dɪsɪnˈtʃɑːntɪd Part IV
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Rating: NC-17, but the chapter is PG
Pairing: Gerard/Mikey
Summary: MCR moves into the Paramour mansion. Mikey has some mixed feelings about the move but he tries to push them aside and attempts to adjust to his new environment. It doesn't take long before eerie and strange things start happening. The longer the band stays the worse things seem to get. Mikey starts losing sleep at night, hearing people in his room, starts seeing things. He caves one night and seeks comfort in his brother.
(Forever grateful to katiexrawr for betaing~)
Previous chapter:
Prologue
Part I
Part II Part III
dɪsɪnˈtʃɑːntɪd
IV
The cigarette dangles precariously between Mikey’s index and middle finger. He’s staring up at the peach tinted sky, the clouds orange and warm looking. His jacket is zipped up all the way and his hood is pulled over his head. He’s outside, lying in the grass in front of the mansion. The ground is freezing beneath him, his back numb from the cold.
Mikey’s hand is pressed to the side of his head, holding his cell phone. He lifts the cigarette and inhales off it, watches a peach tinted cloud drift by overhead.
“I can’t wait to get this tour over and head back home…” Alicia is on the other end of the line, her voice exhausted sounding. “Everyone’s been a dick lately and I don’t think I’ve slept right since I left.”
“How much longer do you have?” Mikey’s voice is soft and sounds just as exhausted.
“Three more weeks.”
“That’s not that long.” He tries to sound reassuring but doesn’t know if that’s how it comes across.
“I know…” Alicia sighs through the phone and Mikey can hear her shift about. “When I get home I’m turning my fucking phone off and going to sleep.”
“Yeah…?” Mikey closes his eyes, flicks his cigarette ashes onto the grass beside him. He feels odd talking about sleeping, knows that even though Alicia can’t see him she can hear it in his voice, can hear how tired he is.
She gives a small laugh and Mikey wants to smile at the sound of it. “I’ll stop bitching about work now - how have you been?” she asks.
“Fine…” Mikey pulls his eyes open and stares at the cigarette in his hand. He inhales off it, realizing that Alicia is waiting for more. “Been in the studio a lot lately.”
“Make anything good?”
“Ray’s been trying to tweak the bass part of this one song that we’ve almost got done. Gee’s… he’s made another one already, asked Frank to make the guitar strings for it.”
“That’s cool. Enjoying the giant mansion?”
Mikey opens his mouth, is about to say “no,” when he stops himself. “Yeah…” He replies with a bit of hesitation. “It’s weird though, I’ve got no signal on my phone in half the building.”
“That makes sense though, I mean you are outside of the city.”
“Too far outside…” He turns and glances off at the city in the distance, down the hill. “I kind of feel like I’m on an island.”
-
He pushes the front door open as he stares down at his phone, the display glowing brightly in the fading light. The battery is almost dead and he watches as the signal bars drop when the door falls shut behind him, heavy and silent.
Mikey reaches up and pushes his hood off his head, notices his brother sitting on the steps across from the front door. Gerard is staring at him, sketch book open on his knees, mechanical pencil held tightly in his right hand.
“I was wondering where you went…” He shifts on the steps, nervous.
“Alicia wanted me to call her.”
“Yeah…?”
Mikey nods and takes a step farther into the mansion. “…don’t get any real fucking signal in here.”
Gerard gives a weak smile in response. He reaches up and runs his fingers through his unwashed hair - looks back down at his sketch book, fumbles with the edge of the papers. Mikey doesn’t move, just watches as his brother fidgets on the steps.
“Where are the others?”
Gerard looks up, eyes a little larger than usual. “In the studio. They kicked me out because my voice was cracking,” The corner of his mouth quirks up into a half felt smile.
Mikey nods and looks past his brother, to the top of the stairs. He feels like they’re being watched and it makes his skin itch. The mansion is silent and the light from the halls are dim and yellow looking. The foyer is lit with a chandelier ornate and abstract looking to Mikey. The metal is a dark brass, the lights small and feigning the shape of a flame.
“Mikes…?”
He looks back at Gerard, who’s gripping his sketch book even tighter.
“You okay? You kind of zoned out on me…”
“Yeah I’m fine.” Mikey reaches up and rubs his eyes. They ache and feel tender under his fingertips. The pressure is nice and he wants to just stay there, press against his eyes and pretend he’s somewhere else.
“You hungry?”
Gerard is standing when Mikey looks up, his glasses crooked on his nose. His brother is giving him this look, like he isn’t sure what to think and there’s this pressure against the back of his skull.
“Yeah… I am - what do we still have in the fridge?”
Gerard takes a step towards the kitchen, hesitates until Mikey moves. “Um… I think we have cereal and… bread…?” He flips his sketch book shut and hooks the mechanical pencil onto the spiral.
“Bread is good.” Mikey looks down when he says this, shoulders hunched a little. He’s stuffed his hands into his pockets and Gerard can’t help but feel like he’s trying to block things out.
-
The kitchen is the brightest place in the whole mansion. The fluorescent lights humming loudly after having been flicked on, light bouncing off the white cabinets and marble counter tops. Gerard is sitting at the island counter, sketch book open and drawing. His feet are propped up on one of the bars on the stool he’s on, boots leaving scuff marks where they slip off.
Mikey’s sitting neck to him, head propped up on his hand, elbow pressing into the counter top. His body is turned, shifted so that he’s facing his brother, watching as he draws. There’s a discarded plate on the counter top pushed away from them, a pile of dishes in the sink.
“I like that one, what’s it supposed to be?” Mikey leans over to get a better look at his brother’s drawing.
“I’m not sure yet, but I like it too.”
The kitchen door is pushed open and Frank halts suddenly, looking like he’s walking into a wall. He blinks a few times eyes adjusting to the bright lights.
“Holy fuck you guys - it’s like fucking glowing in here.” Frank reaches up and rubs at his eyes. “Like fucking hell do you need every single light on?” He lowers his hands a little and peers through his fingers, cut off gloves fraying around the edges.
“I’m drawing.” Gerard says it like it should be obvious, still hunched over his sketch book.
Frank rolls his eyes and takes a step towards the fridge. His eyes land on the discarded plate in front of the brothers.
“Did you…cook?” He says it like the word leaves a foul taste in his mouth.
“Kind of?” Mikey shrugs and sits up a little straighter. Gerard shifts in his seat next to him, leg fidgeting under the edge of the island counter.
Frank turns slowly and looks at the pile of dishes in the sink. He groans, shoulders slumping at the sight. “Fucking hell, I JUST cleaned the kitchen this morning.” He turns at the sound of chairs shifting, glares at the older men.
“I’ll do the dishes…tomorrow…?” Gerard smiles at this, sheepish as Mikey stands from his seat. He watches his brother walk out of the kitchen, the door swinging shut after him.
Frank sighs and Gerard turns back to him. “Look I’ll do them another time, I just…” He tilts his head towards the door.
“Yeah, I know… “ Frank looks over at the still swaying object. “Just - make sure he’s okay.” He turns back to Gerard who’s flipping his art book shut.
“I know, and thanks.” He gives a weak smile as the smaller man turns and starts pulling his gloves off.
“What the fuck did you make…?”
“Quesadilla’s…” Gerard calls back before the door shuts behind him. Frank spins around and stares at the empty room. He opens his mouth and shuts it, glances back at the pile of dishes.
“I’m not going to ask.” He decides pushing his sleeves up.
-
Mikey pushes his bedroom door open and just stands there. The air inside is cold - a noticeable difference from the hall and it makes his skin prickle. He takes a step inside, the faint blue light glowing and tinting everything. He flicks the overhead light on and waits a second, feels like something is going to jump out at him.
When nothing moves he walks over to his night stand and plugs his phone in, sets it down. Mikey lies back on his bed and stairs up at the ceiling. His head hurts, a dull ache in the back of his skull, a pressure from something he’s trying to ignore. He closes his eyes and does his best to ignore how weird it feels in his room.
How uncomfortable he feels.
There’s a knock on the door, a light one.
“It’s open…” Mikey doesn’t open his eyes, they feel heavy and he’s tired. He listens to the door open, expects to hear someone say something to him. The room stays silent - until the sound of boots on the wooden floor are heard, heavy and loud in the silence.
“What is it…?” He pulls his eyes open and looks towards the door.
There’s a shape there, faint and blurred around the edges with a slight darkness where the eyes should go.
Mikey jumps, flings himself across the bed. He slips off the edge, and drops onto the floor with an audible thunk - a shout ripping from his lungs. His heart rate has sky rocketed and there’s fear coursing through him. He can feel it straight down to his finger tips, hands shaking as he stumbles up right, and runs from the room.
The mansion is silent and he doesn’t know where Gerard has gone, doesn’t want to stay and look for him or anyone else.
He doesn’t want to be inside anymore.
Mikey’s outside before his mind has a chance to catch up with him, down the road a ways. His chest hurts and his breathing is ragged. He’s gasping a little, wheezing from smoking too much. He stumbles a little and kneels down beside the road. Everything is dark around him and he doesn’t hear anything aside from his own gasping breathes.
His stomach tightens as he tries to inhale again, a sharp pain in his chest.
Mikey tastes the bile rise up in the back of his throat and leans forward, feels his muscles tighten and contract as he pukes on the side of the road. He coughs up the food Gerard made him earlier and the remains of what he had for lunch. He gages a little on the taste and the burning in his throat waits for his body to calm down before leaning back, dropping onto the ground.
The trees and small forest that surround the mansion are silent, the faint humming of insects distant and far off. It’s cold out, colder than it has been in a while.
The sweat on Mikey’s forehead is cooling and drying, his hair sticking to his skin. His legs ache and he feels dizzy - disoriented. He reaches into the pocket of his hoodie for his phone, fingers grasping nothing. He pats himself, looking for his phone and feels something in his back pocket. Mikey pulls out his cigarettes and lighter, frowns.
“Shit…” He breathes out realizing he plugged it in before…
Before…
Mikey flips open the pack of cigarettes and stares down at the last one he has, pulls it out and lights it. He tilts his head back and looks up at the stars, wisps of smoke curling up and fading into the night. He finishes the cigarette before glancing back up the way he came.
The mansion is quite a ways back, situated neatly atop the hill dark and ominous looking.
Mikey turns and looks in the other direction, at the brightly lit city. The lights flicker and shift about, teasing him with their life promise of people.
He doesn’t like people much but he’d prefer them to what he’s been interacting with lately.
Mikey stubs his cigarette out on the ground and pushes himself up. He stares at the city for a while longer before turning and starting to climb the hill back to the mansion. He doesn’t let himself turn around again knows that if he did he would just keep walking.
He knows that if he made it to the city he wouldn’t come back.
-
The front door is shut when he approaches it, and he hesitates a moment before pulling it open. The foyer is dimly lit, a faint light from the side hall illuminating the stairs. Mikey pulls the door shut behind him, tries to make it as soft as possible. He doesn’t want to be asked why he was outside, what he was doing.
He doesn’t want to talk about what he saw.
Mikey heads for the stairs and walks slowly. His feet feel heavy and he doesn’t want to go back to his room. He wants to stop and make Gerard or Frank go get it but he doesn’t want to explain why. The hallway is just as silent as the foyer and when he passes Gerard’s room the light is off. Mikey stops walking halfway between the rooms, stares at his bedroom door.
It’s shut and the light is still on. He feels like someone is waiting for him, that when he opens the door everything is going to go dark and…
Mikey pushes the thoughts back, and reaches for the door knob. He turns it and opens the door slowly. The room is the same as he left it - still cold and still uncomfortable. His phone is sitting on the night stand and he walks over to it, unplugs it and watches the display light it.
It’s just after three.
The door to his room sways shut slowly.
Mikey stuffs his phone in his pocket and walks towards the bathroom. He flicks the light on and pulls the door shut. He stands there a second, hands shaking. He feels cold and hot at the same time, can feel his adrenaline rising again.
In the other room he can hear Gerard snoring lightly a faint and familiar sound.
Mikey flicks the bathroom light off and pulls the door open slowly.
His brother’s room is warmer than his own, gives off this calm and detached feeling. Gerard is lying on the bed, tangled up his sheets and snoring. Mikey tugs the bathroom door shut and takes a step. He stops, watches his brother a moment. He wants to reach out, call out to him till he wakes up, but he’s scared.
Scared of what else might respond.
Mikey walks over to the edge of the bed and lies down on floor. He stares up at the ceiling, at the dark shadows creeping across it. He rolls onto his side and closes his eyes, listens to Gerard breathing. If the floor wasn’t so hard or cold he’d be able to believe he was a kid again, that he had a nightmare and had just woken up in the middle of the night.
Gerard shifts on the bed and Mikey pulls his knees up, curls up where he is.
The room smells more like Gerard with his clothes littered about, with the sheets that haven’t been washed since they got there. Mikey focuses on this and lets it calm him coupled with the thought of when they were children.
He falls asleep like this only to wake up a few hours later.
-
Mikey blinks, the room much brighter then when he came in. His back and neck are sore - his shoulder numb from where he was laying on it. He sits up and straightens his glasses, glances at the bed next to him. Gerard is still asleep, mouth hanging open and head tilted to the side. The blankets have been twisted around the bed, some of them are starting to fall off.
He sits there a moment, trying to figure out what it was that woke him.
He hears it then, loud chattering from outside the room. Mikey pushes himself up and heads for the door, steps out into the hall. He pulls it shut behind himself and listens to the conversation going on. He hears Brian and heads towards the voices, hoping that he brought cigarettes again.
Rating: NC-17, but the chapter is PG
Pairing: Gerard/Mikey
Summary: MCR moves into the Paramour mansion. Mikey has some mixed feelings about the move but he tries to push them aside and attempts to adjust to his new environment. It doesn't take long before eerie and strange things start happening. The longer the band stays the worse things seem to get. Mikey starts losing sleep at night, hearing people in his room, starts seeing things. He caves one night and seeks comfort in his brother.
(Forever grateful to katiexrawr for betaing~)
Previous chapter:
Prologue
Part I
Part II Part III
dɪsɪnˈtʃɑːntɪd
IV
The cigarette dangles precariously between Mikey’s index and middle finger. He’s staring up at the peach tinted sky, the clouds orange and warm looking. His jacket is zipped up all the way and his hood is pulled over his head. He’s outside, lying in the grass in front of the mansion. The ground is freezing beneath him, his back numb from the cold.
Mikey’s hand is pressed to the side of his head, holding his cell phone. He lifts the cigarette and inhales off it, watches a peach tinted cloud drift by overhead.
“I can’t wait to get this tour over and head back home…” Alicia is on the other end of the line, her voice exhausted sounding. “Everyone’s been a dick lately and I don’t think I’ve slept right since I left.”
“How much longer do you have?” Mikey’s voice is soft and sounds just as exhausted.
“Three more weeks.”
“That’s not that long.” He tries to sound reassuring but doesn’t know if that’s how it comes across.
“I know…” Alicia sighs through the phone and Mikey can hear her shift about. “When I get home I’m turning my fucking phone off and going to sleep.”
“Yeah…?” Mikey closes his eyes, flicks his cigarette ashes onto the grass beside him. He feels odd talking about sleeping, knows that even though Alicia can’t see him she can hear it in his voice, can hear how tired he is.
She gives a small laugh and Mikey wants to smile at the sound of it. “I’ll stop bitching about work now - how have you been?” she asks.
“Fine…” Mikey pulls his eyes open and stares at the cigarette in his hand. He inhales off it, realizing that Alicia is waiting for more. “Been in the studio a lot lately.”
“Make anything good?”
“Ray’s been trying to tweak the bass part of this one song that we’ve almost got done. Gee’s… he’s made another one already, asked Frank to make the guitar strings for it.”
“That’s cool. Enjoying the giant mansion?”
Mikey opens his mouth, is about to say “no,” when he stops himself. “Yeah…” He replies with a bit of hesitation. “It’s weird though, I’ve got no signal on my phone in half the building.”
“That makes sense though, I mean you are outside of the city.”
“Too far outside…” He turns and glances off at the city in the distance, down the hill. “I kind of feel like I’m on an island.”
-
He pushes the front door open as he stares down at his phone, the display glowing brightly in the fading light. The battery is almost dead and he watches as the signal bars drop when the door falls shut behind him, heavy and silent.
Mikey reaches up and pushes his hood off his head, notices his brother sitting on the steps across from the front door. Gerard is staring at him, sketch book open on his knees, mechanical pencil held tightly in his right hand.
“I was wondering where you went…” He shifts on the steps, nervous.
“Alicia wanted me to call her.”
“Yeah…?”
Mikey nods and takes a step farther into the mansion. “…don’t get any real fucking signal in here.”
Gerard gives a weak smile in response. He reaches up and runs his fingers through his unwashed hair - looks back down at his sketch book, fumbles with the edge of the papers. Mikey doesn’t move, just watches as his brother fidgets on the steps.
“Where are the others?”
Gerard looks up, eyes a little larger than usual. “In the studio. They kicked me out because my voice was cracking,” The corner of his mouth quirks up into a half felt smile.
Mikey nods and looks past his brother, to the top of the stairs. He feels like they’re being watched and it makes his skin itch. The mansion is silent and the light from the halls are dim and yellow looking. The foyer is lit with a chandelier ornate and abstract looking to Mikey. The metal is a dark brass, the lights small and feigning the shape of a flame.
“Mikes…?”
He looks back at Gerard, who’s gripping his sketch book even tighter.
“You okay? You kind of zoned out on me…”
“Yeah I’m fine.” Mikey reaches up and rubs his eyes. They ache and feel tender under his fingertips. The pressure is nice and he wants to just stay there, press against his eyes and pretend he’s somewhere else.
“You hungry?”
Gerard is standing when Mikey looks up, his glasses crooked on his nose. His brother is giving him this look, like he isn’t sure what to think and there’s this pressure against the back of his skull.
“Yeah… I am - what do we still have in the fridge?”
Gerard takes a step towards the kitchen, hesitates until Mikey moves. “Um… I think we have cereal and… bread…?” He flips his sketch book shut and hooks the mechanical pencil onto the spiral.
“Bread is good.” Mikey looks down when he says this, shoulders hunched a little. He’s stuffed his hands into his pockets and Gerard can’t help but feel like he’s trying to block things out.
-
The kitchen is the brightest place in the whole mansion. The fluorescent lights humming loudly after having been flicked on, light bouncing off the white cabinets and marble counter tops. Gerard is sitting at the island counter, sketch book open and drawing. His feet are propped up on one of the bars on the stool he’s on, boots leaving scuff marks where they slip off.
Mikey’s sitting neck to him, head propped up on his hand, elbow pressing into the counter top. His body is turned, shifted so that he’s facing his brother, watching as he draws. There’s a discarded plate on the counter top pushed away from them, a pile of dishes in the sink.
“I like that one, what’s it supposed to be?” Mikey leans over to get a better look at his brother’s drawing.
“I’m not sure yet, but I like it too.”
The kitchen door is pushed open and Frank halts suddenly, looking like he’s walking into a wall. He blinks a few times eyes adjusting to the bright lights.
“Holy fuck you guys - it’s like fucking glowing in here.” Frank reaches up and rubs at his eyes. “Like fucking hell do you need every single light on?” He lowers his hands a little and peers through his fingers, cut off gloves fraying around the edges.
“I’m drawing.” Gerard says it like it should be obvious, still hunched over his sketch book.
Frank rolls his eyes and takes a step towards the fridge. His eyes land on the discarded plate in front of the brothers.
“Did you…cook?” He says it like the word leaves a foul taste in his mouth.
“Kind of?” Mikey shrugs and sits up a little straighter. Gerard shifts in his seat next to him, leg fidgeting under the edge of the island counter.
Frank turns slowly and looks at the pile of dishes in the sink. He groans, shoulders slumping at the sight. “Fucking hell, I JUST cleaned the kitchen this morning.” He turns at the sound of chairs shifting, glares at the older men.
“I’ll do the dishes…tomorrow…?” Gerard smiles at this, sheepish as Mikey stands from his seat. He watches his brother walk out of the kitchen, the door swinging shut after him.
Frank sighs and Gerard turns back to him. “Look I’ll do them another time, I just…” He tilts his head towards the door.
“Yeah, I know… “ Frank looks over at the still swaying object. “Just - make sure he’s okay.” He turns back to Gerard who’s flipping his art book shut.
“I know, and thanks.” He gives a weak smile as the smaller man turns and starts pulling his gloves off.
“What the fuck did you make…?”
“Quesadilla’s…” Gerard calls back before the door shuts behind him. Frank spins around and stares at the empty room. He opens his mouth and shuts it, glances back at the pile of dishes.
“I’m not going to ask.” He decides pushing his sleeves up.
-
Mikey pushes his bedroom door open and just stands there. The air inside is cold - a noticeable difference from the hall and it makes his skin prickle. He takes a step inside, the faint blue light glowing and tinting everything. He flicks the overhead light on and waits a second, feels like something is going to jump out at him.
When nothing moves he walks over to his night stand and plugs his phone in, sets it down. Mikey lies back on his bed and stairs up at the ceiling. His head hurts, a dull ache in the back of his skull, a pressure from something he’s trying to ignore. He closes his eyes and does his best to ignore how weird it feels in his room.
How uncomfortable he feels.
There’s a knock on the door, a light one.
“It’s open…” Mikey doesn’t open his eyes, they feel heavy and he’s tired. He listens to the door open, expects to hear someone say something to him. The room stays silent - until the sound of boots on the wooden floor are heard, heavy and loud in the silence.
“What is it…?” He pulls his eyes open and looks towards the door.
There’s a shape there, faint and blurred around the edges with a slight darkness where the eyes should go.
Mikey jumps, flings himself across the bed. He slips off the edge, and drops onto the floor with an audible thunk - a shout ripping from his lungs. His heart rate has sky rocketed and there’s fear coursing through him. He can feel it straight down to his finger tips, hands shaking as he stumbles up right, and runs from the room.
The mansion is silent and he doesn’t know where Gerard has gone, doesn’t want to stay and look for him or anyone else.
He doesn’t want to be inside anymore.
Mikey’s outside before his mind has a chance to catch up with him, down the road a ways. His chest hurts and his breathing is ragged. He’s gasping a little, wheezing from smoking too much. He stumbles a little and kneels down beside the road. Everything is dark around him and he doesn’t hear anything aside from his own gasping breathes.
His stomach tightens as he tries to inhale again, a sharp pain in his chest.
Mikey tastes the bile rise up in the back of his throat and leans forward, feels his muscles tighten and contract as he pukes on the side of the road. He coughs up the food Gerard made him earlier and the remains of what he had for lunch. He gages a little on the taste and the burning in his throat waits for his body to calm down before leaning back, dropping onto the ground.
The trees and small forest that surround the mansion are silent, the faint humming of insects distant and far off. It’s cold out, colder than it has been in a while.
The sweat on Mikey’s forehead is cooling and drying, his hair sticking to his skin. His legs ache and he feels dizzy - disoriented. He reaches into the pocket of his hoodie for his phone, fingers grasping nothing. He pats himself, looking for his phone and feels something in his back pocket. Mikey pulls out his cigarettes and lighter, frowns.
“Shit…” He breathes out realizing he plugged it in before…
Before…
Mikey flips open the pack of cigarettes and stares down at the last one he has, pulls it out and lights it. He tilts his head back and looks up at the stars, wisps of smoke curling up and fading into the night. He finishes the cigarette before glancing back up the way he came.
The mansion is quite a ways back, situated neatly atop the hill dark and ominous looking.
Mikey turns and looks in the other direction, at the brightly lit city. The lights flicker and shift about, teasing him with their life promise of people.
He doesn’t like people much but he’d prefer them to what he’s been interacting with lately.
Mikey stubs his cigarette out on the ground and pushes himself up. He stares at the city for a while longer before turning and starting to climb the hill back to the mansion. He doesn’t let himself turn around again knows that if he did he would just keep walking.
He knows that if he made it to the city he wouldn’t come back.
-
The front door is shut when he approaches it, and he hesitates a moment before pulling it open. The foyer is dimly lit, a faint light from the side hall illuminating the stairs. Mikey pulls the door shut behind him, tries to make it as soft as possible. He doesn’t want to be asked why he was outside, what he was doing.
He doesn’t want to talk about what he saw.
Mikey heads for the stairs and walks slowly. His feet feel heavy and he doesn’t want to go back to his room. He wants to stop and make Gerard or Frank go get it but he doesn’t want to explain why. The hallway is just as silent as the foyer and when he passes Gerard’s room the light is off. Mikey stops walking halfway between the rooms, stares at his bedroom door.
It’s shut and the light is still on. He feels like someone is waiting for him, that when he opens the door everything is going to go dark and…
Mikey pushes the thoughts back, and reaches for the door knob. He turns it and opens the door slowly. The room is the same as he left it - still cold and still uncomfortable. His phone is sitting on the night stand and he walks over to it, unplugs it and watches the display light it.
It’s just after three.
The door to his room sways shut slowly.
Mikey stuffs his phone in his pocket and walks towards the bathroom. He flicks the light on and pulls the door shut. He stands there a second, hands shaking. He feels cold and hot at the same time, can feel his adrenaline rising again.
In the other room he can hear Gerard snoring lightly a faint and familiar sound.
Mikey flicks the bathroom light off and pulls the door open slowly.
His brother’s room is warmer than his own, gives off this calm and detached feeling. Gerard is lying on the bed, tangled up his sheets and snoring. Mikey tugs the bathroom door shut and takes a step. He stops, watches his brother a moment. He wants to reach out, call out to him till he wakes up, but he’s scared.
Scared of what else might respond.
Mikey walks over to the edge of the bed and lies down on floor. He stares up at the ceiling, at the dark shadows creeping across it. He rolls onto his side and closes his eyes, listens to Gerard breathing. If the floor wasn’t so hard or cold he’d be able to believe he was a kid again, that he had a nightmare and had just woken up in the middle of the night.
Gerard shifts on the bed and Mikey pulls his knees up, curls up where he is.
The room smells more like Gerard with his clothes littered about, with the sheets that haven’t been washed since they got there. Mikey focuses on this and lets it calm him coupled with the thought of when they were children.
He falls asleep like this only to wake up a few hours later.
-
Mikey blinks, the room much brighter then when he came in. His back and neck are sore - his shoulder numb from where he was laying on it. He sits up and straightens his glasses, glances at the bed next to him. Gerard is still asleep, mouth hanging open and head tilted to the side. The blankets have been twisted around the bed, some of them are starting to fall off.
He sits there a moment, trying to figure out what it was that woke him.
He hears it then, loud chattering from outside the room. Mikey pushes himself up and heads for the door, steps out into the hall. He pulls it shut behind himself and listens to the conversation going on. He hears Brian and heads towards the voices, hoping that he brought cigarettes again.