He Likes Me

Gerard spent longer than he expected out on his run, and by the time he came back it was already late afternoon. He was more than a little concerned to find his door unlocked on his arrival home, sweaty and tired and red in the face. He was in no position to fight off an attacker or a burglar, but then there didn't seem to be any signs of a break-in. The lock wasn't forced; it almost looked like it had been opened by a set of keys.

Gerard choked on his own spit when he saw the large, overstuffed duffle bag flung haphazardly onto the foot of the grand, ornate staircase leading up to the second floor. Was it possible that his home had become a home to lock-picking squatters? Gerard was certain he had locked the door when he went out - he always did - and he didn't know anybody who had a key. But, would a squatter not try to hide their presence? Wouldn't a squatter go to extreme lengths to make sure the owner of the house didn't find out they were playing host?

A loud burst of laughter sounded from the television in the living room and Gerard jumped. Fear was quickly overcome by anger; who the hell did this person think they were, coming into his home, sitting on his sofa, watching his television with not a care in the world about being caught?!

Picking up a heavy gold candlestick holder that had been placed neatly on the desk in the hall but never used, Gerard made his way to the sitting room, preparing too bonk his uninvited 'guest' over the head pretty damn hard for inconveniencing him. Who thought they could break into someone else's house and get away with it anyway? Unless they were going to kill Gerard and take his place...they could have a gun or a knife! There could be a group of them in there, just waiting for him to appear to murder him in cold blood and chop up his body! They could bury him in his beautiful garden and nobody would be able to stop them; least of all Gerard and his table decoration.

No, Gerard reasoned, attempting to calm himself down. When his parents didn't receive the eight o'clock call from him, they would know something was wrong and these criminals wouldn't be allowed to get away with it.

Gerard rounded the corner, ready to strike, and promptly dropped the candlestick onto his left foot when he saw who was sitting - or more like being swallowed into - the plush leather couch.

"Mikey!" Gerard yelped in pain as the heavy ornament hit his little toe. He swore he heard a crunching noise, but he couldn't be sure over the sound of Mikey pissing himself on the sofa.

"Oh my God, what were you planning to do with that thing?!" Mikey laughed hysterically, doubling over and clutching his stomach. He even had tears coming out of his eyes, the rude fucker. How typical of Mikey.

"I thought you were a burglar! How the hell did you even get into my house?" Gerard demanded, and he would have stomped his foot if it weren't in so much pain.

"You weren't here when I got here, so I used the keys I had made."

"You had keys made to my house?" Gerard asked, dumbstruck and a little creeped out.

Totally ignoring him, Mikey continued. "I mean, I waited for like, ten minutes but you obviously weren't coming, so I let myself in. Comfy sofa, by the way."

"I thought you were going to mom and dad's?" Gerard asked, plopping down onto the sofa beside Mikey and trying to ignore the fact that Mikey had obviously eaten something crumbly over the leather. There were crumbs everywhere. Gerard made a mental note to clear the mess up as soon as Mikey left.

"I am. But I came here first." He explained slowly, as though Gerard were an idiot and not his insanely rich and famous older brother.

"Why?" Gerard grumbled, turning the volume on the TV down so his ears wouldn't start to bleed. NCIS was so boring these days, and the theme tune made Gerard want to tear his hair out and then sweep it all up so the floor wasn't dirty. Gerard so wasn't weird.

"To see how you're doing, you ungrateful dumbass. You should be happy you have a stunning, handsome younger brother who actually wants to make sure you're okay at all."

"Tell that to my front door after I slam it in your ugly face." Gerard retorted, falling easily back into the playful fighting he and his brother used to take part in all the time, despite it having been over six months since he last saw Mikey in person. Insults just weren't the same over a Skype call when the line was crackling and you had to repeat yourself three times before you were heard.

Mikey, totally ignoring Gerard once again, simply held up a thin sheet of paper between his index finger and his middle finger and waved it in front of his brother's face a few times before dropping it in his lap. "What's this?" He asked curiously, never taking his eyes off the large flat screen television that hung on Gerard's wall in front of the sofa. "I found it in the kitchen. Are you writing again?"

It took Gerard a moment to place it at first, but when he did he twisted his face into a scowl and snatched the paper away from Mikey. How dare Mikey break into his home - okay, unlock his front door and walk in uninvited - and then start rifling through Gerard's private papers like it was his own goddamn house?

"No!" Gerard hissed sulkily, silently fuming. "It was an assigment! Dr Hawthorne said it would be good for me."

"She said it would be good for you to write about your sex buddy?" Mikey did turn away from the TV this time, but only to shoot Gerard a doubtful glance: one eyebrow raised and the right side of his mouth twitching upwards into a doubtful half smirk.

"No, stupid." Gerard rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "She told me to invent someone I thought I would be able to get along with. Someone's wouldn't be nervous around, y'know?"

"So what's with the 'submissive' stuff, Gerard?" Mikey challenged, and Gerard blushed as he thought of all the embarrassing things he had written down there that Mikey must have seen. "I didn't know you were into that shit."

Mikey snickered behind his hand and Gerard groaned, turning his face away, because as much as he loved Mikey - and he loved him a lot - he really didn't want to talk about his kinks with his fucking baby brother, thank you very much.

"Shut up Mikey. You need to leave if you want to get to mom's before sunset." Gerard pointed out, and was relieved when Mikey sighed and nodded getting up and stretching. He had just been using it as a tactic to get Mikey to shut up, but he wasn't complaining. Mikey clicked his back and then set out towards the front door, grabbing his duffel bag on the way.

Gerard surreptitiously wiped to sofa clean of crumbs and dumped them in the nearest bin before hurrying after Mikey to see him off.

"You'll call, right? I mean, mom says you call every day, so I'll speak to you later?" Mikey checked, suddenly sounding very overprotective and Gerard had an urge to offer Mikey the spare bed and let him stay the night. Of course, he didn't do that. He simply nodded and wrapped his arms around Mikey in a farewell hug - not a stupid-ass bear hug like most guys did these days. An actual, loving hug.

"Speak soon, Gee." Mikey whispered. He turned and was gone before Gerard had time to change his mind and make Mikey stay the night, and Gerard was left feeling especially alone.
He was overcome with a need for company. He wanted his mother or father or Mikey or even fucking Frank who wasn't even real to be here and to wrap their arms around him and just to hold him. It had been so long since someone had held him and told them it would all be okay. Gerard felt so lonely, and before he knew it there were tears forming in his eyes and spelling down his cheeks and be wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes and imagined Frank, the small, punk-rock tattooed badass, cuddling with him.

Without thinking about it much, Gerard picked up the 'Frankie' paper and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly before putting it down again in its rightful place on the kitchen table. "Help me, Frankie. Please, save me."

***

After Mikey left, everything was wrong. The house was too big and too empty. It was too quiet. It was too dark. He was too lonely. Gerard found himself feeling trapped and was having trouble sucking air into his lungs. It felt like he was being squeezed so title he could barely breathe. He hated that feeling. It made him sick.

Gerard switched all the lights on and put the television on full volume in the hopes of banishing the empty, heavy feeling silence hanging over him, but seeing so many happy couples on TV just made him feel more alone. He ended up peacefully watching a horror movie; people getting ripped to shreds in gruesome ways more accurately reflected his mood, and he ended up going to bed without eating dinner.

He knew it wasn't good to skip meals like he had been doing recently - he was getting thinner, and while he saw that as an accomplishment, others wouldn't - and the change - horrible, nasty change from routine - made his skin crawl, but the thought of eating anything honestly made him want to throw up. He was so tired and he hardly managed to fold his jeans and t-shirt neatly and lay them on his windowsill before hurling himself into bed and snuggling under the warn, soft covers, completely naked. Gerard wondered why he didn't sleep naked more often; his sheets were so fluffy and warm and they felt so comfortable against his skin. He burrowed his face further down and was almost asleep when a thought suddenly wormed its way to the front of his mind, startling him enough for him to open his eyes.

For the first time in nearly four years, Gerard had failed to telephone his parents.

Notes