Gloves

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" "Gerard--" "I'm going to rip out his spine and beat his face in with it!" "Please--" "I'll make him suffer!" "Gerard, c--" "He'll wish he were nev--" "Gerard, shut the fuck up!" The aforementioned boy spun on his heel, glaring heatedly at his brother, who rolled his hazel eyes. "Why?" he hissed, venom obvious in his voice. His unearthly red eyes were bright, almost glowing in his eye sockets. Mikey sighed. His brother was so much trouble. "Gerard, you need to relax. This could all be a joke, some kind of effed up prank. So sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up," commanded the irate little brother. Without argument, Gerard sat heavily on the bed, staring hard at the shag carpet. Frank scooted closer, frowning and looking at Gerard's face. It was set in a resentful scowl. His hands were clenched around the mattress, his jaw straining against his grinding teeth. Frank rested a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "You know, I'm not completely helpless; I can take care of myself, just a little bit." The three boys sat in silence for a few moments before Mikey stood and left, excusing himself with a "I'll leave you to talk" and a halfhearted wave. Gerard looked up as he left, mildly surprising Frank. His crimson eyes were pained underneath the anger and hatred. "I know, but I cannot bring myself to let you go. We have no idea what this person -- or people -- is capable of. When you died, I promised myself I would not let that life I took go to waste. That means keeping you, and myself, safe." He refused to make eye contact, keeping his face facing forward. His voice was monotone and honestly scarier than when he had been screaming. "I'm not as stupid as you think I am," said Frank. He wore a cocky smirk, something unusual, and completely unwelcomed, on his face. "I can see right through your rough exterior. So can Mikey. We both know you care much more than you let on. You can drop the tough-guy act around me, okay? I won't tell." "I have this 'tough-guy act' for a reason," was all he said. They fell into another, more companionable silence. They slowly maneuvered until they were curled around each other, one wearing a blank face and another a hopeful mask. Frank held onto his friend tightly, watching as the all he had carefully constructed around his soft center crumble and fall. "Can you shoot?" Frank blinked. "What?" Gerard looked up, red eyes a softer, kinder tone than he was used to. "Can you shoot? A gun, I mean," he elaborated. "Why would I?" asked Frank incredulously. Gerard yawned. "I'll have to teach you," he mumbled, letting his eyelids fall shut. "Why?!" But Gerard was already fast asleep, clutching Frank's shirt in the same manner he did the mattress. Frank laughed lightly and buried his nose in Gerard's hair, closing his own eyes and letting himself fall off the precipice of sleep. Watching Gerard fall apart really took it out of him.

Notes

I had this whole thing typed out. And then BAM. Nothing. You know what happened? Bam Margera happened. Well, no. Google Chrome just fucked it up. Now, if you will excuse me, I must find a baseball bat. Comment and subscribe and shit. -Stitches and her baseball bat