This Is How I Disappear

Gerard didn’t actually say he killed the three men, but it was pretty clearly implied with “shooting practice.” I suppose he did this for Mikey’s benefit; his brother cringed any time Gerard mentioned his criminal activities.

“What did that stupid dentist owe you for anyway?” Mikey wonders, and I look at Gerard expectantly, curious as well.

“Oh,” Gerard grins, “I ki—uh, got his ex-wife to go away.”

Mikey grimaces and for some reason, I feel surprised. Because you thought he was such a misunderstood guy, my brain emphasizes.

I am merely surprised that he killed so many people, I defend.

Don’t lie to yourself, my brain chides, you’re just hoping he’s not a psychopath because he’s attractive.

Not… I reply, biting back a smile.

Because psychopaths don’t feel emotion, and then how could he ever care about you? My brain is being purposefully nasty now. The smile fades.

What’s your problem? I mumble, gnawing my lip.

Grow up, is all my brain snaps in reply. I struggle to keep the bewilderment and hurt off my face.

“Don’t answer if it’s illegal,” Mikey sighs.

Sometimes I wonder if Gerard’s face ever gets sore from sporting all those cheeky grins. “Don’t ask questions, then.” I almost want to laugh at his absurd criminal ways.

Oh, haha, ‘cause his “absurd criminal ways” have benefitted you so much. My brain returns to sink its fangs in.

I draw my eyebrows together. Why are you being like this?

If you’re so fucking in love with him, why don’t you just try to kiss him already?

I don’t know what to say.

Oh, that’s right, my brain goes on, scornfully. It’s because he’s a normal straight guy who will never return your feelings.

I watch numbly as Mikey rolls his eyes. “What are you doing here anyway?” he demands.

Gerard assumes a defensive demeanor. “What, you want me to leave?” he challenges.

“Yes,” Mikey replies, exasperated. “I’m being watched; you’ll be arrested in no time if you stay.”

Gerard shakes his head. “Even if they do, they don’t have any evidence.”

“Your name was shouted on a ransom call!” Mikey exclaims.

“Oh, I forgot about that,” Gerard mutters, leaning back in thought.

“What did you think you were running for then?” his brother inquires incredulously, but before Gerard can respond, he says, “Wait! Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

Their fraternal bickering almost cheers me up, but my brain comes back with a vengeance. There is something wrong with you. Don’t you get that? It’s not normal to like guys. You’d have thought all the bullies at school would have knocked some fucking sense into you, faggot.

I feel sick to my stomach. My eyes are watery.

Oh, great! my brain sneers. Cry in front of them to completely besmirch your little remaining dignity. I’m sure the cop and the criminal will appreciate your show of weakness.

Without an excuse for the Way brothers, I turn and run to the bathroom. I take the time to shut the door before vomiting into the toilet. I heave repeatedly, though not much comes out. When the nausea passes, I slump against the wall in misery. That dress is still on the floor.

Oh, did you like being a woman? Bet that was nice, to be normal for a while.

I curl into a ball and cry. I cry about everything and nothing. I cry for my sexuality, for my loneliness due to lack of friends, for every time someone hit or kicked me, for boys that will never return my interest, especially that boy with red hair. I let these thoughts become blurred and indiscernible, and then I cry just to cry. I could stay like that for hours, but there is a tentative knock on the door. “Frank?” a soft voice asks.

Here comes your crush, my brain says. Life is short, and you’re a freak. You can’t get much lower in his eyes. Just kiss him before he abandons you.

Shut up, I tell it, swallowing.

Don’t tell me I’m hurting your feelings? The queer is upset?

Shut up! I insist angrily.

What’s that, little gay boy? You can’t handle the truth?

“I said shut up!” I scream, grabbing my hair in my hands and pulling, because maybe the physical pain will lessen the pain in my heart. Suddenly, the door flies open, and someone is there by my side, holding my hands so they’ll release my hair, stroking my face with comforting murmurs. He hugs me to his chest, and I accept the hug as all my years of loneliness pour over me. Eventually, my sobs die down enough that I can hear what he’s saying.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I got you. You can go home if you want that, I won’t stop you. Don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His mouth is by my ear. My stomach knots up as our position dawns on me. His hands rub my back gently, his arms crush me to him.

Is this agony or bliss? This longing for him, this yearning. I don’t want to move and break our embrace. I’m shaking slightly, though I can’t determine why. Gerard rests his chin on my head. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers. “What do you need?”

If only he knew. “I don’t want to go home,” I mumble quietly. I didn’t mean to say it, but it’s the truth. I love my mom and dad, sure, but that wasn’t enough to stop me from trying to kill myself. This…crazy, eccentric murderer, on the other hand, is. Isn’t it strange to think I haven’t smiled this much in forever? Even as I’m sniffling, I know I was worse off before.

“Then you don’t have to,” he replies, petting my hair. I don’t want this moment to end, I don’t want him to pull away. My stomach keeps flipping.

“I…” This is harder to say than I thought. “I…lied before, when…when I said…that I wasn’t gay.”

His hands freeze and I lament, no, he’s going to pull away. If you’re lucky he’ll beat you up; if you’re lucky he’ll kill you. Just don’t let him look at you with pity and distaste and walk away.

“Well, I didn’t,” he says, emotionless, not moving away just yet. It will happen though. They always pull away. Gerard just has more tact. “I’m not gay,” he tells me, but he’s not moving and I don’t know how to pull away without falling into little pieces, even if the right thing, the respectful, polite thing to do is to pull back. His hands tighten on my arms. Okay, so abuse. Shouldn’t expect sympathy from a criminal. “I’m bi.”

My heart is beating faster than…I don’t know. I can’t think of anything. I’m too surprised and hopeful and wary. Moving still isn’t an option, but Gerard is not so paralyzed.

With agonizing slowness, he lifts a hand to my cheek, urging my head up. Our eyes lock. He has beautiful eyes. The hazel irises swirl within themselves, dancing erratically.

“So, is he okay?” Mikey asks as he strides down the hall toward the bathroom. Gerard and I scramble apart, dropping our gazes to the floor.

“Yeah, he’s better now,” Gerard says quickly before standing and brushing past his brother. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says as he goes.

Mikey raises his eyebrows. “What was that about?” he asks me.

“I said I didn’t want to go home,” I mumble, getting up.

“Oh.” He doesn’t seem to know what to say. “Well, here’s a toothbrush, and toothpaste is right there. I’ll show you the guest room when you’re done.”

I nod my thanks as he departs. What the hell do I do now? Pretend nothing happened? Pretend something did? Saying he was bi wasn’t saying he was into me. And lifting my chin…he probably was just gonna give me a pep talk. Say how I’m worth more than bigots or something. But…

I don’t know what to think.