He burns my skin, but you might get another look in, if I don't die tonight

Gerard's POV
Shots echoed through the darkening sky as I dived to the ground, sliding into the nearest trench on the slippery mud. Of course, that meant falling seven feet to the bottom and landing painfully on my back as the rain began to fall in fat, wet drops. I groaned, rolling over slightly, too exhausted to move any further. I opened my eyes, blinking the rain away, but enjoying the feel of water on my face. The last time I'd had a bath had to have been some time last year, before we all got sent to the front. I ran a hand through my long, black locks that now lay plastered to my face, gasping in the chilly evening air, and thanking every god in existence for another day survived.
"Gerard?" a voice called. "Shit! Mikey, I found him! Come quick!"
The short body of Frank skidded down beside me, and I heard running footsteps.
"Gerard!" Frank's voice was worried, and I felt his cold fingers dig into the skin on my neck. Then the face of my younger brother appeared over me, and the rain clouds were blocked from my view.
"It's raining", I mused, focussing my eyes for the first time, first on Mikey, then Frank. They both let out a sigh of relief, Frank sitting back on his heels and Mikey helping me up. I stumbled forward on my tired feet and the slightly taller form of my younger brother pulled me into a tight embrace, his head on my shoulder.
"Thank god you're okay, Gerard", he muttered. "It's been too long spent in hell to lose you now."
I patted him on the back and he pulled away, holding me at arms length. I winced, rubbing my sore arms from where Mikey had been clutching them.
"You okay?" Frank asked, and I nodded mutely.
"It burns. My skin burns", I mumbled, and the others stayed silent. We all knew how war affected us, and the frequently burning skin from gaseous air was just another side affect. The rain helped, of course, but it didn't come often.
The three of us hurried to a shelter as the rain began to pelt down harder, thunder cracking across the rapidly darkening sky.
"Come on men, move!" A commanding officer yelled as soldiers hurried to escape the sudden onslaught of bad weather.
Everybody moved as the sunlight died: It wasn't fun being in a wet, cold trench in the pitch dark.
We stumbled into our tent, and Mikey collapsed onto his bedroll, coughing and wheezing. My pain forgotten, I knelt beside him, rubbing his back as he choked and shuddered. Frank crouched on Mikey's other side, blocking him as much as possible from the prying eyes of other soldiers.
"Mikey", I whispered, leaning down above his head. "Just breathe, okay Mikes?"
He whimpered, rolling over as he desperately sucked on the air his asthmatic lungs were struggling to take in. His eyes watered, and I honestly couldn't tell if he was crying or not.
I pulled him into my lap, holding him in my arms like I used to when we were kids, and Mikey had awoken sobbing from a nightmare.
"Shh", I whispered, running my hand through his hair after Frank removed his helmet. "Take a deep breath and you'll be okay."
I didn't like lying, but sometimes you just had to.
"Gee", Mikey wheezed. "Gee I can't breathe."
"I know, Mikes. It'll pass."
I hoped the day that Mikey's asthma attacks didn't pass would never come.
Mikey coughed and choked, shaking in my arms. A tear rolled down his pale face and I gently removed his glasses, wiping it away. I didn't care that he was twenty, and I twenty-three, and that other soldiers were snickering and tossing us weird glances. Ever since we'd been deported, I'd barely taken my eyes off Mikey, and he'd hardly left my side. We'd always been fiercely close as children, then teenagers, and now as young adults, and neither of us really cared what anyone else thought.
"There you guys are", a voice said, and I glanced up to see Ray Toro striding across the room, the grin he never seemed to lose slapped on his grimy face. "What's up with Mikey?" He asked, crouching down, smile instantly gone.
"Asthma", Frank said simply.
"Ahh", Ray replied, clapping me on the shoulder. "We'll go get you two some grub. Come on, Frank", he said, and the two got up and exited the sleeping tent.
That left Mikey and I alone in the tent. He gasped, but it faltered halfway through and turned into a sob.
"Shh, Mikes", I whispered, brushing his hair back. "I'll keep you safe, inside. They can't hurt us tonight."
His breathing was less faltered now, and I gently laid him back on his bedroll, handing him his glasses as I pulled my own bedding over. I lay down next to Mikey, who was adjusting his glasses on his nose. I stared up at the ceiling fabric, thinking. Then I spoke.
"Mikey", I began. "You know how long we've been here?"
"A year?" He asked hesitantly.
"I think so", I frowned. It was hard to keep track of time when every day was a struggle to survive.
I turned to face my brother.
"Mikey... You remember what we talked about coming here? About how you can't take a single moment for granted? Because -"
"The next minute you could be gone", Mikey finished in a hoarse whisper. "I know, Gerard. That's why me and Frank came looking for you. And - that brings me to something else." He turned to face me, coughing dryly. He sighed. "Look, I shouldn't be telling you this, and the only reason I know is because Frank asked me to tell you if anything happened to him-"
"Frank?" I asked, confused. "What does Frank have to do with this?"
Mikey sighed. "Everything", he said. "Look, Gerard, Frank is kind of- sort of-"
"Sort of what?" I questioned, thoroughly confused now.
"-In love with you", Mikey finished breathlessly.
I stared at him, stunned.
"In - in what?" I whispered.
"Love..." Mikey breathed. "I - I just thought you ought to know."
"Yeah", I muttered, turning away. "Yeah, uh, thanks."

Notes

Helloo, time for another war fic! Hope you all enjoy.

I would really love it if you could be so kind as to
comment!! Rate!! Subscribe!!
coz you guys are awesome so yeah....

title: when the war is over - cold chisel