---Gerard---

Blue and black.

That's the color of his sweatshirt as Patrick's breathing stays steady against my wrists, his soft exhales warm my skin but I can't sleep no matter how easy it would be for him to ease me into a gentle slumber. I want to sleep but I can't. There are too many things running through my mind right now. Things should be better now, shouldn't they? Why do I feel so uneasy? I feel sick to my stomach and I feel like things will never be the same.

The same... There is no same anymore. What? Same as in when Dad lived? Same as when Mikey was here but Dad was gone? Same as when Mikey and Dad were gone but Patrick wasn't here? It'll never be the same. There is no same. It's all different but... The more I think about it, I think I know what my same is...

Maybe there doesn't need to be a same. Maybe I'm okay with things being different. Maybe my same is everything that's new. Maybe my same is just what I want the future to look like. Mom stops smoking, Mikey comes home, I get over this depression and grief, I stop cutting once and for all, Patrick eats normally, he stops cutting, he stops being so insecure about himself, he stops being afraid of being hurt. He understands how he looks in my eyes. A beautiful, talented, smart, wonderful boy that there's so much to learn about. Sure, he has a troubled past but he'll heal. I believe he can. I will help him heal if it takes my life to do it. I want him to be happy. I would give him the sun and the moon and the stars if I could just to see that delicate smile on his face again. I would die for him, I would live for him. I will do anything I can to make him realize he's beautiful. I'll draw a thousand drawings and call him beautiful every day.

Cheesy much? I guess that's what love does to you. I guess this is what being in love feels like. It's... different. I've fucked around a few times before with a few guys I'd met in the past. One time I even let Dallon fuck me. That was a one time thing though.

We never talked about it again, the only time we did was when we were joking around or drunk. I lost my virginity to him in my freshman year of high school. We were both drunk off our asses. He kissed me, I kissed back, one thing lead to another and the next morning I woke up with a sore ass in his bed while he was draped over me. I still remember the sudden realization, the regret, the way my stomach flipped. I remember the horrible hangover, the taste of vomit in my mouth and the fight. I left sobbing and he was devastated.

As I look back on it, I realize just how stupid I was to do it. I can't believe I ever let him do that to me... There was so much regret so many, "If only I had..." and, "What is wrong with me?". I hated it. I wanted my first time to be... romantic. I wanted it to be slow and I wanted both of us to be sober.

Guess that never happened, huh?

As my eyes look down at the sleeping boy I can't help but wonder if he's ever had sex. What was his first kiss like? Was it with a girl? A boy? His brother...? Is he a virgin or not? Maybe he's experienced but damaged. He's had lots of sex but once Kevin came along, it fucked him all up. But then I remember what he said the first time I gave him a blowjob, he said he'd never done it before and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to do it so I'm guessing he's still a virgin...

Unless Kevin took that from him, too.

I can't lie. I hate Kevin.

I hate him with my heart and soul right now. Patrick's so innocent and beautiful and fragile. He has enough problems with his self-esteem, why did he have to come along and make it worse? How could Kevin be such a monster as to completely fuck him up? Now, he can barely go out in public without having a panic attack, he constantly doubts himself, he wants to kill himself, he hates himself, he can't take his shirt off without being scared of being judged, and he has trust issues. I couldn't hug him without him flinching on Thursday but I guess I shouldn't completely blame that on Kevin. There's his Dad, too, and The Incident that contributed to those issues.

I remember when I first saw him in the hospital bed when he'd asked me to call 911. I had gotten a glimpse of him, his ribcage was jutting out and it horrified me. It still horrifies me. It's not that I find it disgusting or ugly. It just gave me nightmares because I couldn't believe he'd do that to himself. I remember seeing the word U-G-L-Y across his stomach. It was just a dark mark but I could easily see it amongst his other scars that litter his body. I remember how peaceful he looked once he was showered and all the glass of the shattered beer bottle had been plucked from his body, when all the cuts were bandaged and it was just him laying across that bed with a gown on and a resting face. A whole week I kept visiting and no matter how many times Dr. Capaldi told me I should leave, I couldn't. I didn't want to leave because... Because I was scared that if I did he'd die and I wouldn't be there. I couldn't get the news first.

No need to say, I broke down on every single night of those weeks. It may or may not have involved me cutting myself once or twice. Crying, shaking, screaming when Mama wasn't home. I tend to do that sometimes. I get stressed, oversensitive. I shut down and I can't function right. I used to do that whenever someone mentioned Dad, but things have changed since then. I'm still going through grief but I've begun to cope with it.

Back to not leaving the hospital, though. I think it was just the false hope that if I stayed, he wouldn't give up the will to live. Not that he had any choice but it's one of those things where when tragedy hits, you start going to things, anything to help you believe. Tarot cards, palm reading, false hoping, stupid superstitions whatever makes you feel better and you know it never works but in the end you'll always go back to it. You'll always accept the lie over the truth because the truth hurts worse than anything I could bring myself to do to anyone.

Except Kevin. I'd kill him if I got a chance. Both Kevin and David. I want them to die.

Okay, Gerard, time to stop your psychotic thoughts.

Maybe I am taking it a little too far to think about that but I'm still pissed at the both of them. I want them to suffer for what they did.

I'm taken from my thoughts when I hear my phone buzz on the bedside table, my heart pounds out of my chest like a jump-scare as I attempt to silent it, trying not to wake up Patrick.

He wakes up anyways, a yawn emitting from his mouth loudly.

"Guarard... Whassat..." He groans softly, exhaustion easy to hear in his voice. He's adorable.

"It's nothing, Sugar, go back to sleep..." I whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He smiles lightly but complies, turning and burying his face in my chest no matter how curious he might be.

I open my phone, squinting at the bright light as I attempt to adjust to it.

Through the blurriness, though, I can see Pete's name lit up on the screen.

A new message.

Pete: Hey, is Patrick doing alright? I can't sleep. (Sorry if I woke you up)

I hold back a chuckle, Pete and I honestly have so much in common.

I lazily type in a reply with just one hand.

Gerard: Same tbh hes ok u woke him up tho. he hasnt had nightmres or anythin so thats good

I send the text, the grammar is extremely cringy but I don't do anything about it. My excuse is that Patrick's trying to sleep.

Pete: Shit sorry man. That's good. do u thnk i can come ovr tomorrow or something? I wanna talk to him and we dont have school

It's the 22nd tomorrow, Saturday. I can't believe it's only been a month since The Black Parade came to town. It felt like a year ago.

Gerard: Yea I'll figure somthin out.

I yawn softly, finding my eyelids beginning to droop in exhaustion.

Gerard: I'm gonna go 2 sleep so ttyl?

I'm dozing off when he finally replies.

Pete: K ttyl :)

***

I wake up to the feeling of Patrick's lips pressed against mine, slowly moving down my neck as he unbuttons my jeans and begins sucking down my bare stomach.

"Thefuck..." I groan tiredly then my eyes widen when I feel him grinding against me and I'm hard almost immediately, "Patrick, what are you doing?"

I see him blush slightly and falter his movement, "D-Do you want me to stop?"

I quickly reply, "N-No, you're fine, I just... why? Aren't you scared?" I realize how bad that sounds and try to cover it up, "I mean-"

He cuts me off with his fingers pressed to my lips, "I want to try to get better... Y'know... less flashbacks and shit. It's stupid. I don't like them or what... what he did to me... I want to forget about it and get better and.... I'm so sorry," His face goes a dark red as he looks away, ashamed, "This is stupid..."

"Hey, hey, Baby," I stroke his hair softly as I lean up and kiss him, "I'm completely okay with it, p-please..." Am I seriously begging?

He bites his lip, "Are you sure...?"

"Goddammit, Patrick, please. You've already given me a problem," I chuckle softly as he rolls his eyes.

"O-Okay..." He pulls down my pants and his eyes go wide as he sees the bulge through my boxers. He moans softly at the sight but quickly covers his mouth. I can see a look of doubt and shame cross his face, it's only for a split second before he becomes determined again and he licks me softly through the fabric.

It feels amazing. I feel bad for not being the one to give him pleasure but the farther he goes, the more my thoughts say, "Damn he can give a good blowjob."

He pulls down my boxers and I can feel a few hesitant breaths on my length, he's thinking. He's regretting.

"Patrick," I whisper, he looks up at me, he looks scared, uncertain, conflicted, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

He shakes his head, "N-No it's... it's fine..."

"Keep your eyes open, Baby." I reply, remembering the last time we did it and how well it worked.

His eyes dart up to mine for a moment as he goes down. A low moan escapes my mouth as he slides down and back up, his tongue pressing against the bottom where he knows I'm sensitive.

"F-Fuck..." I whisper, my eyes shutting in pleasure. I thrust my hips up to meet the back of his throat but he immediately pulls off and catches his breath, coughing.

"S-Sorry," I quickly say, guilt filling my heart, "I-I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine," He says, "Just... try not to do it again..."

I nod as he slides back down and bobs his head. It takes all my self-control not to fuck him into the bed but I know that's what Kevin probably did and I feel horrible for even thinking it. For considering it. I know if I keep that up, I'll give him more flashbacks than any trigger could...

He holds my hips down as he begins going faster, his moves seem a little jerky and not really in a good way. I don't need him to say anything to know something's wrong.

"Patrick, eyes up here, Baby." I gently say, trying to remind him because I really don't want him to get carried away and start having a flashback.

His eyes dart up immediately and meet mine, a blush immediately coloring his cheeks rosy, his eyes teary.

My hands grip the covers slightly as I keep watching him, leaning up on my elbows, I don't want to break eye contact because no matter how awkward this is, it's fucking hot and I don't want it to end. His bobbing gets a little faster as he gets farther into it, I feel so many things happening at once as he rises up and takes a deep breath before he goes back down, beginning to add some suction. His fingernails digging into my hips but I can feel him release some pressure, trying not to cause me any pain (which I honestly find really hot and I wish he didn't try to relieve it). The soft pants leaving my mouth as I look down at him. The constant eye contact and the way his beautiful green eyes light up in pride like he's silently saying, "Shit, I'm doing this right." I can almost hear the words.

Finally, there's the slow growth in my stomach, the feeling of my release building up. The feeling of my muscles tensing up more and more. My toes curling, my fists in the sheets. It's so intense but so amazing. It's so much different from Dallon because it actually has meaning. It's not just drunk fucking it's love. I think it is at least...

My release is almost here and I let out a slutty, "I'm so close," my voice cracking from the want and need and pleasure and pain.

He rises for a split second for a breath (At first I think he wants me to cum on his face which would honestly be hot but I could imagine Kevin doing that so I doubt it) before he goes back down and sucks my tip, watching my pleasured expression change from pleasure to just.... ahhhhhhhh. If that's considered a facial expression.

My buildup is faltered as I reach my climax and with a twitch, I release into his mouth, my lips forming an, 'O' as my load leaves me and my eyes rolling back as I let out an extremely whorish moan. He takes it all and swallows much to my surprise.

My breaths are shallow as my high goes back down and I don't know what he's doing until he's by my side, one hand draping over my chest while the other is buried somewhere else (can't tell where).

"W-was that okay?" He stutters then traps his lip between his teeth.

I take his lip away and place it between my own teeth, "It was amazing, Sugar. Best blowjob I've had in my life..." He smiles weakly then lowers his eyes right where I knew they'd go eventually.

"I think I liked it..." He whispers, then blushes, "I-I mean... I don't want to sound like a-"

I cut him off with a kiss. I know exactly what he's about to say, "Don't say that word because you are not a slut and you're not a whore and you're not dirty for liking it. It's completely fine, Baby."

He nods, "What are we doing today? O-Or you... if you're going somewhere..."

I lean up out of his grip and straighten out my messy hair, "Pete wanted to come visit to talk to you. Otherwise, we have the day to ourselves..." I pull my boxers up, "I'm getting dressed unless you wanna try something else."

He shakes his head with a soft blush, "N-No, I'm okay."

I'm about to throw my jeans on when I realize most of my clothes are dirty so I end up slipping my boxers and shirt off into the dirty clothes hamper and quickly grab new clothes from my drawer.

"You are okay with Pete coming over, right? If you want me to quit plans that's totally fine with me, just say the word." I say as I button up my shirt. He nods softly, "It's fine."

My hands slow their process as they reach my collar, done with their work. They reach for my phone and send a message to Pete.

Gerard: When are you coming over?

I take it in the bathroom with me to give Patrick some privacy because I know he gets extremely self-conscious around me with his scars, his stomach, his back... it makes me sad but I realize I would do the same if I was in his situation. I would probably hate myself as well and hate going to school. I would be scared of getting hurt. It's hard to imagine that my dad would ever hit me...

If he was still alive.

The door shuts behind me with a soft click before I begin to get ready, running a comb through my hair, brushing my teeth, whatever else I need to do. The process only takes about ten minutes before I'm out and knocking on my door again, asking permission to come in.

"Go ahead." Patrick calls softly.

I open it, half expecting to walk in on him naked but I only get a glimpse of his back before he's thrown his shirt over himself.

It's enough to his his ribcage, though, and I quickly act like I didn't, not wanting to lower his self-esteem any more than it already is. It's better to be safe than sorry.

"I have a counselor's appointment tomorrow," He murmurs softly. He doesn't seem excited at all, "C-Could you... um... maybe come with me?" He pauses for a split second but rambles on like he usually does explaining how I don't have to if I don't want to and it's just a suggestion and...

"That's fine, Baby." I reply, "Whatever makes you comfortable."

He blushes slightly, flustered, before hugging me, "I love you so much..."

"I love you, too, so much." I smile, burying my face in his hair and quickly kissing the bridge of his nose. He blushes, embarrassed but it quickly passes when I turn and bend my knees slightly.

"Hop on." I smile. He blushes, "A-are you sure?"

I nod in reply, giving him permission. And sure enough he does. He crawls up my back so his hands are wrapped around my neck tightly but not too tightly and his legs are weaved around my thighs. He's light. Really, really light and I immediately know what the easiest thing is in this whole... healing process thing.

"What do you want for breakfast?" I ask.

"I-I... uh..." He blushes, "I'm not really hungry..."

"You're lying, Patrick. I thought you said you've never broken a promise." I know looking attractive means a lot to him but I know this relationship means more.

"W-Wait! I- uh..." he laughs slightly, it's kind of awkward but I don't mind, "Fineeee.... I'm hungry and I'll just take toast."

"Okay," I smile. He nuzzles his face into my black hair as I walk around the dining table and reach the kitchen where I let go of his legs and begin pulling butter, jam, and bread from various places around the cupboards, drawers, and shelves all while humming "21 Guns". He keeps a firm grip around my neck but after a while he begins to relax and hum along with me, eventually just singing.

"One, 21 guns,
Lay down your arms
Give up the fight
One, 21 Guns
Throw up your arms into the sky
You and I..."

He takes a breath making me smile to myself, happy that he's opening up a little.

"When you're at the end of the road
And you lost all sense of control
And your thoughts have taken their toll
When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul..."

He stops abruptly, "S-Sorry... I um...." My smile falters. He was doing well not to mention his voice is amazing.

"Your voice is awesome, Patrick." I reply with a smile, "I mean, I don't sing much but you're amazing."

"R-really...?" He squeaks. I pull the toast from the toaster and place it on a plate, "Butter or jam?"

"Butter." He replies.

"Yes, your voice is awesome," I continue, "You're really fucking talented."

"U-Uh... thanks..." He smiles softly.

"Don't you believe me?" I ask, pretending offended.

"Yeah-er..." He pauses, "No, not really..."

I pull him down from my back serving him his plate at the table, "If you could see yourself the way I could see you, you would treat yourself so much better, Baby." I whisper.

I press a kiss to his temple letting my lips rest for a moment and letting his hair tickle my nose. My feet twist under me as I return to the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee, occasionally looking over to see him nibbling on the bread. It makes my heart twist inside me to see him at least trying to eat. He swallows before taking a bite. It's very comical, he looks disgusted but after a bit of chewing he gives in to the pleasure and begins scarfing it down.

"Your stomach is gonna get upset if you eat like that," I say with a weak smile.

He turns, blushing with wide eyes, "S-Sorry..." He murmurs.

I roll my eyes, "Don't say sorry. You've got nothing to say sorry for, Sugar."

I pour my coffee into my mug and set the pot down before I walk over to the dining table and add some sugar, just a small bit but enough to make a difference. Patrick's watching intently as I work, his green eyes glued to my hands, or my coffee, or my crotch. Whichever is more appealing to him.

I take a sip of my drink and shut my eyes, enjoying the moment and trying to wake up a bit more.

Bzzt

I pull out my phone and see I have two texts, one from Mama, one from Pete:

Pete: Mom said about 4 ish so I'll see you in a bit

Mama: I need you to talk to Patrick today when you have time. It's important.

"Who's that?" He asks curiously.

"Pete," I reply, "He's coming over at 4." I glance up at the clock: 8:12.

"When does Donna get home?"

"8 at night," I reply, "She has to work really long shifts or we can't get enough money to keep the house... After-" I cut myself off, I don't like talking about it but I force myself to anyways, "After... Dad passed... She had to take care of all the money for the house... The legal age to work is 17 so... I can't work for it yet..." I lower my head, resting it on my arm, "I want to take care of her but... without a proper place I'm stuck just having to watch her work and stress. She barely eats and she smokes too much to be healthy... I wish she wasn't so..." I sigh unable to find words to describe it, "Stressed or... busy I guess..."

He lowers his head, "I'm sorry..."

My head shakes, "It's-It's nothing... It's fine."

I see him bite his lip, "Do you... uh... want to go to the bridge today? We could stay there for a while... If you want... I don't know..."

I nod softly, "Yeah... Yeah, that sounds good."

He smiles to himself, "Cool..."

There's silence as he finishes his toast and I drink the rest of my coffee.

I begin to text Mama while we eat, my fingers moving fast on the small keyboard as I drink down my coffee and pay close attention to how Patrick's eating.

Gerard: About what?

Mama: His dad wants to talk to him.

Gerard: in jail?

Mama: yeah. They said a phone call would also work. But only if Patrick consents.

Gerard: okay, we're going out for a little bit. I'll talk to him if I can.

Mama: Thank you.

Once breakfast is over and we get our shoes and coats on, we leave the house and begin walking down the street, my phone in my pocket and his hand squeezing mine. I'm nervous about talking to him. Would he want to talk to his dad or Kevin? Or would he not want to? Are they getting better? Why would it be safe for his dad to talk to him? What would happen if he just made threats? I'm afraid that something is going to happen to Patrick to make his mental state impossibly worse. Maybe it would be good for him, though... Maybe it wouldn't be that bad... I just need to talk to him. It's his choice.

There are leaves scattering the neighboring lawns and chestnuts found in the cracks between fences. It's autumn and, not to mention, Halloween is well on its way. I've never liked Halloween much, mostly because Dad was never super enthusiastic about it so Mama would take us instead.

"Have you ever celebrated Halloween?" I ask Patrick as my thumb massages the back of his hand.

"A few times," He replies simply, "Before-" His breath catches but he forces it out, "B-before... The Incident... Mom, Kevin, Megan, and I would go... I used to always dress up as a vampire." I laugh, he smiles softly. That fragile little smile.

"I would go with Mama and Mikey," I reply, knowing he doesn't want to finish, "Mikey and I were always mummies but Mama would dress up as Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas."

"You like Tim Burton?" He blurts excitedly.

"Yeah, Dad loved him," I reply with a little more of a hop in my step.

"Same here," He says, "What was your favorite movie from him?"

"Umm," I bite my lip, deep in thought, "The Corpse Bride."

"Really? I was always a fan of The Nightmare Before Christmas."

"Eh, we all like different stuff," I shrug.

"What else do you like?" He asks curiously, his head tilted and his eyebrows narrowed. God, he's adorable.

"You, your voice, your goddamn blowjobs," I smirk. It's so fucking cheesy but goddammit I can't help myself.

He rolls his eyes, "Whatever."

"What? I wish you could give yourself one, they're fucking amazing." I reply defensively.

He bites his lip and shakes his head, his mood dropping as fast as an anchor through the sky. He lets out a huff of air, frustrated with his eyebrows furrowed, "And who do you think taught me?" He snaps, his hand leaving mine and going to his pocket.

Real smooth, Gee.

"Patrick... I didn't mean it like that..." I sigh as I quickly realize my mistake.

He shakes his head and keeps walking so I end up just putting my own hands in my pockets and walking by his side, our pace in sync.

There's complete silence besides the occasional bark of a dog and the tweet of a bird. I really shouldn't have said that, what's wrong with me? Where else was he supposed to learn it from? Porn? No. He's too innocent for that and I know the guy who ruined his innocence, ruined his life as well.

It's just stupid bullshit. He shouldn't have gone through that and I shouldn't have brought it up.

Don't put yourself down like that, you didn't know.

Why do I feel like I should have, then?

It's just the guilt. Don't blame yourself for anything. It's going to be fine, just get through the rest of this evening and it'll all be fine.

It'll be just fine.

We make it to the bridge, his hands in his pockets and his mood beginning to rise again. He's the first to break the silence as we sit down, his eyes lowered in shame with an apology consisting of, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't act like that. I just... I've been so frustrated with everything lately. I'm sorry..."

I swallow and pull him close, "It's fine, Love..." I swallow, realizing that right now is my opportunity to ask him about Dad and Kevin.

"Hey so..." I take a deep breath, "Mama was texting me during breakfast and... uh... she wanted me to talk to you about maybe having a phone call with..." I trail off, afraid to say his name, afraid it'll only hurt him.

"With who?" Patrick asks.

I pull him closer, "Your dad. He uh... He wants to talk to you. You don't have to do it if you don't want to. But if you consent to it, you'll talk to him for a bit. It'll be monitored so we know he won't threaten you or-"

"Yes." Patrick says, interrupting me.

"I want to."