I DO NOT OWN JONAS

The day dragged on, no one talked the entire time. When nighttime came, Nick stayed down in the living room after everyone went to bed. He watched Stella and Macy sneak out, each giving a sad, silent wave to him when they left, with sorrowful looks in their eyes. He didn't have the energy to wave back, and he couldn't bring himself to move off the couch. Tom trusted his eldest sons not to kill each other if they stayed in their room, he still didn't know the truth about what happened.

Nick was going to keep his distance, unable to look his brothers in the face. He stared at the floor, trying to force himself to stop thinking about all that had gone on, but that was impossible. "I know it was you."

Nick looked up at the sound of Frankie's voice, stunned by what he heard. He saw eyes that were full of hatred and pity at the same time. Frankie went on, despite how difficult it was for him to talk the way he felt. "When you came in, you put your hands in your pockets." Nick nodded slowly, still ashamed at that too. After what he'd done, hiding it was literally insult to injury. He didn't mean to do that either, he just panicked, like before.

He put his hands up so Frankie could see that he was right. "Do you know why?" Nick whispered in his quivering voice, not needing to state his question any clearer. His little brother knew exactly what he meant. "You found out what's wrong." Frankie answered bluntly, amazed he could sound the way he knew he did.

Nick shuddered as he tried to explain the reason for his actions. "There were twenty strands of hair between my fingers," He said, forgetting that he might be scaring his brother, even though he didn't want to. "there's only one thought that went through my mind."

Frankie seemed almost emotionless when he spoke. "You wanted to die." It wasn't a question, and it made Nick feel like all the blood in his body just froze. "You think she's going to…" Frankie's voice trailed off when he saw that all Nick could manage to do was put a pale hand up to try and get him to stop talking. He was only making things worse.

To Nick, Frankie seemed proud of himself for being so smart, which scared him in a situation like this, but that wasn't the case. He was the furthest thing from proud. "Why do you even want to be right about this?" Nick asked, thinking out loud, the thought being one that was haunting him.

"I don't." Frankie admitted. "But think about it. With what's going on right now, Precious needs you to be strong for her. I don't think that should be difficult for you since you're the strongest person I know." It's not that Nick missed the compliment Frankie gave him, but what he said raised also a question. "Notice how when it comes to her, I don't exactly think before I act?" Nick said, almost trying to laugh about it, but it was too soon. It was true, that always happened, but this time, it was because he was in so much shock.

Frankie had some advice to give. "Next time stuff gets bad, just think about all the people who love you, and anyone who has ever done something nice for you, or because of you. Then count again, because you probably missed some."

Amazed, Nick pondered that statement. The more he thought about it, the higher the count got. A small smile appeared on his face. "So, what happened to the 'Why not me' attitude?" Frankie asked, after watching his brother just sit there, thinking. "It's back." Nick said simply. He figured there was no way it couldn't be, seeing Frankie's point.

"Good." Frankie replied. He walked away smiling after saying this: "Lead us in the right direction."

Even knowing his brother was right, Nick still couldn't face anyone after what he'd done. He stayed downstairs, isolated, trying not to think about anything while lying on the couch staring up at the ceiling. Soon it got blurry, his eyes felt heavy, and he was drowsy, but he stayed awake, overcome by a fear that guilt might eat away at him in the nightmares that were sure to come if he didn't.

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