Pairing: Frank/Gerard & (Mikey/Gerard - no explicit content)
Warning: Adult emotions & scenes
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to any characters depicted here...
Summary: Gerard returns home from a night out a bar and finds his little brother in his room. Gerard tells Mikey about the man he met that night...
(NB - In this fic the stranger Gerard meets is Frank, this is written as pre MCR)
[Warning: Although this tale is a work of fiction, please be warned that it deals with a subject that some may find offensive. Call this a Waycest, call it a Frerard, call it what you like... But it's really just a story of romance... Of sorts.]
“DNA or DeoxyriboNucleic Acid are the molecules that are present in the nucleus of every cell in our bodies. DNA acts as instructions and tells the cell exactly what role to play in the body. The different codes written into each DNA molecule are our genes.” Mikey read out aloud; the tips of his fingers that gripped the edges of the textbook turning paler by the second.
“Our genes define our unique traits. They are inherited from our parents. The chromosomes that make us link us indelibly with our parents and in turn other family members. It is this uniqueness that allows scientists to determine whether individuals are related by blood just from a sample of their cells.” Mikey couldn’t read anymore; the typeface formed words blurred and drowned by the bitter tears in his eyes.
“Fuck DNA,” he screamed suddenly launching the guide at his cheap-looking, veneered plywood, door. He thought he could detect a faint dent in its surface even from this distance.
He brushed away angrily the wetness gathering above his cheekbones, threatening to tumble down and turn into a full blown outbreak. He knew that this was the closest he could come to actually crying without losing himself completely. If he gave in now he honestly truly didn't know if he'd ever stop; if he'd ever be okay.
"Who's Danny?" Gerard asked amused; a smirk playing on his lips and a definite laugh threatening to escape.
He'd stuck his head around the newly scarred door with the air of someone who owned all before him. He hadn't knocked. He never knocked.
Mikey looked up sheepishly, a frown still present beneath.
To Mikey the cause of his pain looked different today. In an indistinct nondescript way he looked entirely different.
There was the usual black hair that tumbled around haunting features. Mikey thought it kind of shone with flecks of silver and blue as it moved like ebony waves; tiny deep dark tides. His pale complexion sitting below both jarred and complemented that hair and his carefully thought out choice of clothes. In black of course. But tonight black appeared in the form of a shirt and tie. The works. In a vague way Mikey detected that Gerard had a purpose tonight. The clothes, the faint eyeliner smudge and his general air displayed a purpose that Mikey's brother did not normally posses.
"I'm off out Mikey," he announced.
"Stay out of my room. 'Kay?" He ordered casually before disappearing in a flash of black.
Keep out of his room. Easier said than done. Mikey seemed drawn, like a helpless moth, to that place. It was his light; his flame. The space engulfing and incinerating him as if he himself had a pair of those fragile velum like wings. That room was so much filled with the ideas, and creations and things of Gerard Way that Mikey could not resist it. On nights when it was vacant it called to him like a silent siren. It called for him to come and look and sit and dream and feel the strangest of longings, the impurest of wants. He would run his hands over black velvet drapes, stare at sketches and paintings and scribbles tacked to the walls, and doors, and surfaces entirely covered. He would drink in the faint aromas of stale tobacco smoke and burnt incense that were both indelibly mixed with the indescribable unique scent of another living being. When he was alone in that room Mikey felt close to Gerard in a way he never felt he could be, could risk to show, when he was actually there before him.
"Okay Gerard," Mikey whispered to his empty room. "I promise."
And he really would try.
Mikey sat cross-legged on Gerard's bed. He breathed in deeply and let his head fall back hard with a thud against the wall behind him.
To this day he couldn't tell you where it began; where he had found with a quiet horror that his obsession for Gerard was more than simple brotherly adoration. He'd always felt it in a way. A love, a feeling, a temptation, a tension that hadn't even crept into his psyche and taken its hold slowly; but felt as if it had been planted there, within him with care, to bud and grow and bloom into the most monstrous living thing.
Mikey drew his hands over the bed covers he was sat on and stirred up yet more scent of his brother. With a guilty mind and a confused heart Mikey slowly let himself lie down and curl into the tiniest of balls. He felt again the familiar tears of earlier gathering in his eyes and that same angry bitterness shudder through his body once more.
Mikey's eyes felt impossibly heavy and he knew that he should probably get up and leave before his body prevented it. But something stopped him. That dark hidden part of him that was making him do all this, feel all of this, stopped him. Mikey wished regretfully that he hadn't drunk so much of his brother's stash of whiskey as his eyes closed indefinitely and he was lost to the world.
A loud crash and the definite clatter of paint pots being kicked over roused Mikey from alcohol induced slumber. All around him he could feel an unfamiliar yet comforting setting. The memories hit him like a fist in the face. He was in Gerard's room. The lights snapped on and blindness now added to Mikey's list of problems. As he blinked and strained through pain to see he caught sight of his brother switching on his red table lamp and turning off the harsh overhead strip lights he had only just invoked. Mikey stared at Gerard, breath knocked out of him with fear. He was in trouble and he visibly flinched as he saw his brother spot him and meet his gaze.
"Hey, I thought I told you to stay out of my room," he slurred as he stumbled forward pulling off his black velvet jacket, letting it fall inelegantly to the floor.
Mikey darted up as his brother dropped intoxicated onto his bed and spread out his arms apparently groaning at a spinning world.
Mikey had never seen his brother this drunk before. He stepped back staring, petrified, until Gerard spoke softly.
"Stay," he almost whispered. "It's cool if you like to hang out here really."
Uncertainly Mikey stepped back again before deciding apprehensively to sit, knees pulled to his chest, on his brother's bedroom floor.
"I met someone tonight Mikes," Gerard sighed, almost as if consciousness and speech had become a tiresome effort.
"He was like no one I've ever met before," he said, his voice dreamy and pleasure wrapped, apparently enchanted by some memory of the nights events.
"Oh... Yeah?" Mikey tried to reply nonchalantly, hugging his knees in tighter, trying desperately to keep his mind in check. He struggled hopelessly with how to answer; wishing he knew what a normal brother would say.
"What was his name?" He said with a forced air of casual interest, watching as his brother pulled his arms in and gave himself a strange kind of hug.
"I don't know," he laughed oddly in reply.
"It wasn't that kind of thing," he paused. "It never felt the right moment for names."
There was a long silence as Mikey stared down at his shoes utterly confused and Gerard shifted himself clumsily into a more comfortable position on his bed. He sighed heavily letting his hands wander down his torso. Suddenly something, some thought perhaps within him, had woken him up. He propped his head up and stared at Mikey with bright intense smiling eyes.
"We talked for hours Mikey; about everything and nothing all at once. He can say 'hello' and 'I love you' in like twelve languages and he knows every line of his favourite poem even though it's like the longest one I've ever heard." Gerard paused from his current obsession to look at his half empty whiskey bottle, accompanied by an empty glass, sitting on the bedside table.
"Get me out another glass Mikey and we'll finish that off shall we?" He said with a devilish grin.
"Haven’t you had enough?" Mikey laughed, rising to his feet obediently regardless of his slight protest.
"It's never enough bro," Gerard laughed coolly. "Never."
Mikey opened the door of the bedside table and pulled out a glass with shaking hands barely within his control. His brother was mad he conceded or as he woefully suspected in the course of a slow and indulgent self-destruct.
“The guy... He plays guitar,” Gerard began again enthusiastically. “He’s been in loads of bands. And he likes comics and late night replays of old horror flicks. He collects things too, like models and stupid stickers from all the places he’s been to.”
Gerard stopped to watch intently as Mikey poured their drinks. Then he routed around in his trouser pockets to find his love-worn brass lighter and fetched out alongside it a crumpled packet of cigarettes. Lazily and clearly a little inebriated he pulled one out and placed it between his pale pink lips. Mikey watched entranced. He imagined that those lips were as soft as the velvet drapes behind him. He wondered if they tasted like cigarettes and booze, or if they felt hot on another’s skin. Only was he knocked out of his dream world by the motion of his brother offering him over the packet he held. Mikey shook his head in refusal, his asthma always scared him from even considering smoking a cigarette. Gerard laughed, apparently amused by his brother’s act of abstinence. Cigarette still delicately held between his lips he lit up and let his whole body fall back into a relaxed slump; releasing the packet he held to the floor.
Mikey picked up a glass and stared into it’s depths. There was such a strange unpleasant feeling in the air that he daren’t look up at his brother; a tension that filled the room and wrapped it’s hands around Mikey’s aching throat. The thickening atmosphere urged him to keep his eyes fixed low and his every movement suppressed as if sitting there still enough for long enough he might be forgotten, he might hope to disappear.
Gerard pulled himself up lazily, half sitting and half lying. He downed his drink in one and allowed himself the slightest shudder in reaction to its caustic taste. He offered out his glass for Mikey to pour him another.
“He was amazing Mikey. Like really amazing,” he began again. “I’ve never been so lost for words.” He paused for a moment to puzzle at how intently his brother stared at the glass he was filling, before he waved a vacant hand and pulled the glass back towards his chest.
“But I shouldn’t be talking like this with you,” he sighed, taking a long thoughtful drag on his cigarette. He took pleasure in filling his lungs with the noxious calming smoke, before wondering sadly at the plumes that billowed out of his nose and mouth slowly. He watched as they mixed with the already nicotine tainted air of the room.
“Go to bed. It’s late,” he commanded softly, eyes fixed on the dissipating cloud in front of his vision.
Trembling, for no reason that he could comprehend, Mikey brought his glass to his lips and downed its contents in one.
Gerard turned to the sound of his brother’s slight hiss, the result of the burning that attacked his throat and threatened to choke him. Gerard laughed softly.
“You want another?” he said affectionately, motioning towards the bottle, hiding forcefully the smirk playing on his lips. Mikey nodded and stood.
As he poured he enjoyed quietly the feeling of looking down over his brother. The sight and the sensation.
“So this guy then…?” Mikey enquired gently from above despite the voices screaming in his skull begging him to stop.
Gerard closed his eyes and smiled lost in his memories now and the sweetest feel of intoxication.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “He was cool. He… We…” Mikey watched as his brother struggled inwardly to find the words.
Mikey took a sip of his drink as he returned to the comfort of the floor; missing briefly that feeling he had had looking down.
Gerard stared at Mikey and caught him helplessly in his gaze. Mikey couldn’t help but feel like a rabbit in headlights.
“I shouldn’t tell you this but…” He paused sitting up looking for something to stub out the remains of his cigarette in; eventually resorting to extinguishing it on the corner of his tired, but endlessly loved, paint covered desk.
"…But you want to know right?” He asked playfully, with the voice of someone enjoying the sensation of doing something that they thought they ought not; that scared them to the point of a thrill.
Mikey’s eyes shot down. He couldn’t help it. It was almost automatic; his body completely at the mercy of the fears swimming around his head. He was terrified his brother knew what he was thinking or could somehow guess his terrible crimes; as if looking into his eyes might extract it from his soul.
“Uh… Bro… You’re kinda not making sense right now,” he said slowly, nervously, taking another tentative sip of his drink.
Mikey felt the atmosphere choking him, felt his lungs fill with the heady mix of tension that drowned the air and threatened to suffocate him one awful breath at a time.
“Well… Like I said we talked for hours. And I was getting so drunk. God I was drunk… Like you wouldn’t believe…” Gerard continued.
‘I would,’ Mikey thought briefly.
“And you know how it is… I just had to keep going to the bathroom. And it was odd you know cos every time I got back he’d make this strange comment, beaming at me through this…” He paused searching. “... Seductive smile.”
Gerard didn’t let his revelation set in, choosing instead to drown it with more words.
“And every time I’d just laugh cos it was so odd. I dunno,” he said peering at his drink before taking a gulp. “Such an odd thing to say.”
A bead of glistening whiskey still remained sitting seductively on his lower lip. Mikey watched paralysed by the sight of it; hypnotised as Gerard licked it off and wiped his mouth clumsily with the sleeve of his shirt. He kept his gaze on those lips that struggled helplessly under the strain of the tale they yearned to tell; against the alcohol that numbed them.
“So I got up for the thousandth time and the guy’s just sitting there laughing at me. I make that same dumb ass smile and leave all the same. And as I walk I turn back a couple of times, cos really I can’t resist it. I can see that something’s definitely amusing him, not that I can work it out... And I kinda half trip looking at this guy…” He laughed softly, a laugh tainted with the faintest touch of melancholy. “God I felt like an idiot.”
Mikey smiled imagining the sight. He knew his brother would have been maddeningly charming even in that moment of drunken embarrassment. He imagined the shy smile and the delicate red blush that he knew with certainty would have singed his cheeks.
He pressed the side of his glass to his lips so that he could draw in the ardent aroma of the strong alcohol within. It warmed and relieved. He pulled it away to take a sip and missed immediately the comforting scent and the cool sensation of glass on skin.
Gerard had once again emptied his own glass in the mean time and was pouring unsteadily another. The bottle had begun to look tragically drained; just like the two of them sitting in the dim of the room.
“So I get in there and I have to take a stall cos the place is jammed as usual. I kinda stumble on in and forget the lock. Just let the door swing shut… and with some difficulty… I managed to open my fly.”
Gerard took a gulp of whiskey and looked sideways at his brother, genuine fear played on his features.
“And... And he was behind me Mikey. That guy was there. I didn’t have to turn around. I could just tell he was there."
Mikey felt his heart miss a beat.
"He grabbed my wrists; not hard. And his fingers they feel hot on my skin. He slides them down to the hands that are still on my fly. 'Hey' he whispered in my ear. So cool and casual and seductive and I just... I just froze. I try to ask him what the hell he's doing but before I can even finish he's kissing my neck and I just start to stutter... I'm not even trying to stop him. He moves his hands over the front of my jeans and... I can't stop it, I can feel myself getting hard. I couldn't believe what was happening... But it felt so good. He trails a hand up my shirt and rests it on my chest... And god he must have felt that my heart was almost beating right out of it. I was shit scared yeah... But I loved it."
Mikey struggled against a tightening chest; the strange dizzying sensation washing over him.
"So I make myself turn around, I mean I have to fight my entire body to do it, and I look him straight in the eyes and I know then that this guy is beautiful. He's really beautiful Mikes... And I have to do this now. I knew that. I can't miss my chance."
"And we're all over each other; and it's stupid because I don't know what the hell I'm doing. But he does. He's an artist," Gerard reminisced with a quiet smile.
Mikey shook visibly, his whole body hummed with an alarming sensation. He had felt his face grow hot and his limbs slowly rigid. Shock and pain and excitement shot right through him. He looked up uncertainly at his brother who still lay, eyes now squeezed tightly shut, on his bed.
He could just walk over there and put a brazen hand on his shoulder and say... And say what he didn't know. Instead he just blinked at the person in front of him.
"He tasted like whiskey and cherry drops," Gerard sighed.
"I was so useless... I mean he even had to undo his buckle for me," he laughed softly.
"But when I finally managed to pull myself together I could tell he liked what I was doing as much as I couldn't resist what he was doing to me."
'Don't imagine that,' Mikey told himself desperately; all too aware that he had already begun. 'God don't imagine what that looked like. Please don't imagine his breathing growing shallow or the racing of his heart. Don't imagine the sound of him moaning at that touch.'
"Shit... I'm getting hard," Gerard sighed.
Mikey shivered. It was to him as if his brother had plucked the words out his own head, choosing to vocalise the thoughts he had ruthlessly searched for and found within Mikey's skull. But Mikey knew these words were Gerard's own. The tale recounted excited him as much as it shamefully had Mikey.
"Shit," Gerard mumbled running a hand clumsily down his torso. Mikey watched entranced as that hand traveled. Practically felt his heart stop as his brother's mouth fell open in a gasp as it reached and brushed over the growing swell in his pants.
'Don't look Mikey,' his brain commanded. But it was too late. He simply couldn't stop.
Gerard slowly brought another hand down to meet his opposite. They stroked recklessly over his inches until they stumbled upon his button and fly and undid them slowly. Gerard gasped as he let his hand down into his pants; his other brushing over and settling on his shivering abdomen.
Mikey sat horrified. Horrified at what was happening before him; and horrified at the sensation that it provoked within him. The sight before his eyes had paralysed him completely. So under this spell was he that he was completely incapable of merely getting up and walking away; yet unable to mirror his brother in the way that he so desperately desired. Relief seemed so impossible, even when he was so turned on that it hurt like hell.
Still he watched. Wondered at Gerard's hand moving slowly and steadily in his pants; caught by the way he bit his lower lip to stop small moans escaping them.
Mikey couldn't believe his eyes. He wanted to claw them out. And yet he so desperately wanted to see more. As he watched, Gerard bit down harder still; regardless Mikey could definitely hear him now. He could hear the ragged breaths, moans escaping and mounting into a slow climax.
Mikey yearned so desperately for someone, anyone, to touch him. He wanted so much to cry, but he wouldn't let that happen. He always had to be so strong, even when he felt so weak, so defeated. Why at this moment, Mikey asked himself, did he feel so utterly alone?
The air steeped in sin carried on it Gerard's escaping gasps and moans; and for Mikey this was just all too much. He couldn't stop himself from kneeling up to see his brother's face just a fraction more.
Gerard's lower lip, still trapped between his teeth, looked alarmingly red and concern attacked Mikey briefly.
Gerard sped up his strokes suddenly and as he did released his bottom lip from captivity.
Mikey thought his brother looked so deeply beautiful being sordid.
As he came in a glorious flood of cries he looked like an angel to him; with porcelain skin and a disheveled ebony halo. His rose coloured lips looked so tempting in the form of a cry of release. Mikey closed his eyes and listened to that haunting sound echo through the room. He never wanted it to be over and yet its disastrous velvet tones taunted him so. They told him he'd never feel that way. They told him he'd never hear that sound again; and he couldn't bare that. They told him he was insignificant, just an onlooker, he was just another piece of furniture in the room. They told him he would always be alone.
Mikey dropped his chin and kept his eyes held tightly shut.
Silence tore through the room; injurying the inhabitants as it rested its hands on all. Peace never felt so torturous.
Mikey didn't open his eyes; didn't look up. Concentrating on the blackness of the inside of his eyelids, the strange dull ache and shameful tingling in his pants and the deathening ringing in his ears.
"Shit... Shit," Mikey could hear faintly below the shrill noise that had invaded his hearing.
"Oh God... I'm sorry Mikes," he heard along with the sound of panicked feet on the wooden flooring.
He heard things, carelessly knocked, clatter to the floor.
"I'm sorry... I... I can't believe I... In front of you..." Gerard stuttered in a way that was so completely out of character.
"I was just so..." He stopped apparently defeated and laughed wearily.
"Jesus Mikey, why didn't you stop me?" He asked returning to his usual mocking tones.
Mikey drew a deep breath. The blackness in front of his eyes still a comfort and a friend.
"Jesus," Gerard muttered again; now sounding more vaguely annoyed than anything.
Mikey slowly opened his eyes to the sight of his brother rescuing his earlier discarded pack of cigarettes. He looked delightfully and unusually like a fellow mortal now in the aftermath. The faintest smudge of eyeliner remained intact around dark eyes that clashed prettily with the light pink flush on his cheeks and the matching hue of his lips. Mikey still thought he was hideously beautiful. And he knew that fact meant that nothing at all had changed. No curse had been lifted. Gerard still remained the same symbol of perfection despite the injection of a few human weaknesses.
Mikey stood hastily, on legs that would barely take him, and readied himself to leave. Regretfully he realised he was still hard from the events of before; that physical discomfort remained alongside those feelings they had conjured. Frustrated and alone; to Mikey fulfillment felt like something other people had. It was for people like Gerard and his suitor, not for people like himself, he despaired.
Mikey walked to the door, his brother behind him lighting a cigarette in an overly grateful manner; tossing the lighter to his bed and sighing happily as he inhaled the poisonous smoke. Mikey reached out to the doorknob, only for his hand to freeze over it. Torn on the verge of leaving Mikey cursed the feeling that he had always endured, that fear, that there was two distinct people inside his head.
"Bro... Do you think I'm normal?" Mikey sighed fixing his eyes on the door that challenged him so.
Gerard chuckled affectionately from behind him.
"No," he replied. "But that's okay. I'm not either. It's okay to be a little strange."
Mikey turned to meet his brother's gaze; he was smiling through tired features. Mikey returned the gesture happily. He liked the thought that they could have that together, that they could be outcasts side by side.
"You're a Way," he continued laughing. "It's your genes. Being strange... Well it's just in your DNA."
Gerard chuckled to himself, clearly amused by his own assertions.
Mikey felt the pang of bitterness and pain return; felt anguished tears readying to break free. DNA that's all they'd ever have; all they'd ever share he concluded bitterly. Their DNA was their unbreakable bond, that indelible tie that cleaved them eternally together and yet cleaved them entirely in two.
Tears swelled and brimmed over Mikey's eyelids, falling slowly down his trembling cheeks.
"Hey... Now Mikes... What's up?" Gerard asked, concern painted on his every feature. He stepped forward on unsteady feet and brushed away tenderly the tears with an anxious thumb.
"I just want... To... To be normal," Mikey stuttered in a broken voice.
Gerard smiled warmly and brought his lips slowly to Mikey's ear; Mikey enjoyed guiltily the feeling of hot breath falling over it.
"Ah but I like you the way you are," he whispered affectionately, the usual sound of amusement still faintly on his tongue.
He pulled away slowly, his cheek brushing seductively over Mikey's; and at the point where their lips inevitably met Mikey felt Gerard's were wet and half open as they grazed over his own.
Gerard looked Mikey straight in the eyes.
"Like I said before... We're brothers. That's why what you and me have is so special," he said resting his hand on Mikey's shoulder; cigarette still balanced skillfully between slender fingers.
The words felt like shards of glass raining down, destroying, completely ripping apart the warm memory of lips on Mikey's own.
"But now... You know... You've got to go to bed," Gerard said laughing through a mock serious tone.
He turned the doorknob behind Mikey; overly concentrating on the task that felt tiresomely difficult under the strain of sleep deprivation and drunkenness.
"Bed," he affirmed, pushing open the door and bundling Mikey out, all the time his trademark affectionate smirk plastered across his face.
"Night Mikes," he said before giving his brother a playful wink and closing his bedroom door with one certain slam.
Mikey felt unbearably cold in the eerie dark of the hall. Alone he felt the nights events slip away and fall into the shape of dreams; faint memories to be called upon in the black of nights to come.
Shaking with anger and despair in the darkness; Mikey swore he could feel his whole being falling apart.
Mikey brought a shaking hand up to the door before him and rested his palm on its chilling surface.
"Fuck DNA," he whispered to the door and the halls fierce shadows, a tear rolling down his cheek.