The Enigma’s Anomaly

“No, I’m fine,” Gerard’s talking on the phone with someone when I get back into the cab. It took me about twenty minutes to change out of my clothes, and grab a pistol. I also contacted my client to ask what the hell that was about.

All they said was that I had taken too long. I assured that I was still trying to finish him off though. I don’t want anyone taking that money but me. It’s mine, and I want it paid to me.

“Mikey I’m fine!” Gerard says exasperatedly into the phone. “No, he’s okay, it was just his shoulder.”

I can’t actually hear the other side of the conversation but it’s not too difficult to guess who it is. The cabbie pulls away from my building and starts heading in the direction for Gerard’s apartment. I’ve never been inside it before, though I’ve seen the outside plenty of times.

“Well Frank saved me,” Gerard says, and I blush slightly. I feel a little weird driving in this car with him with my gun. I changed out of the suit in favor of just a sweater and jeans, because it’s way more comfortable.

“No, I don’t know, he just saw the laser thing and-,“ I presume that Mikey interrupts him. Gerard rolls his eyes and then looks at me and smiles. He’s so damn cute, even when he’s annoyed.

“Just calm down, Mikey!” Gerard says after a minute, “I told them they could put security on me or whatever.”

“Alright, fine, I won’t leave the house,” Gerard says, after Mikey apparently gives him an instruction to stay indoors. “Yes, I’ll cover all the windows.”

“No, you don’t need to come over, Frank’s staying with me tonight,” he continues. I blush again. That sounds so suggestive and I hope to god that Mikey isn’t presumptuous.

It seems to take forever for Gerard to get rid of him, but eventually he does hang up when someone else is apparently calling him. How many people does he know that need to call him at ten o’clock at night?

Gerard groans when he sees the caller ID and mouths the word “publicist” to me. This particular call doesn’t last as long as the last because just quickly explains what’s going on and then hangs up.

“You know you can’t really blame people for being worried,” I say.

“I get worried, but what I don’t get is the overprotectiveness. Do you think I want to be shot at? Mikey seems to think I’m not keeping myself safe enough.”

“Well he’s not wrong when he says you should stay inside.”

“Oh god, you’re not going to patronize me too are you?” Gerard asks looking hopeless.

“Um, no sorry,” I answer, “it’s just that... Gerard I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Perfect timing because the cab stops as soon as I say that and it allows me to look away to hide the fact that I’ve turned scarlet. I step out quickly and allow my hands to fall across my face to try and erase the stupid. I pull them away and look around.

Even though it’s dangerous, I always have loved New York at night. The city lights and the sound of cars passing by in the quiet. It’s just really comforting to me.

“You sure you’re okay with staying over Frank? Because I could ask Mikey or-“

“No it’s fine,” I say, and do my best to smile at him, then I allow him to lead me into the building.

He lives in a much more grandeur home than I, with nicer halls as well as doors that haven’t been sloppily painted, and are made out of a nice wood.

He leads me up to the third floor, and then messes around with his key ring before getting the door open.

He guides me into his apartment which is so much nicer than mine.

Instead of a tiny little kitchenette he has a full blown kitchen which looks like it’s hardly ever been used. The living room has a large television, flat and sleek. A shag carpet with a coffee table atop it, separates the TV from a couch and a love seat that are both dark and comfortable looking. There’s a huge bookshelf to the side of the TV filled with horror films. I don’t know if I’d have pegged Gerard as a blood ravaging zombie type of guy, but it doesn’t necessarily surprise me. I’m learning not to be surprised by the different levels of Gerard.

Already looking at the room I can tell it was designed by someone who was either female or feminine because it’s not manly. My best guess is that Gerard’s a little gayer than he comes across as.

I have Gerard close all the curtains for more reasons than one. I don’t want anyone shooting him and I don’t want anyone seeing him get shot. He has trouble getting one of them because it’s a few feet above his head and it takes him a little while to get.

I watch him, and he’s so vulnerable. I have such a clear shot. It’s so easy. There’s nothing stopping me. I just need to pull the trigger and he’ll be gone. It’s not even slightly difficult. It’s so easy.

There’s no one here, it’s just me and Gerard. His back is to me and I could so easily stain his carpet with his own blood. I have no reason to be nervous or scared. I just need to press down on the trigger. Just need to press down. It’s so light, and so sensitive to the touch. It wouldn’t even require any force, I could just pull and then he’d be gone.

I don’t know why I’m still standing here looking at him. Why don’t I just do it? Why don’t I? I need this money, he’s just one person. He’s just one person. I am just one person, and so is he, so what makes it so hard to pull the trigger on him?

I can’t.

I can’t do it.

I feel the bomb drop in my stomach like a boulder. I literally can’t. For once there’s nothing stopping me. For once there’s no reason to make me flinch or feel the need to stop. I can’t do this though.

I am incapable of shooting Gerard Way. I’m not just having trouble. I physically cannot do it. Why?

I’ve never felt this way about anyone or anything. It’s like my whole body is protesting to killing him, and my head knows that I need to, but I just can’t. I can’t.

I know that I can’t turn away from this now, not after spending so much time on this assignment, but there’s no conceivable way I’ll ever be able to shoot Gerard.

As soon as I realize this I put the gun on safety, and I put it in my pocket. I can never hurt him. Nothing in the world is worth hurting such a precious human. Not money, not reputation. There’s no adequate reason to kill someone so innocent.

I knew two weeks ago that I was fucked. This only confirms that. I can’t even kill a loser with red hair. I don’t want to either. My heart says to keep him alive, my body says I can’t kill him, and my brain says I probably should, but I’m inclined to listen to my heart.

There’s only one decision that can be drawn from this epiphany. From today forward I’m not going to shoot Gerard. I can’t, and I just want to see him fucking alive. I want to see him smiling, moping, crying, and laughing. I want to see all of it. I do not want to see him cold and pale and without breath.

“You okay?” Gerard asks, as he turns for the first time in a few times. He finally got a hang of the curtain. He’s frowning with concern at me and his eyebrows have drawn together.

“Yeah,” I nod and I can’t help but grin at him. “I really really am.”

~*~*~*~

It’s dark and I can barely see my way in the dimly lit hallway. It’s sometime past four in the morning and I stumble down the carpeted floor to the room at the end of the hall. I’m tired and I feel ready to pass out from exhaustion, but I don’t stop moving.

There’s a door with a light beaming out of the crack at the bottom, and it’s lighting up the wall on the other side, but I walk past it to my destination. This hall seems absurdly long. It feels like I’ve been walking down it for months or years, even if it’s only been a second or two.

The door at the end is closed, and I hold my hand out to grasp the knob. It’s locked, because everyone is so protective these days. I sigh and grab a paperclip from my pocket which is curious because I don’t know why or when I would have brought a paperclip with me, but I don’t question it. I fumble at the little brass knob for a second, but the lock isn’t hard to pick. It’s not the kind of lock that’s going to keep out intruders it’s just the kind of lock that would keep out a nosy sibling.

The door opens, not with a click, but I can tell it’s unlocked by the feeling of the handle turning in my grasp. I open the door quietly and step in. It’s almost as dark in here as in the hallway, but not quite. The window does a good job at keeping people from seeing inside, but there’s still a hint of yellow street lamp leaking from the curtains.

The curtains hang above an air-conditioning vent, so the silky fabric blows delicately at the bottom. I watch the little dance it does for a second before shaking myself out of it and I remember why I’m here.

I turn to look at the figure lying peacefully in his blankets. His face is towards my direction, but he’s asleep. He’s beautiful like this, not knowing or caring anyone is watching. There’s a discernable rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out and I watch him for a few seconds, lost in the pattern.

He looks like a child in his sleep. So innocent and serene.

The glowing numbers on the alarm clock next to him make it possible to see him, though there’s a blue glow on his face. The redness of his hair doesn’t quite suit the indigo hue.

I get down to business though and pull my gun from my pocket. Without thinking too much about it I point directly at his heart and I shoot.

The bang echoes around the room, and surely it’s heard in adjacent apartments. The disarray of his blankets makes me miss his heart and instead I shoot his stomach.

His eyes dart open and he looks right at me. He looks so scared, like I never could’ve believed or imagined. I don’t like the look, but I can’t stop him from giving it to me.

He looks at me and then his hand traces down his body to where he’s been injured and when he brings his hand back up, its stained crimson, a color deeper than that of his hair.

After staring at his fingers for a few moments he looks back up at me, ready to sob or something. His hazel eyes swell and I see the emotional hurt as well as the physical.

“Frank?” He asks sounding so weak.

I don’t answer him. I don’t know how to. I’m the one who just shot him, what do I say in response?

“You?” He asks, and already I can see the light fading from his eyes, and the color falling from his cheeks.

“All along?” He continues and I don’t know how to feel.

I don’t like seeing him so hurt, so... so betrayed. He’s probably in excruciating pain. I don’t know exactly how it feels, never having been shot myself, but it can’t be too pleasant.

I decide to take him out of his misery and I raise my arm up to shoot again.

He looks at the weapon and there’s a plea in his eyes.

“Please? No, Frank,” He mumbles, but I shake my head and shoot again. Then again. The noise is earsplitting and it hurts my head to be so near to the source.

I wake up to knocking, not shooting. Pound pound pound. An insistent whacking at the door making me want to throw a sharp object at whomever is on the other side. I’m on the couch because it felt weird for me to sleep in a guest room. I know I’m a little picky, but I just didn’t like the idea of it.

The dream I just had leaves me a little shaken, but I forget it as soon as I hear Gerard’s voice. I don’t want to even consider the look on Gerard face if I were to shoot him.

“Who the fuck is that? I will end them!” Gerard screams from his room. I tend to agree with him, and I stick my head up to watch him walk out of his room quickly. His bedhead looks like sex hair and you have no idea how much I want to see his actual sex hair just to be sure that I’m right about that.

Gerard, because he’s a grown adult who’s allowed to make his own life choices, is wearing Star Wars pajama pants. Very sexy. Not really. I like it though.

I eye him in a half hidden position looking over the back of the couch to see him put his eye to the peep hole, sigh, and open the door.

“What do you want so early in the morning?” Gerard asks to the person at the door. Gerard’s hiding most of him with his body, but I can still tell its Mikey.

I haven’t said many more words to him since that awkward day a few weeks ago, but he seems nice enough, he’s just a bit quiet.

“You do realize its noon right?” Mikey asks. I try to remember what day it is, but I’m pretty sure it’s a Thursday morning. I might be wrong, so I don’t get too caught up on it.

“It’s early,” Gerard scowls and turns around, leaving the door open for Mikey.

“Thanks for the hello,” he says. I look at him a little closer to see he’s got two grocery bags in one hand. Do all the Way’s use tree-killing plastic bags?

“Why are you here?” Gerard asks. He gives me an eye roll and points to Mikey which makes me smile at him. He’s really cute like this. Not trying to impress, all alone with no one who cares what he looks like. Obviously he doesn’t need to work all that hard on his appearance, as he’s already ungodly attractive, but it’s nice seeing him so natural.

“I’m putting you under a make-shift house arrest until they find the guy trying to kill you,” Mikey says, and he throws the bags on the counter carelessly. He’s also closed the door and double locked it.

“You worry too much,” Gerard groans rubbing at his eyes.

“I only have one brother!” Mikey says, and he gives me a greeting in passing “Hey Frank.”

“What does house arrest entail exactly?” Gerard asks looking incredibly unenthusiastic.

“I don’t want you leaving the house unless you have to. I got you some basic stuff,” Mikey says and gestures to the bags, “tell me if you need anything else.”

“You’re treating me like I’m sick or I just got my legs chopped off!”

“I’m treating you like someone wants to murder you!” Mikey exasperates.

The realization hits me like a brick that I decided to keep him alive last night. Now that it’s the morning I would have thought that I might have regretted that choice and I wouldn’t be surprised to have taken it back, but it seems to make me so much more relaxed. I’m not going to kill Gerard, and I’ve made my peace with that. It seems so obvious that I was never going to kill Gerard. How did I never realize that that was my fate?

“Mikey’s right,” I say tiredly. My voice sounds like I just woke up, which I did.

“Thank you Frank,” Mikey says and he looks at Gerard like he’s just won a battle.

“There’s going to be an assassination all right, it’s just not going to be me that’s dead,” Gerard says and he looks grumpy.