This Is More (1/12)
September.
The nineteenth day wasn’t any easier. Wake up, roll over, and make yourself get out of bed. Maybe everyone lived life like this sometimes, but Frank wouldn’t know. At least he got up and he took his shower and he put on his clothes. He made it to Chemistry class on time, where Mikey was standing so diligently with a lab report sitting right there, glaringly white to Frank, but not done on purpose. Mikey wasn’t that kind of person.
“Happy Monday,” And a smile. Frank rolled his eyes a bit and set his bag down. “Yeah, Money is fun day,” he responded, which made Mikey roll his eyes as well. The small talk is normal, as are all the questions that Frank has to ask in order to keep up with whatever is going on during this lesson, trying to use up all the empty space for thinking in his brain (there isn’t much) to absorb at least one thing that he’ll have to remember. But Mikey is the patient, quiet voice that translates everything the professor is saying, he is the understanding touch on his forearm whenever Frank gets frustrated. It’s nice, and it’s easy, and it’s exactly what he needs, and Frank knows that. But he hates it anyway. He doesn’t want anyone to care, or have that watchful eye behind the glasses that he suspects Mikey wears because of the night that Frank and Gerard yelled at him about how contacts were fucking lame one night, but has never really called him on. Frank wonders vaguely if he’ll ever initiate conversation ever again.
---
After the lesson, it’s that awkward lapse all over again because Frank and Mikey? They’re friends, that much is totally clear, but Frank isn’t sure if it’s still that best friend thing they had going Before because the fact that there is a Before and After kind of fucked everything up. Even so, he asks Mikey if he wants to get some coffee because, in a selfish way, he just doesn’t want to go get coffee alone.
Mikey says yes and Frank ends up realizing that he’d initiated the conversation and wonders for the trillionth time in the past few days how surprising himself is even possible at this point.
---
“You know, I’m never gonna fuckin’ understand why there’s constantly so many people here because, really, it’s a privilege to have a morning class and then a break until you have an evening class on Mondays.”
Mikey always did this, Frank realized. He talked about a lot of normal, college-type things. Nothing too specific, nothing too scary, and certainty nothing that could be pigeon-holed to fill up that empty spot the Frank’s lower back where Gerard’s hand should have been. The reality was that should have didn’t even apply to anything, because if it should have happened, it would have. Right? Frank wasn’t entirely sure, and he finds himself totally lost in thought and Mikey has stopped moving at some point moments before and was now standing there in the middle of the quad. Frank turns back, his lips form the playful what the fuck? but he doesn’t speak because Mikey is looking at him, really looking at him, and he doesn’t even know why. It’s not very threatening or intimidating despite the fact that it’s sort of haunting Frank and burning through his retinas. He does, however, suspect that he doesn’t know why for a reason and the reason being that he didn’t know much of anything about interacting with people anymore, so he lets it go. It was better to pick your battles, wasn’t it? Finally, Mikey just shakes his head and the flicker of a smile appears on his lips, like a peek-a-boo, and he walks forward to catch up with Frank. Twenty minutes later, they order their coffee and Mikey touches the same place on Frank’s right arm that he always does and, without even looking at him, speaks for the first time since they had begun moving again.
“Coffee’s on me today.” And Frank wonders why he never paid attention to Mikey Before even though he knows exactly why.
---
Sleep is superfluous these days. He doesn’t really need it, but it’s wired into his system because, hello, he is still a human even if he doesn’t feel remotely normal. The problem is that the more he rejects it, the more he’s unable to sleep at night and he discovers that sleeping in an empty bed is the single most depressing thing in the world at four in the morning. It’s really not at all fair to himself that he constantly feels the need place up all sorts of reminders in his brain about how it must be easier for everyone else, how he’s just a fucking idiot, how he needs to get over it/himself/everything. In the twenty-one days so far since Gerard and he broke up, Frank somehow required a million new CD’s that he puts on repeat every single night, smoking cigarette after cigarette in his room even though he’s not supposed to, and sort of just… Being. There’s no other word for it because living would seriously be stretching it and he is, in fact, well aware that he probably spends more time in stationary spot than most people do, but that’s fine with him. Mostly. Mostly, the word that could describe everything lately. He was mostly okay, mostly happy, mostly awake, mostly ready, mostly coherent, mostly alive. But the opposite side of that ‘mostly’ was the thing that got him every single time.
________________________________________
Sometimes Mikey Way thinks that he could seriously kill his brother. It was bad enough that he was all superhardcoreintodrugsandtoocoolforanyone!Gerard rather than superlamecomicgeekthatnevergetslaid!Gerard, but the fact that he had to take someone else down with him just wasn’t fair. Especially to Frank. Because, well, the younger of the Way brothers had never met anyone else in the entire world that was in more likeness to a teddy bear in his entire fucking life and teddy bears weren’t meant to be abused. If its eye fell off, you sewed it the fuck back on. If it got a tear, you patched it up. Gerard had basically just set the entire proverbial teddy bear known as Frank Anthony Iero on fire and doused the flames with a side of Bert McCracken, who was not at all impressive to Mikey in any way, shape or form. Besides, who ever said that cocaine was glamorous had obviously not seen their older brother coming down off of it and threatening to throw chairs and shit. He never told Frank any of this, because he knew that it sucked for him just knowing that Gerard did it at all and he did not need to know how bad he got, and how Mikey was really never in his dorm for longer than an hour at night because his brother needed him simply because his new boyfriend couldn’t be bothered half the time. How he’d ever thought that going from Bert to Frank was trading up was truly beyond him, and whenever he even mentioned it to Gerard, he was all ‘you wouldn’t understand because you’re younger’ and ‘you’ll know once you fall in love’ but Mikey wasn’t a fool and he knew that Gerard and Bert were in no way in love, except for with each other’s bodies. Frank and Gerard had been, though. Everyone in their group knew it and accepted it and thought it was the greatest thing ever. Even if they were brothers, Mikey would never, ever be able to understand why Gerard did anything. And it was just another one of those nights where his sibling just proved to him again that the tables should have been turned. He should have been the one addicted to drugs, he should have been the one fucking up his life, he should have been the one drunk texting at four in the morning because he needed help but could never fucking ask for it. Mikey was younger, yet light-years more responsible than the elder of the pair had ever been and it was beginning to look like it was always going to be that way. But this night was different, at least for him. This was the first night that Mikey Way read the texts on his phone, heard the explosion of music when Gerard resorted to actually calling, and rolled over after turning his phone off and burying it beneath a pile of dirty clothes so he could actually sleep.
This was the first night he decided not to give a fuck.
________________________________________
In another dorm room on the same night, it wasn’t at all different for Gerard Way. He is coked up, he is panicking, he is wondering how fast his heart can beat before he dies. The logical part of him left (around 1.7% at this point) knows that he isn’t going to die. He also knows that Bert is passed out drunk and it was probably a really bad idea to do a line and then get stuck by himself when he was that high. It’s worse that Mikey won’t call or text back and he wonders if he did something wrong. Gerard has been wondering that a lot lately and through his drug-induced stupor he realizes that he doesn’t want to know the answer simply because he knows it already and he doesn’t want to believe it.
________________________________________
Even still, in a third separate dorm room, Frank Iero is sitting on his bed and listening to Black Flag and smoking a cigarette and for the first time in ten months and nineteen fucking days he is not thinking about Gerard Way.
The nineteenth day wasn’t any easier. Wake up, roll over, and make yourself get out of bed. Maybe everyone lived life like this sometimes, but Frank wouldn’t know. At least he got up and he took his shower and he put on his clothes. He made it to Chemistry class on time, where Mikey was standing so diligently with a lab report sitting right there, glaringly white to Frank, but not done on purpose. Mikey wasn’t that kind of person.
“Happy Monday,” And a smile. Frank rolled his eyes a bit and set his bag down. “Yeah, Money is fun day,” he responded, which made Mikey roll his eyes as well. The small talk is normal, as are all the questions that Frank has to ask in order to keep up with whatever is going on during this lesson, trying to use up all the empty space for thinking in his brain (there isn’t much) to absorb at least one thing that he’ll have to remember. But Mikey is the patient, quiet voice that translates everything the professor is saying, he is the understanding touch on his forearm whenever Frank gets frustrated. It’s nice, and it’s easy, and it’s exactly what he needs, and Frank knows that. But he hates it anyway. He doesn’t want anyone to care, or have that watchful eye behind the glasses that he suspects Mikey wears because of the night that Frank and Gerard yelled at him about how contacts were fucking lame one night, but has never really called him on. Frank wonders vaguely if he’ll ever initiate conversation ever again.
---
After the lesson, it’s that awkward lapse all over again because Frank and Mikey? They’re friends, that much is totally clear, but Frank isn’t sure if it’s still that best friend thing they had going Before because the fact that there is a Before and After kind of fucked everything up. Even so, he asks Mikey if he wants to get some coffee because, in a selfish way, he just doesn’t want to go get coffee alone.
Mikey says yes and Frank ends up realizing that he’d initiated the conversation and wonders for the trillionth time in the past few days how surprising himself is even possible at this point.
---
“You know, I’m never gonna fuckin’ understand why there’s constantly so many people here because, really, it’s a privilege to have a morning class and then a break until you have an evening class on Mondays.”
Mikey always did this, Frank realized. He talked about a lot of normal, college-type things. Nothing too specific, nothing too scary, and certainty nothing that could be pigeon-holed to fill up that empty spot the Frank’s lower back where Gerard’s hand should have been. The reality was that should have didn’t even apply to anything, because if it should have happened, it would have. Right? Frank wasn’t entirely sure, and he finds himself totally lost in thought and Mikey has stopped moving at some point moments before and was now standing there in the middle of the quad. Frank turns back, his lips form the playful what the fuck? but he doesn’t speak because Mikey is looking at him, really looking at him, and he doesn’t even know why. It’s not very threatening or intimidating despite the fact that it’s sort of haunting Frank and burning through his retinas. He does, however, suspect that he doesn’t know why for a reason and the reason being that he didn’t know much of anything about interacting with people anymore, so he lets it go. It was better to pick your battles, wasn’t it? Finally, Mikey just shakes his head and the flicker of a smile appears on his lips, like a peek-a-boo, and he walks forward to catch up with Frank. Twenty minutes later, they order their coffee and Mikey touches the same place on Frank’s right arm that he always does and, without even looking at him, speaks for the first time since they had begun moving again.
“Coffee’s on me today.” And Frank wonders why he never paid attention to Mikey Before even though he knows exactly why.
---
Sleep is superfluous these days. He doesn’t really need it, but it’s wired into his system because, hello, he is still a human even if he doesn’t feel remotely normal. The problem is that the more he rejects it, the more he’s unable to sleep at night and he discovers that sleeping in an empty bed is the single most depressing thing in the world at four in the morning. It’s really not at all fair to himself that he constantly feels the need place up all sorts of reminders in his brain about how it must be easier for everyone else, how he’s just a fucking idiot, how he needs to get over it/himself/everything. In the twenty-one days so far since Gerard and he broke up, Frank somehow required a million new CD’s that he puts on repeat every single night, smoking cigarette after cigarette in his room even though he’s not supposed to, and sort of just… Being. There’s no other word for it because living would seriously be stretching it and he is, in fact, well aware that he probably spends more time in stationary spot than most people do, but that’s fine with him. Mostly. Mostly, the word that could describe everything lately. He was mostly okay, mostly happy, mostly awake, mostly ready, mostly coherent, mostly alive. But the opposite side of that ‘mostly’ was the thing that got him every single time.
________________________________________
Sometimes Mikey Way thinks that he could seriously kill his brother. It was bad enough that he was all superhardcoreintodrugsandtoocoolforanyone!Gerard rather than superlamecomicgeekthatnevergetslaid!Gerard, but the fact that he had to take someone else down with him just wasn’t fair. Especially to Frank. Because, well, the younger of the Way brothers had never met anyone else in the entire world that was in more likeness to a teddy bear in his entire fucking life and teddy bears weren’t meant to be abused. If its eye fell off, you sewed it the fuck back on. If it got a tear, you patched it up. Gerard had basically just set the entire proverbial teddy bear known as Frank Anthony Iero on fire and doused the flames with a side of Bert McCracken, who was not at all impressive to Mikey in any way, shape or form. Besides, who ever said that cocaine was glamorous had obviously not seen their older brother coming down off of it and threatening to throw chairs and shit. He never told Frank any of this, because he knew that it sucked for him just knowing that Gerard did it at all and he did not need to know how bad he got, and how Mikey was really never in his dorm for longer than an hour at night because his brother needed him simply because his new boyfriend couldn’t be bothered half the time. How he’d ever thought that going from Bert to Frank was trading up was truly beyond him, and whenever he even mentioned it to Gerard, he was all ‘you wouldn’t understand because you’re younger’ and ‘you’ll know once you fall in love’ but Mikey wasn’t a fool and he knew that Gerard and Bert were in no way in love, except for with each other’s bodies. Frank and Gerard had been, though. Everyone in their group knew it and accepted it and thought it was the greatest thing ever. Even if they were brothers, Mikey would never, ever be able to understand why Gerard did anything. And it was just another one of those nights where his sibling just proved to him again that the tables should have been turned. He should have been the one addicted to drugs, he should have been the one fucking up his life, he should have been the one drunk texting at four in the morning because he needed help but could never fucking ask for it. Mikey was younger, yet light-years more responsible than the elder of the pair had ever been and it was beginning to look like it was always going to be that way. But this night was different, at least for him. This was the first night that Mikey Way read the texts on his phone, heard the explosion of music when Gerard resorted to actually calling, and rolled over after turning his phone off and burying it beneath a pile of dirty clothes so he could actually sleep.
This was the first night he decided not to give a fuck.
________________________________________
In another dorm room on the same night, it wasn’t at all different for Gerard Way. He is coked up, he is panicking, he is wondering how fast his heart can beat before he dies. The logical part of him left (around 1.7% at this point) knows that he isn’t going to die. He also knows that Bert is passed out drunk and it was probably a really bad idea to do a line and then get stuck by himself when he was that high. It’s worse that Mikey won’t call or text back and he wonders if he did something wrong. Gerard has been wondering that a lot lately and through his drug-induced stupor he realizes that he doesn’t want to know the answer simply because he knows it already and he doesn’t want to believe it.
________________________________________
Even still, in a third separate dorm room, Frank Iero is sitting on his bed and listening to Black Flag and smoking a cigarette and for the first time in ten months and nineteen fucking days he is not thinking about Gerard Way.