Crash

As much as I was afraid to admit it, as frightening as the mere possibility seemed, Gerard had changed while I was gone. Although it was obvious physically, I was quite sure that the differences extended mentally as well. Sure, he was still the submissive, nervous wreck he'd been before I'd left but at the same time, he seemed to have gained a few ounces of confidence... especially when it came to this Frank he seemed to adore so much.

It was such a plain name for someone who was quite obviously a little more than ordinary. Externally, he was absolutely gorgeous, definitely the opposite of what I thought any future boyfriend's of Gerard's would look like. I assumed he'd be more after the ones who were heavily into the drug scene; greasers that looked like they hadn't had a bath in weeks.

Apparently I'd been wrong though.

There was something happening between them; I'd gathered that much from the kisses. But the look in Gerard's eyes, you could tell that he genuinely wanted to be with Frank rather than me. It was almost enough to infuriate me.

Almost. Because now, I finally had the chance to show Gerard just how much I'd missed him, how much I needed him. And there was nothing that could stand between me and him... except my mother. That could be a problem... unless she still had a prescription to those Tylenol Three's she used to be so fond of.

During the brief time I was lost in my own thoughts, Gerard had backed away from me onto the far corner of the bed, where he was sitting with his knees tucked up to his chest. His eyes were still wet at the corners, flickering rapidly from me to the now closed window, as if hoping I'd leave him long enough to escape. I couldn't help but let a quiet giggle fall from my lips; if he honestly thought that he was going to be able to get away from me, he was dearly sorry.

"Oh Gee, I've missed you so much," I murmured, sitting down and sliding up to sit beside him. He merely looked at me with that same watery gaze, blinking rapidly; even as I reached up to brush his hair away from his face, his expression never wavered. I couldn't resist the urge to simply run my fingertips down his cheek and over his lips, feeling the texture that I'd almost memorized. He merely shuddered until I ghosted up to run my finger over the scar he usually kept hidden, one that I'd inflicted myself so long ago.

This finally got a response out of him; he shuddered and twisted his head to the side, a small whimper falling from his lips. I took advantage of this new found position and moved my lips down to a spot under his jawbone, the mirror image of where his pulse would be on the other side.

"Gerard, why are you ignoring me?" I murmured, chastising myself for biting down hard enough to make a mark. I was supposed to be softening him up right now, getting him to believe that I wasn't going to hurt him; the actual fun would occur later, once Mother had been successfully knocked unconscious for a few hours.

"I'm not," he whispered, his entire body quivering. It was a rather pitiful state of defiance, even for him; even as those words fell from his mouth, he turned his head so I could no longer get to his neck. It was quite obvious simply from his body language that he didn't want me touching his body, almost as if the very notion disgusted him.

I was really going to have to find out more about this Frank character; it appeared that he was really starting to mess with my brother's mind, especially if he was showing the smallest chance of defying me. The influence he had over Gerard fascinated and angered me at the same time. I wasn't used to having competition; I usually scared or threatened any of it off. Somehow however, I had a feeling I wasn't going to be rid of Frank that easily.

But first things first. My mother was still on her feet and awake, which would simply not do at all.

"I'll be right back, okay?" I said quietly, sliding slowly off the bed and onto my feet again. "I just need to talk to Mom about living arrangements."

"Li-living arrangements?" he stammered, glancing up from behind his sheath of hair. "You mean, you're back with us now?" I merely nodded and his eyes immediately grew wide, now more shiny than ever. His breaths became audible even from where I was standing and a steady red flush crept it's way onto his face, making him quite resemble a strawberry... or a tomato.

"M-Mi-Mikey, give me my pills," he gasped, gesturing towards the nightstand, where Gerard had set the pills before retreating away from me. "I'll f-faint without them."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" I lightly tossed the bottle towards him, smirking with the franticness he was displaying as he groped for the lid, eliciting a small cry when he couldn't twist off the child-proof cap. To save him the trouble I took the bottle back and opened it easily, dropping two of the plain white caplets into my hand and returning the bottle to it's previous position.

"Please," he whimpered, holding his hand out and trying to put on what was obviously supposed to be a pleading sort of expression. All honesty, it made me feel rather insulted; did he really think that I would deny him anything?

Of course I was going to give him his pills; just not in the conventional way, per se.

"Come get them then," I said, seductively raising one eyebrow and opening my mouth slightly.

The look on his face when I stuck both of them on my tongue was priceless.

"Mikey, please don't make me do that," he whimpered, glancing nervously from his nightstand to me. The outside coating of the caplets were already starting to dissolve, leaving me with a horribly bitter taste in my mouth and I just barely resisted the urge to swallow. The sheer irony of the situation itself was almost laughable; in order to get the thing that cured his anxiety, he had to go through the one person who gave him it in the first place.

Namely, me.

It was obvious that my brother was going through quite the inner battle. His bottom lip was sucked tight between his teeth and it took all of my will power to not rip it out. He knew I hated when he did that; it made his lip all puffy and swollen, like someone had punched him. And then of course, I would be the one getting blamed.

I never punched my brother. That would have just been horrible.

Just when I thought I would have to either spit the pills out or swallow them, Gerard gave me an almost imperceptible nod and scooted forward to the edge of the bed, where I was kneeling upon the floor. A soft sob escaped from his mouth but nevertheless, he leaned forward and pressed his lips upon mine reluctantly, already seeking out the pills with his tongue. After a few moments of keeping my mouth stubbornly shut, I allowed him to retrieve them and stood up, wiping my mouth.

"I sure hope you usually kiss better than that," I muttered, trying to get the bitter taste out of my mouth. "Otherwise I think your little boytoy there is going to be sorely disappointed." He merely blushed and swallowed, looking down at the floor as if he had discovered the cure for cancer upon it.

Maybe he hadn't changed as much as I'd thought he had. After all this time, there was still almost no fight in him; he just submitted to my every whim, even though it was plain to see that he absolutely hated it.

I wasn't complaining; I loved knowing that he was willing to do anything I wanted him to, as long as I didn't hurt him. But it still irritated me that he only half-heartedly protested or tried to escape from his restraints... as if he thought that he was already trapped, with no way out.

I'm not saying that he wasn't trapped, but I still would have liked to see some fight in him.

"Now you stay right here," I murmured, running my hands along his thighs. "I'll be back in a bit and then we can talk about what I've missed, okay?" He only nodded again and I patted his head lightly, momentarily reveling in the softness of his hair.

"Good boy." I got up and headed directly to the bathroom, determined to get this over with as soon as possible. It was quite obvious that my mother had had something to do with decor; she was a great fan of hideous pastel colors, which showed in the pale yellow theme of the room.

I forced myself to ignore that and headed straight for the medicine cabinet, hidden behind a mirror like almost everyone's was. It was practically empty but on the bottom shelve, there was a small prescription bottle that matched Gerard's perfectly.

Yes, my mother really was the same after all these years.

I put the bottle in the front pocket of my pants, where it made a slight bulge I was sure I could pass off as my wallet. I doubted my mom would be looking too closely at my pants anyways; she was probably just glad that I hadn't attempted to off her yet.

The smell of chocolate chip cookies led my way into the kitchen and sure enough, my mom was just sitting a fresh tray of them on the table, steam still rising and everything.

"Smells good," I said, making her jump slightly as she spun around, quickly smoothing over her frightened eyes with a wide smile.

"I hope so, I haven't made any in awhile." She took her oven mitts off and set them on the stove before rummaging through the cupboards, pulling out a thing of flour.

"Mom, just sit down for a moment," I sighed, taking the flour and putting it on top of the fridge where she couldn't reach. "Let me make you a cup of tea and then we'll just... talk, okay?" I would have thought that she would have seemed suspicious by my sudden change in personality but her expression immediately turned soft, something straight out of a Lifetime movie.

"Of course Mikey. I'll be in the living room." She disappeared across the hallway and I heard the television flick on, broadcasting a replay of a soap opera episode from the afternoon. I immediately started working, waiting impatiently for the water to boil. During the time I was wasting here, Gerard could have made up his mind to escape. Even as I stood here, the chatter of some blond bimbo my background music, he could have been sliding out the window to go join his Frank.

The instant the water was done I poured it into Mom's cup, haphazardly throwing in her milk and sugar and spilling both all over the counter. I intentionally made it sweeter than usually, throwing in two tea bags as well so that she wouldn't be able to taste the Tylenol underneath it all.

Taking a quick glance at the door and hearing no sign of my mother getting up, I pulled the small bottle out of my pocket and popped the cap off, shaking four into my hand. On second thought, I shook two more out and stuck the bottle back down to it's previous resting place, it feeling slightly lighter. Unlike the actual making of the tea itself, I crushed the pills with delicate accuracy between two spoons, making sure as much of it as possible ended up in my mother's drink. After an excruciating long time, that was done and a quick taste test determined that all was well.

The only thing left was to wait.

When I brought it into her, Mom was sitting on a drooping red couch, patched in one or two places. It was quite different from what I'd expected her to own but it was... quirky, to say the least. She accepted her tea silently and took a small sip, squeaking a bit as she evidently burnt her tongue. I bit back a giggle; that would have ruined my facade, at the most inappropriate of times.

"So Mikey... why weren't we invited to your father's funeral?" she finally asked, still holding her cup securely in both her hands. She was continuing to take little sips every few seconds, but so far there seemed to be no effect.

"I'm just as clueless as you are," I replied, glancing lazily at the television, where two people looked very close to consummating their love in a swimming pool. "The social worker said that you would be contacted, but I guess something got lost in translation."

Really, I knew exactly why no one had been contacted; I'd given everyone the number of our old house, where so many acts had been committed, acts that had torn our family apart. That house had burnt down six months ago, a tidbit I'd found out while on the search for where my mother and brother had been residing for the last two years. The only reason I'd even made it here in the first place instead of still being kept in a foster home was because I'd managed to forge a letter saying that my mom gave permission for me to come live with her.

People in this world really are too naive.

"Well, I guess all that matters is you're here now." The end of her sentence was punctuated by a loud yawn, followed by another gulp of tea. It was plain to see that her eyes were already drooping like a basset hounds; only another few minutes and she would be completely out of it.

"I really hope we can start over," she continued, turning her body so that she could look at me fully. "I know some stuff has happened in the past but if we can forget that... I think we can be a happy family again." I only nodded, watching as her yawns became more and more frequent.

"Mom, are you okay?" I asked softly, inwardly grinning with triumph. "You look awfully tired."

"I feel tired," she groaned, setting her nearly half empty cup down on the floor and rubbing her eyes. "Do you mind if we maybe talk later? I'll make us all a late supper as well."

"Sure Mom. Have a good sleep." She stumbled off to her room at the end of the hallway and I actually giggled; there was no way in hell she was getting up until at least the wee hours of the morning... if at all.

Before long, I found my whole system racked with giggles; they made me nearly trip my way down to Gerard's door, which hung ajar slightly, no doubt from the rough treatment it had received earlier. I pushed it open all the way so that it hit the wall with a loud bang, creating a shadow in the dim room.

"And now," I whispered, "the fun shall begin."