Come, Angels of Unknown

I saw Melissa in the hospital.

I was too scared to come up to her, to tell her he'd be fine- because I somehow knew he wouldn't. I also felt like I’d betrayed both her and my brother since I’d been to afraid to pick up the phone and tell her about all this earlier, so she had obviously heard about it from someone else. Her eyes were red and her knuckles were white, nails bitten as she was sitting in the hallway, alone. Staring through the window of Mikey’s room, she looked like a walking disaster; and I’d been feelings like one for a while now.
It hurt my brain, thinking about her.

Frank hadn’t been talking to me lately. He’d check on me, he’d help me do things I was too weak to do by myself, but he hadn’t spoken a word to me besides the necessities. I’d say I’d tried talking to him, but I hadn’t- I couldn’t. I didn’t think it would’ve made any difference anyway.
The cold aura his actions towards me had was enough to make me realize what his attitude towards the entire situation was. It was some weird form of crudity; he was pretty gentle, but too distant for it to be warm.

I couldn’t help but to feel strangely pathetic when I’d see his wrist twitch on the couch beside me and wish I could’ve held it. When his hand reached for his forehead to brush his hair away, I’d wish I could’ve grabbed it and kissed the tips of his fingers so his nerves would find their calm. My own head started sounding like an idiot to me; I was becoming jealous of the things he’d blatantly touch in passing and the people his eyes would absently skim over when he’d take me to the hospital or the store.
What he refused to do was take me to work, and I felt extremely miserable knowing it was only because Katie told him so.

“Coffee?” I heard him say, and seconds later a mug was presented in front of my face.

“Thanks,” I mumbled as I took it into my hand.

He sat beside me, his back hunched over and his eyes seemingly miles away from this world. I’d envied that, I wished I could’ve escaped the reality I’d been thrown into like he did.

“I want to know why you never wear clothes that reveal your skin,” I found myself saying. My voice was surprisingly firm even though I felt extremely anxious, and I saw his form tense up beside me.

“Because I’m not like you,” he simply said, still burning his eyes into my wall. They looked so pained I thought they might leave holes in there. “My scars aren’t just metaphorical.”

I knew what he was talking about but I still couldn’t help but keep questioning him. It felt like an urge even though I’d hesitated a lot. “What are they, then?”

“Would you like a demonstration?” His voice was crude, nearly spiteful, but it felt almost good since it was the most emotion I’d gotten out of him in a long while now. I wanted to punch myself because I was glad knowing that I’d made him feel angry, but it was still more than nothing. I figured I would’ve rather made him feel miserable than empty, because misery can be kissed away and emptiness sticks with you for good.

I gulped loudly, the sound practically vibrating against the tension filling the room. It sounded harsh and awkward but I knew that was all he needed when his eyes landed on mine. He finally looked at me, one eyebrow up, waiting for my answer. I nodded meekly, biting the insides of my cheeks gently as he took a deep breath.
He grabbed the collar of his sweatshirt and pulled it off.

I didn’t exactly know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t surprised when I saw the scarred skin. It looked as if he’d barely survived a fire. The pattern wasn’t there, it was pretty much all skin that looked like wax and baked rubber, but I somehow couldn’t tear my eyes off of it.
I’d say I wasn’t intrigued but I couldn’t; I was scared but not as much as I should’ve been because the only thing I could think about was how horribly pretty it looked. Not the scars, never the scars, but the survival that came from behind them.
I didn’t know if I was furious, sad or proud, but I was not surprised.

“You have nothing to say?”

I looked back into his eyes and I couldn’t quite place the emotion that overtook them. It could’ve been fear, it could’ve been anger, it could’ve been plain rage but I couldn’t force myself into thinking about what it was, I just wanted to remove it.

“Are you going to run off like the last time?”

The familiar guilt crept its way into my consciousness and made me bite on my lip hard, the words hurting in the exact right places. He knew this would hurt me but he didn’t care, and I somehow didn’t care either.

The look in his eyes told me that he knew exactly how much it hurt, too.

“I’m not,” I told him. My voice was slightly croaked but firm and I knew he knew I was close to falling apart.

“Then what are you going to do?” He looked furious and spiteful, but I somehow knew it wasn’t because he felt that way. It was a mask and I saw right through it. I knew him, I understood him. “Dissolve into nothing along with me?” His tone was sarcastic but his eyes were pleading and I couldn’t keep it in anymore, I was going completely insane.

“Yes,” I huffed out, my breathing uncoordinated. I felt betrayed by my own self but also hopeful in a way- his face showed nothing but begging and I couldn’t do anything but please him. His pleasure was my pain but my pain was my pleasure and his eyes were something I felt deep inside my gut, burning and crashing and stretching the veins in my wrists. It hurt but I didn’t care because all the hurt in the world was worth having him back in my arms. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Notes

Well, me and Gerard from this story are simultaneously going crazy. Fun life.