‹ Prequel: Sick and Sain
Sick Boy
Chapter 9
Ryan was checking his email, deleting all thirteen unread messages from Gerard and listening to ‘Cemetery Drive,’ on repeat. Holy shit, what have you done? You’ve been through enough shit with Gerard before to know that telling him to fuck off isn’t a good thing. Fuck. Goddamn Ryan. You fucking retard. Retard.
Good news was not on it’s way. Not one bit. Ryan had just received an email from his ex-girlfriend. This could not be good. Isabel. No, it wasn’t that he wasn’t on good terms with her—she had after all, been his middle school and early high school girlfriend—but it was that he really didn’t have the energy to deal with her. She was…well…herself. And Ryan hadn’t talked to her in a year. But he clicked on the message anyways, wincing as the drum beats to ‘Cemetery Drive’ started again for the fifth time.
Ryan,
I was on the Internet last night—thought you might want to see this. What the fuck?
Below was a YouTube link, and then some Buzznet links. Fuck. It was the very Sidekick videos that Ryan had been most worried about.
“I love you Sick Boy,” Gerard’s voice screamed from the computer, one of their kitchens displayed on the screen, “Sick, sick, sick boy.” He did a stupid dance and made a face at the camera. It wasn’t meant for the public. This was just shit they did alone—playing around, having fun.
“Mwah! Don’t you think I look hot like this?” Ryan heard his own voice from behind the camera.
“You always look hot.”
The song was still playing. The video stopped. Ryan hardly dared to click on the next link, but he did. And it was just a picture of one of those kisses Gerard gave. And it was kind of cliché. And it was sorta overdramatic. And it was now public, on the internet.
“…and the collison of your kiss, that made it so hard…” Gerard sang through his headphones.
And Ryan picked up Spencer’s phone, snatching it from his friend’s bag before he noticed, called Gerard, forwarded him the email, and sighed when the call went to voicemail, “Gee? I know you hate me…but you need to see this. Because I mean…we’re public.”
**
Gerard was, in fact, sitting next to his brother, watching Bob track drums for a new song. And complaining. Oh Gerard, you’re so high maintenance. One fight with Ryan and you start complaining and bitching all the time? Okay, so not one fight. This was too big. It was scary—it is scary! What if he really did want you to fuck off? Forever. Oh. My. God. This is your third failed relationship Gerard. And your little brother’s already married.
“Goddamn Mikey,” he muttered, “I’m seriously worried.”
“Gee—you had a fight. Oh well. I mean, you’ll get over it, I’m sure.” Mikey wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t supposed to be giving love advice to his older brother. No that’s not how it worked. What the fuck?
“No—he sounded so angry. It was like…like he was a different person.”
Mikey shrugged his shoulders and sighed, “Gee…I mean, what do you want me to say?”
“What do I want you to say?” Gerard said too loud, earning a reprimand from Ray and their producer, “Well I want you to tell me that he’s fine, it’ll all be okay and that Ryan is just as perfect as he usually—”
“Wait, stop.” Mikey looked at Gerard as though he were the stupidest person on the planet. “What do you mean by perfect?”
Gerard blinked. “Um…I mean perfect. No, duh.” Well…yeah. Right? Ryan’s perfect and you’re not. He’s a wonderful, twenty-one-year-old lyricist who writes you sappy love songs sometimes and then trashes them because you find out and tease him. Ryan is perfect. Right?
“Gerard—Ryan’s not perfect!” Mikey said in disbelief, “What are you talking about?”
“Mikey—he is. You don’t know him as well as I do.”
“Stop right now Gee. Thinking someone’s perfect…I mean, nobody’s perfect. Gerard, um…Ryan’s…I mean—thinking someone’s perfect is just proof of how little you know about him. I mean, be honest. Look at him. He’s not perfect.”
Gerard blinked rapidly. Mikey was…Mikey was right! But how? Had Gerard been so stupid as to look past Ryan’s apparent flaws and fool himself into thinking the boy was perfect? Gee! You’re insain. Seriously. Goodbye sainity for now. Insain. Goddamn you. Just goddamn you. Do we really want to revert to that voice in your head you had a year ago? Oh too late. It’s coming back. Fucking shut up! No, Gee. Goddamn. Oh goddamn. Stupidass. You are so fucking stupid.
“I mean, take Alicia for instance,” Mikey continued, “She’s a fucking publicity whore. She spends to much time on the Internet and sometimes I think she flaunts me. And she snores too.”
“Okay, going past your stupid thing about snoring,” Gerard rolled his eyes, “I mean…how do you stand that? I’d hate it if Ryan posted pictures of us on the Internet. I’d…I’d hate it if this whole thing got out. Don’t you want privacy?”
“Yeah. But I love her—so does it really matter? That’s the fucking definition of true love.”
“What?”
Mikey sighed and played with the zipper on his sweatshirt, “You know…true love.”
“Mikey, this is where I do not get you one bit. Explain now,” Gerard giggled. No! The maniacal giggle! Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Goddamn. Oh shit, Gee. You’re back. Welcome back. Holy shit.
Mikey ignored his brother’s insainity giggle and sighed, “True love. I think it’s like…when people can look past each other’s faults to love them forever. You know? I mean…yeah, Alicia loves attention and stuff, but she’s…Alicia. I love her. I mean, I dunno…”
“Mikey, you’re such a romantic,” Gerard laughed and punched his brother in the arm, “I mean…you’re right though…” So maybe Ryan’s not perfect. Maybe you have to cut him some slack. He drinks too much, yes, but he’s also got the most beautiful eyes in the world. He also looks undeniably adorable when you find those stupid songs about you in his sock drawer. He’s also quite perfect when he wears your band T-shirts, just to annoy you. No stop, don’t use perfect. Oh Gee. This will take some getting used to. How ‘bout you buy him a new Sidekick? As a peace offering. And check that damn message from ‘Spencer.’
Yeah. That’s a good way to start.
Good news was not on it’s way. Not one bit. Ryan had just received an email from his ex-girlfriend. This could not be good. Isabel. No, it wasn’t that he wasn’t on good terms with her—she had after all, been his middle school and early high school girlfriend—but it was that he really didn’t have the energy to deal with her. She was…well…herself. And Ryan hadn’t talked to her in a year. But he clicked on the message anyways, wincing as the drum beats to ‘Cemetery Drive’ started again for the fifth time.
Ryan,
I was on the Internet last night—thought you might want to see this. What the fuck?
Below was a YouTube link, and then some Buzznet links. Fuck. It was the very Sidekick videos that Ryan had been most worried about.
“I love you Sick Boy,” Gerard’s voice screamed from the computer, one of their kitchens displayed on the screen, “Sick, sick, sick boy.” He did a stupid dance and made a face at the camera. It wasn’t meant for the public. This was just shit they did alone—playing around, having fun.
“Mwah! Don’t you think I look hot like this?” Ryan heard his own voice from behind the camera.
“You always look hot.”
The song was still playing. The video stopped. Ryan hardly dared to click on the next link, but he did. And it was just a picture of one of those kisses Gerard gave. And it was kind of cliché. And it was sorta overdramatic. And it was now public, on the internet.
“…and the collison of your kiss, that made it so hard…” Gerard sang through his headphones.
And Ryan picked up Spencer’s phone, snatching it from his friend’s bag before he noticed, called Gerard, forwarded him the email, and sighed when the call went to voicemail, “Gee? I know you hate me…but you need to see this. Because I mean…we’re public.”
**
Gerard was, in fact, sitting next to his brother, watching Bob track drums for a new song. And complaining. Oh Gerard, you’re so high maintenance. One fight with Ryan and you start complaining and bitching all the time? Okay, so not one fight. This was too big. It was scary—it is scary! What if he really did want you to fuck off? Forever. Oh. My. God. This is your third failed relationship Gerard. And your little brother’s already married.
“Goddamn Mikey,” he muttered, “I’m seriously worried.”
“Gee—you had a fight. Oh well. I mean, you’ll get over it, I’m sure.” Mikey wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t supposed to be giving love advice to his older brother. No that’s not how it worked. What the fuck?
“No—he sounded so angry. It was like…like he was a different person.”
Mikey shrugged his shoulders and sighed, “Gee…I mean, what do you want me to say?”
“What do I want you to say?” Gerard said too loud, earning a reprimand from Ray and their producer, “Well I want you to tell me that he’s fine, it’ll all be okay and that Ryan is just as perfect as he usually—”
“Wait, stop.” Mikey looked at Gerard as though he were the stupidest person on the planet. “What do you mean by perfect?”
Gerard blinked. “Um…I mean perfect. No, duh.” Well…yeah. Right? Ryan’s perfect and you’re not. He’s a wonderful, twenty-one-year-old lyricist who writes you sappy love songs sometimes and then trashes them because you find out and tease him. Ryan is perfect. Right?
“Gerard—Ryan’s not perfect!” Mikey said in disbelief, “What are you talking about?”
“Mikey—he is. You don’t know him as well as I do.”
“Stop right now Gee. Thinking someone’s perfect…I mean, nobody’s perfect. Gerard, um…Ryan’s…I mean—thinking someone’s perfect is just proof of how little you know about him. I mean, be honest. Look at him. He’s not perfect.”
Gerard blinked rapidly. Mikey was…Mikey was right! But how? Had Gerard been so stupid as to look past Ryan’s apparent flaws and fool himself into thinking the boy was perfect? Gee! You’re insain. Seriously. Goodbye sainity for now. Insain. Goddamn you. Just goddamn you. Do we really want to revert to that voice in your head you had a year ago? Oh too late. It’s coming back. Fucking shut up! No, Gee. Goddamn. Oh goddamn. Stupidass. You are so fucking stupid.
“I mean, take Alicia for instance,” Mikey continued, “She’s a fucking publicity whore. She spends to much time on the Internet and sometimes I think she flaunts me. And she snores too.”
“Okay, going past your stupid thing about snoring,” Gerard rolled his eyes, “I mean…how do you stand that? I’d hate it if Ryan posted pictures of us on the Internet. I’d…I’d hate it if this whole thing got out. Don’t you want privacy?”
“Yeah. But I love her—so does it really matter? That’s the fucking definition of true love.”
“What?”
Mikey sighed and played with the zipper on his sweatshirt, “You know…true love.”
“Mikey, this is where I do not get you one bit. Explain now,” Gerard giggled. No! The maniacal giggle! Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Goddamn. Oh shit, Gee. You’re back. Welcome back. Holy shit.
Mikey ignored his brother’s insainity giggle and sighed, “True love. I think it’s like…when people can look past each other’s faults to love them forever. You know? I mean…yeah, Alicia loves attention and stuff, but she’s…Alicia. I love her. I mean, I dunno…”
“Mikey, you’re such a romantic,” Gerard laughed and punched his brother in the arm, “I mean…you’re right though…” So maybe Ryan’s not perfect. Maybe you have to cut him some slack. He drinks too much, yes, but he’s also got the most beautiful eyes in the world. He also looks undeniably adorable when you find those stupid songs about you in his sock drawer. He’s also quite perfect when he wears your band T-shirts, just to annoy you. No stop, don’t use perfect. Oh Gee. This will take some getting used to. How ‘bout you buy him a new Sidekick? As a peace offering. And check that damn message from ‘Spencer.’
Yeah. That’s a good way to start.