1939

Chapter 3: Faded Photos

The yellowed edges of a faded photograph bent underneath the touch of fingertips as the edges warped with Mikey's touch. He held tightly onto the picture of his brother, praying silently for him to be alright. He wasn't the religious type but if there was ever a time to believe in a god, today would be that day. He held the picture of him and Gerard as he sat on the floor, his knees tucked to his chest as he stared at the door. His back rested against the small bed he shared with Gerard. Now it occupied no one as he sat in the room alone, with only his breathing to keep him company. The darkness of the night meant the picture wasn't visible but that didn't matter to him. He didn't care that he couldn't see a small little picture, he could feel it, feel the worn edges, the soft paper, the crinkled, warped image.

The door cracked open and Mikey could just faintly make out Pete's figure as he stood in the doorway. With a quiet whisper he strained his ears to hear his words through the accent and broken English.
"You haven't slept for 3 days. It's been 2 weeks since he left, you have to sleep." Mikey sighed as he heard the words, not quite acknowledging them as he stared at nothing. He was right, he did need sleep and he needed it now, but the constant anxiety kept him from it. How could he sleep when thoughts of his brother, alone and fighting for his life in one of the toughest environments plagued his mind.

The touch of Pete's hand around his shoulder sent shockwaves through his skin as he felt electricity spark, he could've sworn his hairs were standing on end. With a dry tongue that felt like rubber he spoke in a hushed whisper.
"I can't sleep because all I see are dreams of him alone, I need to be there for him." He wanted to continue, to speak of how he saw his brother building in the middle of nowhere screaming his name but the words wouldn't come. His choked sobs stifled every word as his body shook with wretched cries of pain he had been hiding for weeks. The sobs subsided as he found his face pressed against Pete's chest, his tears staining his clothes as he tightened his grip on his back. His hug tight he felt safe in his arms, he was warm and for just a second everything felt okay. He felt invincible inside Pete's embrace for only just a moment. Until everything came back.

The intoxicating smell of him flooded Mikey's nose as he kept his face pressed tightly to his chest. Pete combed a hand gently through his hair as he quietly shushed him, telling him all would be well. He knew from anyone else he wouldn't have believed it yet for some strange reason it seemed believable coming from him. He couldn't breathe and choked in between his sobs as he cried, holding tightly to Pete. God he was so weak for crying, what kind of man cries? How could he ever be so stupid as to let himself cry? Especially not in front of Pete, a man who was still practically a stranger, a tough German who probably thought he was weak, weak and pathetic.

Pete held him with nothing but love and kindness as he let Mikey press his tear stained face to his clothes, hoping the man would feel the overwhelming appreciation he had in his heart. His dark brown hair was soft and gentle underneath his fingertips as he continued to play with it, twisting the locks around his fingertips. Ever since Gerard left Mikey had stopped using grease in his hair. He no longer slicked it back or combed it down. He had stopped caring about his appearance, he didn't care about anything anymore it seemed but Pete promised himself he would make him care. He would care for Mikey until he could care for himself. So he sat for hours allowing Mikey to do nothing but cry as he combed through his hair with his hand, attempting to make it look nice for a change. He couldn't see well in the darkness of the night but all he needed was the touch, the closeness, the sensation of him. His breath cloaked his skin as he brought his arm around him, hand pressed to his forehead. He knew in that instance that this is who he wanted to spend his life with. Not some woman or pretty girl, just Mikey. Who needs a wife when you have such a caring and beautiful best friend? A friend who was the only person kind enough to ever speak to you asides from his brother. A friend gentle enough to coax your past from you, leaving you relieved and safe in his trustworthy embrace.

Mikey pulled away and rubbed at his eyes, attempting to wipe away the tears that stained his red cheeks. His shoulders were pressed against Pete's chest as he pulled him close and rubbed a hand up and down his arm to comfort him. Mikey stared into space, numb, thinking of nothing at all until his eyelids dropped slowly. Pulling him closer to him Pete kept a gentle grip on Mikey as he felt his heartbeat against his chest, the figure slumped over his shoulder as he slept. Gently laying him down on the bed to sleep he combed a hand through his hair and smiled whilst pulling a blanket over his body. Taking care not to wake him he shut the door behind him and grabbed the keys for the apartment which he tucked inside his pocket of his his black pants. He made his way down the stairs, avoiding the bent nails precariously sticking it of the creaking wood as his shoes collided with the floor.

The apartment building door opened and the cool air of the night licked his skin. Throwing a brown jacket over his arms he walked through the streets, head bowed. He needn't draw attention to himself, but he needed a break from that room. Nighttime was when he felt safe wandering the streets. Far less chance of being noticed by police, and he was an illegal immigrant hiding from the duties of the war. Those crimes would land him a military sentence for sure and guarantee a trip back to Germany. He kicked at a stone as he walked through the dirty streets. A small newspaper stand was filled with dusty yellowing papers, his hand picking up the paper as he read through it carefully. Taking it close to a street lamp he read the headlines. Keeping up to date was vital for him and any news that came to light about the position of the American government on German residents would impact him exponentially.

Flicking through the paper he stopped on a page and ripped it out. Throwing the weathered paper back into the pile he ran through the streets without paying for it, the page tucked underneath his armpit. His footsteps echoed on the cobblestones whilst he ran to the apartment. Hands fumbling with the keys he opened the door and bolted up the stairs, almost skewering his foot with a bent nail. Opening the door he ran in to find Mikey asleep on the bed. He kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket onto the floor as he ran to Mikey and threw the paper to the ground. As it fluttered down he sat at the end of the bed with his head in his hands, the headline read:"Government crackdown on Illegal Immigrants." With a subheading of: "Police now concentrating on door to door searches and questioning."