Take Me By The Hand

Thirtyyyyy Threeeeee

"Frank..." My name, accompanied by another soft knock, sounds through the bathroom door. "You have to come out of there sometime, Frankie. Please."

I shake my head, sniffling and resting my forehead on my knees. "Go. Away." Tears thicken my voice, sticking in my throat and making me sound sick.

"You've been in there for an hour, Frank," Josh tries again. "Come on, just please open the door." I ignore his pleads and it's silent for a few long moments. When he finally talks again, his voice is lower, sounding desperate and defeated through the wood. "Gerard wants to come in. Will you at least let him in?"

I think about that for a second before standing up. Josh must hear my movements because the door handle jiggles and I lean my weight against the barrier. My forehead against the wood, I inhale the oak smell and sigh. "Mikey," I finally say. "I want Mikey."

Only a few seconds pass before another knock hits the door. "It's me."

I stand back and pull the door open only a crack, enough for Mikey to slip into the room with me. He instantly shuts it back behind him and studies me. I don't have to look to know that my eyes are bloodshot and puffy, tears staining and drying on my pale cheeks. I wipe the back of my sleeve across my face and sniffle again, choking out a small sob.

"Frank--" Mikey starts sadly, but I shake my head, cutting him off. I know exactly what he's going to say and I don't want to hear "I'm sorry" coming out of his mouth. None of this is his fault. He shuts up and purses his lips slightly. I take the tiny step forward, literally falling into his arms and burying my face in his shoulder.

This is why I needed Mikey. I didn't care if he saw me like this. He was my best friend and I knew he would always be here for me. No matter what.

It's silent when my crying eventually dies down again and I pull away. I wipe at my eyes and turn to face my own horrible reflection in the mirror. I was right about what I looked like; Pale face, red eyes. But the one thing that caught my attention the most was the desolation that seemed to be hidden behind my hazel irises. It was a dull color, void of any feeling, and I could see that. Apparently Mikey can see it too, as he steps around me. He pats the countertop silently and I hop onto it, watching his swift movements as he grabs a blue washcloth from the cabinet and starts wetting it under the faucet. He's quiet, dragging the cold rag across my cheeks and eyes. When he's finished, he drops the cloth into the hamper and stands in front of me, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.

"I know you hate sympathy," He states. "So I'm not saying I'm sorry. I'm not. Zacky was an asshole and it sucks you had to find out this way. But..." Mikey hesitates, shrugging and shifting his weight. "I think it's going to get better now. You gave him a choice and if he doesn't want to be a part of this, he's the one missing out."

I feel tears building again, but they don't spill over. My lip quivers only slightly when I ask, "How am I supposed to deal with this alone?"

Mikey frowns, shaking his head. "You've got us, Frank. You're never gonna be alone."

A sad smile forms on my lips and I look down. I knew that-- Mikey, Josh, Gerard. They would be here for me. "I love him, Mikey. I want him to be here. I should be pissed at him, I should have told him to leave. I should have screamed at him for cheating on me and for lying to me. But I'm sitting in a bathroom crying--" I pause and laugh at myself because I know I'm acting irrationally. Thinking back to what Gerard said a few days ago, I bite down on my lip. Reality is me being a pregnant sixteen year old boy.  Freaking out is a rational response, it's realistic and understandable. Maybe this-- crying in a bathroom because my boyfriend left me alone-- is rational, too. I look up at Mikey and shrug. "In the end, I wanted him to stay. I wanted him to say that he would be a part of this."