TALK TO ME ¯ᶠʳᵉʳᵃʳᵈ

-ˏˋｓｉｘｔｅｅｎ：ｓｅｌｆ－ｄｅｓｔｒｕｃｔｉｏｎˊˎ-

I fucking hated Gerard. Ok, so my heart didn't really mean that, but my mind did. I didn't care for an explanation, I really didn't. I was better off not knowing why he disappeared just to work in a fucking comic book store. Maybe he wanted to get rid of me? Maybe he needed to get away? Maybe he was tired of dealing with the stupid mute kid? All of those seemed like high possibilities.

I don't know how I managed to keep running all the way to the Way household. Why did I still go back there? I had no fucking clue. I had a fight with the keys at the door, but then barged in, heading for the basement before realizing that was an even stupider idea. The house was empty except for Mikey who was most likely in his room so I went there. I swung the door open and he was sitting up in bed blowing his nose furiously.

"Hey," he said, nose still clogged and his voice thicker than usual, "why aren't you at school?"

I had stopped at the doorway, bending over and placing my hands on my knees so I could catch my breath. I was panting heavily and didn't even realize how tired I was until that moment.

"What happened?" Mikey asked, growing concerned. "Are you alright?"

I finally stood up, my side still stabbing at me from all the running. Mikey's eyes widened and I remembered once again that I had forgotten about my black eye.

"What the fuck ha-"

"Your brother," I panted, interrupting him.

"Gerard did this?!" he yelled.

"No, no," I shook my head, still catching my breath. "Your brother...is at...a comic book store."

"Huh?"

"Gerard is at a comic book store...working and he's ok...he's working and there's nothing wrong with him," I sighed, regaining my breath a little more. I kept repeating it in my head, hoping it would make sense and that a proper explanation would create itself in my mind, but there was none.

"Ok," Mikey nodded. "Now what about your eye?"

Of course Mikey would be mainly concerned with my eye at a moment like this.

"Bullies," I sighed.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered, "one day, I'm gone for one fucking day and they get their hands on you."

"I'm fine," I shrugged. "I hardly feel it."

"Well obviously you don't feel it, that shit looks horrible."

I sat down on the edge of his bed and just looked at the ground. Mikey always avoided the main subject when he didn't know how to handle it, so we sat there in silence for a while, until he finally spoke.

"So you're sure it was Gerard?" he asked.

"I wouldn't confuse him for anyone," I nodded.

"I don't get it," he said. "Why would he avoid everyone like this, though? I honestly thought we'd find him passed out in a corner from drinking too much, but working? It makes no sense."

"It does," I sighed. "It makes perfect sense, Mikey."

"Don't start blaming yourself," he said quickly before I could finish. "You can't keep blaming yourself every time Gerard fucks up. His mind is so stupid and twisted that it has nothing to do with you anymore. It doesn't matter what you did or didn't do, he can't just run off like that. So don't fucking blame yourself. Everyone needs to stop worrying so fucking much about Gerard when he doesn't even care for himself much less any of us! He didn't give a shit about leaving and making us all freak out and assume the worst, I mean we live in fucking Jersey, for all we knew he could have been dead! But he didn't think about that, he just left with no regard for anyone, not even himself."