Identity [Gerard Way] *Completed*

Chapter Eighteen

The next morning, I actually get to sit next to Gerard on the springy couch. He doesn't snap at me, mumble under his breath, and he even doesn't roll his eyes or glare at me. He hardly looks at me at all, but I think that's just shyness. And I don't mind.

It's really strange, though. It's like he... drastically changed. This Gerard is a lot different than the other one, but I guess that wasn't really even him at all. It was just how he was pretending to be. It was the only way he knew how to act. But I like him calmer. I don't feel as provoked as I used to.

I'm not even sure what we're watching. I think Gerard's got it switched onto the news again. He seems to like to know what the news is saying about us, and since we're pretty much the most interesting thing that the news station broadcasts, they say things about us a lot. I know that we shouldn't be sitting here doing nothing, but I honestly don't think Gerard's ready to move away from his house yet.

He doesn't look over at me. His eyes are locked on the T.V, concentrating on it. I'm not paying attention to what they're talking about. Even if it could be about us, I can't seem to focus on it. My eyes are wavering in and out of focus, and my head pounds. I think it's the lack of sleep that's doing that. Though I can't look near as bad as Gerard does. He has dark lines under his eyes, and he looks dead. His eyes do, too. They look duller than they usually are. Even though I can hardly see them because of the hair in his face.

I sigh and hug my knees, squinting at Gerard. He's been chewing on the same fingernail for the past twenty minutes. I'm actually surprised how his fingernails aren't gone by now, considering he chews on them so much. I think it's more of a nervous trait than anything.

For a moment, I'm actually able to turn my attention to the news. And sure enough, there on the blurry screen, is the news woman talking about us. This should be good.

"There's still no sign of the two. Police officials say they got a brief encounter with them, but they quickly and suddenly ran off. As of now, you are still being asked to return to your houses, locking the doors and windows. Who knows what tricks these two have got up their sleeves."

I laugh at that last sentence. Who do these people think we are? Just because our clothes are a shade darker than theirs, they have to be scared of us. It's been interesting to notice that, because all this time I had thought it was just the police after me, and it was a law thing- but now that I've learned people are actually afraid , it's become pretty sad.

"Ha. Can you believe that?" Gerard speaks quietly through his teeth, eyes not leaving the screen.

I shake my head. "Honestly, I'd really like to know why it is they're so scared."

"Me, too," Gerard finally brings his hand away from his mouth. "But I don't think we'd be able to ask."

I half-smile. He's right. We wouldn't be able to get close enough to ask them why everything is the way it is. If we could without getting shot, I would have asked a long time ago.

Gerard moves hair out of his face, holding the remote to the T.V. "I don't wanna watch this anymore."

I stare at my knees and nod, not sure what else to say. I don't know if I can watch anything else. I feel really paranoid.

He leans his head against the couch, flicking through the channels. "There's nothing good on."

I try to hide my laugh. "You sound like a child."

Gerard turns his head to me and raises both eyebrows. "Really." He says it more like a statement, rather than a question.

I roll my eyes and cross my legs. Gerard proceeds to look through the channels, though he doesn't have very many. He goes through the same ones about five times, and I doubt he even notices.