Chapter 4

Chapter 4

We walk through the murky Jersey streets, our breaths come out in wispy spirals and our hands clung to our coffee cups willing for warmth from within. He had apologised for not having a car but explained that being a student he didn’t need to travel far on the campus. He was one of the lucky ones that didn’t have to stick at a community college with mediocre courses and dreary professors.

“So does your brother have a job?” I ask trying to make conversation although I’m a little out of breath trying to catch up with him seeing as he has long slender legs compared to my own short stubby ones.

“I’m not sure. He gave up for a while, he was a comic book artist, I’m not sure if he’ll even get back into stuff like that again. Maybe having someone around the house might encourage him a little. Maybe ask him to draw you a tattoo.” His eyes flicker momentarily to my wrists once again and I wonder if he really cared about my inked skin on my arms or even my neck.

“He won’t mind will he? I know some people don’t like ink.” I worry, nibbling on my lip and awkwardly scratching at my neck right over the scorpion.

“Nah he’s cool… look, it’s a live in job so I’ll introduce you first and see how you get along, I’m warning you he’s gonna act like a total dick at first but he’ll come around.” It feels like the change in topic is to distract me, like he has more to say but he doesn’t want to say it. I’m scared that when he does I’ll be running a mile.

“Sometimes it’s hard for people to admit they need help.” I shrug as he directs me to a block of ‘town houses’ all pretty and plain with fairly decent surroundings. It’s a rare sight and I treasure the feeling of homeliness that surrounds me.

He leads me up to a house with a black door, the only black door on the block, he doesn’t bother knocking he just walks in and pulls me through with him into a tight hallway.

“Gee, make yourself decent you have company!” he shouts through the rooms and I follow him up the small flight of stairs straight into a warm looking living room. There was no clutter but black leather coaches set amongst the red painted walls, simple and small but I could see myself snuggled into the leather with the cosy looking fleece black throw draped over me and the electric fireplace set to a low heat. Yes I could see myself living here. Don’t get your hopes up, kid. I remind myself with a sigh of my internal voice pushing me like everyone used to.

“Take a seat, but not in that spot.” Michael directs me acknowledging the corner space of the couch that I would love to just sink into right now. Instead I settle for the opposite end and sit twiddling my thumbs.

“How thoughtful of you to burst in little bro.” I hear a smooth voice behind me, I freeze at the twang he carries with it and stop myself from smiling at the dry humour he puts in his voice. I don’t look as I feel and hear him voice his way around the couch slowly.

“You know you love me anyway. I brought you a little something, Gerard this is Frank. He’s here to be your slave.” My head snaps to Michael with wide eyes at his playfulness; I feel the guy lower himself to the couch but with a stiffness that makes me finally turn my head to him.

He’s beautiful. I never thought I’d call anyone that; but his raven locks falling haphazardly over his face and to his shoulders in a mess of shaggy strands. His nose a ski slope, it’s small with a flick at the end unlike anything I’ve seen before, he’s pale but his long full lips are rosy as he bites on them. But I don’t see his eyes. I wonder if they are like his brothers, if they are mousy brown, if they are almond shaped or rounded, I wonder if his eye lashes flutter against his thick black glasses. I could see he liked the dark, the room itself was dark but I wondered if he was sensitive to it.

“I told you I don’t need help. I’m fine. I don’t need one of your idiot friends feeling sorry for me.” He snaps with a harsher tone at his brother who sits perched on the coffee table to the side of the room completely ignoring me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he barks and bared his teeth. “I don’t need a babysitter either. I’m twenty five fucking years old. I don’t need or want your help. I don’t need anything.” The growls coming from him are almost animalistic which catches me off guard. “Go.” He spits out and slouches in on himself almost crumbling into the couch; I see his face fall and lose all expression which makes something roll in the pit of my stomach and bite down on my bottom lip.

“I’ll go Gee but give the kid a chance.” Mikey sighs and moves past Gerard on the couch, he places his hand on his brothers shoulder making the older one flinch before Mikey gives me a thumbs up and leaving the room with nothing but the echo of the front door slam and pounding silence.

“Do you have a voice?” His sudden voice calm and soft, he’s breathing heavily like the previous pregnant silence was filled a heated argument. I almost want to reach out and touch him, to console him, just let him know I’m here.

“Yes.” I croak out, it’s strangled and dry from neglect. I have to stop myself from face palming over how stupid I feel, how immature and shy I look.

“You sound young. You’re not skipping school to see me are you?” his body turns in my direction, his head tilted to the side inquisitively but the black barrier makes his expression seem almost fake.

I let out a little snort, offended and slightly shocked at how bold he was. “I just graduated college with a major in health and care assistance; I can assure you I am no kid.” I cross my arms glad that my tattoos are covered but at the same time I wish I could just show them off, to prove that I was mature enough to mark my body in a way that many didn’t have the will to do- people were afraid of permanence.

“And Mikey just gave you the job?” I see his angular shaped brow rise above the black frame of his glasses, his mouth slant as he speaks out the side of his mouth.

“No, he offered it but wanted you to meet me first. After all I would be looking after you right?” I say not really sure, I didn’t want him to feel pressured into anything whilst at the same time I didn’t want him to give up on me. He was acting like a jackass, but I needed this job.

“I don’t need looking after.” He grumbles it in sync with his stomach. He awkwardly clutches the thin area and looks away embarrassed. I can tell by his pointy cheekbones, veiny and think hands as well as how his clothes drown him. He’s incredibly skinny almost worryingly so.

“Oh yeah? When was the last time you ate?” I raise my brow and he avoids looking at me, he pulls his sleeves into his palms and tugs at his shirt.

“I had coffee this morning.” He says before turning his head in the direction of the hallway, almost looking guilty. I bet he had stacks of coffee cups somewhere just like I had grown accustomed to during my study days.

“Have you got anything in your kitchen at all?” my motherly instincts kick in, I stand and move to find his kitchen presumably where he had looked guiltily to.

“Hey wait!” I hear him stumbling to get up behind me. I look over my shoulder as I reach the door to the kitchen where I watch him practically fall off the couch, he feels around for something to hold onto and feel orientated to; I watch him as he takes easy steps forward but still not confident. It isn’t until I see how the light hits his sunglasses that I realise the one thing that I should have known all along. His eyes were partly open, fluttering as he walked. He was blind.