Before Killing Was Cool ➊ FRERARD

6: The Humble Abode Of A Recluse

At this, I move forward to sit on the couch and leave my hostage standing awkwardly by the front door. I have the shotgun in my hand, and if need be, the knife in my pocket. I have a good aim even with the blade. I could catch him between the eyes if I wanted. Ray eyes me somewhat tiredly.

"I know," he sighs, "you're right, I wasn't there. I was - I was scared to come back, you know? I thought people would still be looking for me. They would probably charge me for Bob's death if I ever showed face." He raises his head and unsure brown eyes meet mine. "You know I didn't do it, right?"

I nod curtly.

"Are they still looking?" He pushes.

"They think you're dead, Ray," I confess.

He throws a hand to his mouth and falls on the sofa next to me. "Seriously? Oh, Christ. That's why they haven't found me - they don't think there's anything to find." I can see in his eyes he doesn't know whether to be upset or relieved. The conflict is hidden when he heads to the kitchen. "I'm sorry, I haven't had guests in - well, ever. Do you want something to eat or drink? You too, uh...?"

"Gerard," comes a timid voice from behind me. He fiddles with his fingers and I notice his gaze is directed upon a sketchbook on the coffee table. "I wasn't in your year at school so you wouldn't know me."

"Mikey Way's brother?" Ray guesses. At Gerard's nod, he looks torn. Maybe he wants to apologise for this happening, or defend me for what I did. Ray didn't know about any of this - how could he? But he can put the pieces of the puzzle together and figure out I would have went after Mikey.

"He's not dead," Gerard croaks, "that's why I'm here."

"I assume it's a long story. I'll make coffee and toast. Sorry, a bit limited for resources." Ray chuckles nervously and flips the switch to turn on the kettle, searching through the cupboards for bread. I can see him from the open door and his hands are shaking, likely due to what I've just bestowed upon him - the fact that the whole world thinks he's gone and his former best friend showed up at his door with a hostage.

The kitchen door slightly shuts so he can't see us. I turn to Gerard after motioning to the sketchbook and say, "You said you liked art. Do you draw?"

He raises both eyebrows. "You remember."

"You practically just told me." I'm trying to distract him. I don't know how he's going to react to Ray - he's heard of him, I'm sure, through school. He hasn't made a move to bargain for his life. Ray seems too calm and the fact that he's alive instantly makes me trust him less.

"Right, uh..." He runs a hand through his black hair and bites his lip which sends a soft warmth through my body. "I'm just used to people not caring enough to listen."

Empathy? Sympathy? I don't feel it. At least, I shouldn't.

"Yeah, I draw." If I hadn't have been paying such close attention to his nice-looking face, I would've missed the way his lips twitch into a smile. The corners of his mouth are quirky when he talks, but I like the look of it.

Shaking fantasies of bending him over the coffee table and showing him how he really affects me out of my mind, I say, "Draw something in that sketchbook."

He appears taken aback. "Frank, I can't; it's not mine."

"Stop being so frigid for a moment and just do it," I snap... affectionately. Is that possible? In any case, I made it happen.

He hesitates before picking up the book like it's an alien. There's a couple of regular pencils beside it and he grabs one too, taking a seat next to me on the sofa and flipping over to an unscathed page.