Even If Saving You Sends Me To Heaven

When I finally made my way into the schoolyard, I was feeling more confident than I had in a long time. Despite recent events, like the night before, I felt better. But even though i felt more confident, didn't mean I was about to show it. I still walked with my head bowed down, looking at my worn-out, black converse. I couldn't really call them black anymore - they were more like greyish-brown, but they were still my best shoes. That might be because they were the only shoes that fit me. And they were another thing I had stolen from Gerard's room. It's good to have had an older brother when you live like I did, and hardly had any money. Every week I tried to find enough to wash my clothes, but that's about it.

The sun was barely peeking out behind the thick clouds that were hanging low in the sky. I could still smell the rain from the day before, but it didn't really bother me. I liked the smell of rain. It was like the smell of clean clothes or clean hair - like God had decided to finally use the last water he had to wash this city. Well obviously, God had more rain than I had shampoo, because It rained pretty much every day. Therefore, I was enjoying the small beams of sunlight warming my back as I walked up the steps and into the school building. As I walked through the ocean of people, trying to get to my locker, I was shoved back and forth like always, but right then I couldn't care less. I was in a surprisingly good mood, and I liked it that way. I couldn't think of why I was in a good mood, but it had to be that I only had one more year. As soon as I turned eighteen, I was free. I wish it weren't that long, but at least it was a year less than when I turned sixteen.

Everything was pretty normal throughout the day. I got shoved, tripped and occasionally someone threw an "accidental" punch at me. Luch was, as always, in the bathrooms, and I was, as always, ignored by Alicia. In the time she'd been going to our school, she had proven herself to be pretty ''loose''. Let's just put it this way - there were more people claiming to have slept with her than people who had punched me in the gut. The worst part though, is that she kept inching her way into my heart. For every word she said, for every laugh, for every movement, I could feel myself falling for her. And that wasn't a good thing. I needed to stay away from everybody. I couldn't have feelings. Any feelings at all could come back at me as a compass in the back of my head, or even leave me breathless on the pavement. I had learned to block my feelings a long time ago, but I had never felt something like the feeling that was in my gut whenever I saw her. It was a tickling, nice and warm feeling, a feeling I hadn't learnt to control and block yet. I needed to stop the feelings at that very second!

When the bell eventually rang for the last time that day, I made my way through the ocean of people yet again. And, as expected, I still got shoved, tripped and recieved the occasional punch. I didn't mind though. Well I did, but there wasn't anything I would do about it. I just sighed, and kept walking. If I fell down, I would pretend to laugh along with the kids around me, before getting up and keep walking. When I got to my locker, I opened it and dumped all my books inside. It was my birthday, I was in a better mood than usual, and I wasn't planning on doing homework that night. I even left my bag in my locker, before I closed it. On my way out of the school, however, whatever happiness I had disappeared. My mind had wondered about thirty minutes ahead and thought about what the rest of my "birthday present" from my father would be. My pace automatically slowed down, and I even thought about going back to my locker and getting my homework so I could stay at the school longer. I hadn't noticed that I had stopped in the middle of the crowded hallway to think until people started leaving. I looked up, and could see the glass door. Then I turned around, and I could barely see the section where my locker was all the way on the other side of the hall. I decided that I wanted to do homework, so I went back. I heaved the heavy bag onto my shoulder, and putting my mathbook in it to make it extra heavy. I then turned back around and walked down the hall and out the doors.

I didn't see him. I was staring at my shoes, like I always did, but when I saw something bright red right next to me, I wasn't expecting to see what I did. He was standing right there, next to me, with his sunglasses covering his eyes (all the sunshine from this morning had vanished, and I still found it odd that he always would wear sunglasses). He was wearing a black leather jacket open, with a dark, red shirt underneath. His black skinnyjeans had various badges and buttons on them. And then the converse. Those bright red converse, shining up at me. I looked back up at him, and he was still standing there, his dark hair framing his face perfectly. I could tell he thought the situation was awkward, but I couldn't understand why. He was shifting his weight from one foot to another, his hands casually in his leather jacket's pockets, and his thin, pink lips pressed together so there was only a thin line below his small nose. Looking at him now, he looked so familiar, but still so strange. I decided that his staring was getting too creepy, so I started backing off, turning my head away and back down to my shoes, walking away.

"Happy birthday, Mikey" I heard a low, rusty voice pipe up from behind me. I froze in my tracks, feeling shivers running up my spine, my stomach dropping and my feet going numb; barely being able to support my weight. There was something so familiar with that voice. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to think. I stood there for what felt like an eternity but in reality it was probably just a couple of seconds. I couldn't figure out who this guy was. I tried to think if I had seen him at school, in one of my classes, a teacher perhaps? He looked older than me, but still young. I thought of the stores I had been to. He might be an employee that I had talked to, or even a customer helping me out at one point. Hearing him move snapped me out of my thoughts, and I opened my eyes back up. Slowly, I lifted my head, steadily turning it back towards him. That's when I saw it. The movement I had heard was him lifting his arm and taking off his sunglasses; his hazel eyes boring into mine, searching mine for answers. Answers to questions I was too stunned to understand. I held his gaze until I couldn't take it anymore, tumbling to the ground, whincing in pain as my bottom hit, and then my sight became slightly blurry. I couldn't believe it. It wasn't believable. Gerard had finally returned.

The next couple of minutes wenre blurry. I could feel him crouching down close to me, but not too close, and not touching me. I could hear him barely whispering my name. Or maybe he was shouting it, I wouldn't know because those minutes sitting on the ground in front of the school were the minutes that my feelings chose to return. All my feelings; happiness, relief, bubbles and the feeling of becoming whole again. But i also felt hurt, betrayal, anger, range, but most of all - hate. I could feel tears stinging my eyes, the burning sensation ripping me apart, forcing me to let them out. The tears waiting inside of me for so long. These weren't the tears I cried when George fucked me. These weren't even the tears I cried when I was alone in my room, crying myself to sleep. No, these tears were the tears balled up inside of me, the tears that would express my anger, make me lose control, make me scream, hit, kick and want to hurt something badly. I kept blinking them back, feeling the lump in my throat fighting me to get out. I was doing a fair job keeping them back, but when Gerard reached his hand out, touching my shoulder, I felt it trigger something inside of me. I jumped back quickly, got to my feet and looked down on him, my jaw clenched and my fists ready to punch. When I saw a small, nervous smile grace his thin lips, I let go of it all - I couldn't keep it back. The tears came, and I leaped on him, straddeling him; sitting on him, one leg on each side of him, and keeping his arms pressed to the ground with my knees. I lifted my hand and couldn't stop myself from throwing it down to his face with all my strength (which I couldn't brag about). I could hear him gasp in pain, squirming beneath me, trying to free his arms to stop me, but I hit him again and again, drawing blood and seeing the shock and pain in his eyes. He yelled my name between two punches, and I froze again, looking down at the damage I had caused. I was still on top of him, shocked by my own strengh. I then looked down at him; blood was gushing from a cut beneath his right eye, and I could see the faint outline of a bruise forming around the eye. He had a slight split lip, giving more blood, and his hair was messy. I looked down at what I had done, and then I looked at me bloody fist, still in the air - ready to punch. I quickly jumped off him and onto the ground next to him, before I crawled away from him, resting against a tree a couple of yards away. I was no better than all the people hurting me for all this years.

I looked at him as he grunted, and leaned to one side, using his hands to support him as he sat up slowly, reaching his pale, long fingers to his face. I could see his eyes fill with more shock as he felt the warm, sticky liquid on his fingers, before he looked at his hand. His mouth fell slighly open in shock. Soon enough, the shock had almost left his eyes completely, the pain taking over. Seing him like that, made me let out a sob. He looked up at me quickly, mouth still open and eyes staring at my face, probably with eyeliner streaks running down with my tears. He held my gaze, even as he stood up slowly, supporting himself with one arm, the other one pressed to his temple. He held my gaze while he liftet the top of his red shirt up, trying to wipe some of the blood away from his face, and as he ran his fingers through his hair. He sighed and kept holding my gaze while just standing there. My tears were still running down my face, an occasional sob forcing its way out of me every few seconds. I looked at him, when he sighed again, unsure what to do but at last opening his mouth.

"We need to talk."

Notes