Serendipity [2/3]
Title: Serendipity
Author: howXiXdisappear
Pairing: so far implied Gerard/Mikey, past 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'm staring to think that I might have to go beyond three chapters to get to the waycest, but I'm hoping not because the last thing I need right now is another full story on my hands. Again, this is my first Waycest, so concrit would be awesome. =]
Warnings: Incest. Language. Attempted suicide. Death. Not beta-ed.
My Valentine Has Hollow Eyes
It was raining the night Frank was killed. Gerard loved the rain back then. He loved the way it looked. The way it sounded. The way it felt. The cliché of kissing in the rain. Being wrapped in Frank’s arms in the rain. Making love in the rain. That night shouldn’t have happened.
It was raining, and they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were holding hands and they were kissing. They didn’t think it was a big deal. Back home, their old home, it was okay. Besides the occasional scoff in disgust by religious old ladies and men who weren’t comfortable enough with their sexuality, it usually went by unnoticed. They didn’t realize things would be so different.
It’s raining now and Gerard fucking hurts. He sits out in the backyard. His knees are drawn to his chest. Staring off, the way he does so often, he wonders if Frank is happy. Happy in Heaven. Happy away from him. He wonders what Frank is doing right now, if he can do anything right now. For a minute, not even a minute because it makes him feel sort of queasy to even think about it, he wonders if Frank is thinking about him.
With a sigh, Gerard shovels his hand through his hair. It’s soaked and tangled, and it’s kind of disgusting how this is as close as it’s come to being clean in almost a week. It gets kind of hard to shower sometimes, with Gerard being in his own world half of the time and in the hospital the rest of the time. But Gerard can’t bring himself to care too much about it now.
The door opens, the closes. Without turning around, he knows that his brother has come out to sit with him. “It’s kind of late.” Mikey says, shuffling closer to Gerard, who merely shrugs. "And... it's raining pretty hard." Another shrug. He watches the older man. The way he just sits there, blank and unobservant, completely lost in his mind. The way he starts to rock himself slightly and his eyes are shifting but at the same time they aren't really seeing the things surrounding him. He keeps fidgeting and running his fingers through his hair without noticing, but it's okay because that's just Gerard. The newer Gerard, at least. The slightly crazy one. Mikey finds him fascinating.
Mikey gently places a hand on Gerard's shoulder; Gerard jumps. The jump is actually sort of belated, like there was a delay and it took a moment for him to feel his brother's hand on him. He looks up.
"Mikey... the rain hurts." He whispers. And he smiles.
It takes a while, nearly fifteen minutes, but Mikey finally succeeds in getting Gerard inside and into dry pajamas. Too big, too thick. But it's better then letting him sit in soaked jeans. He takes Gerard's hand and leads him to their room, the one they shared growing up. The one they've been sharing since they both moved back in to their parents house.
Bunk beds. Every little kid wants bunk beds. Gerard and Mikey got them, and Mikey was the envy of his entire first grade class when he told them during show and tell. He never told them that his big brother slept on the bottom one because he was scared of the top one, or how sometimes he would have to sleep with his big brother because Gerard still believed in the monster under the bed at nine and a half years old. Those were their secrets.
The bunk bed is still there. They shared it all through school, even though once they got into junior high, it was kind of embarrassing. But there isn't enough room for two seperate beds. Comic books are scattered around the room, in piles, on shelves next to rows of action figures. Geek central. That's what their room is.
Gerard crawls into his bunk- the bottem bunk- and curls up on top of the covers. His head misses the pillow but he doesn't seem to mind. His eyes close just as Mikey gets in next to him, promising to keep the monsters away like when they were little. "Not even you can keep them away anymore..." Gerard tells him. Mikey feels his heart sink to his stomach.
Gerard is fast asleep before Mikey can reply.
That night, he dreams about the gun.
He takes a walk in the morning with nothing but a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He needs time alone to clear his head. No supervision; he's not a fucking five-year-old.
When he was a kid, he used to play in the woods behind their house. Once Mikey was old enough, he started coming along and they'd walked down the path back there that eventually lead them a few miles away from their house. They were lost for hours. Gerard's always loved being lost. It makes for a good adventure.
Cigarette in hand, he walks and walks and walks and he isn't planning on stopping anytime soon. He stops paying attention to where he's going, allowing himself to wander from the path. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking. Frank always teased him for being lost in his head so much. "Do you have more fun in there then you do with me?" "Fuck you-" "Do you wanna?" Mikey didn't. Mikey never teased him, he's too serious about everything. He just liked to watch. Sometimes worry. No...always worry. "What are you thinking about?" "Nothing." "No, seriously..." "Nothing."
And, even before Gerard was like this, before he was a trainwreck, Mikey always did worry. He couldn't lay back and let things happen, the way Gerard did. He couldn't thrive in drama, he had to worry about making it all go away. It usually just makes things worse. "You look pale...are you okay?" "I'm always pale." "Yeah, but you look sick." "No shit. You cooked dinner." "Gee..." "I'm fine, Mikey. Jesus Christ, kid, relax for once, okay?" Mikey never relaxed. Gerard secretly loved it, no matter how much he pretended not to.
He lights another cigarette. Inhales. Thinking about Mikey gives him a headache. He decides it's because Mikey is a headache...but in a good way. Everything about Mikey is good. Except for when it hurts. "We can't keep doing this..." "'Course we can, there isn't anything wrong about it." "It's completely wrong. We're brothers..." "But we're in love, right?" "Dunno... are we?" "I'm in love with you..." "We'll see how far it can go." Mikey never said it back.
Gerard frowns. He never said it back.
Shaking hands light cigarette number three. Inhale. Relax. He closes his eyes. Mikey wouldn't have led him on. It's fucking ridiculous. They're brothers. They love each other. No matter what Mikey said at the hospital, or when it ended, he didn't lead Gerard on.
And then Gerard starts to feel sick because he realizes that now he isn't thinking about Frank at all. How can he go from mourning over his dead fiance to being angry about a fling with his own goddamn brother that ended four years ago? He shakes his head and closes his eyes tighter. Tighter. Tighter. His head is fucking throbbing. The cigarette drops from his hand and he feels his legs collapse from under him. He goes down.
He cries. He cries good and hard because he needs it. Because he hasn't cried this much since the funeral. Because he holds it in too long, letting go only a few silent tears and drops of blood and it's about time he lets it all go. Because he knows that Frank never had his whole heart, and he knows that Frank knew it too, and maybe that's why he let go so fast after the bullet tore through his heart. Because Frank knew that there was someone else who could pick up the peices and make Gerard okay if he didn't hold on.
Because Gerard feels like if he didn't love Mikey too, maybe Frank would still be alive.
He walks home when he's done, chain-smoking all the way. It doesn't take him too long to find the path. He's kind of glad. He doesn't feel much like having an adventure today.
He climbs into his room through the window. It was early when he left. The sun hadn't even come up, and since it hasn't been up long, he figures everyone is still asleep. Of course, he's wrong. Mikey is pacing nervously around their room. A small smile creeps up on Gerard's face; he almost laughs. Almost.
"You haven't changed at all..." He muses, pulling himself into the room. Mikey nearly tackles him.
"Where the fuck have you been?! You look like you've been crying.. are you hurt?"
"I just took a walk...there's things I had to think about." Gerard pushes his brother off of him and curls up in his bunk, discarding his empty cigarette carton on the floor. He never was very neat.
There's a long silence between them, but it isn't awkward like at the hospital. They just have nothing left to say. He watches Mikey dress like he used to do after they fucked. Shirt first, always a fucking band tee shirt, the kid didn't have much else. Socks. Girl jeans, no underwear because they show through the tight fabric. It doesn't even faze Gerard anymore, seeing his brother naked. And Mikey rarely notices Gerard watching. That's just they way they are. No big deal. Not anymore. Gerard has to remind himself that when he does think about it. It doesn't matter anymore.
"What time is it?" Gerard asks. The digital clock is out of his feild of vision and he's too lazy to get up and look. Mikey tells him that it's almost eleven. Gerard was gone longer then he thought. He breifly wonders if his parents are up yet, but then again, he doesn't really care because he doesn't want to be around them. He doesn't want to listen to his mom fussing over him and his father telling her to fucking back off because Gerard's grown up now and needs to start being able to take things like a man. (To which Gerard always wants to say "Since when am I a man? I'm always on bottem," or something like that, but he doesn't because it's better to just let his parents duke it out and get out of there before it gets bad.)
And then Gerard's train of thought goes right off the tracks and he starts thinking about when he was a kid and how his dad promised to take him to the zoo, but when Donald wasn't working, he was at home drinking and when he wasn't at home or at work, he at a bar drinking some more or maybe he was at some lady's house because he did that sort of thing a lot. And every day Gerard would say "Daddy can we go to the zoo now?", and every day Donald would say "Maybe tomorrow, kiddo," and he'd ruffle Gerard's hair, and back then Gerard thought his dad was the greatest person on earth because he was too young to understand. And then one day, Gerard came home from kindergarden, all excited because his dad fucking promised that they would go today, and he ran to his parents room where his dad usually was...and he heard yelling. A lot of yelling. He peeked in and saw his father, his fucking hero, hit his mom. Pack a bag. Push passed Gerard without so much as a goodbye. Leave. Things weren't ever the same between them after that, even after Donna took him back.
"...He never fucking took me to the zoo." Gerard mutters. Mikey looks at him and cocks an eyebrow. "...What?" Blank stare. He doesn't even realize he said anything. Mikey still isn't entirely used to it.
He shakes his head. "Nothing."
"Is it going to rain again tonight?" He's been asking every day. On clear nights, he just sits by the window, waiting. He feels closer to Frank when it's raining. They were closest in the rain.
"It can't rain all the time, Gee." Mikey opens the bedroom door, glancing back at his brother. He opens his mouth to tell Gerard that he's going to get lunch and does Gerard want to come with, but he's cut off.
"Why not?"
"Why not what?" The younger man frowns and fidgets with his glasses, which keep slidding down his nose. Blank stare. "Gee? What are you talking about?" He questions, leaning in the doorway.
"My head hurts...I don't wanna talk anymore."
Author: howXiXdisappear
Pairing: so far implied Gerard/Mikey, past 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'm staring to think that I might have to go beyond three chapters to get to the waycest, but I'm hoping not because the last thing I need right now is another full story on my hands. Again, this is my first Waycest, so concrit would be awesome. =]
Warnings: Incest. Language. Attempted suicide. Death. Not beta-ed.
My Valentine Has Hollow Eyes
It was raining the night Frank was killed. Gerard loved the rain back then. He loved the way it looked. The way it sounded. The way it felt. The cliché of kissing in the rain. Being wrapped in Frank’s arms in the rain. Making love in the rain. That night shouldn’t have happened.
It was raining, and they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were holding hands and they were kissing. They didn’t think it was a big deal. Back home, their old home, it was okay. Besides the occasional scoff in disgust by religious old ladies and men who weren’t comfortable enough with their sexuality, it usually went by unnoticed. They didn’t realize things would be so different.
It’s raining now and Gerard fucking hurts. He sits out in the backyard. His knees are drawn to his chest. Staring off, the way he does so often, he wonders if Frank is happy. Happy in Heaven. Happy away from him. He wonders what Frank is doing right now, if he can do anything right now. For a minute, not even a minute because it makes him feel sort of queasy to even think about it, he wonders if Frank is thinking about him.
With a sigh, Gerard shovels his hand through his hair. It’s soaked and tangled, and it’s kind of disgusting how this is as close as it’s come to being clean in almost a week. It gets kind of hard to shower sometimes, with Gerard being in his own world half of the time and in the hospital the rest of the time. But Gerard can’t bring himself to care too much about it now.
The door opens, the closes. Without turning around, he knows that his brother has come out to sit with him. “It’s kind of late.” Mikey says, shuffling closer to Gerard, who merely shrugs. "And... it's raining pretty hard." Another shrug. He watches the older man. The way he just sits there, blank and unobservant, completely lost in his mind. The way he starts to rock himself slightly and his eyes are shifting but at the same time they aren't really seeing the things surrounding him. He keeps fidgeting and running his fingers through his hair without noticing, but it's okay because that's just Gerard. The newer Gerard, at least. The slightly crazy one. Mikey finds him fascinating.
Mikey gently places a hand on Gerard's shoulder; Gerard jumps. The jump is actually sort of belated, like there was a delay and it took a moment for him to feel his brother's hand on him. He looks up.
"Mikey... the rain hurts." He whispers. And he smiles.
It takes a while, nearly fifteen minutes, but Mikey finally succeeds in getting Gerard inside and into dry pajamas. Too big, too thick. But it's better then letting him sit in soaked jeans. He takes Gerard's hand and leads him to their room, the one they shared growing up. The one they've been sharing since they both moved back in to their parents house.
Bunk beds. Every little kid wants bunk beds. Gerard and Mikey got them, and Mikey was the envy of his entire first grade class when he told them during show and tell. He never told them that his big brother slept on the bottom one because he was scared of the top one, or how sometimes he would have to sleep with his big brother because Gerard still believed in the monster under the bed at nine and a half years old. Those were their secrets.
The bunk bed is still there. They shared it all through school, even though once they got into junior high, it was kind of embarrassing. But there isn't enough room for two seperate beds. Comic books are scattered around the room, in piles, on shelves next to rows of action figures. Geek central. That's what their room is.
Gerard crawls into his bunk- the bottem bunk- and curls up on top of the covers. His head misses the pillow but he doesn't seem to mind. His eyes close just as Mikey gets in next to him, promising to keep the monsters away like when they were little. "Not even you can keep them away anymore..." Gerard tells him. Mikey feels his heart sink to his stomach.
Gerard is fast asleep before Mikey can reply.
That night, he dreams about the gun.
He takes a walk in the morning with nothing but a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He needs time alone to clear his head. No supervision; he's not a fucking five-year-old.
When he was a kid, he used to play in the woods behind their house. Once Mikey was old enough, he started coming along and they'd walked down the path back there that eventually lead them a few miles away from their house. They were lost for hours. Gerard's always loved being lost. It makes for a good adventure.
Cigarette in hand, he walks and walks and walks and he isn't planning on stopping anytime soon. He stops paying attention to where he's going, allowing himself to wander from the path. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking. Frank always teased him for being lost in his head so much. "Do you have more fun in there then you do with me?" "Fuck you-" "Do you wanna?" Mikey didn't. Mikey never teased him, he's too serious about everything. He just liked to watch. Sometimes worry. No...always worry. "What are you thinking about?" "Nothing." "No, seriously..." "Nothing."
And, even before Gerard was like this, before he was a trainwreck, Mikey always did worry. He couldn't lay back and let things happen, the way Gerard did. He couldn't thrive in drama, he had to worry about making it all go away. It usually just makes things worse. "You look pale...are you okay?" "I'm always pale." "Yeah, but you look sick." "No shit. You cooked dinner." "Gee..." "I'm fine, Mikey. Jesus Christ, kid, relax for once, okay?" Mikey never relaxed. Gerard secretly loved it, no matter how much he pretended not to.
He lights another cigarette. Inhales. Thinking about Mikey gives him a headache. He decides it's because Mikey is a headache...but in a good way. Everything about Mikey is good. Except for when it hurts. "We can't keep doing this..." "'Course we can, there isn't anything wrong about it." "It's completely wrong. We're brothers..." "But we're in love, right?" "Dunno... are we?" "I'm in love with you..." "We'll see how far it can go." Mikey never said it back.
Gerard frowns. He never said it back.
Shaking hands light cigarette number three. Inhale. Relax. He closes his eyes. Mikey wouldn't have led him on. It's fucking ridiculous. They're brothers. They love each other. No matter what Mikey said at the hospital, or when it ended, he didn't lead Gerard on.
And then Gerard starts to feel sick because he realizes that now he isn't thinking about Frank at all. How can he go from mourning over his dead fiance to being angry about a fling with his own goddamn brother that ended four years ago? He shakes his head and closes his eyes tighter. Tighter. Tighter. His head is fucking throbbing. The cigarette drops from his hand and he feels his legs collapse from under him. He goes down.
He cries. He cries good and hard because he needs it. Because he hasn't cried this much since the funeral. Because he holds it in too long, letting go only a few silent tears and drops of blood and it's about time he lets it all go. Because he knows that Frank never had his whole heart, and he knows that Frank knew it too, and maybe that's why he let go so fast after the bullet tore through his heart. Because Frank knew that there was someone else who could pick up the peices and make Gerard okay if he didn't hold on.
Because Gerard feels like if he didn't love Mikey too, maybe Frank would still be alive.
He walks home when he's done, chain-smoking all the way. It doesn't take him too long to find the path. He's kind of glad. He doesn't feel much like having an adventure today.
He climbs into his room through the window. It was early when he left. The sun hadn't even come up, and since it hasn't been up long, he figures everyone is still asleep. Of course, he's wrong. Mikey is pacing nervously around their room. A small smile creeps up on Gerard's face; he almost laughs. Almost.
"You haven't changed at all..." He muses, pulling himself into the room. Mikey nearly tackles him.
"Where the fuck have you been?! You look like you've been crying.. are you hurt?"
"I just took a walk...there's things I had to think about." Gerard pushes his brother off of him and curls up in his bunk, discarding his empty cigarette carton on the floor. He never was very neat.
There's a long silence between them, but it isn't awkward like at the hospital. They just have nothing left to say. He watches Mikey dress like he used to do after they fucked. Shirt first, always a fucking band tee shirt, the kid didn't have much else. Socks. Girl jeans, no underwear because they show through the tight fabric. It doesn't even faze Gerard anymore, seeing his brother naked. And Mikey rarely notices Gerard watching. That's just they way they are. No big deal. Not anymore. Gerard has to remind himself that when he does think about it. It doesn't matter anymore.
"What time is it?" Gerard asks. The digital clock is out of his feild of vision and he's too lazy to get up and look. Mikey tells him that it's almost eleven. Gerard was gone longer then he thought. He breifly wonders if his parents are up yet, but then again, he doesn't really care because he doesn't want to be around them. He doesn't want to listen to his mom fussing over him and his father telling her to fucking back off because Gerard's grown up now and needs to start being able to take things like a man. (To which Gerard always wants to say "Since when am I a man? I'm always on bottem," or something like that, but he doesn't because it's better to just let his parents duke it out and get out of there before it gets bad.)
And then Gerard's train of thought goes right off the tracks and he starts thinking about when he was a kid and how his dad promised to take him to the zoo, but when Donald wasn't working, he was at home drinking and when he wasn't at home or at work, he at a bar drinking some more or maybe he was at some lady's house because he did that sort of thing a lot. And every day Gerard would say "Daddy can we go to the zoo now?", and every day Donald would say "Maybe tomorrow, kiddo," and he'd ruffle Gerard's hair, and back then Gerard thought his dad was the greatest person on earth because he was too young to understand. And then one day, Gerard came home from kindergarden, all excited because his dad fucking promised that they would go today, and he ran to his parents room where his dad usually was...and he heard yelling. A lot of yelling. He peeked in and saw his father, his fucking hero, hit his mom. Pack a bag. Push passed Gerard without so much as a goodbye. Leave. Things weren't ever the same between them after that, even after Donna took him back.
"...He never fucking took me to the zoo." Gerard mutters. Mikey looks at him and cocks an eyebrow. "...What?" Blank stare. He doesn't even realize he said anything. Mikey still isn't entirely used to it.
He shakes his head. "Nothing."
"Is it going to rain again tonight?" He's been asking every day. On clear nights, he just sits by the window, waiting. He feels closer to Frank when it's raining. They were closest in the rain.
"It can't rain all the time, Gee." Mikey opens the bedroom door, glancing back at his brother. He opens his mouth to tell Gerard that he's going to get lunch and does Gerard want to come with, but he's cut off.
"Why not?"
"Why not what?" The younger man frowns and fidgets with his glasses, which keep slidding down his nose. Blank stare. "Gee? What are you talking about?" He questions, leaning in the doorway.
"My head hurts...I don't wanna talk anymore."