Two for Tragedy

Disclaimer: Same.

A/N: It's come to my attention that sometimes I type Mike instead of Mikey. I don't mean to. I've just been writing Green Day for so long, I do that sometimes. My apologies.

Oh, and kisses and cookies for Helena. Thanks for all the reviews. Rape whistle? I guess I have to go get one now.

Two for Tragedy
Part Two: "I thought he was flirting with me."

"Cease the pain
Life's just in vain
For us to gain
Nothing but all the same"

"What the fuck do you think is wrong?" he snapped. "The wrong guy at school found out I was a fag and decided to take me down to the locker room after class and fuck me! Is that what you wanted to hear?!" he yelled.

He wipped his mouth on the back of his hand and fumbled in his pocket for his inhaler.

I forced my own tears back down, deep breaths. "Mikey, we have to go to the hospital."

He shook his head. "No." I saw the lump moving in his throat, but he was speaking in monotone basically. "I'm not reporting it. If you take me to the hospital, I'll lie and say it was consensual."

"Mikey, you can't do that." My voice cracked. "You can't. We've got to fix this. We'll go the hospital and then--"

"Then the cops." Mike interrupted. "And then the cops will question M--I mean, whoever did this. And then he'll say I'm a fag and I wanted it and it was consensual and they'll believe him and then he'll just do it again."

I don't like that tone in his voice. That cold, hard, 'the world sucks and I want to slice my wrists open' tone. I don't like hearing Mikey use that tone. He shouldn't. I hate it when he gets like this.

"No." I said. "It won't happen like that. Mikey, you didn't do anything wrong."

He turns around at that, crossing his arms and staring at me. "What the fuck do you mean by that?" he snarled.

"It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong." I repeated. Why the fuck was he looking at me like that?

"Whatever." he said in a dismissive tone, his eyes staring at the wall behind my head. "Are you gonna go yet?"

"No." He didn't say anything. "You think it's your fault, don't you?" He wouldn't look at me, just set his jaw and stared at the ground.

I edged toward him and slowly but my hand under his chin, tilting his head up so I could look at him. Mike was about half an inch taller than me by now, but he was slumped against the counter. He winced a bit when I touched him, but no other objections were made.

"Mikey, it's not your fault. You didn't do anything to deserve this. Whoever did this is to blame, not you. You understand?" I'm going to fucking kill whoever did this, whoever made Mikey into . . . this.

And then, my little brother throws his arms around me and he's crying softly into my shoulder. "But . . . I did. I mean, I haven't exactly been quiet about it since it got out and he said that I needed to keep my fucking mouth shut and that God hated me and I was going to hell and that this was my punishment for being a sodomite and I hadn't even had sex yet!" He's sobbing now and I'm holding him, running a hand through his hair and another across his back.

I took a deep breath before I began to speak. "Mikey, you didn't do a damn thing wrong. If you're not ashamed of your sexuality, that's a good thing. It's not wrong to say you're gay and to be proud of it. And you're not going to hell. And sodomite's just an ugly word that assholes use when they want to feel intelligent. And God . . ." This one's harder. Mikey's still Catholic whereas I'm an Aethiest. "The Bible says God loves everyone."

He nodded into my shoulder, his sobs quieting a bit.

"Now, Mikey, we have to go to the hospital."

He nodded again and raiseds his head, taking off his glasses and wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "I know, but can I wash my face first?"

I nodded and let him go to the sink and wash his face. He turned to me and I knew exactly what he was going to say. "C-Can I change my clothes?"

I bit my lip and shook my head. "No. I'm sorry, but you can't. That's one of the things you're not supposed to do after . . . something like this happens."

He nodded and followed me through the house as I grabbed the car keys and stepped into my shoes, not even bothering with the laces. I took a deep breath and turned to him before we walked out the door. "You ready?"

His chin quivered a bit, but he nodded. "Yeah."

*

The female officer was nice. We liked her. I know Mikey did. He actually smiled at her. The male officer was a dickhead. Probably a Bible-thumping Christian Republican who was pro-life and thought homosexuality was a disease.

They called the police while they were performing the rape kit and Mikey was clutching my hand like a woman in labor might clutch her husband's. Mikey could hardly sit for the interview with the cops. The bastard--Matt Summers--had torn him pretty bad.

The female cop was named Janice Austin and she probably in her late twenties. Sweet lady who asked where Mikey's parents were to me in an undertone right after she asked him if she could get him anything. I explained to her quietly that they were dead and I was his brother, eighteen barely and his legal guardian.

Janice sat across from Mikey in a chair while her partner, Christopher I think, stood. His arms were crossed and he reminded me of a drill sergeant. "Now, Mikey," she began, "can you tell me the name of the person who did this to you?"

"Matt Summers." Mike said quietly, but loud enough for her to hear him. "He's a senior at my school."

"What school is this?" And there were lots of other questions like that before they even talked about the actual rape.

"It was the guys' locker room." Mikey said. He was fighting tears. I don't think he would have been if Christopher weren't in the room. "I-I thought . . ." Mikey looked at me. "I thought he was flirting with me."

"So you went down with him willingly?" Christopher asked.

Mikey nodded slowly. "But I-I didn't know that would happen. He just locked the door and then he hit me and then . . . h-he grabbed me by the back of the neck and pushed me on my back against the lockers."

"Did anyone hear you yell?" the female officer asked.

"I didn't yell." Mikey admitted. "I mean, I kind of shrieked a little when he hit me and he said if I did that again that he'd . . . he'd use a knife instead to . . . to rape me."

"So, he threatened you and you didn't scream because of that threat." she said gently, confirming what he said. Mikey nodded. "That's understandable." she said, assuring him he did nothing wrong. "Did he threaten you before or after he pushed you against the lockers?"

"Before."

"And after he pushed you against the lockers?"

Mikey took a deep breath and clutched at my hand instead of picking at his nails, which he had been doing. His other hand dug into his pocket for his inhaler. A minute or so later, he finally started speaking again when the male officer started tapping his foot earning a glare from Janice.

"My face was against the lockers and he still had one hand on the back of my neck. And his other hand was unbuttoning my jeans. And then they were off and his were off and he . . . he just raped me, okay?" He took another puff on his inhaler and he looked about four years old and I wanted to cry.

*

We were sitting on the couch at home. Well, I was sitting. Mikey was laying on his side with his head in my lap as we tried to watch some stupid movie. I don't know what it was. "Gee?"

"Yeah?" My fingers had been stroking his hair for some time and I stopped when he finally spoke.

"D-Did I do something wrong? When I went into the locker room with him?" His fingers were tracing patterns on my knee through the denim of my jeans. "Was I asking for it?"

"No." I said. "If he hadn't of raped you would you think it was wrong to go into the locker room with him?"

"Not really. A little, I guess. But he wouldn't have done it if I hadn't gone with him." Leave it to Mikey to play the blame game on himself for this.

"Yes, he would have. He just would have found a different time. Mikey, you didn't do anything wrong. I'll say it until you believe me, okay? You didn't do a damn thing wrong. Being gay isn't wrong. Being able to say it isn't wrong. Flaunting it isn't wrong. Going into the locker room with a guy isn't wrong. Well, maybe, but not that sort of wrong. Just the kind of wrong you wouldn't tell your parents about."

"Gee?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

---

Okay. I know it was a short chapter, but I wanted to tell some flashbacks from Mikey's point of view, so I needed to get the interview and shit all out of the way. Any critiques? Any reviews?