Lost

Chapter 14

Mikey ploughed through the wind and rain, shivering badly. His numb mind didn't know where he was going. He was just finding Gerard. He didn't have a destination unless it involved his brother.

Frank was yelling again, from the doorway of his house. He seemed reluctant to get soaked in the rain. Mikey ignored him and kept walking, receiving odd looks from people behind windows.

He forged onward, the rain lashing against his exposed arms and the wind blowing into his eyes, making them form tears that were forced to leave as soon as they arrived.

Someone yelled at him, asking if he was crazy.

Mikey was probably crazy. He didn't know why this person was pointing it out. Was it that obvious? Or... or was Frank telling them?

Was Frank laughing about him behind his back?

Mikey could imagine it:

"Oh, that kid? He's so fucked up! It's hilarious leading him on! I'll always love Gerard, not Mikey!"

Mikey let out a small whimper and began to run, away from Frank and this neighborhood.

Fuck it, away from Jersey.

Away from America.

Screw Gerard.

Mikey heard Frank screaming for him, but he wouldn't let that guy have an answer! Frank was talking about him and laughing about him and it made Mikey feel sick to his stomach. The lanky male ran through the dark streets, wondering why Frank hadn't stopped following him yet. He was sure that Frank didn't bother following people he didn't like.

So... so he did like Mikey?

Mikey whimpered. God, this sucked. He was so confused and hurt and just wanted to become numb.

That would be so nice. No more pain. No more pills. He'd just live in peace. He wanted Frank to be there, too. Unfortunately, that was impossible.

Part of life was getting hurt; over and over again. Hell, if Mikey hadn't been an emotional mess that couldn't look after himself, Frank wouldn't have needed to take him in, so they wouldn't have kissed.

Mikey supposed that good things could come from pain.

Just as that thought occurred, he tripped over someone's foot and sprawled out on the ground, groaning. His tears dripped onto the cold sidewalk.

Hands began to root through his pockets, probably looking for money, but Frank arrived and Mikey heard a punching sound and a yell. Then he was rolled onto his back and blinked up at Frank. Half of his face was covered in dirt and grit from the ground.

Frank sighed and grabbed his arms, pulling him to his feet.

Then he slapped Mikey.

"Never," he hissed. "Never run away from me again."

Mikey blinked at him and mumbled a small apology. Frank sighed shakily and glared at the other male.

"I thought you were going to the bridge," he growled.  "I thought you were... you were going to..." His voice cracked and trailed off. Mikey blinked and his eyes widened.

"Oh... oh, no!" He grabbed Frank's shoulders. "I'd never do that! I have to wait for Gerard, remember?"

Frank sighed again. "Mikey, you need to stop this. You can't just look for Gerard anymore."

"Why not?" Mikey demanded. "He's going to come back!"

At Frank's sad look, Mikey faltered.

"Mikey..."

"What is it, Frank? What was that look just now?"

"I... it's nothing, Mikey."

"Oh, really?"

"Mike-"

"Tell me now!"

"Gerard is never coming home!" Frank screamed. At Mikey's shocked expression, he softened. "He... he doesn't want to come home. He doesn't want to see you again."

"What?"

"He thinks you hate him."

"I... I don't-"

"Yeah, well, he thinks you do, so he's staying away."

"But-" Mikey frowned. "Hang on, how do you know?"

Frank paused. "Mikey, don't freak out-"

"Frank..."

"I just texted him a few times! Nothing more!"

Mikey felt sick again. He hated this constant circle. He'd be happy and then someone would backstab him like this. He couldn't believe that Frank had been talking to Gerard whilst Mikey lived in complete ignorance.

"Mi-"

Mikey turned and started to run again.

This time, Frank didn't follow.

*****

Mikey stumbled around, his head pounding. He felt sicker and sicker by the minute. He wanted to cry. He whimpered and collapsed on the graveled floor, staring at the wall opposite him. He couldn't stay here. He knew that. It was dangerous; night was setting in.

He heard footsteps.

He hoped it wasn't Frank. He couldn't deal with Frank. His head felt clouded. He shouldn't have yelled. He shouldn't have run away. Frank would be worried out of his mind now that Mikey had been gone the whole day.

Mikey shouldn't have done what he'd done. He should've stayed away from that bar. He shouldn't have gone in. He shouldn't have ordered a drink.

Mikey regretted a lot of things, and getting drunk was one of them. He whimpered and started crying as the footsteps came closer. He didn't want to be here anymore. He felt like throwing up. The taste of alcohol was still fresh in his mouth; burning his throat and closing it up. He shouldn't. He shouldn't.

Arms wrapped around him and sat him up. His head lolled forwards and he mumbled a slurred protest. He hadn't realized he was cold until he felt the warmth of the other person. He whimpered again and a hand started to gently rub his back as he cried.

A few minutes later, he was sick.

The person didn't seem to care. They adjusted their arms and slowly lifted him up, even though he probably weighed something similar to them. The person began to carry him away, humming in a familiar voice.

"It's okay, little brother," Gerard whispered. "I got you."