Welcome to Gaia! ::

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

He looks very sickly.

His once healthy glow of faint, pale skin is now broken, fragile, and yet, still pale. His lips are thin, and as white as his skin. They're dry no matter how long or often he brings his faint, pink tongue across them. They're cracked now—little snippets of blood is dropping out of those fragile lips. The only thing that stands out from his pale face are his big, identical as mine, yet deeper, hazel eyes. They're bigger than usual, and they have a mixture of gray and purple shadows all around the outline. The whites of his eyes are a fading yellow now.

His once healthy, sandy brown hair is all gone. His pale scalp is now visible since his hair had fallen out a couple months ago.

His whole body is pale, just like his face and head. He's really skinny—I mean, he was before, but now… it's just ridiculous. I shouldn't be saying that. It's not his fault he lost all this weight.

It's not his fault he got cancer.

My eyes travel down his thin body, seeing how each and every one of his bones are visible. It's like he's a skeleton.

I feel like crying.

Each one of his fingers are now really thin—thinner than usual. I can see every one of his joints move as he raises a bony finger at me to come into his hospital room. I follow his orders and the awful smell of decaying flesh, cleaning materials, and vomit hit against my nostrils. I don't gag. He has to live in this filth; I just stepped into it.

I go over to his bed side and stand over him, watching him quiver and shake from the cold. I look around the room. Where's his blanket at? Didn't they give him one? As I continue to look around the room, I find that they haven't given him one—those heartless people.

I step closer to his bed and sit down beside him on the unnaturally clean, hospital bed. I hold out my arms. "Come here, baby brother."

His ghostly eyes waver over me and he slowly picks himself up to crawl his bony body over to mine—to crawl into my lap.

I begin to wonder how he can even walk. His legs are so thin—they should be property of a cripple. Does he have to travel around in a wheelchair? But, another glance around the room informs me that he has to walk to get around. I look down at him as he winces to get himself up in my lap. I fear that he has to stay in this bed all day long, seeing how he's in pain when he crawls barely a foot.

He finally manages to get up in my lap. He wraps his thin legs around my waist and his pale arms around my neck. I carefully put my hands on his sides, trying so hard not to pull back from how I can feel every rib poke out of his skin. But, I don't pull away. Instead, I hold him closer, pressing his fragile chest to mine. I feel like an African mother carrying her small child.

I stare at him as he closes his eyes and starts to shake and tremble even more. I'm afraid he might collapse at any moment when I'm holding him and feeling his ribcage move around as he tries to breathe like a normal being again.

But, again, I fear that he might not be considered normal anymore.

I frown as I feel him try and get himself comfortable, even if I think he might never be fully comfortable again in his life, since he's like this. I feel his body shift inside his extremely over-sized, ghost white and sky blue, hospital gown. I tighten my grip on his sides, not enough to hurt him, but enough for him to carefully move around and be able to press even closer to me.

I watch as he sighs deeply and shivers frightening. He moves his arms away from my neck to be around my shoulders. He groans and moves his arms from my shoulders, putting them to his sides. He shivers violently and my eyes widen as I wrap my arms around him protectively and hold him close to my chest.

He lays his head on my shoulder and looks up at me. "Gee…" he says quietly, his voice shaking.

I smile sweetly with pity when I place my hand on his cheek, stroking it with my thumb. "Yes, Mikes?" I ask softly, using his own nickname for this moment.

He cuddles up to me and shivers once more. "I'm so cold, GeeGee. Do something, please."

I don't know what I can do, though. So, I just hold him tighter against my chest and start to slowly rub at his back in small, soothing circles. He keeps his head on my shoulder, eyes closed, breathing deeply. "GeeGee…" he softly begins. He swallows. I watch his Adam's apple bob up and down. "I, I don't think I can hold on any longer."

My eyes widen and I hold onto him more. I shut my own eyes and wish he hadn't told me that a couple seconds ago. I take a deep breath and slowly exhale it. "Why do you say that, Mikey?"

His small shoulders go up, and then down. "I just… can't fight it. I'm… too tired." I hear him swallow again and it's just too painful.

I open my eyes and manage to stare at him. "Mikey," I begin, moving my hands to his shoulders. I lightly squeeze them for support. "You have to fight it. You just have to. I can't bear to see you go." Finally, the tears break through and roll down my pale cheeks. I don't wipe them away. "You just can't die, Mikey," I say after a few minutes. "The little brother's not supposed to die first."

I manage to get a laugh and a smile out of him. I smile and laugh along with him. Then, he places his frail hands to the back of my head, rubbing at my scalp, feeling my long, black hair. "I'm tired, Gerard. I want to sleep."

I nod and, I don't know why, but I smile. "Don't worry, Mikey," I say as I settle down in the hospital bed. I peel off my warm, black, leather jacket, setting it beside me. I look up and slowly pull Mikey in my arms, making him lay his head on my chest as I reach over and grab the jacket, draping it over the smaller, like a little blanket.

He shivers and cuddles up close to me. He lays his hand on my chest along with his head. He places his other hand on the side of the hospital bed, clenched up into a fist. I frown and wrap my arm around his shoulders, warming him up more. I lay my other hand gently on his.

He sighs sweetly and turns his hand over, palm turned upwards and pressed against my palm. Then, I don't even realize it; he slowly laces his fingers together.

We're holding hands.

I look down at him and smile. I slowly close my eyes. He shivers slightly, causing my eyes to open. I look down at him again. "Is there something wrong, Mikey?" I ask, pressing him tighter against my chest.

He shakes his head. "No… there's nothing wrong. I just…" He drifts off. He shakes his head. "Your heartbeat's like a lullaby to me." He smiles. I smile back.

"That's good. You need to get some sleep anyway." I close my eyes again, but end up opening them again when I feel him stir. "What's wrong, Mikes?" I question as I watch him raise himself to be eye-level with me.

He stares at me. I stare back.

We are soon softly kissing. He pulls back, wincing and shivering again. "Gee…"

I frown and wrap my arms around him. "I'm here, Mikey. I'm here. You don't have to worry now."

He calms down a bit, but he's still shivering and convulsing violently. "Gerard…" he says softly.

I look over at him and begin rubbing at his arms. "Yes, Mikey?"

He pauses before answering. "Will you be here when I wake up?"

I stare at him and nod. "Of course I will, Mikey. I promise."

I feel him relax from his place on me. "That's good," he says, trailing off and yawning.

I chuckle. "It is. Now, get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake." I rub at his side. I bite my lip and open my eyes. "I love you, Mikey."

But, I don't get a response.

Mikey's already asleep.



Mikey doesn't wake up the next morning.

I find him cold beside me when I wake. Funny thing is that we are still holding hands, and, I'm not crying. I should be, though, because my one and only little brother just… died in my arms, and I'm not even feeling one bit of sympathy. Why?

I look down at his body, still near mine. He probably is just sleeping; he was cold when he fell asleep, and he's still cold, so…

I bite my lip and raise up in the bed as I softly lay my free hand on his cheek. I stroke the skin, frowning.

His skin's hard, cold, and… dead.

As I look down at him and shake my head back and forth and cry out, tears are starting to fall from my light, hazel eyes. I wrap my arms around his frail body and hold him close to my chest, still holding his hand.

I throw my head back and let out a loud cry. "Mikey!" I choke out, looking down at him. "Mikey! You can't be dead!"

Various nurses and doctors enter the room, shocked looks on their faces. Two nurses, one female and one male, come over to the bed side and grab my shoulders, pinning me to the bed. Two male nurses come up to the bed, then, and grab hold of Mikey's body, trying to pull him away from me.

My eyes widen and I throw the two nurses by my shoulders off and pull Mikey to my chest. "No! You can't have him, you bastards! You can't have my baby brother!"

They get more nurses in the room, trying to restrain me and trying to get Mikey's body outta my arms, but I am putting a hell of a struggle up.

Then, finally, I can't hold on anymore. I'm too weak, but I have to hold on to him. I just have to.

I lean forward and lay my mouth against his for a last kiss, and then, they pull him away.

I cry out loudly and reach out, trying to grab onto his hand again. I manage to get a hold of it, but they soon rip it out for the second time. They force me to watch as they pile his body into a body bag and roll him away on a gurney.

I cry out even more and fall back on the bed, continuing to cry my eyes out and continuing to die a little each minute that ticks by.

And, that's exactly what I do.



I am murdered the very next day by a little thing called depression.

*cries* I loved this!

Thanks. 4laugh

Woah. Epic. heart