If You Marry Me, Would You... (Frerard)

Chapter 14

The door of his bedroom slowly creaked open. He listened closely. Silence. It was always silent.

He carefully stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, letting out a small sigh. Finally, his time to think.

He turned around, looking at his small bedroom, which was not half as tidy as he would want it to be, but the mess matched his mind and thoughts: a living hell...

Besides he was too tired to tidy it up, so he just left it there.

His eyes landed on the mirror in the corner. Does he even want to look at himself?

Sighing again he walked over to the mirror, fixing it a bit so it leaned better against the wall, and slowly looked up to meet his reflection.

As usual, he hated what he saw.

Same old him, with the exhausted eyes (not that he ever let anyone see how exhausted they really were. Only to himself), the same messy hair that he somehow managed to fix every day, the same tall and slim frame, the frustration radiating from his soul.

He glared at himself angrily, trying to realize just what was so fucked up about his life. He never asked for any of this, he didn't want that. It was all Gerard's fault.

His eyes narrowed slightly as the man's name floated across his mind. He slid his fingers along the reflection of his face and then slowly reached for the hem of his shirt.

That's where he paused.

Should he?

Of course not.

He would do it anyway.

He took a deep breath and slowly lifted the grey shirt over his head, letting it slide off of his torso and beyond his arms until it was lying on the floor aimlessly.

He looked up again.

Yes, nothing changed. His body was just the way he remembered it; pale, muscular, thin, tender skin, sharp curves showing...

And the scar.

The scar was the only unnatural part of his body, the part he never wanted.

Noises. He could only hear one. Right before the barbed wire was torn from its place and slapped across his chest.

He winced sharply at the memory. It still stung every time he touched the area, or even thought about it.

And it was all Gerard's fault. It all happened because of Gerard's stupid actions. If only this idiot could pay attention for at least a second, none of that would've happened that night.

He would still be safe, Gerard would still be safe...

...She would still be alive...

He bowed his head and closed his eyes at the memory of Her.

He still kept her picture. He woke up every morning seeing her face on the nightstand.

He knew Gerard did, too.

He opened his eyes again and let them roam the walls of the small room, until they went back to the mirror and froze on the second picture he held there, the one that showed that cheeky bastard's face, smiling smugly as he hugged his little brother to his chest.

He stared at the picture. Gerard was 7 back then, he was 4. He still remembered that day very well, although the feelings had changed.

It used to bring him laughter and joy, it used to make him smile, even in his darkest times, he would always look back at that and smile.