GERARD'S P.O.V.
I wake up when I hear my door open, followed by Mikey's soft voice.
"Hey, Gee," says Mikey, tapping on my door lightly.
"What's up, kiddo?" I ask him, sitting up and leaning on the wall adjacent to my bed.
"Well, uh, something came in the mail for you yesterday." His voice is soft, but I guess he sees the immediate worry in my expression because his tone changes drastically when he says, "No, no! It isn't bad news or anything!"
"Oh, thank God," I mutter, feeling my bed dip under Mikey's weight and his fingers touch my knee. We're both quiet for a moment before I ask him what it is.
He slips a small, flat package into my hands. "Open it." His voice is small and sweet.
I do as I'm told, tearing the thick paper wrapping in places. My hands wrap around the flimsy rectanglular object, and I feel small bumps under my fingertips.
"Is it a book?" I ask Mikey, who stutters a little when he answers.
"Well, yeah, it is, I mean — well, I know you're... you're blind now. And I know you don't know Braille yet, but, uh, when you do... this is for when you do." He pauses. "It's the new Batman comic, and I — it's specially made. Just for you."
I take a moment to let this sink in. I would never ask Mikey to spend his money on me — I wonder what Mikey had to do, who he had to contact, to get this book made for me? God, he must've spent his entire pay on this thing.
"Mikey, I —" I run my fingers through my hair. "You really didn't have to do this for me. I, well, don't get me wrong, I love it, I love you, but I can only imagine the trouble you went through to get this," I lay my hand flat against the bumpy cover of the comic in my lap. "It means a lot."
"It's okay, Gerard! Really, it wasn't that hard." I don't believe a word he says, though. "I contacted the DC people the day after you got home from the hospital."
I desperately want to ask Mikey how much this gift costed him, but I refrain. Instead, I reach out and touch his shoulders, pulling him into a warm hug. "Thank you," I whisper, pulling away slowly, but Mikey's fingers are clutching my shirt tightly and his head is tucked firmly in the crook of my neck.
His tears soak into my skin and he hiccups quietly. "I'm sorry," Mikey mumbles into my shoulder, his voice muffled. I wrap my arms around his thin frame, unsure why he's crying but attempting to soothe him anyway. "I wish it was different."
I think I know what he means; I'm blind. I lost my vision two months ago and I went into the operating room with a lasting image of my mother and sibling burned into the back of my eyelids. I hate that I can't see Mikey — I'll never see him again. It kills me to know that I can't watch my little brother grow up, but it's nothing that I can change. I feel a sharp pang in my chest and I swallow hard, squeezing my eyes shut.
"Hey," I mumble. "Chin up, buddy, we'll get through it."
"Yeah, it's cool," Mikey sighs, pulling back. "I'll be okay." He slips off my bed and leaves me alone. "I love you." His voice is tiny and suddenly I feel like we're back in elementary school, when he'd greet me every day after classes were over with those bright hazel eyes of his and fling his arms around me.
"I missed you," Mikey would tell me in his five-year-old voice, his dark hair a mess. God, I miss that.
"I love you too," I say as I rub over the cover of the book. "Thank you."
My door clicks shut as he leaves my room and his pain washes over me.
-
Ryan giggles softly as I push him off my lap, a short laugh bubbling out of my mouth too. Suddenly Ryan's weight is on both sides of me, his knees pinning me down to the bed.
"You can't just expect me to not be all over you," Ryan says, shocking me with how close he is as his breath fans over my jaw and neck. His voice is quiet and seductive when he says, "Do you know how hard that would be?"
I smile and turn my head away, but Ryan kisses my cheek anyway. "I bet it would be so hard, but it'd be possible."
"I doubt it," Ryan mumbles, his lips suddenly against my neck. I instinctively tilt my head. "I wish you could see how gorgeous you are."
"Shut up," I sigh, closing my eyes. I expect Ry to go further and slip his hands up my shirt, but he doesn't. He knows his limits well. Still, his touch seems to be everywhere and it's nice. It's all so fucking nice.
"I can't," Ryan mumbles and presses a quick kiss to my lips. His fingers slide between mine and I smile as I lean forward for another kiss.
I don't think I've ever been this attached to someone.
After a while of lounging around and kissing, Ryan decides it's time for lunch. He isn't a very good cook, truthfully, but he can make a kickass grilled cheese.
"I don't think we've got any cheese," I say, remembering yesterday when Mikey announced he'd used the last of it in an omelet. I lean against the counter as Ryan searches for food. "Are there any chips in the cabinet?"
"No, but I got Cheez Whiz," Ryan deadpans, and there's the telltale clink of the metal can against the counter next to me.
"Can you even make a sandwich with that shit?" I ask, wrinkling my nose.
"I'll figure something out. You eat some crackers," Ryan says with a chuckle, sliding a package of thins into my hands. My lips curl into a smirk and I toss the crackers in Ryan's general direction.
"I don't want crackers!" I whine playfully as the package hits the hardwood floor. "Make me something edible!"
Ryan eventually half-ass warms some canned chicken noodle soup, which is much better than crackers, and sits me down at the table with the bowl.
He sits next to me, his hand resting on my thigh under the table, a habit of his. I don't mind at all.
-
I guess Frank slipped my mind, because when the doorbell rings, I nearly jump out of my skin.
"Who...?" Ryan mumbles, his shoes clicking against the floor on the way to get the door.
I shrug, "I have no idea."
I hear Ryan flip the locks and open the door, obviously confused as to who the boy at the door is. I break out into a grin when I hear Frank's voice saying something that sounds a lot like, "No, we met yesterday, I helped him get home."
Ryan lets out a small sound and there's the small click of the door being pushed shut.
"Hello, Frank," I call from the couch where I'm perched, waving my hand in the air. The cushion under me dips slightly, and I reach out to touch the knee of the person sitting next to me. There's a large hole in his jeans, so I automatically assume it's Frank instead of Ryan. Ryan doesn't wear ripped jeans.
"Hi," Frank says, his fingertips brushing the back of my hand.
"How's your day going?" I ask lightly, shifting to sit cross-legged facing Frank.
"Good so far," He replies, pausing for half a second. "How about you?"
I love how polite and considerate Frank is. Ryan never asked me how I was or how my day was going before I lost my vision.
"Oh, it's been great," I gush, tilting my head upward slightly and my lips twitching upward, the feeling of Ryan's kisses lingering on them. "Ryan...where are you?" I mumble, and immediately I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder.
"Right here, darling."
"Oh." I turn my head downward. "Well, this is Frank," I say, "I met him yesterday. And, uh, this is Ryan. Frank, Ryan. Ryan, Frank." I move my hands around vaguely.
We sit and talk for an hour or so before Mikey comes home and joins the conversation.
"No," Frank says, "It's Iero."
"Eero," Ryan confirms, still stuck on the pronunciation. I laugh, leaning my head back on the armrest of the couch, propping my legs up on Ryan's lap. He rests his arms on my shins as he says, "Whatever. Eero."
Frank chuckles quietly and begins to chat with Ryan about guitars or something else I'm not too familiar with, and I don't think they hear the door open and close softly. I listen closely as Mikey walks through the kitchen slowly and stops.
"Hey," I say loudly, and Frank and Ry go silent. "This is Frank."
"Uh, hey...Frank."
"I don't bite," Frank pipes up and Ryan adds a quick, "Only in the right places!"
"Shut up," I hiss, smacking Ryan's arm. "That's my little brother, mind you."
"Hey, Mikes, tell 'em about your new bass," I say, smiling. I know he's a little shy, but he'll warm up eventually.
"Oh, I wanna see," Frank chirps.
"I'll — okay, uh, I'll be right back...," Mikey says quietly and I know he's probably hating me right now. I don't care. It's my job as his big brother to help bring him out of his shell.
"Man, I've always wanted to play bass," Frank says, breaking the silence. "I think I could, you know, if I had enough money to buy one."
"I might could teach you a thing or two," Mikey chimes in softly, and I hadn't even realised he was already back. Guess he isn't as timid as I'd thought he'd be.
"That'd be great." Frank's voice is much quieter now, and I settle back in my seat comfortably. "God, this is nice."
"Thanks," Mikey replies. "It costed me a year's pay."
"I can imagine so," Ryan chimes in.
I've never seen the thing, but from what Mikey's told me, it was well over a thousand dollars. And it did take him a year to work out the money to pay for it, since he can only put in time when he isn't at school. I'm very proud of my brother. When I was sixteen, I was nowhere near even considering a job; I stayed in the hospital in and out nearly all of that year.
I end up falling asleep with my thoughts running wild and my feet in Ryan's lap.
-
I'm shaken awake by Ryan, who kisses my forehead when I open my eyes. His lips tremble against he almost never shows any signs of affection when we're around others.
"Wake up, sleepyhead," Ryan whispers in my ear. "I have to go," he tells me, then goes quiet for a moment, and I assume he's checking the time because he says, "It's quarter to five and my mom just called. Gotta head over to the hospital."
"Okay," I mumble sleepily, listening tentavely for Mikey and Frank's voices as they continue to converse quietly. I think Mikey's telling Frank something about our dad.
"No, we don't see him often," Mikey says, a pitiful sigh that floats on the air.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Ryan says, then lowers his voice. "I love you."
"I love you too," I murmur back. "I've got a —"
"Optometrist's appointment, I know. Ten thirty. Mikey told me. I'll be here at twelve thirty, yeah?"
I smile and tilt my head upward, expecting Ryan to kiss me goodbye like he always does. But of course, I'm left expecting more than I should. He doesn't kiss because we are not alone. I let out a long breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding as Ryan's fingertips leave my chest. It feels like I've been uncaged.
I count his footsteps as he makes his way to the door, muttering a quiet yet sincere, "Today was nice." And it takes him twenty-seven steps to leave me.