Act Three: Unwillingly Living, Part One
Mikey walked out of the room and could feel his heart brake. He just wanted to fall to his knees and cry, seeing his brother in this condition. But, he couldn't, he had to stay constructive, or at least neutral. Bleakness flooded his head as he drowned in his own thoughts. He walked over to the coffee pot, poured himself a cup, and once again leaned against the counter.
Frankie was so confused, and started to worry himself.
Sitting in Gerard's chair, half of his hair in his face, leaning on his right arm, with his legs crossed in a slovenly fashion. His wide hazel-green beauties focused on Gerard, inspecting his body, for any sign of movement, waiting for Gerard to rekindle from his inanimate position. But nothing, not even the smell of fresh coffee, could break Gerard's haze.
Frankie gave up scrutinizing at Gerard, and walked over to Mikey, closing the door behind him. Confining Gerard's room into an inky chamber of posters, CDs, and Gerard's artwork. With only the few dawning strands of sunlight that seeped through his vinyl blinds.
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