My Injuries, Your Injuries (Completed)

Chapter 12

"I tried to tell you," I singsong, letting him know that I'm just kidding. He looks back up at me and there's a little twinkle in his eyes as he offers me a small smile, a thankful smile. I smile back, taking in the detail of his. He doesn't show his teeth, just his lips, which are pink and chapped. Little lines form at the corners of his mouth, but not his eyes, showing that he doesn't really smile that often. He's attractive to say the least, and the smile only adds to it.

"How do you plan on helping me?" His smile disappears and, once again, he has a serious, slightly sad looking, expression on.

"Well, we just need to replace the reasons to do it with reasons on why not to do it," I explain, hoping it doesn't sound stupid.

"That'll be hard," he murmurs, making it hard to hear him.

"Here," I take one of his sketch books off his night table and a pencil, "call me anytime and we'll talk." I write down the digits of my number and sign my name underneath.

He grabs a permanent marker from the pile of pens, pencils and markers and grabs my arm, pulling up the sleeve, "Here's mine so you don't think some stalker is trying to call you," he chuckles, writing down his and signing his own name.

I smile up at him and nod my head, laughing silently at the stalker comment. "I gotta go downstairs, wouldn't want Ray and Mikey to think we're hooking up or something." Gerard blushes slightly at the last part and looks away, trying to hide it.

"See you later," he mumbles and puts the marker back on the desk. I stand up and pat his head a little, "See you later," I say back.

I go downstairs and take a seat on one of the reclining chairs decorating the living room, "What's up?"

"How'd talking with Gee go?" Mikey asks, ignoring my question completely.

"He's agreed to let me help him," I answer, showing him the number scribbled on my forearm. They both nod in approval and give a thumbs up.

"So, what do you guys want to do?" Mikey asks, standing up and stretching.

"Um... video games, duh," Ray sasses as if it's the most obvious answer ever.

Mikey nods and makes his way to the TV stand, pulling out the controllers and putting in the game he knows Ray will tell him to put in. He tosses is the controllers and takes his own to his seat.

After setting up the game, which is one of the Call of Duty games, I didn't pay attention to which one it is, we are all running around the screen, hunting each other down.

*~*

"You're such a fucking cheater!" I shout at Ray, jumping out of the chair and pausing the game.

"How am I a fucking cheater?!" He shouts right back, standing up himself.

"You fucking looked at my screen and found me! I guaran-fuckin'-tee you were not that fucking close to me, you fucking twat!" I scream, jabbing his chest with my finger. I'm trying to be intimidating, but seriously, I'm like a foot shorter than him.

"No, you little shit, I did not! I fucking found you because you fucking suck at this game, you fucking ass-dick!" He retorts, jabbing his finger into my chest.

"How am I the ass-dick?! You're the one who cheated!"

"Because you've always been the ass-dick, you fucking ass-dick!" He informs me, laughing at the end, making it hard to keep up my angered facade.

"Fucking Afro-headed douche canoe," I mutter, taking my seat and picking up my controller.

A few seconds after, my phone vibrates in my pocket, so I pause the game, much to Mikey and Ray's disappointment. I unlock it and click on the notification of a text. 'Calm your shit, dude, I can hear you all the way up here.'