Happy Birthday! This fic started on the 7/03/2011, and so for it's 1st birthday, I've revamped it. ENJOY! Emily xox

"Hey Gee, you in there?" My brother's voice sounded from outside my door.

"No," was my muffled answer, spoken into my pillow. I prayed I had remembered to lock the door, but didn't hold out much hope for it.

"Well I'm coming in anyway." The door opened and I sighed at my own stupidity

Mikey - my brother - was two years younger than me, but he was my best – and only – friend in this fucking cruel world. He was sweet… more than that - he was amazing; the only person that truly cared about how I felt. It was always me and him against the world. I didn't look up as he entered but I heard the soft shuffle of his converse travelling across my black carpet. There was suddenly pressure on the edge of my bed and I guessed Mikey had sat down.

"Gee… You're scaring me. The last few weeks have been… difficult on you. I can feel it. But what's happened Gee? Why doesn't Frank visit you anymore? Gerard… Gee, please look at me?" At that point Mikey's voice wavered, and I realised just how worried he was about me. I raised my head and looked at my brother. His eyeliner was smudged and his face blotchy - he had been crying too. I instantly felt guilty for everything I had put my brother through recently and it was intensified by the look of pain in his eyes. I saw him take in a sharp breath at the sight of my tearstained face and spiky eyelashes. I looked away… there was no need to frighten my brother anymore.

"Mikey… I can't tell you what's happened because that'll only make it real. I'm trying so hard to supress the memory… I can't bring it back. I just can't." Mikey put his hand on my knee, smiling at me and urging me to go on. "I… I need to tell you something first or it's not going to make sense. You see, Mikey – I'm gay." The sentence spewed out of my lips, every word tasting like venom, but Mikey seemed unaffected by this news. He nodded, willing me to continue my explanation. "Frank and I… We dated… and… and… he broke my heart Mikey!" I began to sob, shuddering violently and arching my back with every outburst. Mikey drew me into his chest, stroking my hair softly - he knew this calmed me down. "Mikey… he fucked around an- and he left me for this guy named Ray. He just told me her was leaving one day. They're in New York but… but he never even said goodbye."

I don't know how long we sat there, me screaming like a child with Mikey mothering me. The sudden shock of our mother's voice calling us for dinner made us both flinch.

"Dude, you'd best clean yourself up. We don't want to worry mum do we? I'll tell her you've gone to the bathroom. We'll talk after, yeah, Gee?" he asked me, his voice thick with sorrow.

"Yeah bro. And you'd best tidy up your liner. I know you've been crying. You can tell me later" I replied, throwing a pack of makeup wipes at him. Mikey smiled at me reassuringly and left to go eat his dinner.

Upstairs we both had to be happy, normal teenagers. We laughed, we joked and we picked fun at each other, even though we were both secretly dying inside. Every time we caught each other's eyes across the table, our smiles faltered a little. We were all mum had left; there was no need to upset her. Our dad died just before Mikey was born, so he never even got to meet him, and I was barely 2 so I had no recollection of any times we spent together. That was 15 years ago though, and mum was so much better now. Neither me nor Mikey wanted to take her new-found happiness away from her. So we ate our dinner smiling, and chatting. Mum brought up the subject of girls and Mikey shot me a glance, smirking into his cup. I had keep up my tale that I was still chasing after this girl I had no chance with. For some reason, mum found it hard to believe.

"Such a handsome young man like you, Gerard? I'm surprised you don't have girls queuing to be with you!" she said. I smiled awkwardly, mumbled a quiet 'thank you' and finished my last mouth full.

Mikey and I made our way back downstairs, down into the basement where my bedroom was located. We sat on my bed, facing each other with our legs crossed, ready to talk.

"So Gee, you can finish your story first," Mikey said.

"Well. You know that frank and I were friends for ages, right, well, I've liked him since we met. One day, when I was sure he felt the same towards me, I made a move. We kissed… it was so innocent… and after a couple of weeks we began… fucking," Mikey flinched at this statement. "But about 2 months ago, he met Ray. I liked him 'because he was funny and so happy all the time, but I could sense something was different with Frank. He didn't come and see me as much as he used to and we didn't do… other things as often either. Eventually, I found out he was fucking Ray behind my back when his mum let me into his house and sent my up to his room, where Frank was otherwise preoccupied. He tried to apologize, and he told me he loved me, but he was IN love with Ray. And so he had to leave. It broke my heart. I feel so horrible, Mikey," I started crying again. Mikey reached over and took my hand, tracing all of the lines in my palm. Eventually I managed to control myself.

"Mikey," I said, lowering my voice. "I know you've done it again."

"D-Done what?" he stammered - I had caught him off guard. He began to shake, further proving his guilt. He looked away from me, unable to make eye contact, and dropped my hand. So I asked him.

"Show me your wrists, Mikey."

"Gee… please don't me do this. You know it's there so why do you have to see it?" I reached out and brushed my hand against his sleeve. He flinched. He knew he would have to show me now. "So I can check if it needs stitches."

Mikey rolled his sleeves up a couple of inches, showing the deep, red lacerations up and down his wrist. I gasped. Tears began streaming down his face. I ran my fingers along the cuts, merely gracing the surface with my touch, trying to work out what was wrong with my brother. He was cutting himself for God's sake, and it was probably my fault. I should have told him what was going on with me. The guilt inside me was suddenly unleashed, wrapping its tentacles around my brain and squeezing it. My head began to spin and tears began to fall from my eyes as I jumped off my bed, ran to my bathroom and locked the door.

"Gee. PLEASE," Mikey screamed from outside the door. He was becoming hysterical.

"MIKEY IT'S MY FAULT ISN'T IT? ISN'T IT?" I yelled back, putting my head in my hands. I heard him whimpering more outside the room, gradually becoming more and more desperate. I decided I should probably go out and help him, instead of being so childish. I unlocked the door to find him slumped in a heap against my wall, his breathing erratic and his entire body shaking violently. I lay beside him and curled my body around to fit the shape of his, holding him tightly and making little shushing noises. Soon, he fell asleep in my arms. Mikey was light, so I carried him to my bed and slid in after him.

I was suddenly woken by someone shouting in my ear, it was Mikey. He was having some kind of nightmare. I listened intently to what he was saying.

"Gee please no. Don't take them from me. I need them. My Razors! My razors! Please. GIVE ME THEM BACK. I have to cut. PLEASE. PLEASE GEE."

I was scared. Mikey was more dependent on his self-harm than I'd suspected and that hurt me so much. I knew that I should tell someone about his problem, but equally I knew how it felt to be questioned and tested by doctors you didn't know. I gently shook him awake.

Mikey woke with a start. He was still breathing quickly and his eyes were whizzing around the room wildly. He looked at me, fear and tears in his eyes.

"Mikey, sweetie… We need to talk."