As I'm standing awkwardly in the hospital room, I squeeze his hand. He looks so young. So.. little. My little brother was in the hospital, hanging on by a thread. He wanted it to be like this. He wanted to die. I pray that he won't, not yet. I need to know why. As I hold his hand, I feel a little bit of warmth. It's as if I'm protecting it with my life, not wanting it to escape his fragile body.
"Don't leave me," I sniffled, crouching down. "Answer me, fucker, don't leave me! Wake the fuck up and tell me why!"
The last sentence was barely comprehendable over my sobs. He didn't stir. He looked dead, which made me anxious. How would he look, laying in his coffin. Would it be next week or in years? Would he die of old age, or of suicide? I'd make sure he wore the suit he wore to our grandmothers funeral. He liked it. That scar on his wrist from the attempt.. it was so big, so ugly. He'd be ashamed of it if he knew that I was looking at it, hovering over him. His hair would be parted, he'd be wearing his favorite pair of shoes, he'd-
Stop! Shut up!
My achey head screamed at me to stop before I went hysterical. I bent over and pecked his cheek and squeezed his hand once more.
"I love you, Mikes," I said simply and left the room.
YOU ARE READING
Very Much Alive -frerard/rikey
Fanfiction"You're okay, kid," Ray Toro smiled at Mikey, a sudden feeling of butterflies fluttering through his stomach. He thanked God that this boy was alive. He was pretty cute after all.
