an apology, anyway. There's nothing like overpriced coffee cakes to ease the pain, right? Mikey thought it would be nice to sit outside, so we drank hot coffee while sitting in the hot sun. It was great. I loved it. Highlight of my day.
Despite almost dying of the heat outside, Mikey still managed to crack a few jokes that made me smile and roll my eyes. I didn’t think we looked like much of a couple – no smoldering gazes or hand holding – but that must not have mattered to Gerard, who conveniently spotted us from across the street and sent us a dirty look. He turned on his heel to walk back the way he came, and Mikey tried to push me out of my chair.
“Go after him!”
“What the fuck? Why? It’s not my problem-“
“Stop lying to yourself, you dummy. I found you crying in front of a creepy painting you made of his face. Go talk to him and figure this out, now,” Mikey pushed me again, and I stumbled to my feet before jogging after Gerard. I don’t even know why I was doing this. I also didn’t know why my chest felt tight and strange. Maybe I was anxious? I’m not sure about what.
Gerard didn’t make it too far before I caught up to him, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him around. His lips set in a frown and he waved toward the direction I approached from, “Don’t worry about me. Go back to your date, it’s fine.”
“Shut up. It’s not a date. We’re just friends,” Gerard’s frustrated expression smoothed out, but we both stood in silence anyway. Gerard shifted from foot to foot, and I tried not to do the same motion. I gave him a once over, noticing he gained a few pounds and didn’t look so tired.
“You cut your hair,” I noted lamely, and he let out a single, short laugh. He ran a hand through it, now just past his ears, before shrugging.
“I needed a change. I’m a new person, I guess. Been clean for a little while, now, gotta look the part.”
“Oh. That’s great, you look a lot better,” Good god, this was awkward. Why did I let Mikey convince me to do this? Gerard had an expectant look on his face, and the words flew out before I could filter them, “I’m sorry about how I treated you before. It wasn’t right.”
Gerard’s eyebrows shot up, and I tried not to look too hard at his amazed expression. I guess an apology from me is an anomaly, or something. I didn’t think it was enough to render him speechless. Not for too long, though.
“I really tried with you, Iris,” Gerard’s amazed expression turned neutral, and I felt that anxious pang in my chest come back, “I tried, and I got my hand bit.”
“I don’t know what else you want me to say. That I love you with all my heart, and want you to come back? Don’t be stupid.”
Gerard jammed his hands in his pockets, and shifted away a little bit. I remember reading on the internet that he wasn’t interested in me, or the conversation anymore, “I don’t know. I don’t even know what I want from you, anymore. I’ll see you later, maybe.”
As he was turning, I angrily scuffed my sneaker into the ground. He paused, and looked confused, “You’re angry? Because I’m leaving? I thought I could understand you, but then you twist it all around like this.”
“I’m not angry because you’re leaving. I’m angry because I think you’re taking my heart, but I’m not even sure.”
“So you love me with all your heart, and want me to come back? Didn’t you just tell me not to be stupid?”
“Don’t be stupid,” I repeated, kicking my shoe into the ground again for emphasis, and tried my best to look over his shoulder instead of directly at his face. Between us, a little girl ran by and almost tripped. I almost laughed. Gerard didn’t leave, so I took to time to choose my words carefully. I wanted to make things at least somewhat right, to say something profound to make him understand what was happening in my head, but instead, the wrong thing tumbled out, “I don’t love you and I don’t think I ever will, and I don’t see why that matters - to me, or to you, or to Mikey, or anyone else. This is so confusing and I’m scared, because I almost could.”
Gerard’s hands fall out of his pockets, and swing to hang at his sides. I can tell he has no clue what to do, or what to say. I don’t break the silence; I just watch the emotion flash across his face - confusion, wonder, surprise. Then comes neutrality, and finally anger. His hands ball up into fists, and he looks me right in the eyes as he pounds the last nail in the coffin, “I wish I knew how to fall out of love with you.”
Mikey caught up to me, trying to ask what happened, but I could only watch Gerard’s back as he walked away.
“I’ll help you with your art. You don’t have to do that stuff anymore; we can do it together, alright?” I didn’t answer, but he gave me a quick squeeze before sitting up, “I’ll make breakfast. Go clean up, and then we can watch the Jetsons.”
And we did.
It took exactly two days before withdrawals set in. I could hardly keep my hands steady enough to work, and it pissed me off enough to angrily throw paint across the piece I was working on. Mikey dropped his comic book to snatch the paint brush from me, but I roughly shoved him away and stomped out of the room. The neighbors below hit their ceiling with a broom, but I ignored them. Bunch of old assholes.
Mikey wasn’t far behind, and he reached around my shoulders with his left arm and pulled me to his side, “Just give it a few days, and you’ll be back to normal. Probably.”
“Probably. Right. You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t be rude, at least I’m trying to help you! Where has Terra been?” He looked down at me, and I tucked my mouth into a frown.
“Sucking Frank’s di-“
“She hasn’t been here, that’s right. So just calm down and we’ll go back to painting in a while,” I rolled my eyes before looking across his chest to see his other arm. He tried to shift so it was out of my line of sight, but I saw the angry red scratches anyway.
“What did I do!?” I demanded, shoving his left arm off my shoulders and reaching for his right. He hissed as I grabbed it too hard, but I yanked him into the bathroom to try and clean him up. I snatched the lighthouse-printed towel hanging next to my sink, and doused it in water. Mikey sat on the toilet and propped his battle-scarred arm on the sink so I could clean it up.
“When you pushed me, I stumbled onto the nail box you keep for building canvases. It’s not a big deal-“
“It is a big deal, you idiot,” I interrupted, rubbing the washcloth along his arm a bit too roughly. The nails weren’t rusty, so he shouldn’t need to go to the hospital, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted like that.”
“Don’t worry about it. I knew this wouldn’t be easy.”
“Your mom’s gonna kill me,” I grumbled, remembering that Mikey did indeed still live with his mother, and she wouldn’t definitely not be happy with me. I’d met her once – Mikey and I had gone out to get something to eat, and passed his house. His mother was just stepping out of her car, and forced us to come inside and talk for a minute. I saw Mikey’s baby pictures. They weren’t anything special.
Mikey slumped his head to lay on his arm, and gave me a goofy smile, enough to almost make me smile. He didn’t miss it, “I’ll just say I fell at work, you’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine. Where are your band aids?”
I took him out to eat at Starbucks as an apology, anyway. There's nothing like overpriced coffee cakes to ease the pain, right? Mikey thought it would be nice to sit outside, so we drank hot coffee while sitting in the hot sun. It was great. I loved it. Highlight of my day.
Despite almost dying of the heat outside, Mikey still managed to crack a few jokes that made me smile and roll my eyes. I didn’t think we looked like much of a couple – no smoldering gazes or hand holding – but that must not have mattered to Gerard, who conveniently spotted us from across the street and sent us a dirty look. He turned on his heel to walk back the way he came, and Mikey tried to push me out of my chair.
“Go after him!”
“What the fuck? Why? It’s not my problem-“
“Stop lying to yourself, you dummy. I found you crying in front of a creepy painting you made of his face. Go talk to him and figure this out, now,” Mikey pushed me again, and I stumbled to my feet before jogging after Gerard. I don’t even know why I was doing this. I also didn’t know why my chest felt tight and strange. Maybe I was anxious? I’m not sure about what.
Gerard didn’t make it too far before I caught up to him, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him around. His lips set in a frown and he waved toward the direction I approached from, “Don’t worry about me. Go back to your date, it’s fine.”
“Shut up. It’s not a date. We’re just friends,” Gerard’s frustrated expression smoothed out, but we both stood in silence anyway. Gerard shifted from foot to foot, and I tried not to do the same motion. I gave him a once over, noticing he gained a few pounds and didn’t look so tired.
“You cut your hair,” I noted lamely, and he let out a single, short laugh. He ran a hand through it, now just past his ears, before shrugging.
“I needed a change. I’m a new person, I guess. Been clean for a little while, now, gotta look the part.”
“Oh. That’s great, you look a lot better,” Good god, this was awkward. Why did I let Mikey convince me to do this? Gerard had an expectant look on his face, and the words flew out before I could filter them, “I’m sorry about how I treated you before. It wasn’t right.”
Gerard’s eyebrows shot up, and I tried not to look too hard at his amazed expression. I guess an apology from me is an anomaly, or something. I didn’t think it was enough to render him speechless. Not for too long, though.
“I really tried with you, Iris,” Gerard’s amazed expression turned neutral, and I felt that anxious pang in my chest come back, “I tried, and I got my hand bit.”
“I don’t know what else you want me to say. That I love you with all my heart, and want you to come back? Don’t be stupid.”
Gerard jammed his hands in his pockets, and shifted away a little bit. I remember reading on the internet that he wasn’t interested in me, or the conversation anymore, “I don’t know. I don’t even know what I want from you, anymore. I’ll see you later, maybe.”
As he was turning, I angrily scuffed my sneaker into the ground. He paused, and looked confused, “You’re angry? Because I’m leaving? I thought I could understand you, but then you twist it all around like this.”
“I’m not angry because you’re leaving. I’m angry because I think you’re taking my heart, but I’m not even sure.”
“So you love me with all your heart, and want me to come back? Didn’t you just tell me not to be stupid?”
“Don’t be stupid,” I repeated, kicking my shoe into the ground again for emphasis, and tried my best to look over his shoulder instead of directly at his face. Between us, a little girl ran by and almost tripped. I almost laughed. Gerard didn’t leave, so I took to time to choose my words carefully. I wanted to make things at least somewhat right, to say something profound to make him understand what was happening in my head, but instead, the wrong thing tumbled out, “I don’t love you and I don’t think I ever will, and I don’t see why that matters - to me, or to you, or to Mikey, or anyone else. This is so confusing and I’m scared, because I almost could.”
Gerard’s hands fall out of his pockets, and swing to hang at his sides. I can tell he has no clue what to do, or what to say. I don’t break the silence; I just watch the emotion flash across his face - confusion, wonder, surprise. Then comes neutrality, and finally anger. His hands ball up into fists, and he looks me right in the eyes as he pounds the last nail in the coffin, “I wish I knew how to fall out of love with you.”
Mikey caught up to me, trying to ask what happened, but I could only watch Gerard’s back as he walked away.