Kill me or make me feel alive
It wants my soul, it wants my heart
chap 11
Mikey’s POV
After we drive away from the cemetery, I find myself wishing someone would say something to break the goddamn silence. I would even prefer if Gerard cried on my shoulder or shouted angrily about our parents, anything really. But no, he stays silent and still in the front seat next to the guy I haven’t had the honor to get acquainted with and the quietness kills me. I’m usually not the one to start a conversation, but as the unfamiliar scenery continues passing by us and the cool wind continues getting into the car by the little window opening next to me ruffling my longish hair, I become too impatient and I clear my throat, then speak up.
“G-guys…um, where are we going now?”, I asked, finally, oh, finally breaking the dead silence.
Quite awkwardly, though.
“Frank’s house, Mikes… right Frank?”, he says in the quietest voice possible and turns to the guy… Frank, apparently. They seem to make some kind of silent agreement, their eyes locked in a gaze for a single moment, then Frank starts paying attention to the road again and nods his head.
I give up on talking, although I would really want to talk to Gerard about everything. He is definitely not okay, since he ran away from home and I was so damn worried, but I feel like it’s not the best time to confront him about it. Also, that Frank guy seems very bizarre, but who am I to judge? At least Gerard has finally found a friend after what had happened with the Bert-asshole.
I put on my earphones out of boredom and stare at the trees surrounding us, while listening to some random song. I think. I think about grandma and I think about Gerard. I may have not been the most emotional person and I rarely showed my love for her. And everyone who has ever been in my situation, everyone who knows what it’s like to lose a loved one, knows the way you start blaming yourself for a lot of things. “I could’ve visited her more often”, “I shouldn’t have said that thing that one time”, you know, the ‘could’ve done, should’ve done’ and you realize you can’t turn back time. You can’t fix the broken and you feel like you haven’t been good enough, like you haven’t done the best you could.
And Gee… he must have been a wreck. I hope Frank has comforted him when Gerard’s learned about grandma. He was the closest to her, in every way really. Especially when we were little, Gerard would always want to go to her. He would draw a picture and he wouldn’t even show it to mom or dad before grandma saw it. When we were at grandma’s house, I know he felt it more like home than ours and when we grew up, through all the years while I was getting more independent and didn’t need her like before, Gerard never stopped visiting her often and being excited about spending time with her. They just had that special connection, the relationship I never had with her. So I can’t even start imagining how he feels now.
We park in front of a building somewhere in the suburbs of New Jersey and I just hope that that Frank guy is going to take us back home later because I totally missed out the whole ride and I’m absolutely horrible with directions. We all make our way out of the car quietly and I go to Gerard’s side, waiting for him to finally say something. Nothing. We go into the building and, guess what, no elevator.
“We gotta climb a couple of stairs, Mikey”, Gerard rolls his eyes at me when he sees me searching for an elevator… what? I’m lazy! Frank has apparently already started climbing, since he is nowhere to be seen.
“Gee”, I say as I nudge his arm while we walk, “how are you?”
“I’ve had better days”, he simply says.
“So… won’t you talk to me about it?”
“I’d rather not to”
“Oh, okay then. Because it’s fucking normal to stay with a person you barely know and let him help you through our grandma’s dead, but you won’t talk to your fucking brother! Yeah, it’s definitely fucking fine Gee, don’t you think!”, I may have been a little too harsh, but I cannot help but feel offended that he wouldn’t open up to me, his little brother. He used to tell me everything…
“Look Mikes, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just hard for me and I know it is for you too, but can we… talk about it uh, later or something?”, he says as we climb the steep stairs. God, I hate stairs.
“I guess it’s fine, just… I want you to know I’m here if you need to talk, Gee”
“I know”, he stops and hugs me briefly, then continues walking. I’m startled for a moment but then I recover and follow him.
When we reach Frank’s floor (which I assume since Gerard stops at the fifth floor and I almost bump into him), Frank has left the door to his apartment opened and we walk into it without waiting for an invitation. Gerard seems like he knows exactly what he’s doing and where he’s going, so I just follow him when he steps into the corridor and crosses it, going into a room that looks a lot like a living room. The room looks very… how to put it into words, bizzare. Just like Frank. Speaking of whom, Frank is not here.
Gerard’s POV
“Hey, I need to talk to Frank about something, wait here, will you” ,I say rather nervously and rush to the corridor leading to the bedroom without waiting for an answer.
I have the feeling Frank has some kind of trouble, concerning his “nature” so I leave Mikey in the living room, not quite pleased with the situation I’m in, but hey, when am I not in a fucked up situation?
I get to the bedroom door quickly, I put my hand on the handle and when I’m just about to open the door, I remind myself the least polite thing I can do is knock. And I do, I knock quietly and rhythmically three times, hoping I’m not interrupting something. I kinda feel like a puppy waiting for its owner to open the door so it can snuggle with him.
A simple weak “Come in” is all I was waiting for before I step into the room and look for Frank. The first thing I notice is how dark the room is and how the only light that comes is the one from the corridor that I let into the room. Then the door is shut behind me, and the light is gone. I hear a few curses being whispered by the shadow in the corner. This all reminds me too well of my childhood and the nights when mom and dad were on their night shifts. When Mikey was too little and I wouldn’t dare waking him up in the middle of the night because I was scared. Besides, how egoistic would that be?
I would wake up from a nightmare, covered in sweat and I’d look around the dark room, full of all kind of imaginary monsters, made of shadows, and dust, and all the innocence a child’s mind can possess. I was so afraid of these horrible creatures, lingering on the walls and on the sheets in my bed. But then again, I was the complete opposite of them back then. They were a fiction, I was real and happy. They were grey and hollow, I was bright and complete. A person fears what he can’t comprehend and what’s he’s unfamiliar with. The way Frank is hiding in the shadows just reminds me of all those fears. The difference is, I am very familiar with monsters now. I, myself, am a monster. And Frank is too. I already know how sad and hopeless we all can be. And the way even the brightest person with the most beautiful personality can be swallowed by the monsters hiding in the deepest parts of their soul. And he can hurt, he will definitely hurt.
“It hurts”, Frank pulls me out of my thoughts and I suddenly realize I’ve fallen to the ground next to him, near the leg of his bed.
“What hurts?”
“The daylight. Perhaps I should’ve worn sunglasses.”, I can tell he’s smiling.
“You shouldn’t have come, now you’re hurt because of me, Frankie”, I whisper, feeling like shit for not thinking about that. God knows how bad sun can hurt a vampire.
Then I realize what I did. I just called him Frankie. Frankie. How did that slip? And why does it feel so right calling him Frankie? He may be a monster, but on the inside, he’s gentle. And Frankie sounds gentle, so maybe it suits him well. Yes, definitely.
We sit in silence for a while. Maybe he hasn’t heard me…
“I wanted to.”
And then I understand. You can be your own monster, destroying yourself or you can let someone else in your heart, so they can do the exact same thing. It’s a matter of choice, really. You show how much you care about someone by willingly letting them destroy you. But does Frank really care? Because I sure as hell do. And will we be both destroyed in the end?
I hold his burnt from the sun hand in mine for a while and when he heals (which, may I add, happens relatively fast), we return to the living room with some kind of promise being made without any words, with the dedication of two lost souls in the big world, built of sorrow, to each other.
Mikey’s POV
After we drive away from the cemetery, I find myself wishing someone would say something to break the goddamn silence. I would even prefer if Gerard cried on my shoulder or shouted angrily about our parents, anything really. But no, he stays silent and still in the front seat next to the guy I haven’t had the honor to get acquainted with and the quietness kills me. I’m usually not the one to start a conversation, but as the unfamiliar scenery continues passing by us and the cool wind continues getting into the car by the little window opening next to me ruffling my longish hair, I become too impatient and I clear my throat, then speak up.
“G-guys…um, where are we going now?”, I asked, finally, oh, finally breaking the dead silence.
Quite awkwardly, though.
“Frank’s house, Mikes… right Frank?”, he says in the quietest voice possible and turns to the guy… Frank, apparently. They seem to make some kind of silent agreement, their eyes locked in a gaze for a single moment, then Frank starts paying attention to the road again and nods his head.
I give up on talking, although I would really want to talk to Gerard about everything. He is definitely not okay, since he ran away from home and I was so damn worried, but I feel like it’s not the best time to confront him about it. Also, that Frank guy seems very bizarre, but who am I to judge? At least Gerard has finally found a friend after what had happened with the Bert-asshole.
I put on my earphones out of boredom and stare at the trees surrounding us, while listening to some random song. I think. I think about grandma and I think about Gerard. I may have not been the most emotional person and I rarely showed my love for her. And everyone who has ever been in my situation, everyone who knows what it’s like to lose a loved one, knows the way you start blaming yourself for a lot of things. “I could’ve visited her more often”, “I shouldn’t have said that thing that one time”, you know, the ‘could’ve done, should’ve done’ and you realize you can’t turn back time. You can’t fix the broken and you feel like you haven’t been good enough, like you haven’t done the best you could.
And Gee… he must have been a wreck. I hope Frank has comforted him when Gerard’s learned about grandma. He was the closest to her, in every way really. Especially when we were little, Gerard would always want to go to her. He would draw a picture and he wouldn’t even show it to mom or dad before grandma saw it. When we were at grandma’s house, I know he felt it more like home than ours and when we grew up, through all the years while I was getting more independent and didn’t need her like before, Gerard never stopped visiting her often and being excited about spending time with her. They just had that special connection, the relationship I never had with her. So I can’t even start imagining how he feels now.
We park in front of a building somewhere in the suburbs of New Jersey and I just hope that that Frank guy is going to take us back home later because I totally missed out the whole ride and I’m absolutely horrible with directions. We all make our way out of the car quietly and I go to Gerard’s side, waiting for him to finally say something. Nothing. We go into the building and, guess what, no elevator.
“We gotta climb a couple of stairs, Mikey”, Gerard rolls his eyes at me when he sees me searching for an elevator… what? I’m lazy! Frank has apparently already started climbing, since he is nowhere to be seen.
“Gee”, I say as I nudge his arm while we walk, “how are you?”
“I’ve had better days”, he simply says.
“So… won’t you talk to me about it?”
“I’d rather not to”
“Oh, okay then. Because it’s fucking normal to stay with a person you barely know and let him help you through our grandma’s dead, but you won’t talk to your fucking brother! Yeah, it’s definitely fucking fine Gee, don’t you think!”, I may have been a little too harsh, but I cannot help but feel offended that he wouldn’t open up to me, his little brother. He used to tell me everything…
“Look Mikes, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just hard for me and I know it is for you too, but can we… talk about it uh, later or something?”, he says as we climb the steep stairs. God, I hate stairs.
“I guess it’s fine, just… I want you to know I’m here if you need to talk, Gee”
“I know”, he stops and hugs me briefly, then continues walking. I’m startled for a moment but then I recover and follow him.
When we reach Frank’s floor (which I assume since Gerard stops at the fifth floor and I almost bump into him), Frank has left the door to his apartment opened and we walk into it without waiting for an invitation. Gerard seems like he knows exactly what he’s doing and where he’s going, so I just follow him when he steps into the corridor and crosses it, going into a room that looks a lot like a living room. The room looks very… how to put it into words, bizzare. Just like Frank. Speaking of whom, Frank is not here.
Gerard’s POV
“Hey, I need to talk to Frank about something, wait here, will you” ,I say rather nervously and rush to the corridor leading to the bedroom without waiting for an answer.
I have the feeling Frank has some kind of trouble, concerning his “nature” so I leave Mikey in the living room, not quite pleased with the situation I’m in, but hey, when am I not in a fucked up situation?
I get to the bedroom door quickly, I put my hand on the handle and when I’m just about to open the door, I remind myself the least polite thing I can do is knock. And I do, I knock quietly and rhythmically three times, hoping I’m not interrupting something. I kinda feel like a puppy waiting for its owner to open the door so it can snuggle with him.
A simple weak “Come in” is all I was waiting for before I step into the room and look for Frank. The first thing I notice is how dark the room is and how the only light that comes is the one from the corridor that I let into the room. Then the door is shut behind me, and the light is gone. I hear a few curses being whispered by the shadow in the corner. This all reminds me too well of my childhood and the nights when mom and dad were on their night shifts. When Mikey was too little and I wouldn’t dare waking him up in the middle of the night because I was scared. Besides, how egoistic would that be?
I would wake up from a nightmare, covered in sweat and I’d look around the dark room, full of all kind of imaginary monsters, made of shadows, and dust, and all the innocence a child’s mind can possess. I was so afraid of these horrible creatures, lingering on the walls and on the sheets in my bed. But then again, I was the complete opposite of them back then. They were a fiction, I was real and happy. They were grey and hollow, I was bright and complete. A person fears what he can’t comprehend and what’s he’s unfamiliar with. The way Frank is hiding in the shadows just reminds me of all those fears. The difference is, I am very familiar with monsters now. I, myself, am a monster. And Frank is too. I already know how sad and hopeless we all can be. And the way even the brightest person with the most beautiful personality can be swallowed by the monsters hiding in the deepest parts of their soul. And he can hurt, he will definitely hurt.
“It hurts”, Frank pulls me out of my thoughts and I suddenly realize I’ve fallen to the ground next to him, near the leg of his bed.
“What hurts?”
“The daylight. Perhaps I should’ve worn sunglasses.”, I can tell he’s smiling.
“You shouldn’t have come, now you’re hurt because of me, Frankie”, I whisper, feeling like shit for not thinking about that. God knows how bad sun can hurt a vampire.
Then I realize what I did. I just called him Frankie. Frankie. How did that slip? And why does it feel so right calling him Frankie? He may be a monster, but on the inside, he’s gentle. And Frankie sounds gentle, so maybe it suits him well. Yes, definitely.
We sit in silence for a while. Maybe he hasn’t heard me…
“I wanted to.”
And then I understand. You can be your own monster, destroying yourself or you can let someone else in your heart, so they can do the exact same thing. It’s a matter of choice, really. You show how much you care about someone by willingly letting them destroy you. But does Frank really care? Because I sure as hell do. And will we be both destroyed in the end?
I hold his burnt from the sun hand in mine for a while and when he heals (which, may I add, happens relatively fast), we return to the living room with some kind of promise being made without any words, with the dedication of two lost souls in the big world, built of sorrow, to each other.
Notes
Note: *wipes sweat from forehead* I made it, I finally wrote it! Yay! It may be kinda shitty, at least the first part. I hope I’ll be able to write the next chapter without procrastinating so much.P.S. Sorry for the switch of POVs, but I guess it was necessary.
Love you all, you beautiful creatures. xxxx
zombie--
I just started reading this today and I just wanted to say that it's amazing. :)
9/7/14