Changes

The car ride back was solemn but no surprise there. Mikey traded seats with Frank so he could stare out the window and grumble as he wipes away beads of sweat from the corner of his eye. There was no feather fights or loud singing to fill the car ride home, only the purr of the engines and the soft tinkling from the radio. Frank hums once or twice, but all the time, he would catch Mrs. Way’s eyes from the rearview mirror and guilt would leave him silent.

Halfway through the drive home, Mikey fell asleep, his head lolling to a rest on Frank’s shoulder. The weight was comfortable, almost normal on him. It was as though that crook was built just for Mikey and no one else. The bespectacled boy snuffled closer and Frank smiled a little. Barely minutes passed before the ray of sunlight falling steadily on him drew him into slumber. Gerard leant forwards, watching the two boys. He took a mental snapshot so he could draw it when he’s home. There was a small frown on his younger brother’s face; it matched his own thought Gerard.

God, I spoiled him. Gerard wished he could apologize then pretend that nothing happened, but Mikey was Mikey and Gerard was Gerard. If Mikey was Mikey and Gerard was Mikey, everything would have been blown out of proportion on that same night and at the same time, fix itself magically. With a sigh, he fell back to his seat and watched the passing trees blend into one blur of green, kind of like his old palette at home. By the time Mr. and Mrs. Way pulled in at their front porch, the boys were all sprawled across the backseat, rubbing their eyes, trying to wake up.

+++

Frank, was confused.

He just about shoved all his books in his locker at the end of the day when suddenly there was a tap on his shoulder and a voice went, quite clearly, “Hey.”

He jumped up and spun around, feeling the small trickle of anger down his back, until he saw Mikey’s expression. In an instant, that small bit of shock and the beats his heart skipped didn’t matter because as he searched his best friend’s eyes, there was nothing but a blank gaze. Framed by glasses that were curiously taped on the right, his eyes were nothing more than hazel canvasses waiting for someone to paint over them. Frank wants to open his mouth and shake his friend to know what’s wrong. Instead, he gulped down the fear that started to crawl up his spine, and plastered a bright smile on his face.

“What’s up? We walking home?”

There was a short span of silence that lasted a lifetime. Mikey fights with something inside of him while Frank watched on, bleeding bottom lip and clenched knuckles, trying to stop himself from holding the bespectacled boy in his hands like he’s fragile. Finally, Mikey glanced away, and heaved out a sigh, face saddened, but victorious.

“Let’s go somewhere today,” even his voice was suddenly soft. Resigned. Franks wanted to shake him and find out what went wrong but he held himself in check and raises one eyebrow.

“Again?” he asked, voice cool but laced with concern and curiosity. “We’ve been going out every day. I’m running short on cash man,”

Mikey shuffles, nervously, tired of all the questions and looks and he’s not dumb. He sees the way Frank sometime stares at him, frustrated and unsatisfied with how unresponsive he was becoming. But Mikey insists with himself that he didn’t ask Frank to turn protective and overbearing and inquisitive. He bristles quietly and glares at Frank.

“Doesn’t matter. Let’s go to the arcade or somewhere. I don’t know, I just wanna go out.” He groans out and squeezes his own shoulder. Frank stared at him, unable to fathom the new Mikey. He waited a beat before nodding his head, pushing his locker door firmly shut.

“C’mon, let’s go to the park.” And Frank led the way, not knowing that behind him, Mikey was heaving sigh of relief but feeling that trickle of discomfort all the same.

+++

Half an hour later, they were balancing on an elevated block of cement with a packet of chips and a bottle of soda. Their sneakers were half hidden by the tall blades of grass surrounding them, the kicking motion sending bits of damp soil flying into the lake. There was the distant hum of passing engines and occasional yelps of teenagers from somewhere around them but between Mikey and Frank, there was only the crunching of paper thin potato slices and the gurgling of orange soda.

“So you totally freaked when I said hi just now,” stated Mikey causally, pushing the dregs of his chips with his teeth. He watched Frank from the corner of his eye, grinning mischievously as his best friend in the whole wide world put down his drink and wiped his mouth. He didn’t know where the change in attitude came from but he was glad it did. He saw the glimmer of relief in his best friend’s eyes, the small sigh that released all the tension from Frank’s shoulders and the small smile that played across his lips. Frank, Frank doesn’t deserve to worry like a mother hen over him. Over him and Gerard; and thinking of Gerard brought back the stinging to his cheeks and he fought the urge to rub soothing circles over his face. The lump in his throat was back and he discreetly tried to cough it away, willing himself to not do something stupid so Frank worries again.

“Get the hell out.” grinned Frank, his voice reflecting his amusement. He saw the glee in Mikey’s face, open and honest and his heart felt so full because oh wow, he got his old Mikey back. It didn’t take much, just Mikey’s smug expression, Frank sticking out his tongue and then Mikey sticking out his and suddenly, they were rolling in the grass, tackling each other, each trying to get a one up, trying to get the other in a headlock. Both boys were yelling, voices breathy and there was a tangle of hands on ribs and legs over the other and heads knocking and more screams and Mikey, Mikey thought he was finally having fun and Frank, Frank was just glad he got his old Mikey back until he knocked Mikey in the face with his elbow, and the glasses fell off.

The tension was almost killing them, if they didn’t kill themselves first. Frank was half on top of Mikey, sort of; their legs were splayed on the green grass, tangled and unmoving. They kind of looked like the letter V from an aerial view, with Frank twisting his head to look back at Mikey sheepishly. But scary thing was, Mikey wasn’t angry, he just looked… frightened. With his hair mussed and his chest heaving and that bruise on his cheek. Frank stopped breathing.

Minutes passed as Frank stared at the bruise, tilting his head left and right, trying to tell himself it was just a trick of the light, or some dirt from the ground. But the blue-ish purple mottling was very real and Frank couldn’t think. He reaches out to touch that offensive bruise, wanting to know for sure if it was there. His fingers moved slowly, with Mikey watching, barely breathing. Finally, he touched it, but only for a second because Mikey winced and Frank automatically sat up, straightened himself and passed Mikey the fallen glasses. They both sat next to each other, fighting to get their breathing even, their backs resting against the concrete. Frank turned away as Mikey puts on his glasses and flattened his hair so he covered the bruise.

“So… uh, wow,” Frank intoned. Mikey silently nodded in agreement. Frank was staring at the tree far ahead of him, eyes hard and cold. His voice was quiet but it held a wave of emotion Mikey doesn’t want to feel, or even understand. Amidst their silence a car zooms by roaring engines and honking incessantly. Mikey wasn’t so sure but maybe that jarred Frank from his own thoughts because he cleared his throat awkwardly and continued. “Were you planning to tell me?”

“Not really,” muttered Mikey, dreading to hear the small “Oh,” laced with disappointment. He winced when Frank does reply exactly like he predicted.

“Will you tell me if I asked?” and Mikey was kind of shocked at the softness in Frank’s voice. And the honest to God hurt in his eyes and how his heart is thumping like crazy because he wants Frank to know. Right now, he wants Frank to know every single detail, every nuance of emotion and just make it all better because Frank? Frank really looked like he could.

“I. Yeah, yeah.” And they both were silent for a while waiting for Mikey to actually say something. But there was this second where a wave of nerves drenched him and he could barely speak afraid that when he did, Frank would stalk off and kill Gerard or worse, stalk off and leave him. But Frank looked calm, if not apprehensive and Mikey thought, just get on with it buster.

“Does Gerard know about this?” Frank asked, still not facing Mikey. The apprehension was thrumming just under his skin, his hands curled up into fists, ready to beat up whoever did it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mikey stiffen. It was like a tidal wave of realisation. He was shocked; of course it was not possible, not Gerard and Mikey. He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t. Staring at Mikey’s flushed face, Frank knew he would and he did and Frank, was loss for words.

“He was angry, and I was just asking for it and really, it’s not his fault, not all of it,” Mikey started but Frank silenced him with a look. There was so much anger in his eyes, and for a moment Mikey was afraid Frank might do something rash and so Frankie and there would be so much trouble. But instead, he turns and faced Mikey, finally, and his voice was husky and low.

“Do you hate him?” and Mikey, feeling utterly disappointed because out of all the time Frank could actually remember Gerard before him, he chose this one, shook his head.

“I would never,” and that was that. The weight was lifted of his chest, he felt strangely satisfied. Frank nodded along with him, picking up the bottle of soda and the leftover bag of chips, before standing up. They both straightened themselves out, Frank pretending not to notice when Mikey fingered his bruise once more. “See you tomorrow?”

“Most definitely,” Frank replied with a grin. It was not until later on that night, when Mikey was lying in his room, did he realise, after a whole week of agonizing, it took one question from Frank to make his feel like the world has righted itself. He indulged in a small smile before putting on his earphones and rolling over to his side, falling asleep before the first chorus even played.

The next day, Frank practically ran to Mikey’s locker after the last class. Breathing hard, he waited for Mikey to make his way so they could find somewhere else to go. Instead, Mikey just shook his head, while storing away his books.

“I think,” he said and Frank waited, unable to tear his gaze away from his best friend’s contemplative expression. “I think, we should go and hang out in my room today.”

It was as though Mikey declared world peace. There was conviction in his eyes and a set in his shoulders. Looking at him, Frank felt proud of the boy. Without saying anything, he wrapped his hands around the boy and they strode out, ignoring the calls from the resident school bully.

Gerard was just pouring himself a glass of milk when the front door open and the sounds of their laughter filtered in. He froze; glass in hand, still in his pyjamas when they walked into the kitchen. The moment Mikey saw him; it was as though the laughter died on his lips. Frank’s lip thinned till they were almost barely there. A beat of silence followed before Mikey shook himself and turned to Frank.

“Juice?” Frank nodded his head, eyes still boring holes into Gerard who was growing even more uncomfortable by the second. As Mikey bustled around, deliberately avoiding his brother, Frank tapped a simple rhythm on the counter, so he could actually do something with his hands besides pummelling the older Way. His eyes were still fiery and Gerard was sheepishly scuffling his feet.

Mikey grabbed an apple and he handed the glass of orange juice to Frank. More silence. Gerard looked up into his brother’s eyes and wanting to fix it all, he silently mouthed out “I’m sorry.” Mikey looked back and Gerard, realizing he couldn’t handle the guilt, dropped his eyes to the floor in shame. He could still feel Frank staring at him, accusing him. That kid was something else.
The moment Mikey’s voice said “C’mon, we’ll get started on the bio project,” Gerard felt nothing but relief, pressure rolling off his chest and his eyes stinging with private tears. And he sat in his room, contemplating over milk and alcohol about how he could be so stupid, so selfish, so hurtful. A few hours passed over the clock and made no difference to him. He heard Frank and Mikey yelling and playing, he listened to their comfortable silences, and felt it when they hugged goodbye in the hallway. Footsteps back and forth indicated Frank’s departure and Gerard felt even worse; that kid was something. He was really something.

Mikey quietly sat in his room for almost fifteen minutes after Frankie left. He always hated it after Frank left; it made his room feel empty. He needed to get out and so he did. The hallway was empty and quiet too, but that wasn’t unusual. What caught Mikey’s eye was the open door at the end of it. Gerard’s door. It was never open. Gerard was never open. Slowly, slowly, as if he’d be caught if he walked too fast, Mikey crept towards the door and peered in. There was no Gerard inside.

Possessed and fascinated, he crept in, slower than he’d approached it. It was like dead magic. There were papers and canvasses canvassing the walls, the floor, the bed. Bottle caps littered the carpet and a stale smell, something like socks and pizza, hung in the air. On the wall next to his bed, Gerard had hung blank drawing pages, filling them in day by day. Mikey couldn’t help but stare and went closer. Mikey, bruised. Mikey, smiling. Mikey, sulking. Mikey’s glasses. Broken glass. Charcoal stains. It was the nightmare that had been haunting Gerard since December and Mikey saw it for the first time. It was…it was…he couldn’t think. He could only stare and feel…

“Sorry.” Mikey jumped at the thick voice behind him.

“G-Gerard,” the younger boy stammered. “I-I…I mean, the door was open and— ”
He was cut off. “You don’t need to explain anything. I’m the one who’s scum. I’m shit. I’m nothing. And I’m sorry.”

Mikey was silent. Not because he was fuming or thinking, but because he actually didn’t know what to say. In all this time, it never occurred to him how much this affected his older brother. Not once. And before he had time to react, Gerard grabbed him in a bear hug, pulling the skinny boy close to him protectively.

For what seemed like forever, they stood there, holding each other. Finally, Mikey spoke. “Gee,” he said into his brother’s shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“You reek. Seriously.”

And they laughed, ignoring and accepting that they were both quietly crying.