Serendipity [1/3]
Title: Serendipity
Author: howXiXdisappear
Pairing: Gerard/Mikey, implied Gerard/Frank
Rating: R
Summary: “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” He brushes his fingers through Gerard’s greasy, tangled hair. The color is fading back to its natural color.
“Dunno…” Gerard whispers, opening his eyes. They’re not the same eyes that Mikey had seen for the last twenty-something years. They’re bloodshot, tortured, and they make him look so fucking helpless… he is so fucking helpless. “I just feel like it.”
Disclaimer: Not real.
Author Notes: I started writing this a few days ago at five in the morning, and somehow managed to incorporate my obsession with The Crow into it. The title, the cut, and the poem at the beginning of this story are all copied from the comic. Also, this is my first waycest, like, ever, so concrit would be totally awesome. <3
Warnings: Incest. Language. Attempted suicide. Frank is dead. References to The Crow.
Seven blackbirds in a tree,
Count them and see what they be
One for sorrow, two for joy
Three for a girl, four for a boy
Five for silver, six for gold
Seven for a secret that's never been told.
He awakes in a white room, having to squint partly because his vision is blurry from just waking up and partly because of the sun pouring in through the open window. Immediately, he can hear the beeping of a heart monitor and knows that he failed again. Breathing out, he sinks further down in his bed, but stops when he feels a slight tug on his hand. His eyes divert to his left; Mikey.
Mikey is asleep in a red plastic chair and Gerard can only imagine how uncomfortable it must be, especially since it happens so often. Behind his thick black-rimmed glasses his eyes are red and puffy. Tears are streaked down his face, again. This is becoming way too normal. Gerard wrenches his hand free and continues to sink down, blanket now covering his head, until he reaches the exactly center of the bed. He curls up in a ball and squeezes his eyes shut.
“Gee…?” His brother’s voice is hoarse and so very fucking tired. He’s getting fed up with spending his weekends at the hospital. He gets no reply; he wasn’t really expecting one. Ever since…Frank…Gerard hasn’t been very talkative, and the few things that do come out of his mouth don’t make much sense.
Mikey slides out of his chair and stretches. His back makes a satisfying crack and he almost wants to laugh when he sees the ball that is his big brother’s body cringe at the sound. But he doesn’t. He lifts up the light blue sheet, like he does every time, and crawls in bed, managing to curl up right next to Gerard. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” He brushes his fingers through Gerard’s greasy, tangled hair. The color is fading back to its natural color.
“Dunno…” Gerard whispers, opening his eyes. They’re not the same eyes that Mikey had seen for the last twenty-something years. They’re bloodshot, tortured, and they make him look so fucking helpless… he is so fucking helpless. “I just feel like it.”
Mikey knows he should be angry. He should be fucking pissed off at his brother for putting their family through all this shit, going in and out of hospitals for the last three months, the suicide attempts, the all around insanity of this new Gerard. It should piss Mikey off that Gerard's only excuse is because he just feels like it.
But he's not. Not really.
"Mikey?" He says, still in that shaky whisper. He's clinging on to Mikey's arm now, and the younger Way feels slightly nauseous when he looks down and sees the long row of fresh stitches going down Gerard's wrist. Why didn't the fucking doctor wrap it up? Gerard's just going to pull them out later.
"Yeah?" Mikey pretends he can handle it all. He pretends he's strong, because Gerard needs someone who's strong.
"I was reading The Crow last night."
"Oh... yeah?" He thinks this is just one of Gerard's...things. Changing the subject without thinking, without realizing, because in his head, everything he says makes sense, even if it's completely random.
"Uh-huh. And I was thinking...if I killed the people who hurt Frankie, could I be with him again?" Gerard's eyes were wide and filled with tears. His lower lip started to quiver, but he didn't cry. He just stared, awaiting Mikey's answer.
Mikey said nothing.
"M-Mikey? Could I?"
They were going to get married next month. Gerard and Frank. It would be a lie if Mikey said that he wasn't jealous out of his mind- Gerard was his first. But Gerard hadn't smiled the way he did when he was with Frank for a long time; he hadn't been that happy in a long time. Not since Mikey broke things off with him, too scared of someone finding out to really think about his brother- and lovers- feelings.
"No, Gee..."
They bought an apartment. It was in a bad neighborhood, but it was all they could afford, and it was theirs. Frank was especially excited about it, because it meant that Gerard really was serious about marrying him. The place didn't need to be beautiful. It just needed to feel like home. And it did. Neither of them ever thought that anything bad would happen to them.
Gerard doesn't say anything. He looks away; Mikey thinks he can hear his brother's heart breaking. Again. He gently wraps his arms around Gerard's shaking body and kisses his cheek.
"You still have me, Gerard..." He whispers, running his thumb against Gerard's scar-covered arm. Absentmindedly, he traces what looks like a spider web carved into Gerard's skin with his finger. "You'll always have me."
"You left me too. You did it first."
Mikey stares, jaw drop; he doesn't know what to say. Hearing his brother say that, it hurts, it really does. It's like a fucking slap in the face, because Gerard has never said anything like that before. And nothing he has said in the past has never hit Mikey that hard.
"I...Gerard...I was, just...I was scared..." He stammers, looking away. "A-and, I mean, I never really left, y'know? I've always been...I never went anywhere..." He retracts his hands from Gerard's body and sits up. "I never left you." Mikey stops there, hoping that the older man will suddenly change the subject the way he tends to do so often.
Sometimes there's a point in time where a person feels like they've had all the pain they can bare. For Gerard, this was it. He faces away from Mikey, letting out a choked sob. His fingers begin to claw at the stitches on his wrist. They tear easily; he's done this enough times. "Gerard!"
"I was fucking in love with you, Mikey!"
Shaking his head, Mikey clambers out of bed and looks for something to wrap Gerard's arm with. "You were never in love with me," He says, going into the conjoined bathroom and grabbing a roll of toilet paper. "We're fucking brothers, Gerard. We couldn't be in love, and you knew it wouldn't last...lemme see your arm."
"Fuck off, okay?! Just fucking... go the fuck away!" The ever-stubborn Gerard puts his hand over the gash and holds his arm to his chest. He's shaking from the pain, but he's not going to let Mikey touch him if he's going to be a shit.
"You're such as ass! We fucked around for a while, it was fun, but we couldn't just let it go on forever! Get over it and go back to crying over your dead fiancé!"
Silence. The color drains from Gerard's face and he lets go of his arm, ignoring the blood that’s gushing onto the bed sheets. He bites down on his lip and closes his eyes again and tears spill down his face. "O-okay..." He whimpers. His fingers go to the golden engagement ring that sits on a chain around his neck. Without a sound, he fumbles with it and stares blankly at the wall in front of him.
"Gee..." Mikey starts, trying to find the words to apologize. "Gee, I..." But he can't really think because what he said was awful and he can't even really believe that he said it.
"'S okay," Gerard says and his voice is sort of shaky again. There's another silence, an awkward silence. Several times, the younger Way opens his mouth as if to say something, but quickly closes it again. Gerard hesitantly sticks his arm out; its dripping with blood and it looks absolutely awful. "You can fix it if you want." He watches Mikey come closer to the bedside, toilet paper roll in hand.
"You really should have a doctor fix it instead..." Mikey states while wrapping the wound in toilet paper. He knows its going to take up the entire roll, and maybe even a second one, because he has to do this a lot at home. Gerard doesn't trust doctors, he never has. Because Mikey already knows this, he isn't surprised that Gerard doesn't even bother to answer to the suggestion.
Gerard goes home in the morning. Home being his parents house; he isn't trusted to live on his own anymore. He wasn't particularly want to live on his own anyway. His mother cries and fusses over him, the way she always does. He can't help but wonder if she's only pretending to be so overly concerned, because this has to be getting old. His father pats him on the back and makes a remark about the toilet paper wrapped around his arm. "Is that what we're paying those goddamn doctors to do?" He asks. Gerard offers a small smile and stares at the floor.
"I made your favorites for dinner." His mother says, leading him to the couch and sitting down with him. Gerard doesn't really have the heart to tell her that he isn't hungry. She tries so hard to make him happy, and he figures that he should at least try to let her think it's working for a while. He leans against her and rests his head on her shoulder, letting her brush her fingers through his hair like she used to do when he was little. "Are you feeling okay?" She asks him. He nods slightly, but say nothing. He never has much to say to them.
Dinner is quiet. Gerard picks at his food and forces himself to eat a little. Mikey doesn't do much better because he still feels awful about what he said back at the hospital. Nobody says a word, but that's normal. Their parents had always said that dinner is for eating, not for talking, and with Donna and Donald on the verge of seperating again, sometimes silence is better.
"Gerard, sweety," Donna starts after nearly twenty minutes of watching her oldest son's pathetic attempt to eat. He glances up from his full plate. "You can go lay down if you want. I'll take care of your plate." With a quick nod, Gerard abandons the table and goes to his room.
"Godammit, Donna!" The arguing starts as soon as they hear Gerard's door shut. "He's not a fucking kid!" Mikey eats faster, hoping to get out of there before his parents start throwing things. "He's a grown man now and you have to learn to let him deal with his own problems!"
"Obviously he can't deal with them, Donald! He can't even be left alone for ten minutes without getting his hands on something to slit his wrists with!"
Mikey stands up. He discards his plate in the dishwasher, then slips his shoes on and goes out for a smoke. He hates how they do this every fucking time. They can't save the fighting for when Gerard's in the hospital, they have to wait until he comes home. When he can hear them. Mikey hates it. And though Gerard never says anything about it, he knows that Gerard has to hate it too. It was why Gerard left home as soon as he could, why he was in such a hurry to get married and live his own life far away from his family.
There's a loud crash coming from inside, followed by voices raising. Gerard's name comes up more then Mikey thinks necessary. He sighs and puts out the cigarette, sitting down on the front step. Gerard joins him a minute later.
"You okay?" Mikey asks, putting an arm around him. He nods slightly and asks to bum a cigarette. Mikey says sure and gives him one.
And thats the extent of their conversation.
Author: howXiXdisappear
Pairing: Gerard/Mikey, implied Gerard/Frank
Rating: R
Summary: “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” He brushes his fingers through Gerard’s greasy, tangled hair. The color is fading back to its natural color.
“Dunno…” Gerard whispers, opening his eyes. They’re not the same eyes that Mikey had seen for the last twenty-something years. They’re bloodshot, tortured, and they make him look so fucking helpless… he is so fucking helpless. “I just feel like it.”
Disclaimer: Not real.
Author Notes: I started writing this a few days ago at five in the morning, and somehow managed to incorporate my obsession with The Crow into it. The title, the cut, and the poem at the beginning of this story are all copied from the comic. Also, this is my first waycest, like, ever, so concrit would be totally awesome. <3
Warnings: Incest. Language. Attempted suicide. Frank is dead. References to The Crow.
Seven blackbirds in a tree,
Count them and see what they be
One for sorrow, two for joy
Three for a girl, four for a boy
Five for silver, six for gold
Seven for a secret that's never been told.
He awakes in a white room, having to squint partly because his vision is blurry from just waking up and partly because of the sun pouring in through the open window. Immediately, he can hear the beeping of a heart monitor and knows that he failed again. Breathing out, he sinks further down in his bed, but stops when he feels a slight tug on his hand. His eyes divert to his left; Mikey.
Mikey is asleep in a red plastic chair and Gerard can only imagine how uncomfortable it must be, especially since it happens so often. Behind his thick black-rimmed glasses his eyes are red and puffy. Tears are streaked down his face, again. This is becoming way too normal. Gerard wrenches his hand free and continues to sink down, blanket now covering his head, until he reaches the exactly center of the bed. He curls up in a ball and squeezes his eyes shut.
“Gee…?” His brother’s voice is hoarse and so very fucking tired. He’s getting fed up with spending his weekends at the hospital. He gets no reply; he wasn’t really expecting one. Ever since…Frank…Gerard hasn’t been very talkative, and the few things that do come out of his mouth don’t make much sense.
Mikey slides out of his chair and stretches. His back makes a satisfying crack and he almost wants to laugh when he sees the ball that is his big brother’s body cringe at the sound. But he doesn’t. He lifts up the light blue sheet, like he does every time, and crawls in bed, managing to curl up right next to Gerard. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” He brushes his fingers through Gerard’s greasy, tangled hair. The color is fading back to its natural color.
“Dunno…” Gerard whispers, opening his eyes. They’re not the same eyes that Mikey had seen for the last twenty-something years. They’re bloodshot, tortured, and they make him look so fucking helpless… he is so fucking helpless. “I just feel like it.”
Mikey knows he should be angry. He should be fucking pissed off at his brother for putting their family through all this shit, going in and out of hospitals for the last three months, the suicide attempts, the all around insanity of this new Gerard. It should piss Mikey off that Gerard's only excuse is because he just feels like it.
But he's not. Not really.
"Mikey?" He says, still in that shaky whisper. He's clinging on to Mikey's arm now, and the younger Way feels slightly nauseous when he looks down and sees the long row of fresh stitches going down Gerard's wrist. Why didn't the fucking doctor wrap it up? Gerard's just going to pull them out later.
"Yeah?" Mikey pretends he can handle it all. He pretends he's strong, because Gerard needs someone who's strong.
"I was reading The Crow last night."
"Oh... yeah?" He thinks this is just one of Gerard's...things. Changing the subject without thinking, without realizing, because in his head, everything he says makes sense, even if it's completely random.
"Uh-huh. And I was thinking...if I killed the people who hurt Frankie, could I be with him again?" Gerard's eyes were wide and filled with tears. His lower lip started to quiver, but he didn't cry. He just stared, awaiting Mikey's answer.
Mikey said nothing.
"M-Mikey? Could I?"
They were going to get married next month. Gerard and Frank. It would be a lie if Mikey said that he wasn't jealous out of his mind- Gerard was his first. But Gerard hadn't smiled the way he did when he was with Frank for a long time; he hadn't been that happy in a long time. Not since Mikey broke things off with him, too scared of someone finding out to really think about his brother- and lovers- feelings.
"No, Gee..."
They bought an apartment. It was in a bad neighborhood, but it was all they could afford, and it was theirs. Frank was especially excited about it, because it meant that Gerard really was serious about marrying him. The place didn't need to be beautiful. It just needed to feel like home. And it did. Neither of them ever thought that anything bad would happen to them.
Gerard doesn't say anything. He looks away; Mikey thinks he can hear his brother's heart breaking. Again. He gently wraps his arms around Gerard's shaking body and kisses his cheek.
"You still have me, Gerard..." He whispers, running his thumb against Gerard's scar-covered arm. Absentmindedly, he traces what looks like a spider web carved into Gerard's skin with his finger. "You'll always have me."
"You left me too. You did it first."
Mikey stares, jaw drop; he doesn't know what to say. Hearing his brother say that, it hurts, it really does. It's like a fucking slap in the face, because Gerard has never said anything like that before. And nothing he has said in the past has never hit Mikey that hard.
"I...Gerard...I was, just...I was scared..." He stammers, looking away. "A-and, I mean, I never really left, y'know? I've always been...I never went anywhere..." He retracts his hands from Gerard's body and sits up. "I never left you." Mikey stops there, hoping that the older man will suddenly change the subject the way he tends to do so often.
Sometimes there's a point in time where a person feels like they've had all the pain they can bare. For Gerard, this was it. He faces away from Mikey, letting out a choked sob. His fingers begin to claw at the stitches on his wrist. They tear easily; he's done this enough times. "Gerard!"
"I was fucking in love with you, Mikey!"
Shaking his head, Mikey clambers out of bed and looks for something to wrap Gerard's arm with. "You were never in love with me," He says, going into the conjoined bathroom and grabbing a roll of toilet paper. "We're fucking brothers, Gerard. We couldn't be in love, and you knew it wouldn't last...lemme see your arm."
"Fuck off, okay?! Just fucking... go the fuck away!" The ever-stubborn Gerard puts his hand over the gash and holds his arm to his chest. He's shaking from the pain, but he's not going to let Mikey touch him if he's going to be a shit.
"You're such as ass! We fucked around for a while, it was fun, but we couldn't just let it go on forever! Get over it and go back to crying over your dead fiancé!"
Silence. The color drains from Gerard's face and he lets go of his arm, ignoring the blood that’s gushing onto the bed sheets. He bites down on his lip and closes his eyes again and tears spill down his face. "O-okay..." He whimpers. His fingers go to the golden engagement ring that sits on a chain around his neck. Without a sound, he fumbles with it and stares blankly at the wall in front of him.
"Gee..." Mikey starts, trying to find the words to apologize. "Gee, I..." But he can't really think because what he said was awful and he can't even really believe that he said it.
"'S okay," Gerard says and his voice is sort of shaky again. There's another silence, an awkward silence. Several times, the younger Way opens his mouth as if to say something, but quickly closes it again. Gerard hesitantly sticks his arm out; its dripping with blood and it looks absolutely awful. "You can fix it if you want." He watches Mikey come closer to the bedside, toilet paper roll in hand.
"You really should have a doctor fix it instead..." Mikey states while wrapping the wound in toilet paper. He knows its going to take up the entire roll, and maybe even a second one, because he has to do this a lot at home. Gerard doesn't trust doctors, he never has. Because Mikey already knows this, he isn't surprised that Gerard doesn't even bother to answer to the suggestion.
Gerard goes home in the morning. Home being his parents house; he isn't trusted to live on his own anymore. He wasn't particularly want to live on his own anyway. His mother cries and fusses over him, the way she always does. He can't help but wonder if she's only pretending to be so overly concerned, because this has to be getting old. His father pats him on the back and makes a remark about the toilet paper wrapped around his arm. "Is that what we're paying those goddamn doctors to do?" He asks. Gerard offers a small smile and stares at the floor.
"I made your favorites for dinner." His mother says, leading him to the couch and sitting down with him. Gerard doesn't really have the heart to tell her that he isn't hungry. She tries so hard to make him happy, and he figures that he should at least try to let her think it's working for a while. He leans against her and rests his head on her shoulder, letting her brush her fingers through his hair like she used to do when he was little. "Are you feeling okay?" She asks him. He nods slightly, but say nothing. He never has much to say to them.
Dinner is quiet. Gerard picks at his food and forces himself to eat a little. Mikey doesn't do much better because he still feels awful about what he said back at the hospital. Nobody says a word, but that's normal. Their parents had always said that dinner is for eating, not for talking, and with Donna and Donald on the verge of seperating again, sometimes silence is better.
"Gerard, sweety," Donna starts after nearly twenty minutes of watching her oldest son's pathetic attempt to eat. He glances up from his full plate. "You can go lay down if you want. I'll take care of your plate." With a quick nod, Gerard abandons the table and goes to his room.
"Godammit, Donna!" The arguing starts as soon as they hear Gerard's door shut. "He's not a fucking kid!" Mikey eats faster, hoping to get out of there before his parents start throwing things. "He's a grown man now and you have to learn to let him deal with his own problems!"
"Obviously he can't deal with them, Donald! He can't even be left alone for ten minutes without getting his hands on something to slit his wrists with!"
Mikey stands up. He discards his plate in the dishwasher, then slips his shoes on and goes out for a smoke. He hates how they do this every fucking time. They can't save the fighting for when Gerard's in the hospital, they have to wait until he comes home. When he can hear them. Mikey hates it. And though Gerard never says anything about it, he knows that Gerard has to hate it too. It was why Gerard left home as soon as he could, why he was in such a hurry to get married and live his own life far away from his family.
There's a loud crash coming from inside, followed by voices raising. Gerard's name comes up more then Mikey thinks necessary. He sighs and puts out the cigarette, sitting down on the front step. Gerard joins him a minute later.
"You okay?" Mikey asks, putting an arm around him. He nods slightly and asks to bum a cigarette. Mikey says sure and gives him one.
And thats the extent of their conversation.