This Is How I Disappear

Once we reach our apartment, we all get inside as fast as we can without drawing attention to ourselves, especially with Gerard’s hair still dripping red.
Mikey closes the door quickly and leans against it as Gerard and I sit at our tiny couch, reminiscent of Gerard’s old couch back in Belleville. “I need to head back,” Mikey says. “Thank god it’s the weekend. But if I’m not at work tomorrow….” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. But we all know the end of that sentence. The police would look for him, find out he’d flown to Los Angeles, and then they’d track Gerard and me down in no time.
“Don’t you want to stay for dinner, Mikes?” Gerard asks, grinning.
As if we have any food here.
Mikey permits himself a small smile through his stress, and comes over to offer Gerard a hand up from the couch. Gerard takes it and Mikey helps him stand. “See you another time, Gee,” Mikey says, trying valiantly to sound cheerful. “Hopefully under better circumstances.”
“You didn’t think this was fun?” Gerard pouts, but the situation is anything but light, and he pulls his brother into a tight hug.
I look away, feeling like an intruder. I can’t help but feel responsible for their separation.
I’m pretty sure Gerard would’ve become a fugitive sooner or later, my brain offers. So it’s not really your fault. It’s in his nature.
Are you saying criminal tendencies lie in DNA? I question doubtfully.
Besides, my brain goes on, completely ignoring my point, if not for you, he’d still be locked away.
I mull over my brain’s assessment in silence, and even though I’m trying to give them their privacy, I still hear Gerard mutter, “Take care, little brother.”
When they end their embrace, I stand to give my own farewell. Rather than the hug I’m going for, Mikey reaches out and ruffles my hair. “Keep him out of trouble,” he tells me.
“Not sure that’s possible,” I mutter, ducking away. “See you later.”
“See you,” he says. It’s too casual, and I want to say more, but nothing seems appropriate.
Like that’s ever stopped you before, my brain quips.
If I wanted your opinion, I respond succinctly, I would ask for it.
My brain laments, Then we would never talk.
I inwardly roll my eyes. How terrible.
Mikey peers through the peephole briefly before opening the door hastily and slipping out into the night. Gerard and I stare at the door after it closes for what must be several minutes. Finally, I turn to Gee. “What do we do now?” I ask him.
Gerard startles a bit, obviously having been deep in thought, and tears his eyes away from the door to meet mine. His eyes look darker than usual. “I thought,” he sighs, sitting back down on the couch, “that you were gonna die back there.”
“I thought I did,” I chuckle humorlessly, plopping down beside him.
He reaches over and takes my hand in his, examining it like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “I thought they were gonna kill you. And I couldn’t stop them.”
I’ve never seen him look this sad before. “Thank god you’re not an only child,” I try to joke, but Gerard just holds my hand tighter, not breaking his somber mood.
“And I thought you would die,” he continues in a controlled tone, “thinking I didn’t care about you.”
This time I stay silent, squeezing his hand in comfort, hoping he’ll say what I want him to say. What I’ve been waiting for three months to hear him say.
Gerard looks at me suddenly and smiles, shedding his grave demeanor in an instant. “Let’s clean up those cuts,” he suggests cheerily, reaching up to brush his thumb gently over a scratch on my forehead. He promptly stands, releasing my hand, and rushes over to one of the cabinets to pull out a first-aid kit.
What the hell was that? my brain demands as I sit there in disbelief. He can’t do that! Tell him to come back.
“Gerard,” I say blankly.
“I don’t think you need a full-on bandage, do you? I think a band-aid will do the trick. We have skin-color, Dora the Explorer, and Spongebob. Which one do you want? I think Dora suits you best,” Gerard rambles on and wow, I’ve never heard him ramble before; he must be freaking out.
Tell him to forget the band-aids and get over here, my brain urges.
“Dora’s fine,” I say.
Really? my brain scorns.
“No!” I amend hastily, standing to face Gerard. “Fuck Dora! Get back here now!”
Not as eloquent as I would have done it, but I suppose that works, my brain muses.
Gerard looks scared shitless as he stands frozen with the Dora band-aid pinched between his fingers. I wordlessly gesture for him to approach, and he does so, dropping the band-aid on the counter and shuffling over to me. He swallows nervously as he comes to stand in front of me and I have to roll my eyes.
“Gee, I’m not gonna hurt you,” I reassure him impatiently, but he doesn’t seem convinced. I sigh dramatically. “Gerard. You were going to tell me something when I had a gun in my mouth,” I prompt.
Gerard opens his mouth, then closes it again, looking like a fish out of water.
“Right before Mikey saved us,” I go on.
After a few more moments of pained silence, Gerard manages to mumble, “Was I?”
“Fuck you,” I mutter, and I turn abruptly toward the door. My hand barely starts to turn the handle before Gerard is there, his arm reaching over mine to hold the door shut.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, staring at me incredulously.
“Out,” I respond, glaring up at him.
“Y-you can’t just leave,” he splutters indignantly. “It’s not safe!”
I twist around so that my back is to the door and I’m facing Gerard fully. “So, what?” I retort acidly. “Should I just stay here with someone who doesn’t care about me?”
Gerard looks like a helpless baby animal. “I…I care about you,” he stutters.
“Do you?” I challenge, taking a step towards him. He stumbles back slightly. I almost feel guilty from how timid he looks.
“You know how I feel about you, Frank,” he mumbles, taking another step backwards.
“I think you’ve got that mixed up,” I purr, stepping closer and leaning into Gerard’s space. “I’m the one that said how I feel about you. Several months ago. You’ve been more…elusive.”
“No,” Gerard mutters, stepping back again and tripping onto the couch, flinging his arms out to catch himself. “No,” he coughs again, “I haven’t been elusive. I’m not elusive. When have I ever been elusive?”
“Let’s see,” I say, sliding smoothly onto Gerard’s lap so that I’m straddling his hips. I lean forward to whisper into his ear, “How bout for the entire time I’ve known you?” Letting my teeth graze his earlobe, I allow my hands wander up his chest. I hope I’m being seductive rather than awkward, and by the way Gerard’s breathing picks up I think it’s working.
I can tell you for a fact you’re just being incredibly awkward, my brain hedges.
Shut up, I hum distractedly as I nip at his earlobe, and I can feel him shiver all the way down his spine. His hands come to rest on my thighs automatically.
“Frank,” he groans directly into my ear.
I can feel my body reacting to him and I promptly pull away, standing quickly and traipsing to the door again. “But I guess if you don’t feel the same, I’ll have to leave,” I announce grandly, reaching for the handle.
He’s a little slower to respond this time, so I actually manage to open the door a few inches before he’s there, shutting the door softly, and pulling my arm back to the couch. “Frank,” he sighs in exasperation, “sit down.” I follow his instructions and watch him expectantly. Gerard starts pacing back and forth in front of the couch. He opens his mouth to speak a few times but then decides against it, and resumes pacing.
“Oh for god’s sake!” I exclaim after about a minute of this. “It’s not that damn hard to say, is it? I love you! Okay? Unless you don’t fucking feel the same and then you better damn-well tell me.” I’m so angry all I can do is cross my arms and glare at the floor.
What an ass, my brain sympathizes.
Gerard stops pacing, and finally approaches me, kneeling down at my feet so that I have to look at him. He’s so pale he’s almost transparent against his dark, bloody hair. He should probably take a shower soon, I muse, but I have to admit there is something oddly sexy about Gerard covered in blood.
Gross, my brain adds.
“Frank,” Gerard says tentatively, taking my right hand in his own. “I don’t want to tell you this just because people tried to kill us. I don’t want the first time you hear this to be because I’m afraid. We’re both messes right now, and my jaw hurts like the fucking Titanic crashed into it, and a few hours ago I thought you were going to die because of me. That was the worst moment of my life.” He takes in a ragged breath, and I slide off the couch to kneel with him.
“I don’t care if it’s not your ideal timing, Gee,” I whisper, cupping his jaw with my free hand. “That doesn’t make it any less meaningful.”
Gerard searches my eyes, looking more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen this usually unflappable man. Finally he sighs. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t…care. I do. I…just don’t want you to think that the reason I’m telling you at all is because of what happened today. But,” he continues, sitting back on his heels like he’s bracing himself, “I love you, Frank. I really do.”
I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face, even though Gerard is looking so somber, and I fling my arms around his neck. “And I love you,” I laugh happily, and the force of my hug knocks us both over to the ground. Gerard tightens his grip on me and nuzzles his face in my neck. “But you know what we should do now?” I ask breathlessly.
“What?” he growls into my skin, making me shiver.
“Get you showered off,” I say, patting his hair for emphasis.
Gerard groans, and pulls away from me so he can see my face. “Right now?” he pouts, his lips set in a petulant frown.
Grinning, I lean up to his ear and murmur, “I didn’t say you had to do it alone.”
Gerard practically leaps up, pulling me with him as he scrambles toward the bathroom.
“Wait,” I chuckle, pushing him against the doorframe. “Before you wash that off….” I trail off as I run my fingers through his sticky hair. He licks his lips subtly, and before I know it we’re kissing, our mouths molding together like they were made to fit into each other. Our breaths turn to gasps and our hands are grasping at different parts of each other’s bodies: arms, hair, neck, shoulders, thighs. Even when he’s not talking, he drives me crazy.
Eventually, we mutually decide to breathe, and we lean our foreheads together as we suck in air. I open my eyes so I can look into his hazel ones, and say—and for the first time it’s of my own initiative and without fear of rejection, without worry that he’ll pull away—“I love you.” The words feel like warm honey on my tongue.
Gerard pulls me into the bathroom completely, and, shutting the door behind us, he whispers against my lips: “And I love you.”

Notes

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