Summertime (Frerard)

16: Stitch These Wounds With Me Tonight

I stumbled out of school, still mildly distraught and just a little confused regarding my encounter with Mr Toro, or Ray if you wanted to humanise him. I'd just never quite met a teacher like him... ever. It was weird to say the least, but I needed to find Mikey. He could have been killed by now, or something equally as morbid that I'd prefer greatly not to think about.

Despite how much I hated the younger Way brother, I just couldn't leave him to The Killers; they were ruthless, they wouldn't stop if they didn't want to. Fuck, they could kill him if they wanted to do, but I don't think they would, because Mikey is really a valuable asset to Skully; without him, The Killers are just a bunch of over aggressive morons with a particular dislike to everyone that looked at them in mildly the wrong manner.

Mikey gave them the brains, the planning, the sting to their bite; he was the key asset of the killing machine, and somehow, somehow, I felt duty-bound to help him. This really was an utter mess, but what aspect of my life wasn't?

I jogged down through the school gates to the field where The Killers usually hung around. I didn't particularly want an encounter with them, but surely this would be where Mikey would go? Fuck, I didn't know, but guilt was consuming me from the inside and I just needed to ensure Mikey was okay before all my organs imploded. Organ implosion wouldn't be the best circumstance - that was for sure.

The thing is, Mikey didn't have to get me out of that music room, but he did, and that's the most confusing factor of all. Why? I couldn't answer that question, no matter quite how hard I tried. I began to suspect that maybe it was somehow something to do with Gerard, but even that felt like a long shot.

Mikey was opposed to even the fact that we knew each other's names. I think he didn't want anyone to know that Gerard existed, because beneath it all, he was scared, embarrassed maybe? But overall scared of what people would think, of what people would say. He's not that much of a coward, though, because he's scared for Gerard too, but he needn't be - Gerard isn't scared of anything, I don't think.

As I approached a clump of vegetation that backed onto a stone wall, providing a small oasis of shade against the harsh midday sunlight beating down upon the rest of the field, I noticed a figure curled up against the trunk of a mildly overgrown oak tree. They were unrecognisable; a silhouette in the midday sun, but I had a pretty good guess as to who it could be.

The oak tree had been there as long as I can remember, and its branches grew over the wall and twisted round like shouts of ivy. It gave a kind of eerie, fucked up fairy-tale feel, and I was just a little scared that the figure would be dead or something else that would match the aforementioned atmosphere.

"Frank!" The figure called out my name, my eyes darting in his direction immediately; I was relieved to find Mikey, leading up against the tree trunk, his eyes squinting as he peered out over the sun blazened expanse of grass. And I was even more relieved to find him very much not dead.

"Mikey, are you okay?" I rushed over to the guy, ignoring all my previous dislike towards the guy, because The Killers could have knocked him within inches of death and it'd be my fault and never could I live with that. I have a conscience, you see - I don't think Mikey has much of one, though. He isn't entirely guilt devoid, it just dwells in small quantities within that expanse of grey matter he has up there.

"Dude, I'm fine." He grinned awkwardly at me, taking my outstretched hand and pulling himself up. He brushed the dirt off his jeans, before looking back up at me, "are you okay?"

Funny how the tables turned. I was okay, I thought, but I wasn't entirely sure, because I don't think that either us were quite sure as to what the definition of 'okay' really was. It really did vary, depending upon the situation and just how much self-pity dwelled within my veins at that certain moment in time.