Painted Skies

Chapter 6

He took another sip, and another and another. The bottle seemed to be endless which, was fine with him. Drag, sip, drag, sip.

"You're fucking disgusting." Mikey shouted at him, but he didn't seem to care. "This is why mom and dad fuckin hate you," he looked Mikey in the eyes with a stone hard gaze that held no emotion. Gerard felt it though, past the façade, he felt the tears that just couldn't leave his tear ducts. "I fuckin' hate you too." He marched to the door where Pete and Patrick stood with dissapointed faces. But behind them stood Frank, with a more dejected look.

Then the walls of his bedroom fell through the floor and were replaced with long grass. The ceiling vaporized in front of his eyes and the carpet turned to dirt. The skyline present the same city he's gotten use to seeing three nights in a row. It was kind of comforting to him now, a sign his nightmares were over and he was safe.

Frank was not by him this time though, he was farther off in the field, gazing at the horizon with his knees hugged to his chest. He was slouched on a fallen tree, or maybe he pushed it down, who knows. Gerard had just realized how the field was surrounded by small clusters of trees, blocking off any sort of view of what was beyend this prarie, he didn't really mind though. Gerard pretty much levitated to the shorter man, but it was a dream so whatever.

"Did you get to think about explaining something to me?" He asked, sitting down on the log next to him. He didn't know why he was so curious about the supposed answers Frank had. It was a dream, after all, yet, he still wanted to see what his wacky unconsciousness could come up with, maybe he could write a comic or something...

Frank sighed, he seemed kinda down and Gerard didn't really know why. He was usually fairly close to Gerard and all up in his personal space, but now they were separated by at least the two feet of air in between them. Frank was also picking at the hole in his jeans with slumped shoulders, avoiding eye contact. Had he seen his past nightmare? Does he think differently of him now? God, he didn't want to fuck this up, not Frank. "You okay?" He questioned.

"Yeah." He replied which was not a good enough answer for Gerard. Frank picked at the bark of the tree, avoiding eye contact. "C'mon, tell me," he prodded, "you're not real anyways, you're just a dream." Gerard stated, nonchalantly, 'cause fuck it, Frank was probably already annoyed with him or something because Gerard always accidentally messed up the good things in his life. And it was just a dream. Frank groaned and leaned back, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"But I am real." He said, removing his hands, finally looking at Gerard whose eyebrows were knitted together. Why was he saying that again? What did he mean? Frank sat Indian style running a hand through his hair. Gerard noticed a few new tattoos on his hands that he Hadn't before, he liked them though, guess he unconsciously had a thing for tattoos, well maybe it wasn't so unconscious now.

"I talked to Ray, he said..." he trailed off, tapping his fingers on his chin and looking at the sky, seeming to search for the right words. "This is my astral form? But, like not, ugh, I don't remember what he said." Gerard was still extremely confused because what the fuck was astral form?

"So this is is me," he gestured to himself, which was completely unnecessary. "But some of me is also out there." He looked around, but all Gerard saw was sky and grass. He gave him an even more confused look but Frank just seemed to become more frustrated. "Ya know, I don't even know if I want to explain this to you anymore." He stood up.

"No, just keep going, I'll get it." Gerard stood with him but Frank turned away. Something was definitely wrong. Why did it seem like he was trying to avoid him? He really hated this, he hated not happy Frank. Gerard flew in front of him with crossed arms. "Tell me what's up." He said more angrily than he intended to.