Art Brut
Title: Art Brut [1/?]
Author: break_kitkat
Pairing: Gerard/Frank, others to come!
Rating: PG-13 this chapter for swearing. Rating adjusted by chapter.
POV: Third.
Summary: It was a dry midsummer day the last time Mikey saw his brother. Then Gerard went missing, and no one knows if he's ever coming back.
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, don't sue. Never happened, not reality, not real people. Faker than a big ol' bowl of silicone.
Author Notes: In this 'verse: Gerard and Frank are married, they have a daughter called Sarah. This is my return to fandom after two years' absence, I hope this is alright. Comments and crit so very welcome.
Warnings: None for this chapter, just cursin' and drinkin'. Don't drive drunk kids.
Art Brut
'...It is entirely possible, therefore, that the art of van Gogh can be considered one of the earliest examples of Art Brut not to be academically recognised. This 'raw' or 'outsider' art was made under the direction of 'art therapy' by the mentally ill, in asylums and hospitals, and was widely collected in Europe during the nineteen-forties. Van Gogh can easily be put into this category of the 'mad artist', as he suffered increasingly debilitating mental health throughout his life, and spent several years voluntarily admitted to insane asylums. The fact that art created under the recognised Art Brut movement depicted the artist's psychological state through images and was sometimes created using destructive methods (including using the artist's blood or other bodily fluids as painting material), seems to offer a chilling parallel to the oft-recounted tale of van Gogh's mutilation of his ear...'
Part One
Turn Away
It was a dry midsummer day the last time Mikey saw his brother.
Gerard had called him that morning to ask if he'd mind watching Sarah for a couple of hours. Frank was away for a few days doing promotion with his clothing company, and Gerard had forgotten about a doctor's appointment he'd made ages ago. Always happy to see his niece, and his increasingly busy and elusive brother, Mikey agreed to babysit; and shortly after heard the distinctive sound of Gerard's car pulling into the driveway.
The brothers had never been apart for very long at any point in their lives. They'd shared a room in their parents' house, and then lived in the same apartment for a brief time before circumstances sent Gerard retreating back to the basement bedroom at their folks'. The longest they'd ever spent apart was when Gerard went to college, though he still came home frequently to visit the family and their increasingly frail grandmother. When Gerard moved to California, Mikey followed within months, and when Mikey went back to New Jersey his brother wasn't far behind. Mikey assumed he'd know instinctively if something was wrong with the person he knew better than his own reflection.
Hearing the spluttering of Gerard's ridiculous engine as it pulled up, Mikey switched off the TV and went to the door to meet them. Squinting in the bright sun, he waved a greeting to Gerard before he'd even got out of the car, happy to see them. His brother waved back and got out, heading round to the passenger side and unbuckling his daughter from her car seat, scooping her into his arms. Sarah (the image of the Way brothers' baby photos that their mom still displayed around the house, despite their protests) grabbed onto her father's hair as soon as she got close enough, and Mikey could hear Gerard protesting as he pretended to try and untangle himself while they headed up the drive.
"Hey Gee," he greeted his brother with a grin, quickly turning his attention to Sarah, who was chewing on a strand of black hair. "And how's my favourite girl?"
"Mi. Mi-kuh. Mi-mi-mi!" She trailed off into babbles, gumming happily on Gerard's hair as Mikey laughed.
"Talking's going well then."
"Ah, she's a poet."
As soon as Gerard spoke, Mikey knew something was wrong. There was something about the slight slur on his brother's words that was more than tiredness, and as soon as he was on alert he noticed the smell: the sickly familiar waft of alcohol reeking from the singer.
"Gee, have you been drinking?" The question was voiced warily, as if he'd already made up his mind that he wouldn't like the answer. Gerard's eyes snapped back into focus from where they'd been drifting listlessly, and he shook his head emphatically.
"Drinking? No, I haven't been drinking. No, no." Fucking terrible liar, always had been.
Shocked by this sudden turnaround after years of sobriety, Mikey could do nothing but stare in disbelief. He should have known from the first second, the first glance (at the lank hair, the dark circles, and the way he held himself too carefully, too eager to be sober), but the years of not having to wonder if Gerard was still breathing had made him comfortable, complacent.
"Then why do you stink of booze?" He held out his arms angrily as Gerard looked anywhere but at his face. "I can't believe you drove over here. Give me Sarah."
"I was just gonna take her in-"
"You get her stuff out the car." Mikey took his niece gently from his brother's arms, taking care not to transfer his anger at the singer to the child. She laughed at the sensation, blissfully unaware of the situation she was in the middle of. "I'll take her inside."
"...kay." After a moment of hesitation, Gerard agreed softly and turned away. He walked back to the car with a slight stumble in his step, tripping over one of the squares of concrete that made up the drive. His brother couldn't watch.
Trying to shake the numb anger out of his nerves, Mikey headed inside with Sarah, carefully setting her down on the carpet where she began to crawl towards the couch immediately. He'd have to keep a close eye on her, she was getting around faster and faster these days, probably be walking soon. He was yet to start a family, though he'd settled down with Alicia: they were waiting for things to become more stable in their lives before they made anything more complicated. They were unlike Gerard and Frank, who'd dived straight into surrogacy as soon as they'd got a partnership, still in the honeymoon period. If anyone thought they were rushing into things, no one said anything; especially not after Sarah came home and changed their lives forever.
After a minute Gerard re-appeared, shakily setting down a diaper bag beside the door and still avoiding his brother's eyes. He was sweating slightly from the midday sun, a thin sheen over clammy skin: something that wouldn't have happened a few months ago. The bassist wondered how far he'd fallen in that short amount of time, but Mikey was too angry to worry about his sibling, addressing him quietly only because he could barely contain his furious disbelief.
"If your kid wasn't here I'd punch you in your fucking mouth." Gerard winced at his tone, but that wasn't about to deter the younger Way from his interrogation. "How could you do this? What happened?"
"I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his hair, which hung around his face limply, sticking to his sallow face as he displayed an expression Mikey hadn't seen for years, all spark gone. The bassist could just see everything collapsing, back to square one, everything they'd worked for sunk away in a bottle. "I just, I don't know."
"You don't know? What the fuck! Gerard, how could you be this fucking stupid?!"
"I-I gotta go. I'm gonna miss my appointment." Purposefully not responding to the berating of his brother, he bent down and kissed his daughter on the forehead, quickly avoiding the hand that shot up to tangle in his hair again. He ducked out of the door, not looking back as he headed back out onto the street. Not able to look back.
"Fuck your appointment!" Mikey followed him to the door; he would have chased after him but for being very aware of the infant crawling around his front room.
"I need to see the doctor." He insisted, looking back over his shoulder, hands automatically going to his pocket for cigarettes. "Run out of meds. It won't take long."
The excuse was enough to make Mikey relent. Even if it was only an excuse, a fabrication, Gerard running out of meds might have been what sent him back to drinking (it had come close enough before), which wasn't something Mikey was about to overlook. Maybe this would all blow over once his brother got a new prescription. It was an all-too familiar hope that reminded him of being twelve and not understanding how his big brother got the marks on his arms.
"We're gonna talk about this when you get back." Mikey shouted after him, not caring if the nosy woman next door was watching through her curtains or not. "Don't you dare drive! I swear to God Gee..."
"I'll get the bus, alright, just watch her for me." There was something in his expression Mikey couldn't place, but Gerard didn't give him time to worry about it. "Please. I'll be back soon."
Speechless, Mikey simply shook his head and went back inside to his niece, rage drained into a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could babysit Sarah, sure, but he didn't think he could go through babysitting her father again as well.
Rooted to the spot, Gerard stared at the house for a long minute, finally raising his hand in farewell: the wave of a drowning man.
Then he walked away from the house, heading towards the bus stop around the corner. He lit a cigarette as he walked.
And that was the last they saw of him.
Author: break_kitkat
Pairing: Gerard/Frank, others to come!
Rating: PG-13 this chapter for swearing. Rating adjusted by chapter.
POV: Third.
Summary: It was a dry midsummer day the last time Mikey saw his brother. Then Gerard went missing, and no one knows if he's ever coming back.
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, don't sue. Never happened, not reality, not real people. Faker than a big ol' bowl of silicone.
Author Notes: In this 'verse: Gerard and Frank are married, they have a daughter called Sarah. This is my return to fandom after two years' absence, I hope this is alright. Comments and crit so very welcome.
Warnings: None for this chapter, just cursin' and drinkin'. Don't drive drunk kids.
Art Brut
'...It is entirely possible, therefore, that the art of van Gogh can be considered one of the earliest examples of Art Brut not to be academically recognised. This 'raw' or 'outsider' art was made under the direction of 'art therapy' by the mentally ill, in asylums and hospitals, and was widely collected in Europe during the nineteen-forties. Van Gogh can easily be put into this category of the 'mad artist', as he suffered increasingly debilitating mental health throughout his life, and spent several years voluntarily admitted to insane asylums. The fact that art created under the recognised Art Brut movement depicted the artist's psychological state through images and was sometimes created using destructive methods (including using the artist's blood or other bodily fluids as painting material), seems to offer a chilling parallel to the oft-recounted tale of van Gogh's mutilation of his ear...'
Part One
Turn Away
It was a dry midsummer day the last time Mikey saw his brother.
Gerard had called him that morning to ask if he'd mind watching Sarah for a couple of hours. Frank was away for a few days doing promotion with his clothing company, and Gerard had forgotten about a doctor's appointment he'd made ages ago. Always happy to see his niece, and his increasingly busy and elusive brother, Mikey agreed to babysit; and shortly after heard the distinctive sound of Gerard's car pulling into the driveway.
The brothers had never been apart for very long at any point in their lives. They'd shared a room in their parents' house, and then lived in the same apartment for a brief time before circumstances sent Gerard retreating back to the basement bedroom at their folks'. The longest they'd ever spent apart was when Gerard went to college, though he still came home frequently to visit the family and their increasingly frail grandmother. When Gerard moved to California, Mikey followed within months, and when Mikey went back to New Jersey his brother wasn't far behind. Mikey assumed he'd know instinctively if something was wrong with the person he knew better than his own reflection.
Hearing the spluttering of Gerard's ridiculous engine as it pulled up, Mikey switched off the TV and went to the door to meet them. Squinting in the bright sun, he waved a greeting to Gerard before he'd even got out of the car, happy to see them. His brother waved back and got out, heading round to the passenger side and unbuckling his daughter from her car seat, scooping her into his arms. Sarah (the image of the Way brothers' baby photos that their mom still displayed around the house, despite their protests) grabbed onto her father's hair as soon as she got close enough, and Mikey could hear Gerard protesting as he pretended to try and untangle himself while they headed up the drive.
"Hey Gee," he greeted his brother with a grin, quickly turning his attention to Sarah, who was chewing on a strand of black hair. "And how's my favourite girl?"
"Mi. Mi-kuh. Mi-mi-mi!" She trailed off into babbles, gumming happily on Gerard's hair as Mikey laughed.
"Talking's going well then."
"Ah, she's a poet."
As soon as Gerard spoke, Mikey knew something was wrong. There was something about the slight slur on his brother's words that was more than tiredness, and as soon as he was on alert he noticed the smell: the sickly familiar waft of alcohol reeking from the singer.
"Gee, have you been drinking?" The question was voiced warily, as if he'd already made up his mind that he wouldn't like the answer. Gerard's eyes snapped back into focus from where they'd been drifting listlessly, and he shook his head emphatically.
"Drinking? No, I haven't been drinking. No, no." Fucking terrible liar, always had been.
Shocked by this sudden turnaround after years of sobriety, Mikey could do nothing but stare in disbelief. He should have known from the first second, the first glance (at the lank hair, the dark circles, and the way he held himself too carefully, too eager to be sober), but the years of not having to wonder if Gerard was still breathing had made him comfortable, complacent.
"Then why do you stink of booze?" He held out his arms angrily as Gerard looked anywhere but at his face. "I can't believe you drove over here. Give me Sarah."
"I was just gonna take her in-"
"You get her stuff out the car." Mikey took his niece gently from his brother's arms, taking care not to transfer his anger at the singer to the child. She laughed at the sensation, blissfully unaware of the situation she was in the middle of. "I'll take her inside."
"...kay." After a moment of hesitation, Gerard agreed softly and turned away. He walked back to the car with a slight stumble in his step, tripping over one of the squares of concrete that made up the drive. His brother couldn't watch.
Trying to shake the numb anger out of his nerves, Mikey headed inside with Sarah, carefully setting her down on the carpet where she began to crawl towards the couch immediately. He'd have to keep a close eye on her, she was getting around faster and faster these days, probably be walking soon. He was yet to start a family, though he'd settled down with Alicia: they were waiting for things to become more stable in their lives before they made anything more complicated. They were unlike Gerard and Frank, who'd dived straight into surrogacy as soon as they'd got a partnership, still in the honeymoon period. If anyone thought they were rushing into things, no one said anything; especially not after Sarah came home and changed their lives forever.
After a minute Gerard re-appeared, shakily setting down a diaper bag beside the door and still avoiding his brother's eyes. He was sweating slightly from the midday sun, a thin sheen over clammy skin: something that wouldn't have happened a few months ago. The bassist wondered how far he'd fallen in that short amount of time, but Mikey was too angry to worry about his sibling, addressing him quietly only because he could barely contain his furious disbelief.
"If your kid wasn't here I'd punch you in your fucking mouth." Gerard winced at his tone, but that wasn't about to deter the younger Way from his interrogation. "How could you do this? What happened?"
"I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his hair, which hung around his face limply, sticking to his sallow face as he displayed an expression Mikey hadn't seen for years, all spark gone. The bassist could just see everything collapsing, back to square one, everything they'd worked for sunk away in a bottle. "I just, I don't know."
"You don't know? What the fuck! Gerard, how could you be this fucking stupid?!"
"I-I gotta go. I'm gonna miss my appointment." Purposefully not responding to the berating of his brother, he bent down and kissed his daughter on the forehead, quickly avoiding the hand that shot up to tangle in his hair again. He ducked out of the door, not looking back as he headed back out onto the street. Not able to look back.
"Fuck your appointment!" Mikey followed him to the door; he would have chased after him but for being very aware of the infant crawling around his front room.
"I need to see the doctor." He insisted, looking back over his shoulder, hands automatically going to his pocket for cigarettes. "Run out of meds. It won't take long."
The excuse was enough to make Mikey relent. Even if it was only an excuse, a fabrication, Gerard running out of meds might have been what sent him back to drinking (it had come close enough before), which wasn't something Mikey was about to overlook. Maybe this would all blow over once his brother got a new prescription. It was an all-too familiar hope that reminded him of being twelve and not understanding how his big brother got the marks on his arms.
"We're gonna talk about this when you get back." Mikey shouted after him, not caring if the nosy woman next door was watching through her curtains or not. "Don't you dare drive! I swear to God Gee..."
"I'll get the bus, alright, just watch her for me." There was something in his expression Mikey couldn't place, but Gerard didn't give him time to worry about it. "Please. I'll be back soon."
Speechless, Mikey simply shook his head and went back inside to his niece, rage drained into a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could babysit Sarah, sure, but he didn't think he could go through babysitting her father again as well.
Rooted to the spot, Gerard stared at the house for a long minute, finally raising his hand in farewell: the wave of a drowning man.
Then he walked away from the house, heading towards the bus stop around the corner. He lit a cigarette as he walked.
And that was the last they saw of him.