A Silent Scream *MCR fanfic*

6

I must have woken up around noon. My phone was dead, so I was refused the ability to access one of the few things that calmed me down. I'd been awake for mere seconds when there was a thunderclap, and I noticed the torrential downpour. Holding back a groan, I moved to find a jacket of my own, as I prefer not to ruin other people's things. Within half a minute, I remember that I hadn't bought a jacket for myself when at the mall.

Eventually I decided that Gerard's jacket could survive a bit of rain. Perhaps airborne tsunami was a more accurate description, but that wasn't a hugely important detail. I paused for a second at the edge of the small dry spot under the slide, not particularly happy about having to get soaked, but then sprinted for the next semi-dry spot I could see, under a nearby tree. If I was to be honest, I hadn't the faintest idea of where I was going, but I figured I'd grab some food, then perhaps return to my foster-home.

Of course, going to the foster-home was an absolutely awful idea. He was even more drunk than last time, and I ended up being thrown against a wall and punched, in the stomach, rib area, and face. The rib punch had been particularly painful, and I nearly wondered if it was broken, before deciding that it would likely hurt quite a bit more if it was. As I painfully half-jogged away, I realized that there wasn't all too many places for me to go. Being more precise, there was nowhere for me to go. There wasn't any chance of me remembering how to find Stacey or Tracey's house, as I'd only ever been there once, my foster-home was clearly not the brightest decision, and Gerard wouldn't be home. So I went to a nearby Starbucks, charged my phone, dried off, and got something that couldn't be described as coffee, as it seemed to be primarily sugar and flavoring. Still, it tasted good. As soon as I was fully dry, the rain let up the tiniest bit, and knowing how these storms usually worked, this meager let-up was my best chance at getting to the Walmart across the street without looking like a drowned rat once I got there.

When I burst in through the doors, I was thoroughly wet, but not drowned-rat wet. For a few minutes, I just wandered around, not sure exactly what my plan is after this. I end up purchasing a black umbrella, and find mysef quite content wandering around neighborhoods and streets, listening to music. That is, until the wind started. Going directly along with my luck as of late, the wind got unbelievably strong, and somehow managed to lift me into the air, via umbrella. I hadn't known that was possible. After rising a few feet, my hands slipped off the handle and I fell surprisingly hard onto the concrete ground. I imagine that if I had landed in any other position, I would've been able to easily rise and continue walking. Being me however, I had managed, by some feat of magic unknown to mankind, managed to land directly on my ribs. More specifically, on the ribs that had already been injured by being punched. One rib then decided that my day had not yet reached a low enough point to be considered awful enough for that rib's own sick pleasure, and decided that breaking would fix this unfortunate fact. Considering I'd only broken one bone before this, I was pleasantly surprised at how little pain was involved.

My umbrella was long gone, so as I made my way to the nearest Wal-Greens on foot and very slowly, as taking anything other than a shallow breath pained me, I was getting progressively more wet. Once my mom had broken a rib, so I knew that a doctor would mainly give you painkillers and inform you to rest as much as possible. I also knew that I was the kind of person who reacted very strongly to the tiniest dose of any drug, so I'd likely only need a light painkiller, and I'd be fine.

As I bought my painkiller, the world finally understood how bad a day I had had so far, decided to send me a gift. A gift that arrived in the form of a familiar red-haired 22 year old I spotted smoking outside of Wal-Greens. As I moved over to greet him, I tried to open the bottle, but my fingers were shaking too much. I found myself focusing more on opening the bottle than the far more interesting task of talking to Gerard. So, my confusion was understandable when steady, pale hands remove the bottle from my hands, open it for me and return it to me. I glance upwards, see Gerard and, after taking a pill, mutter,

"Thanks."

"Of course. May I ask what those are for?"

"I managed to break a rib. Second broken bone."

"At seventeen? My, my, your life must be especially dull."

"My life isn't dull. It's a simple matter of genetics blessing me with strong bones."

"Then what tragedy caused you to break one of those genetically blessed bones?"

"A punch, and a fall from a few feet above the Earth."

"Who would punch you? Is that what the bruise on your cheek is? Were you flying?" His thoughts seem a bit jumbled, and his words follow that pattern.

"My new, and ever-so-delightful foster-father when drunk. I was unaware there was bruise on my cheek, but yes, I would assume so. In a way. An umbrella and an especially powerful gust of wind helped."

"Why would you return to your foster-home? I never liked umbrella's. They shield the beauty of a storm."

"There happened to be what can only be described as an air-borne tsunami occuring, and I had nowhere else to go."

"I'm assuming the idea of coming to my house never traipsed through your mind?" He seems almost angry. It's strange.

"You were visiting your aunt, weren't you?"

"In this weather? I think not! And, in fact, I texted you this exact thing."

" You don't have my number."

"Guess again." I pulled out my phone, and indeed there was a text. From an unknown number, reading 'My room looks far more empty and ugly than it did when you graced it with your mere presence. Care to fix this tragedy?-G.'

I felt a heat creeping steadily up my neck and blossoming on my cheeks. Why I was blushing, I couldn't be sure. A quick conversation later, I was being driven back to Gerard's house, and I silently thanked the world for fixing my day.

***

"It's midnight," I noted, having previously been completely uncaring of the time, as Gerard and the many stories he had been telling me were far more important to me.

"So it is. It's still raining."

"And this statement is relevant because?"

"I'm not as cruel-hearted to let an injured girl go and sleep in a playground by herself while it's raining."

"I suppose I'll take the floor, as I'm a polite guest." Gerard releases what can only be described as a giggle, and I raised an eyebrow at the unexpected noise. He explained, still amused,

"We've slept under the same blanket quite a few days, and you expect me to allow you to sleep on the floor?"

"You're very demanding of your guests."

"Firstly, I'm not accustomed to having guests, so any rudeness there is explained. Secondly, I imagine I wasn't the only one who felt cold and rather alone last night. Thirdly, you should understand that I have the tendency to be very demanding by now." I felt a response wad not entirely necessary, and Gerard went to his dresser and pulled out some pajamas. I allowed myself to float into an entirely separate world, which was very quickly interrupted by my head being ambushed by clothes. I realized that I'd been thrown sweatpants and a band t-shirt, which were probably for me to change into, so I went and changed in the bathroom, folding my clothes and leaving them neatly on the chair by his desk. Gerard inquired,

"What's your favorite animated movie?"

"Finding Nemo. Yours?"

"Unimportant." He dashed down into the rest of his house and returned with a DVD, which was put into a player, and was, rather unsurprisingly, Finding Nemo. Then he jumped onto his bed, and gestured for me to join him.

Within minutes, by magic I would in no way complain about, Gerard and I were practically cuddling, and we fell asleep that way, watching Finding Nemo.