Even Through Oblivion

The Boy with the Beautiful Hazel Eyes

A few weeks had passed, and the stupid curfew was still in place. Mom made sure we followed it. Mikey started going back to school again, but most of the time he'd get overwhelmed and I'd take him home.
I was walking downstairs to get a drink one night, when I heard my mom on the phone.
"Yes, yes. I'm sorry, Dr. Paulson. Gerard- he's been through a lot." Hang on, I'd heard that name before. I paused to listen in. I knew I shouldn't be spying on my own mother, but she was talking about me, so it was my business.
"I know, I know, I know. His appointment was supposed to be scheduled for last week, but I was on a business trip-" mom kept cutting herself off. Was this about something wrong with me? Did she think I was crazy? Did someone else think I was crazy?
"Yes. I'll make sure he takes his medication until we can reschedule. Thank you."
Medication? My jaw dropped. I shook my head, not bothering to look back as I sprinted out the back door.
For a while, I just ran, but then it got too dark for me to see properly, so I had to slow down.
The trail I had walked many times was starting to grow over, the dirt path almost covered with. I could already hear the water rushing a little distance ahead of me.
I smiled, nostalgia taking over my senses. I could almost feel Mikey's hand in my own as we walked down the same path years before.
There was something different now, though. Like someone had come and moved everything. I shook my head, that was ridiculous.
Or... There was something under the rocky overhang. I usually say there and thought, maybe someone else had the same idea?
I walked over slowly, eyes wide when I saw a boy laying in the dirt. He was filthy, mud covered a once white button up shirt, with a red tie barely hanging around his neck.
I felt bad for him, who knows how long he'd been outside in this weather.
I should wake him up, take him back home and get him cleaned up.
I put my hand gently on his shoulders, squeezing a little. He stirred, rolling over onto his back and yawning.
Then he opened his eyes.
And God, were his eyes beautiful.
But they were filled with fear, he crawled quickly backwards until he was pressed up against the rocks.
"Hey, a-are you okay?" I asked carefully. He looked like he'd been through hell.
"Who are you?" He sounded sick, his voice was hoarse. I frowned, taking a cautious step closer.
"I'm Gerard, Gerard Way. I saw you passed out here and- I guess I wanted to help you." I said. He locked eyes with me, and I got to analyze him properly. He was young, he couldn't be older than me. His black hair was matted and stuck together with dried blood, seeming to come from a cut on his forehead.
"You're hurt." I said. He lifted his hand, feeling the cut on his forehead.
"I'm fine. Leave me alone." He said stubbornly. I sat down on a rock.
"Let me help you." I said. He shook his head, but looked like he regretted it as a look of pain crossed his face.
I slowly moved forwards, giving him plenty of time to move away if he could, until I was sitting right in front of him.
"W-what are you doing?" He asked, eyes wide as I pushed his hair away from the cut. I frowned, biting my lip a little.
"It's infected." I said. He looked down, seemingly embarrassed.
"Why are you out here?" I asked, moving back and sitting about a foot away.
"No reason! I'm perfectly fine, okay!" He said defensively. I raised my hands, showing him I meant no harm.
"Why do you care so fucking much anyway? Nobody fucking cares." He mumbled. I frowned.
"Because nobody deserves to suffer. Just... Let me help you." I said. He frowned, but nodded after a few seconds.
"Frank." He said after a minute or two of silence. "My name's Frank."
I smiled, offering a hand to help him up. He took it gratefully, and I pulled him up.
I ended up basically carrying him bak down the track, as he was weak and could hardly support himself.
"Mom! Mom come here!" I called as we stumbled through the back door. I laid Frank down on the couch, sending a 'don't ask' look to mom as she walked into the room, wide eyed.
"Gerard what in heavens name is this?" She asked. I was at a loss for words, which was weird because I was never at a loss for words.
Frank suddenly gripped my shirt where he'd been holding hard, shutting his eyes and biting his lip.
"Gerard, get him cleaned up. We can't know what's wrong if he's filthy." Mom said, a sad concerned look on her face. I smiled a little at her, before pulling Frank up and again, half carrying him upstairs.
I sat him on the edge of the bathtub and began to walk out, assuming he don't want me in their while he cleaned up, but he grabbed my sleeve, stopping me from leaving.
I saw him cry a little, his beautiful hazel eyes hidden under layers of sadness and dirt.
"Shower or bath?" I asked softly. He nodded his head towards the bath, and I nodded, turning on the taps.
"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting down in front of him. He shook his head, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and looking down at his lap.
"The bath's full." I told him, shutting off the tap. He nodded, starting to unbutton his shirt, but his fingers were shaking so badly he could barely manage one button. I sighed, moving his hands out of the way and quickly pulling his jumper off him.
I let him get his own pants off though, and then helped him into the bath.
It never occurred to me that he was fully unclothed, I guess I was too caught up in helping him I never thought of how strange the situation was.
I massaged the blood and dirt from his hair, to which he sat, looking relaxed and happy as I did so.
"That better?" I asked, genuinely hoping he felt at least a bit better with washed hair. He nodded, smiling a little.
I continued to help him clean, massaging all the mud from his skin. He didn't have any visible injuries, other than a bruise across his back. I didn't ask, he probably didn't want to talk about it.
It took some time, but after about fourth five minutes he was clean. I stood up and dried my hands, helping him out and giving him a towel.
"I'll get you some clothes, okay?" I said, seeing him nod before I left the room.