Fracture, Shatter, Careful Don't Break
Fracture, Shatter...
Present Day, 2009
“Gerard! Hey, wait up a minute!”
Gerard winced and bit back a groan, paused in the doorway with his coat half-shrugged on. He glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows knitted together, and frowned. “What, Frank?”
Frank Iero was a short motherfucker with a loud mouth and too much energy. He had a certain charm about him, which let him walk away with more tips than Gerard –with his long, dark hair in his face and his eyeliner –ever made, but he’d been bugging Gerard to join his band for weeks –ever since he heard Gerard singing to himself one night when Gerard had thought he’d been alone, sweeping the floors quickly before he locked up.
Gerard’s answer was always the same: no.
And, nothing against Frank, but it was starting to piss him off. Because part of Gerard really wanted to say yes. Gerard loved music. He loved singing. Few years back, Gerard had been on his way to something great, but shit happened and he’d given it all up without a second thought. The want that flared hot and persistent whenever Frank asked, was always accompanied by guilt.
Gerard can’t.
“Come on, Gee. Come to one practice, just one. I know you’ll like it!”
Gerard sighed and ran a hand through his oily hair. He glanced at his watch and cursed, backing out of the restaurant. “Sorry, Franky. Can’t.”
“But –”
“Bye, Frank!” Gerard called over his shoulder, hurriedly setting off for his second job of the day.
Nine Years Ago, 2000
Gerard laughed and pushed the hair out of his face. He adjusted his microphone and nudged Mikey with his foot. “You’re getting better.”
Mikey grinned, open and wide, “Yah?”
“Yep. Matt, dude. Again?”
Matt nodded and tapped out the countdown, “One… Two… One, two, three four.”
Gerard screamed into his mic, feeling the rush of adrenaline he always got. He lived for this.
Present Day, 2009
Gerard landed the mailroom job because he knew Pete, the kid who owned the record label he worked under. Pete had been a family friend for ages and had given him the job because he knew that Gerard needed it. Gerard, to be honest, was shit in the mail room. He tended to get the mail mixed up (there were, to be fair, like six dudes named Alex and an Alec working on various floors), he was routinely late (either he got held up at the coffee store or at home), and he sometimes spilt coffee on envelopes… often times, envelopes labeled “IMPORTANT” or “FRAGILE” (the later of which he usually dropped, too).
As it was, Gerard had barely stepped into the room when he tripped over the waste basket, sending balled up bits of paper everywhere, and overturned one of the many stacks of packages waiting to be delivered. He lay for a moment on the floor and decided he hated gravity.
Mail, it turned out, was painfully boring. Gerard’s shift was slow going and mind-numbingly dull until Alex (Gerard wasn’t sure which one, which was probably why he’s always getting them so damn confused) ran up to him with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, Gerard, but someone’s on the phone for you. Sounds pretty urgent.”
Panic griped him, stealing his breath. His palms were sweating, his whole body shook, and he promptly dropped everything in his hands to sprint to the closest phone. “Hello?”
“Gerard?”
The voice on the other end was one Gerard knows well; it was Bob, the only man Gerard trusted with the single most important thing in his life. He shook harder, “What is it?”
“I think you better come home. He’s had a pretty bad spell.”
“Five minutes.”
Gerard lived in New York, at least twenty minutes away and no matter how much he was willing to pay, it still took the cab nearly forty minutes to get there through the heavy traffic. Gerard tipped the man and rushed to his apartment, running up the stairs (gasping for breath and fuck he needed to quit smoking) and barging inside so that the door banged loudly against the wall.
Bob was waiting for him, looking tired and worn and upset and fuck it really was bad.
“He’s under the table. Won’t come out, insists he doesn’t know me.”
Gerard nodded a little and approached the table slowly. He dropped to his knees and offered a lopsided smile to the man curled up on the kitchen tile. He was pale, eyes huge and dark hazel, and dark hair hanging in his face. He was shaking and whimpering, pressed as close to the wall as possible.
“Mikey,” Gerard called softly. “It’s GeeGee. You wanna come out for me?”
Mikey made a high keening sound and tried to scurry farther away from Gerard.
“Shh,” Gerard soothed, crawling beneath the table to join the other man. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s GeeGee. You know GeeGee, don’t you?”
Mikey rocked in place, eyes becoming impossibly larger. Gerard was beginning to worry; he didn’t want to have to take him to the hospital again. Sometimes it seemed like the Mikey was getting worse with time and Gerard worried that he would never get better.
“Hey, hey, hey. Stop that. Its okay, Mikey. I promise its okay. You’re okay.” Gerard fought to keep his voice steady and calm. He shot Bob a questioning look, “What the fuck happened?”
“He plugged in the toaster and it sparked.”
Gerard’s stomach twisted. Shit. He immediately pulled Mikey into his arms, ignoring the wail of terror the younger man let out. “Shush, Mikey. You’re safe. You’re safe. Its okay, you’re not there anymore. They don’t have you; they’ll never have you again. I got you out of there. Your GeeGee got you out of there and you’re never going back. I promise, Mikey. You’re safe.”
Slowly, Mikey stopped struggling. Tears slipped down his cheeks and Gerard brushed them away. He kissed his forehead and combed his fingers through his hair.
“Its okay, Mikey. You’re safe. GeeGee has you. Big brother has you.”
Eight Years Ago, 2001
Gerard pulled Mikey back against his chest, one arm wrapping tightly around the younger boy’s middle. He chuckled, low in his throat, and pressed kisses to the long column of Mikey’s throat. Mikey giggled, twisting around so he could wind his arms around Gerard’s neck and press their lips together.
“You like it, then?” Gerard asked when they broke apart. Mikey grinned and nodded, snuggling closer.
“Love it,” he mumbled, his lips brushing across Gerard’s throat as he tucked his head beneath Gerard’s chin. “Love you.”
“Love you, too, Mikes.”
It was a beautiful, perfect moment.
And then Gerard’s bedroom door opened. Both boys bolted upright, staring in horror at their mother.
“Gerard, didn’t I tell you to clean this –” Donna Way stopped speaking as soon as she caught sight of the boys.
For several seconds, there was total silence as she took in their state of undress, the love bites on Mikey’s throat, and the scratches on Gerard’s shoulder. Their hair was disheveled, their lips red and swollen. There was no denying the truth.
“Michael, go to your room. Now.” Donna ordered, her voice quiet and cold as steel. Mikey blushed, eyes falling to his boxers, which lay on the floor across the room. He bit his lip and didn’t move. Donna’s eyes flashed, “I said now, Michael!”
Mikey grabbed a pillow, covered himself as best he could, and scurried from the room. Gerard remained, staring openmouthed at his mother, and tried to get his brain to work. There had to be something he could do, something he could say to explain.
But, then. How do you explain that you’re in love with your younger brother to anyone, least of all your mother?
“Gerard,” Donna began. He suddenly noticed that her hands were fisted, knuckles white, and she was shaking. “You will pack your things and get out of my house. You have one hour. You will not speak to Michael. You do not get to tell him goodbye. You do not get to go to his room. You will pack your things and leave immediately. You will not try and contact him. You will not pick him up from school. You will not see him. If you do, I will press charges. I will go tomorrow and get a restraining order. You have one hour.”
She turned and walked away.
Gerard’s world crumbled.
Present Day, 2009
“What was up with yesterday, dude?”
Gerard looked up from his mail and frowned. Alex (he really needed to learn which one was which) was leaning against the door frame, sucking on a straw and slurping noisily.
“I had a family emergency.”
“Aw, man. That sucks. What happened? Everything cool?”
Gerard blinked. “I’m sorry, but… Who are you again?”
Instead of being insulted, the tiny little man grinned. “Oh, I’m Alex. But, like. You can call me Singer. Cuz of all the other dudes named Alex, you know. Everyone calls me Singer. Cash started it. It’s stupid, I know, and Cash is kind of a douche but he’s like my best friend.”
Gerard raised an eyebrow, “Right. I have mail to deliver.”
“Oh! Right. I was just supposed to ask you if you’re coming to the barbeque.”
“Barbeque?”
“Yah! Pete has one, like, every month. But you never come. I just wanted to, like. Let you know it was cool. We’re all friends here, right?”
Gerard frowned, “I can’t. I have to, um.”
Alex (Singer?) looked crestfallen. “It’s cool. Maybe, like. Next month?”
“I’m sorry, but. I have… commitments. I can’t go. Pete understands.”
Twelve Years Ago, 1997
“Can my friend come over after school? We’re supposed to be doing this science project thing.”
Gerard looked up at Mikey frowning. “Mom and Dad aren’t supposed to be back from their anniversary thing until Wednesday.”
“Yah, I know. But, it’s for school. I don’t want to fail.” Mikey picked at his nails, not meeting Gerard’s eye. Gerard wasn’t stupid. He could tell when his little brother was lying to him. It bothered him every time.
“Okay, Mikey. But don’t tell Mom.”
“I won’t! I promise!”
The bell rang, ending their lunch break. Mikey scurried for his books as Gerard shoved his sketchpad into his book bag.
“Don’t forget I have band practice tonight. I thought I’d bring back pizza.”
“Yah, okay. Pete! Hey, Pete!” Mikey yelled, running after a short boy with a wicked grin.
Gerard snarled and took off for art class.
As he promised, he ordered Pizza Hut and picked it up after his band practice, kicking the front door shut behind him. He set the pizza’s down on the table and ran upstairs to get Mikey. He threw open his brother’s door and then froze.
Mikey broke away from the boy he was making out with, scurrying back so quickly he fell off the bed. “Gerard!”
The boy grinned and waved. “Hi. I’m Pete. Er, um. Pete Wentz. Mikey’s boyfriend.”
“Pete,” Mikey hissed.
Gerard resisted the urge to snarl in jealousy. Mikey was his.
Seven Years Ago, 2002
“You’ve got to get him out of there!” Pete yelled.
“You think I haven’t tried,” Gerard snarled. The pair had never gotten along. Gerard hated Pete for having Mikey first and Pete hated Gerard for the time Gerard punched his face in. “I have to petition against Mom for custody.”
Pete fell silent. “I have this… friend. Patrick. He’s a law student.”
“I don’t think a student is going to help me, Pete.”
“It’s better than nothing, right? And, besides. He’s in his last semester. Patty’s a genius. He’s helping me set up my label. He’s awesome.”
“I’ll take all the help I can get. I don’t know how I’m gonna do it. Afford it… I guess I’ll have to drop out of school. Get a better job than working at the coffee shop.”
“You could work at my label. At least, you know. To start off with. Mail room or something.”
Gerard gave him a weird look. “Really?”
“Yes. Look, we don’t get along. I get it. But Mikey’s my best friend. I want to help.”
Gerard nodded. “Thank you.”
Three Years Ago, 2006
“Is he… okay?”
Gerard shook his head helplessly, cradling one of Mikey’s hands in both of his. “No,” he choked out. “The doctor says it’s from the electroshock. That it damaged him. They don’t… they don’t think he’ll get better.”
“Shit. Gerard…”
“He can’t talk. He can’t remember. He can barely function.”
Pete reached out, hand shaking, and brushed Mikey’s hair from his face. Mikey had been asleep for days. He didn’t know that they were there, didn’t know that he was safe. He didn’t know that he was no longer in that place, that horrible, horrible place.
Pete bent and kissed Mikey’s forehead.
“Everything’ll be okay, Mikes. All you gotta do is wake up.
Pete, in all the years to come, would never give up on Mikey.
Even when Gerard’s faith wavered; Pete never gave up.
Present Day, 2009
There was a crash and Gerard jerked upright in bed, instant panic hot in his chest. “Mikey? Mikey!”
The other side of his bed was empty and he scurried out from it so fast his feet got tangled in the blankets and he face-planted. He cursed and groaned, kicks the blankets off, and quickly ran for the kitchen. Mikey was sitting, dumbfounded, on the floor, surrounded by shattered glass.
He looked at Gerard, his eyes clearer than usual. Gerard, while still worried about the broken glass, sighed in relief. “Mikey?”
“I… Where am I?”
“You’re home, Mikes.”
Mikey frowned a little and shook his head. “Not… Not there?”
Gerard shook his head, “No. I got you out.”
Mikey blinked at him, “Gerard? GeeGee?”
“Yah, baby. It’s me.”
Mikey reached for him, desperately. Tears slipped down his cheeks, but Gerard was there to brush them away. He shushed him gently and picked him up, not wanting Mikey to put his bare feet anywhere near the glass. He carried him back to their bedroom.
It was moments, when Mikey was confused but lucid, when Mikey knew his own name and could recognize Gerard’s face; that made everything Gerard did, all the pain he felt on a daily basis, so fucking worth it.
“Gerard! Hey, wait up a minute!”
Gerard winced and bit back a groan, paused in the doorway with his coat half-shrugged on. He glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows knitted together, and frowned. “What, Frank?”
Frank Iero was a short motherfucker with a loud mouth and too much energy. He had a certain charm about him, which let him walk away with more tips than Gerard –with his long, dark hair in his face and his eyeliner –ever made, but he’d been bugging Gerard to join his band for weeks –ever since he heard Gerard singing to himself one night when Gerard had thought he’d been alone, sweeping the floors quickly before he locked up.
Gerard’s answer was always the same: no.
And, nothing against Frank, but it was starting to piss him off. Because part of Gerard really wanted to say yes. Gerard loved music. He loved singing. Few years back, Gerard had been on his way to something great, but shit happened and he’d given it all up without a second thought. The want that flared hot and persistent whenever Frank asked, was always accompanied by guilt.
Gerard can’t.
“Come on, Gee. Come to one practice, just one. I know you’ll like it!”
Gerard sighed and ran a hand through his oily hair. He glanced at his watch and cursed, backing out of the restaurant. “Sorry, Franky. Can’t.”
“But –”
“Bye, Frank!” Gerard called over his shoulder, hurriedly setting off for his second job of the day.
Nine Years Ago, 2000
Gerard laughed and pushed the hair out of his face. He adjusted his microphone and nudged Mikey with his foot. “You’re getting better.”
Mikey grinned, open and wide, “Yah?”
“Yep. Matt, dude. Again?”
Matt nodded and tapped out the countdown, “One… Two… One, two, three four.”
Gerard screamed into his mic, feeling the rush of adrenaline he always got. He lived for this.
Present Day, 2009
Gerard landed the mailroom job because he knew Pete, the kid who owned the record label he worked under. Pete had been a family friend for ages and had given him the job because he knew that Gerard needed it. Gerard, to be honest, was shit in the mail room. He tended to get the mail mixed up (there were, to be fair, like six dudes named Alex and an Alec working on various floors), he was routinely late (either he got held up at the coffee store or at home), and he sometimes spilt coffee on envelopes… often times, envelopes labeled “IMPORTANT” or “FRAGILE” (the later of which he usually dropped, too).
As it was, Gerard had barely stepped into the room when he tripped over the waste basket, sending balled up bits of paper everywhere, and overturned one of the many stacks of packages waiting to be delivered. He lay for a moment on the floor and decided he hated gravity.
Mail, it turned out, was painfully boring. Gerard’s shift was slow going and mind-numbingly dull until Alex (Gerard wasn’t sure which one, which was probably why he’s always getting them so damn confused) ran up to him with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, Gerard, but someone’s on the phone for you. Sounds pretty urgent.”
Panic griped him, stealing his breath. His palms were sweating, his whole body shook, and he promptly dropped everything in his hands to sprint to the closest phone. “Hello?”
“Gerard?”
The voice on the other end was one Gerard knows well; it was Bob, the only man Gerard trusted with the single most important thing in his life. He shook harder, “What is it?”
“I think you better come home. He’s had a pretty bad spell.”
“Five minutes.”
Gerard lived in New York, at least twenty minutes away and no matter how much he was willing to pay, it still took the cab nearly forty minutes to get there through the heavy traffic. Gerard tipped the man and rushed to his apartment, running up the stairs (gasping for breath and fuck he needed to quit smoking) and barging inside so that the door banged loudly against the wall.
Bob was waiting for him, looking tired and worn and upset and fuck it really was bad.
“He’s under the table. Won’t come out, insists he doesn’t know me.”
Gerard nodded a little and approached the table slowly. He dropped to his knees and offered a lopsided smile to the man curled up on the kitchen tile. He was pale, eyes huge and dark hazel, and dark hair hanging in his face. He was shaking and whimpering, pressed as close to the wall as possible.
“Mikey,” Gerard called softly. “It’s GeeGee. You wanna come out for me?”
Mikey made a high keening sound and tried to scurry farther away from Gerard.
“Shh,” Gerard soothed, crawling beneath the table to join the other man. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s GeeGee. You know GeeGee, don’t you?”
Mikey rocked in place, eyes becoming impossibly larger. Gerard was beginning to worry; he didn’t want to have to take him to the hospital again. Sometimes it seemed like the Mikey was getting worse with time and Gerard worried that he would never get better.
“Hey, hey, hey. Stop that. Its okay, Mikey. I promise its okay. You’re okay.” Gerard fought to keep his voice steady and calm. He shot Bob a questioning look, “What the fuck happened?”
“He plugged in the toaster and it sparked.”
Gerard’s stomach twisted. Shit. He immediately pulled Mikey into his arms, ignoring the wail of terror the younger man let out. “Shush, Mikey. You’re safe. You’re safe. Its okay, you’re not there anymore. They don’t have you; they’ll never have you again. I got you out of there. Your GeeGee got you out of there and you’re never going back. I promise, Mikey. You’re safe.”
Slowly, Mikey stopped struggling. Tears slipped down his cheeks and Gerard brushed them away. He kissed his forehead and combed his fingers through his hair.
“Its okay, Mikey. You’re safe. GeeGee has you. Big brother has you.”
Eight Years Ago, 2001
Gerard pulled Mikey back against his chest, one arm wrapping tightly around the younger boy’s middle. He chuckled, low in his throat, and pressed kisses to the long column of Mikey’s throat. Mikey giggled, twisting around so he could wind his arms around Gerard’s neck and press their lips together.
“You like it, then?” Gerard asked when they broke apart. Mikey grinned and nodded, snuggling closer.
“Love it,” he mumbled, his lips brushing across Gerard’s throat as he tucked his head beneath Gerard’s chin. “Love you.”
“Love you, too, Mikes.”
It was a beautiful, perfect moment.
And then Gerard’s bedroom door opened. Both boys bolted upright, staring in horror at their mother.
“Gerard, didn’t I tell you to clean this –” Donna Way stopped speaking as soon as she caught sight of the boys.
For several seconds, there was total silence as she took in their state of undress, the love bites on Mikey’s throat, and the scratches on Gerard’s shoulder. Their hair was disheveled, their lips red and swollen. There was no denying the truth.
“Michael, go to your room. Now.” Donna ordered, her voice quiet and cold as steel. Mikey blushed, eyes falling to his boxers, which lay on the floor across the room. He bit his lip and didn’t move. Donna’s eyes flashed, “I said now, Michael!”
Mikey grabbed a pillow, covered himself as best he could, and scurried from the room. Gerard remained, staring openmouthed at his mother, and tried to get his brain to work. There had to be something he could do, something he could say to explain.
But, then. How do you explain that you’re in love with your younger brother to anyone, least of all your mother?
“Gerard,” Donna began. He suddenly noticed that her hands were fisted, knuckles white, and she was shaking. “You will pack your things and get out of my house. You have one hour. You will not speak to Michael. You do not get to tell him goodbye. You do not get to go to his room. You will pack your things and leave immediately. You will not try and contact him. You will not pick him up from school. You will not see him. If you do, I will press charges. I will go tomorrow and get a restraining order. You have one hour.”
She turned and walked away.
Gerard’s world crumbled.
Present Day, 2009
“What was up with yesterday, dude?”
Gerard looked up from his mail and frowned. Alex (he really needed to learn which one was which) was leaning against the door frame, sucking on a straw and slurping noisily.
“I had a family emergency.”
“Aw, man. That sucks. What happened? Everything cool?”
Gerard blinked. “I’m sorry, but… Who are you again?”
Instead of being insulted, the tiny little man grinned. “Oh, I’m Alex. But, like. You can call me Singer. Cuz of all the other dudes named Alex, you know. Everyone calls me Singer. Cash started it. It’s stupid, I know, and Cash is kind of a douche but he’s like my best friend.”
Gerard raised an eyebrow, “Right. I have mail to deliver.”
“Oh! Right. I was just supposed to ask you if you’re coming to the barbeque.”
“Barbeque?”
“Yah! Pete has one, like, every month. But you never come. I just wanted to, like. Let you know it was cool. We’re all friends here, right?”
Gerard frowned, “I can’t. I have to, um.”
Alex (Singer?) looked crestfallen. “It’s cool. Maybe, like. Next month?”
“I’m sorry, but. I have… commitments. I can’t go. Pete understands.”
Twelve Years Ago, 1997
“Can my friend come over after school? We’re supposed to be doing this science project thing.”
Gerard looked up at Mikey frowning. “Mom and Dad aren’t supposed to be back from their anniversary thing until Wednesday.”
“Yah, I know. But, it’s for school. I don’t want to fail.” Mikey picked at his nails, not meeting Gerard’s eye. Gerard wasn’t stupid. He could tell when his little brother was lying to him. It bothered him every time.
“Okay, Mikey. But don’t tell Mom.”
“I won’t! I promise!”
The bell rang, ending their lunch break. Mikey scurried for his books as Gerard shoved his sketchpad into his book bag.
“Don’t forget I have band practice tonight. I thought I’d bring back pizza.”
“Yah, okay. Pete! Hey, Pete!” Mikey yelled, running after a short boy with a wicked grin.
Gerard snarled and took off for art class.
As he promised, he ordered Pizza Hut and picked it up after his band practice, kicking the front door shut behind him. He set the pizza’s down on the table and ran upstairs to get Mikey. He threw open his brother’s door and then froze.
Mikey broke away from the boy he was making out with, scurrying back so quickly he fell off the bed. “Gerard!”
The boy grinned and waved. “Hi. I’m Pete. Er, um. Pete Wentz. Mikey’s boyfriend.”
“Pete,” Mikey hissed.
Gerard resisted the urge to snarl in jealousy. Mikey was his.
Seven Years Ago, 2002
“You’ve got to get him out of there!” Pete yelled.
“You think I haven’t tried,” Gerard snarled. The pair had never gotten along. Gerard hated Pete for having Mikey first and Pete hated Gerard for the time Gerard punched his face in. “I have to petition against Mom for custody.”
Pete fell silent. “I have this… friend. Patrick. He’s a law student.”
“I don’t think a student is going to help me, Pete.”
“It’s better than nothing, right? And, besides. He’s in his last semester. Patty’s a genius. He’s helping me set up my label. He’s awesome.”
“I’ll take all the help I can get. I don’t know how I’m gonna do it. Afford it… I guess I’ll have to drop out of school. Get a better job than working at the coffee shop.”
“You could work at my label. At least, you know. To start off with. Mail room or something.”
Gerard gave him a weird look. “Really?”
“Yes. Look, we don’t get along. I get it. But Mikey’s my best friend. I want to help.”
Gerard nodded. “Thank you.”
Three Years Ago, 2006
“Is he… okay?”
Gerard shook his head helplessly, cradling one of Mikey’s hands in both of his. “No,” he choked out. “The doctor says it’s from the electroshock. That it damaged him. They don’t… they don’t think he’ll get better.”
“Shit. Gerard…”
“He can’t talk. He can’t remember. He can barely function.”
Pete reached out, hand shaking, and brushed Mikey’s hair from his face. Mikey had been asleep for days. He didn’t know that they were there, didn’t know that he was safe. He didn’t know that he was no longer in that place, that horrible, horrible place.
Pete bent and kissed Mikey’s forehead.
“Everything’ll be okay, Mikes. All you gotta do is wake up.
Pete, in all the years to come, would never give up on Mikey.
Even when Gerard’s faith wavered; Pete never gave up.
Present Day, 2009
There was a crash and Gerard jerked upright in bed, instant panic hot in his chest. “Mikey? Mikey!”
The other side of his bed was empty and he scurried out from it so fast his feet got tangled in the blankets and he face-planted. He cursed and groaned, kicks the blankets off, and quickly ran for the kitchen. Mikey was sitting, dumbfounded, on the floor, surrounded by shattered glass.
He looked at Gerard, his eyes clearer than usual. Gerard, while still worried about the broken glass, sighed in relief. “Mikey?”
“I… Where am I?”
“You’re home, Mikes.”
Mikey frowned a little and shook his head. “Not… Not there?”
Gerard shook his head, “No. I got you out.”
Mikey blinked at him, “Gerard? GeeGee?”
“Yah, baby. It’s me.”
Mikey reached for him, desperately. Tears slipped down his cheeks, but Gerard was there to brush them away. He shushed him gently and picked him up, not wanting Mikey to put his bare feet anywhere near the glass. He carried him back to their bedroom.
It was moments, when Mikey was confused but lucid, when Mikey knew his own name and could recognize Gerard’s face; that made everything Gerard did, all the pain he felt on a daily basis, so fucking worth it.