I'm never coming home.

I sat in History class bored out of my mind. The teacher was droning on about World War II and how significant it was. Normally I would be very interested in this as my older brother was currently in Iraq fighting against ISIS, but today I couldn't help worry about him. There had been a report on the news this morning about how ISIS might be developing powerful bombs, strong enough to wipe out all of America's troops. I feared for Gee's life.
I was completely lost in my own thoughts that I almost missed my phone start to ring.
"So long and goodnight, so long and goodnight," Gerard's voice sung out throughout the class room.
I smiled at the memory. Me, Gerard, my friend Ray, Gerard's friend Frank and our old friend Bob, made this song when my Grandmother died and we played it at her funeral. She always said she wanted me and Gee to play at her funeral when she pasted, so we gave he what she wanted.
I looked down at my phone and saw that the caller ID was my mum. Strange she normally never calls me in class. I answer it nevertheless.
"Hey mum, what's up?" I answer casually, trying to ignore all the stairs I was getting.
"I am so sorry Mikey," She sobbed on the other end.
"Are you okay mum?" This was weird and I was starting to get anxious.
"Oh Mikey," She started to sob even louder.
"What's wrong mum?" My voice had started to shake.
"He's gone Mikey. He gone," She choked out.
Gone. Who's gone? Could it be-oh no.
"Y-you're not talking about G-Gee are y-you?" I stutter.
"I am so sorry Mikey," She whispered.
I felt my whole world come crashing down around me.
Gone. My brother, my friend, my hero, was gone.
I felt hot fat tears prick in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
"Would you like me to get dad to pick you up sweets," My mum asked after a while.
"Y-yes please," I whispered, fearing that if I go any louder my voice will crack.
"Okay sweetie. I will talk to you soon. Bye,"
"Bye," I mumble.
I hung up and felt my phone fall from my hand.
I could feel the insides of my stomach sloshing around inside me, making me want to throw up.
Gerard was dead and I couldn’t do anything about it.
“Mr Way? Are you alright?” I heard my teacher ask.
It was as if I was hit by a title wave of emotion.
I felt the first tear, but certainly not the last, roll down my cheek.
“Mikey,” This time it was Ray speaking.
As soon as the first tear came, a waterfall of tears soon sprung from my eyes. I sobbed into to my hands, not caring that everyone was staring, I just wanted my brother back.
“Mikey what’s wrong? What happened?” Ray’s voice was scared and worried.
“H-he’s d-d-dead,” I sobbed.
“Who’s dead?” My teacher questioned.
“G-G-Gerard. M-m-my b-b-brother,” I couldn’t hold it back any more.
I began to bawl my eyes out. I was sobbing and wailing at the same time. I felt tears splatter on my glasses and my nose run. I probably looked like an idiot but I could care less. My brother was dead and nothing could bring him back.
I felt myself be pulled into a hug and I immediately knew it was Ray. I looked up at him through my tear soaked eyelashes and saw that he was crying slightly. Gerard and Ray were always close so hearing this must upset him. I cried even harder.
I sat there for a good 10 minutes crying my eyes out. No one said anything. No one did anything. They just sat there. Watching me.
Once I finally started to calm down, my dad knocked on the door. The teacher went and answered it, leaving me wrapped up in my best friend’s arms. It was as if he was all I had left.
“Michael,” I looked up to see my dad standing there, tearstains on his face.
“Come on Mikey, let’s get you home to mum,” He said softly.
I nodded slowly and pulled myself from Ray’s grip. I gathered up my stuff and shoved it into my bag. I stood up slowly looking to the ground and made my way to the front where my dad was. As soon as I was close enough, I threw myself into his arms and let silent tears make their way down my face.
“Shh, Shh” My dad soothed, stroking my hair in tempt to calm me.
I pulled away from him and walked out of the class with him. As soon as I exited the room I heard the meanest thing ever aimed at me.
“Over dramatic much. I mean it was just his brother,” A high pitched voice floated out from the classroom.
Normally I would march in there and put that bitch in her place, but today was not normal. I burst into tears again instead.
I felt the ground being shifted from under me as my dad picked me up and carried me out of the school. I would normally kick and scream at him until he put me down, but again, today is not normal. I cried even harder and hugged my father with all the strength left in my frail body.

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I was still crying silent tears when he pulled into the drive way. My mum’s car was there along with 4 others. I am assuming they belonged to relatives.
I slowly got out of the car and walked up the 3 stone steps to my house, bag dragging along behind me in the dirt, like all my happiness.
I slowly turn the doorknob, wishing that Gerard will pop out and laugh. Tell me that I was stupid for believing the lie and that he has left the army. However, when I open the door I am greeted by my family mourning the passing of my older brother. My grandparents from my father’s sides stood there with tears in their eyes. My aunts were comforting my mother and my uncles were talking to each other in low voices.
The floor creaks under me and all eyes shoot to me. My mother begins to sob uncontrollably as she rushes over and pulls me into a tight hug.
“Oh Mikey, I am so, so, so, so, so, so, sorry,” She croaks into my hair.
I don’t reply. I just hug he back and bury my face into her chest, sobbing softly. She pulls away from the hug and guides me over to the couch. I lean over and rest my head on her shoulder, tears still pooling out of my hazel eyes.
“When is the funeral,” My Nan asked, wiping tears from her eyes with a floral handkerchief.
“In a week,” My mum replies softly, “I just wished we had a body,”
“Wait,” I whimper, “We can’t bury him?”
“No sweetie,” My aunty Rosa said, “They didn’t find his body,”
“Then how do we know he’s really dead,” I sob.
“Because they were right about the bombs,” My uncle Josh sighs, “ISIS set one off where he was positioned with 50 other troops. Most bodies were found but bits of others were the only thing saved. They believe Gerard was blown to pieces,”
I lost it completely. I screamed and sobbed until my throat hurt, even then, I continued to cry.
“Shh, honey, you’re going to make yourself sick,” My mum whispered in my ear.
I didn’t care. Just as she expected, I felt myself gag before I threw up all over myself. I cried even harder.
My mum sat there with me for a good 15 minutes before I calmed down slightly.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah,” My dad asked.
I was to worn out to respond so I just nodded.

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*2 weeks later.

I was finally back at school, but I really didn’t want to be here. I am guessing the word about my melt down in history had spread throughout the school, as when I went in today, everyone was looking at me.
It had been over a week since Gee’s funeral, and honestly, I don’t think there’s any more tears left in my solemn eyes. I have cried so much these past few weeks that it feels like I have cried more than when I was a child.
I heard the bell ring, and I slowly made my way to music class.
I still remember the time Gerard came home early and surprised me by coming into my class and giving me the biggest hug ever. I was so happy that day. It hurts to know that those days are over.
Never again will my hero come barging into my classroom, surprise me and smoother me in hugs and kisses until I manage to push him off in disgust.
Never again will my big brother pop into my room and give me a small gift, laugh at my excitement and hug me like there’s no tomorrow.
Never again will my Gee-bear send me letters from Iraq, telling me about his times and how the war is going.
Never again.
I reached my music room and felt hot tears in my eyes.
‘No,’ I told myself and pushed my tears back, ‘No more crying.’
I rubbed my eyes and made my way over to where the basses were kept. I picked up my favourite black and blue bass and began to strum the strings randomly.
Before I knew it, I began to play Helena, the song we wrote for my grandmother when she died. I slowly began to sing.
My voice wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad.
“Long ago
Just like the hearse, you die to get in again
We are so far from you
Burning on just like a match you strike to incinerate
The lives of everyone you know
And what's the worst you take (worst you take)
From every heart you break (heart you break)
And like the blade you stain (blade you stain)
Well, I've been holding on tonight
What's the worst that I can say?
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long and goodnight
Came a time
When every star fall brought you to tears again
We are the very hurt you sold
And what's the worst you take (worst you take)
From every heart you break (heart you break)
And like the blade you stain (blade you stain)
Well, I've been holding on tonight
What's the worst that I can say?
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long and goodnight
And if you carry on this way
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long and goodnight
Can you hear me?
Are you near me?
Can we pretend
To leave and then
We'll meet again
When both our cars collide.
What's the worst that I can say?
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long and goodnight
And if you carry on this way
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long and goodnight,”

Once I finished, I realised that everyone had stopped playing their instruments and were looking at me.
I felt my face heat up in embarrassment and tears well in my eyes.
No. No I could not cry. Not now.
I couldn’t hold it back though. I felt my cheeks grow wet as hot salty tears pooled out the corners of them.
This day was going to be stressful.

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*1 month later.

It has been over a month since Gerard passed, and it has been a tough time for me.
Most people at my school have been pretty sympathetic about it except for the assholes, who don’t give two shits about anything.
In most of my classes, the teachers try and avoid anything to do with war, as they know it will just upset me. Unfortunately, today in history, we have to work on the wars as we have a test coming up. I am hoping that I can keep it together.
I there was about 10 minutes of the class left, and so far, so good. I hadn’t cried yet, even when we talked about the ongoing war in Iraq.
No more of the bombs that killed my brother have been dropped and I am glad about that. I never want to hear of one of those bombs being dropped again. Never.
“As you can see here, the 2nd world war begun because of,” My history teacher droned on.
I wasn’t paying attention to anything. I just sat there, gazing out the window.
I missed Gee so much. My mum has never been the same and my father has picked up drinking again. My mother is constantly crying and/or depressed, whereas my father is never sober anymore. I will come home from school and find my father drunkenly crying in a corner, beer bottle in one hand, Gerard’s picture in the other.
I heard a knock at the door of the class room, but I didn’t bother to look up. I knew it would be just one of those stupid sluts, banging on about some charity they could care less about. I just sighed and continued to look out the window.
“Hello?” I heard my teacher say.
“Hi,”
That voice. I knew that voice.
“I need to see someone very special to me,”
There it was again. Whose voice is it? I can’t remember.
“There he is,”
Could it be-?
“Hi Mikey, I home,”
I shoot my head to the front and almost burst into tears.
Correction, I do.
“G-G,” I stutter.
“That’s right buddy. It’s me. Gerard,”
I jump out of my seat and shoot towards the front, jumping into my brother’s arms.
I bury my face into his shoulder and sob loudly.
“T-they t-t-told us t-th-that you were d-d-dead,” I sob.
“Shh, shh,” I heard my brother sooth, hugging me back just as tightly.
I continue to cry.
My brother, the person I looked up to my whole life, was pronounced dead for a whole month, but here he is, as alive as ever.
“What, how?” I cry.
“I will tell you later buddy, but first, let’s get you home to mum and dad,”
I don’t answer. I just pull myself from his strong grip and go to pack up my stuff.

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“So I escaped the explosion with Frank and the both of us ran for cover. We were caught out by ISIS soldiers and we knew we weren’t safe there. We chose to run away and make our way home. We jumped on one of the shipping boats and stayed underground in the storage compartments until we reached home. From there, we caught a number of trains, taxis and I think a few planes till we made it home,”
I sat there, memorised, as Gerard told us his story.
I still couldn’t believe it. Gerard was alive.
I sat there, happy as I’ll ever be, listening to my brother talk to my parents. I was never going to let Gerard go back to the army. Never.