Tremor
Title: Tremor
Rating: PG-13
Centric: Mikey and Gerard. No Waycest. Third person Mikey.
Status: Completed Standalone.
Summary: Addiction took him away. Overcoming it brought him back.
No way. That’s what Mikey thought when he heard the news. No way. It wasn’t possible… there was no possible way. But it’s true, and now the moment Mikey has been dreaming about for the past year and a half is finally coming true. However, this is reality, not the dream world inside his head and for some reason reality isn’t living up to perception.
Those nineteen months ago, he had painted them in his head to be paradise, but they weren’t. Now that the rose-colored glasses are off, it’s more than clear to him. The fights. The arguments. The bruises. All those late nights when Gerard would come stumbling in, wasted, and Mikey, all of fifteen-years-old, was the one making sure his parents never saw. Parallel to the nights his brother was drunk were the mornings he’d wake up with a hangover. Crabby. Snappy. Mean.
Through all of it, Mikey tried never to complain. He feared what Gerard would do, say, if he brought it up. Those nights, however painful they were, weren’t as bad as having his brother mad at him. Gerard never asked about the bruises, the occasional scar. Maybe if he had it would have been a different story. Maybe if Mikey hadn’t intentionally covered the bruises from Gerard’s drunken struggles, the scars from when Gerard found it fit to throw him into dressers, doors. Once he threw a glass at him.
Nevertheless, his memories of the months leading up to Gerard’s disappearance weren’t exactly nice ones. The day Gerard left, Mikey knew he wasn’t coming back. He knew, yet somehow found it so hard to believe. When they were little, Gerard had promised to look out for him. Not only had he left him for the world to abuse, he had broken the promise by not even being able to protect him from himself. In a sick way, Mikey was glad he was gone. In a much bigger way, however, he prayed night after night that he would come home. He prayed he wouldn’t find his big brother dead in a gutter somewhere.
Now those prayers are being answered. Out of nowhere, Gerard called them up on the phone. Their mother had answered and Mikey had never seen her cry so much in his entire life. Apparently, Gerard was living on the streets for a while, dealing. About six months ago, however, he entered rehab, which was mindblowing for Mikey right there. His brother had never once let on he didn’t enjoy getting drunk, high. Gerard was apparently clean now and “very sorry” for what he had done. His dad had also talked to him over the phone that day, but Mikey hadn’t. He couldn’t find the courage to speak at all, much less to him.
You’d think that, at age seventeen, Mikey could fend for himself. You’d think that keeping a strong exterior and standing tall would come natural to him. But as his mother and father greet Gerard at the door of their home with tears, Mikey hangs back, shutting himself in his room. Smashing Pumpkins play loud on his speakers, but he finds himself turning it down briefly to catch the action upstairs through a vent that brings the conversation muffled, yet clear.
“Oh my God… sweetheart” his mother’s tearful voice emanates up the metal vents to Mikey’s ears. “You have no idea; I missed you so much.”
“Missed you too, Mom.” Mikey’s heart skips a beat in knowing who that voice belongs to. Closing his eyes, he licks his lips and rests his head against his pillow.
He’s scared. Simple as that; he’s terrified. It’s the only explanation as to why he’s not down there right now, giving his brother the big bear hug he’d wished he could give him all this time. He’d wished to see him for all that time; he’d cried, prayed, screamed and pleaded that he’d just come home. But now that he’s finally home, now that his brother is finally alive to him again, all Mikey wants is to be anywhere but home himself.
It’s late, as Mikey lies in the darkness. Half-past-midnight. Maybe they’ll really believe he has gone to sleep already. But no, this is a “wake-up” occasion if there ever was one. Mikey takes a chance on it, curling up under the covers, his body stiff and uncomfortable, slight convulsions of nervousness pulsating throughout his veins.
“Where’s Mikey?” Gerard’s voice sounds again, Mikey’s eyes snapping open.
“In bed, already” his father’s voice follows the question.
“Oh” is all that’s audible from his brother, and it’s barely that itself.
“He might still be awake” his mother offers, Mikey cursing her quietly before cursing himself for doing it. Who does this? Who hides from their own brother, one he’s missed like crazy for as long of a time as he has? Gerard could be, and probably should be, dead right now. It’s a gift, really, that he’s alive, that he decided to acknowledge he has a home here.
“Well, I don’t want to wake him up, but…” Gerard trails off.
“It’s summer. You know Mikey. He’s up until four, easily” his mom continues. Mikey blocks out the conversation, leaving him to mental break himself down some more. He doesn’t know what his problem is. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this. He doesn’t know why all feelings toward his brother have suddenly turned to hate and resentment. He does, however, know the familiar creaking of the stairs as someone shuffles down them.
Mikey counts the steps until at last the culprit stops at the landing. The person stalls before gently opening the door that separates the room Gerard and he used to share from the rest of the basement.
“Mike?” a quiet, unsure whisper sounds, the light from the room outside the door flooding in. “You sleeping?”
“No” Mikey closes his eyes again, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed as the overhead lights of the room fill the crevices that once lingered dark. Mikey glances over, taking in the site of his brother.
His hair is longer, his mop of dark hair down to a bit past his ears, nearing his chin. He wears a worn leather jacket, the familiar insignia of Iron Maiden’s name peaks out from underneath. His pants are too big on him, though he seems stronger than he once did. Mikey’s eyes instinctively drift up to his, locking with shock as they ring clear, not clouded with drugs.
“Hey” he offers weakly, glancing to a loose thread on his blanket.
“Hey” Gerard offers back, staring at him intently, as if expecting him to spring up and engulf him in a huge hug. It becomes evident in the awkward silence that no such thing is going to happen, however, so the eldest makes his way towards Mikey, sitting on the edge of his bed.
“You okay?” he asks initially before restating. “How’ve you been?” Mikey swallows, simply shrugging as he refuses to look at him. Gerard licks his lips.
“I’m sorry” he offers sincerely. “I really am. I know I treated you like crap, and that wasn’t okay-” Mikey cuts him off prematurely.
“It’s fine” he mumbles, tears stinging his eyes. Why is he being such an ass? Gerard’s trying. He probably won’t want to stay now, he’ll probably just get up and leave again, without saying a word. He probably won’t want to waste his time on him, someone that never meant enough to keep him around the first time.
“No, it’s not” Gerard continues. “You’re my brother and I treated you like shit. I understand if you’re mad at me, but I was kind of hoping we could start fresh. I’ve been through a lot, Mikey. I’ve changed a lot. I want things to be like they used to be, before.” When Mikey doesn’t say anything, he continues.
“I went into rehab the day before your birthday. I wanted to come home, but I knew I couldn’t. I figured if I cleaned up, maybe I could find the courage to come home. And I did, Mikey, and that took a lot.”
“I know” Mikey nods, his voice still quiet. Another uncomfortable silence sets in, Gerard shifting his weight.
“I’m surprised you left all my stuff here” he notes off-topic, glancing around his near-perfectly preserved side of the bedroom.
“Yeah” Mikey nods. “I don’t know, I just didn’t want it to all be gone if you came back.” Gerard nods, once again turning his focus towards him.
“You’re mad at me” he states, staring intently at the face that refuses to look at his. “I know I deserve it, but can’t you at least talk to me?”
“There’s not much to say” Mikey lies, pursing his lips.
“Right” Gerard scuffs disbelievingly. “Please, Mikey?”
“I… I don’t know what to say to you” Mikey admits, his stare fixated on the carpet.
“I won’t get mad, just talk to me” Gerard pushes gently. “Just tell me what you’re mad at me for.”
“Well, I mean… for…” Mikey struggles timidly. “When you’d come home drunk or stoned… I helped you. I helped you and you’d always get mad at me. But I couldn’t exactly not help you; I didn’t want Mom and Dad to find out, to get mad at you because I always thought that’d make you mad at me.” There. He said it. Mikey waits, frightened about what his brother’s reaction would be. “You always said you hated me.”
“Mike… that wasn’t me talking, it was the drugs” Gerard sighs, running a hand through his hair. “And I know that doesn’t change the fact that I said them, but I would never purposely hurt you.”
“You’d hit me and throw me up against things” Mikey licks his lips, his voice quiet. Gerard sits, silent for a few moments.
“I… I don’t remember” he whispers.
“I’d hid the bruises, cuts, whatever. I thought they’d make you mad at me” Mikey admits in a whisper, gaining the bravery to steal a glance at his brother. Gerard sits, eyes closed as he takes a deep breath.
“Mikey…” he starts, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry. I…”
“It’s okay” Mikey says automatically, not wanting to upset his brother.
“No, it’s not okay” Gerard shakes his head, stubborn tears in his eyes. “You were the last person I wanted to hurt. I… I think I was just seeing how far I could go, you know? Like… I mean, I hated myself so much, I loathed myself, Mike. I didn’t think I deserved anything, and I sure as hell didn’t deserve a brother like you. I… I wanted to see how far I could push you away, how far I could go before you said it was too much. Like how much I could pull before I lost everything.” Mikey licks his lips at his brother’s revelation.
“I left because I hated my life. I hated what I had done, what I was doing. I never hated you” Gerard stares at Mikey, hoping he understands. Silence hangs in the air once again.
“Please… just say something” he begs quietly, licking his lips and praying his brother understands.
“Sorry” Mikey offers, eyes slick as he glances to his brother vulnerably. Gerard shakes his head, reaching out an arm to wrap around Mikey’s thin shoulders. Mikey shies away at first, but when his brother wraps both arms around him he collapses in his hold, the tears he had been holding back beginning to stream down his face.
Gerard closes his eyes as he rests his chin atop his head, silent tears slicking his face. He’s hurt his brother so badly, the one person who he has ever felt responsible for keeping safe. He had always been so self-destructive, but realization sets in that in being on self-destruct mode, the one he had really been hurting was Mikey.
“Please don’t leave…” Mikey pleads, clinging to his chest.
“I’m not going anywhere” Gerard whispers. “I’m so sorry, Mikey…” His brother simply nods, a hiccup escaping his lips.
“So you’ve really stopped?” Mikey asks. “The drugs? Alcohol? Everything?”
“Yeah, I have” Gerard smiles. “Everything. It was hard, I’m not going to say it wasn’t. But it was worth it.” Mikey nods, snuggling against his brother comfortably.
“I missed you” he whispers.
“Missed you too, kid” Gerard smiles.
Rating: PG-13
Centric: Mikey and Gerard. No Waycest. Third person Mikey.
Status: Completed Standalone.
Summary: Addiction took him away. Overcoming it brought him back.
No way. That’s what Mikey thought when he heard the news. No way. It wasn’t possible… there was no possible way. But it’s true, and now the moment Mikey has been dreaming about for the past year and a half is finally coming true. However, this is reality, not the dream world inside his head and for some reason reality isn’t living up to perception.
Those nineteen months ago, he had painted them in his head to be paradise, but they weren’t. Now that the rose-colored glasses are off, it’s more than clear to him. The fights. The arguments. The bruises. All those late nights when Gerard would come stumbling in, wasted, and Mikey, all of fifteen-years-old, was the one making sure his parents never saw. Parallel to the nights his brother was drunk were the mornings he’d wake up with a hangover. Crabby. Snappy. Mean.
Through all of it, Mikey tried never to complain. He feared what Gerard would do, say, if he brought it up. Those nights, however painful they were, weren’t as bad as having his brother mad at him. Gerard never asked about the bruises, the occasional scar. Maybe if he had it would have been a different story. Maybe if Mikey hadn’t intentionally covered the bruises from Gerard’s drunken struggles, the scars from when Gerard found it fit to throw him into dressers, doors. Once he threw a glass at him.
Nevertheless, his memories of the months leading up to Gerard’s disappearance weren’t exactly nice ones. The day Gerard left, Mikey knew he wasn’t coming back. He knew, yet somehow found it so hard to believe. When they were little, Gerard had promised to look out for him. Not only had he left him for the world to abuse, he had broken the promise by not even being able to protect him from himself. In a sick way, Mikey was glad he was gone. In a much bigger way, however, he prayed night after night that he would come home. He prayed he wouldn’t find his big brother dead in a gutter somewhere.
Now those prayers are being answered. Out of nowhere, Gerard called them up on the phone. Their mother had answered and Mikey had never seen her cry so much in his entire life. Apparently, Gerard was living on the streets for a while, dealing. About six months ago, however, he entered rehab, which was mindblowing for Mikey right there. His brother had never once let on he didn’t enjoy getting drunk, high. Gerard was apparently clean now and “very sorry” for what he had done. His dad had also talked to him over the phone that day, but Mikey hadn’t. He couldn’t find the courage to speak at all, much less to him.
You’d think that, at age seventeen, Mikey could fend for himself. You’d think that keeping a strong exterior and standing tall would come natural to him. But as his mother and father greet Gerard at the door of their home with tears, Mikey hangs back, shutting himself in his room. Smashing Pumpkins play loud on his speakers, but he finds himself turning it down briefly to catch the action upstairs through a vent that brings the conversation muffled, yet clear.
“Oh my God… sweetheart” his mother’s tearful voice emanates up the metal vents to Mikey’s ears. “You have no idea; I missed you so much.”
“Missed you too, Mom.” Mikey’s heart skips a beat in knowing who that voice belongs to. Closing his eyes, he licks his lips and rests his head against his pillow.
He’s scared. Simple as that; he’s terrified. It’s the only explanation as to why he’s not down there right now, giving his brother the big bear hug he’d wished he could give him all this time. He’d wished to see him for all that time; he’d cried, prayed, screamed and pleaded that he’d just come home. But now that he’s finally home, now that his brother is finally alive to him again, all Mikey wants is to be anywhere but home himself.
It’s late, as Mikey lies in the darkness. Half-past-midnight. Maybe they’ll really believe he has gone to sleep already. But no, this is a “wake-up” occasion if there ever was one. Mikey takes a chance on it, curling up under the covers, his body stiff and uncomfortable, slight convulsions of nervousness pulsating throughout his veins.
“Where’s Mikey?” Gerard’s voice sounds again, Mikey’s eyes snapping open.
“In bed, already” his father’s voice follows the question.
“Oh” is all that’s audible from his brother, and it’s barely that itself.
“He might still be awake” his mother offers, Mikey cursing her quietly before cursing himself for doing it. Who does this? Who hides from their own brother, one he’s missed like crazy for as long of a time as he has? Gerard could be, and probably should be, dead right now. It’s a gift, really, that he’s alive, that he decided to acknowledge he has a home here.
“Well, I don’t want to wake him up, but…” Gerard trails off.
“It’s summer. You know Mikey. He’s up until four, easily” his mom continues. Mikey blocks out the conversation, leaving him to mental break himself down some more. He doesn’t know what his problem is. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this. He doesn’t know why all feelings toward his brother have suddenly turned to hate and resentment. He does, however, know the familiar creaking of the stairs as someone shuffles down them.
Mikey counts the steps until at last the culprit stops at the landing. The person stalls before gently opening the door that separates the room Gerard and he used to share from the rest of the basement.
“Mike?” a quiet, unsure whisper sounds, the light from the room outside the door flooding in. “You sleeping?”
“No” Mikey closes his eyes again, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed as the overhead lights of the room fill the crevices that once lingered dark. Mikey glances over, taking in the site of his brother.
His hair is longer, his mop of dark hair down to a bit past his ears, nearing his chin. He wears a worn leather jacket, the familiar insignia of Iron Maiden’s name peaks out from underneath. His pants are too big on him, though he seems stronger than he once did. Mikey’s eyes instinctively drift up to his, locking with shock as they ring clear, not clouded with drugs.
“Hey” he offers weakly, glancing to a loose thread on his blanket.
“Hey” Gerard offers back, staring at him intently, as if expecting him to spring up and engulf him in a huge hug. It becomes evident in the awkward silence that no such thing is going to happen, however, so the eldest makes his way towards Mikey, sitting on the edge of his bed.
“You okay?” he asks initially before restating. “How’ve you been?” Mikey swallows, simply shrugging as he refuses to look at him. Gerard licks his lips.
“I’m sorry” he offers sincerely. “I really am. I know I treated you like crap, and that wasn’t okay-” Mikey cuts him off prematurely.
“It’s fine” he mumbles, tears stinging his eyes. Why is he being such an ass? Gerard’s trying. He probably won’t want to stay now, he’ll probably just get up and leave again, without saying a word. He probably won’t want to waste his time on him, someone that never meant enough to keep him around the first time.
“No, it’s not” Gerard continues. “You’re my brother and I treated you like shit. I understand if you’re mad at me, but I was kind of hoping we could start fresh. I’ve been through a lot, Mikey. I’ve changed a lot. I want things to be like they used to be, before.” When Mikey doesn’t say anything, he continues.
“I went into rehab the day before your birthday. I wanted to come home, but I knew I couldn’t. I figured if I cleaned up, maybe I could find the courage to come home. And I did, Mikey, and that took a lot.”
“I know” Mikey nods, his voice still quiet. Another uncomfortable silence sets in, Gerard shifting his weight.
“I’m surprised you left all my stuff here” he notes off-topic, glancing around his near-perfectly preserved side of the bedroom.
“Yeah” Mikey nods. “I don’t know, I just didn’t want it to all be gone if you came back.” Gerard nods, once again turning his focus towards him.
“You’re mad at me” he states, staring intently at the face that refuses to look at his. “I know I deserve it, but can’t you at least talk to me?”
“There’s not much to say” Mikey lies, pursing his lips.
“Right” Gerard scuffs disbelievingly. “Please, Mikey?”
“I… I don’t know what to say to you” Mikey admits, his stare fixated on the carpet.
“I won’t get mad, just talk to me” Gerard pushes gently. “Just tell me what you’re mad at me for.”
“Well, I mean… for…” Mikey struggles timidly. “When you’d come home drunk or stoned… I helped you. I helped you and you’d always get mad at me. But I couldn’t exactly not help you; I didn’t want Mom and Dad to find out, to get mad at you because I always thought that’d make you mad at me.” There. He said it. Mikey waits, frightened about what his brother’s reaction would be. “You always said you hated me.”
“Mike… that wasn’t me talking, it was the drugs” Gerard sighs, running a hand through his hair. “And I know that doesn’t change the fact that I said them, but I would never purposely hurt you.”
“You’d hit me and throw me up against things” Mikey licks his lips, his voice quiet. Gerard sits, silent for a few moments.
“I… I don’t remember” he whispers.
“I’d hid the bruises, cuts, whatever. I thought they’d make you mad at me” Mikey admits in a whisper, gaining the bravery to steal a glance at his brother. Gerard sits, eyes closed as he takes a deep breath.
“Mikey…” he starts, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry. I…”
“It’s okay” Mikey says automatically, not wanting to upset his brother.
“No, it’s not okay” Gerard shakes his head, stubborn tears in his eyes. “You were the last person I wanted to hurt. I… I think I was just seeing how far I could go, you know? Like… I mean, I hated myself so much, I loathed myself, Mike. I didn’t think I deserved anything, and I sure as hell didn’t deserve a brother like you. I… I wanted to see how far I could push you away, how far I could go before you said it was too much. Like how much I could pull before I lost everything.” Mikey licks his lips at his brother’s revelation.
“I left because I hated my life. I hated what I had done, what I was doing. I never hated you” Gerard stares at Mikey, hoping he understands. Silence hangs in the air once again.
“Please… just say something” he begs quietly, licking his lips and praying his brother understands.
“Sorry” Mikey offers, eyes slick as he glances to his brother vulnerably. Gerard shakes his head, reaching out an arm to wrap around Mikey’s thin shoulders. Mikey shies away at first, but when his brother wraps both arms around him he collapses in his hold, the tears he had been holding back beginning to stream down his face.
Gerard closes his eyes as he rests his chin atop his head, silent tears slicking his face. He’s hurt his brother so badly, the one person who he has ever felt responsible for keeping safe. He had always been so self-destructive, but realization sets in that in being on self-destruct mode, the one he had really been hurting was Mikey.
“Please don’t leave…” Mikey pleads, clinging to his chest.
“I’m not going anywhere” Gerard whispers. “I’m so sorry, Mikey…” His brother simply nods, a hiccup escaping his lips.
“So you’ve really stopped?” Mikey asks. “The drugs? Alcohol? Everything?”
“Yeah, I have” Gerard smiles. “Everything. It was hard, I’m not going to say it wasn’t. But it was worth it.” Mikey nods, snuggling against his brother comfortably.
“I missed you” he whispers.
“Missed you too, kid” Gerard smiles.