The Sharpest Lives

Chapter Six: What Am I Here For?

[Frank]

I hated to betray his trust in me, but I had a feeling that Gerard was lying to me.

On the way home, I watched him carefully, noted every involuntary jerk of his muscles, noticed how he never once looked at me and gazed out the window at the trees and the road that flew past the rain streaked window instead, caught the firm set of his jaw in the reflection in the glass.

I realized that no matter how much I tried, I couldn't fully trust him anymore. Not when he'd turned around so quickly like that. I'd been expecting to see him crack a day or two in. He's a strong person and usually refuses to give up. I liked that he'd never once stopped fighting, that he always rose to the challenge, with a wicked grin on his face.

So what happened?

It was too quiet in the car; it was making me uncomfortable. The way he shifted in his seat gave me the impression that I wasn't the only one feeling awkward. The only sound that filled the silence was the loud hum of the engine, the swish of water being thrown up by the tires, our near silent breathing. It was driving me insane. I wished he'd say something, but he never did. There was nothing to talk about anymore. The atmosphere was too stiff and cold between us.

My phone suddenly going off in my pocket made me jump and turn the steering wheel a little too viciously to the left, which resulted in the car almost careening into the path of an oncoming truck. While I nearly passed out in my seat, Gerard merely continued to stare vacantly out the window, consumed by his own miserable thoughts. I sighed as I dug around in my pocket for my cell, wishing that I could do something to wake him up a little.  Although I doubt I would have gotten more than a blink from him if we'd actually crashed.

I pressed the phone against my ear without checking who was calling. It didn't seem important anyway, since I recognized the voice straight away.

"Hi, Frank," the voice said, tired, although relieved.

"Oh, Mikey," I answered, happy to be hearing from him after so long. "Hi. What's up?"

"Nothing, nothing, just…" he trailed off, and I immediately felt dread flood into my thoughts before I could stop it.

"You okay, Mikey? Something happen?" Even though I tried to hide it, I could hear the worry in my voice. Stupid I thought, I'm being paranoid again.

"Well, no, not to me, I'm fine," he said, stumbling over his words. "I, uh, I just heard…" He stopped, and changed the subject. "Are you with Gerard?"

I frowned, even though he couldn't see it. "Yeah…why?" Things were starting to get suspicious.

"Oh, okay," he breathed, relived. Was I missing something? "How is he?"

He's become even more of an arrogant prick and is completely fucked up I would have loved to say. It was the truth after all. But I couldn't say that. Partially because I didn't want Mikey to worry so much over his brother, but mostly because I couldn't bring myself to really say it. It was true, but I was in denial. How the fuck I expected to help Gerard when I was so messed up myself, I don't know.

"He's…" I hesitated, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make him panic. Last time I'd talked to him, he'd been trying to hide the fact that he was agonizing over the whole Gerard thing, but I could tell he was hurting. "He's pretty bad." Understatement.

"Oh. Right." I only then realized that he'd been hopeful, waiting expectantly for me to deliver some kind of good news. A second passed where I allowed myself to wander into that dangerous dream that we both had, where Gerard was happy and his smiles were painless, where there was nothing to worry about except the next song, the next show, the next big thing that would explode out of our heads. It was a dream that I never allowed myself to see too clearly, because I knew how much I wanted it. It would be the death of us all if I let myself believe that it could happen just like that. It wasn't that easy. It would never be that easy.