It doesn't take me long to find him alone in the quiet barracks, his arms tightly wrapped around his abdomen as he stares down at the floor. His hair is slick with rainwater, droplets clinging to glasses, but he doesn't seem bothered by it. I'm sure the unruly worries clouding his mind take precedence over something like that.
He doesn't glance up as I enter the room and shut the door behind me. "Hey, Mikey," I say, my voice soft in the silence of the room. "Mind if I join you?"
The rain drums against the windows and fills the heavy silence in the air as Mikey lifts his shoulders in a shrug. Not once has he broken his solemn stare with the floor at his feet. "I guess." His voice is barely above a frail whisper.
Taking a deep breath, I start to make my way toward him, the old floorboards creaking beneath my feet with every step I take. The pitter patter of the fat raindrops beating against the glass ring in my ears. I'm quite damp, myself, but I'm not bothered. Making sure Mikey is okay is far more important than my wet clothes and dripping hair.
Without another word, fearful to disturb the silence hanging over us, I take a seat on the edge of my bed, right across from him. Thunder rumbles in the dark sky above, shaking the walls of the room. Lightning flashes through the windows in bright streaks. The storm is only worsening as the night progresses, and now, even I'm starting to feel thankful that they moved the invasion to tomorrow. We would never be able to see or do anything in a storm like this.
But right now, the violent storm raging outside is the least of my concerns. I keep my worried gaze fixed on my brother as he refuses to look up at me, nervously twiddling his thumbs in his lap. Something is on his mind, and I intend to find out what. If there's anything I can do to make him feel better, you can be sure I'll do it without hesitation.
"What's wrong?" I dare to ask as another deafening crack of thunder booms outside.
Instead of answering me, though, Mikey only shrugs again. He's determined to keep himself from meeting my eyes, isn't he?
"Come on, Mikey," I press gently. The last thing I want to do is upset him even more. "You left the table pretty abruptly. Everyone was worried. What's on your mind? You know you can tell me anything, right?"
A long stretch of uncomfortable silence passes before Mikey finally nods. He wrings his trembling hands and heaves a sigh. "Yeah, I know," he murmurs, his voice nearly masked by the rain pounding against the windows. "It's just....everything's kind of hitting me all of a sudden, you know? One minute I was fine, and then the next, everything I've been trying to push out of my mind came crashing in."
"I know the feeling," I tell him, and I know it all too well. "What's going on, Mikey? Maybe I can help."
Letting out a weak laugh, he spares a glance at the jagged streaks of rainwater painting the glass. "I think it's past the point of help," he says. "I'm not sure if there's anything you can do."
"Let me try, at least," I urge. Something is clearly bothering him, and it's my job to help him in any way I can. "Talk to me. I'll do whatever I can."
As a bolt of blinding lightning flashes outside, Mikey tears his gaze away from the window and fixes it on his shaking hands once more. He takes a deep breath, as if he's hesitant to say what's on his mind, and I can only hope that he trusts me to help him in whatever way I can. I refuse to just sit around and watch him suffer through agonizing thoughts when I have the ability to help him. It's not who I am, nor will it ever be. I'm a helper, and that's not going to change any time soon.
YOU ARE READING
The Ghost of Him |WWII Frerard AU|
Fanfiction"You are never coming home." * * * There are some days in life you'll never forget. Your first date, perhaps, or even your first kiss. Maybe even your first experience with death, because not all of these days have to be good. Some of these day...
