You'll Die for Your Sins

“I’m dying, Gerard,” she said sadly. Profound brown eyes stared back at him weakly.

It’s Christmas time again. Gerard walks home with nothing but his thoughts; memories and thoughts, actually. He’s coming from the cemetery, where he’s gone weekly to pay tribute to his mother for the past year. She died of prolonged disease, fucking uterus cancer, Alzheimer also eating out her sanity, and he was the last one to see her alive. Gerard dreads the memory, especially the thought of her last wish.

“I just wish my boys would talk to each other again,” she added croakily, left hand on Gerard’s right one. The same brown eyes losing some flaming glow at the frown crossing his forehead.

*

Gerard steps out of his Buick, the last one in the driveway, and inspects the other vehicles neatly parked there. He recognizes his father’s old Chevrolet, his uncle’s red Mini and Brent’s new Saab. The fourth one, right next to Gerard’s car, is the black Kawasaki he most hates to see.

Tearing his eyes away from the fiery name carved deeply in that bike’s gas tank, Gerard roughly grabs the bag of Christmas presents from the back seat and strolls inside. He huffs and curses under his breath, totally not wanting to be there, but knowing that he can’t tolerate the increasing pressure from his family members any more. He groans to himself quietly, and rolls his eyes at the same time, before stretching his arm and ringing the bell.

Brent opens the door for him minutes later. Brent’s his younger brother, already a role model to many kids around the world at the age of twenty-one. Gerard’s got nothing against him. Not at all. Brent is the kind of person who excels at almost everything he does, who can effective with every word, and completely convincing when he tilts his head to the right and scrunches up his lips to the left. Yet Gerard doesn’t fear that attitude, because they’re totally different. After all, different goals and different life experiences construct different people that can still try and work out peacefully.

“Oh, here you are, Gerard,” Brent says, flashing his brotherly smile to Gerard, who still has his finger over the bell. “Don’t just stand there,” Brent continues and it startles Gerard to the point where he jumps two feet into the air, because the kid can really read his mind in a way that Gerard doesn’t really want to find an explanation to. “C’mon, get inside; you’re the only one missing here.”

So, he smiles back at Brent uneasily and walks into the house, the one where Gerard spent all his childhood and teenage years, until he was twenty and he made him move out. There’s light in the kitchen and the living room, and Gerard walks towards the latter because that’s where he’s allowed. The kitchen, during Christmas, has always been for Brent and their aunt, no one else.

The Christmas tree is in there, beautifully lit up and decorated with reds and whites and blues, making Gerard go back to every single year before it happened. He stares at the plastic branches and lamps in the corner, and memories flood his mind again before he can stop it, and it’s too late. He’s practically sweating and wanting to get out of there. Gerard shakes his head in a second and turns his head to one side, his eyes meeting the cream, empty wall and focusing on the apparent imperfections of the paint.

He clears his throat quietly and takes the scarf from around his neck because, suddenly, the atmosphere is unbearably hot. Then, someone touches his shoulder, making him turn around completely. “Merry Christmas, son,” his father says. There’s the rest of the living room behind him, Gerard can see it, and his closest relatives are sitting around in various couches. He’s there too, actually, resolutely not looking at Gerard.

“Merry Christmas, Dad,” he finally says. “How are you?” Gerard asks politely and he even manages a smile, as he looks directly at his father’s lovely eyes. They’re hazel, but they’ve been darker for the past year. Gerard knows the reason, actually; because his mother died only one year ago. His heart sinks at the thought of his dad in pain. Or maybe at how much he misses her.

“Good, and I’m glad you’ve also accepted to come,” his father says. He looks sincere. Gerard knows he has always agreed with his mother in practically everything, and that’s what sticks to his mind when he thinks of it. “How have you been?”

Gerard glances briefly at the rest of the living room and he turns his head at the same time. There’s a sudden discomfort everywhere in the room, maybe even in the entire house, and Gerard looks away. He doesn’t want to face him so early in the night. They still have to share that Christmas dinner before it all goes downhill again. “Not bad, fortunately. Nothing much goes on in my life, anyway, not since…” His eyes fall back on a specific seat. The wrong one because he’s still there, probably searching for Gerard’s weakness. “Y’know.”

“Oh,” his father says, possibly seeing who Gerard is staring at, no matter how much he tries to look away. There’s just the tension and the fury pulling him in like a magnet, and Gerard kind of wants to attack without further ado. “You should go talk to him.”

Now Gerard really wants to rip his hair out and react without second thoughts. He looks at his father and finds the calm expression again. He forces his face into a serene expression for his father, but his insides are boiling. And it doesn’t matter what that last memory of his mother tells him, or what his father tries to tell him through that gaze. “Dad, I don’t-”

“Gerard, you know what it means to me.” Yes, he does know his father’s opinion on the matter and especially on all that fury Gerard has inside of him, but it has been there for ages. There’s no way Gerard can change his mind after what happened. “You know what it meant to your mother, too,” his father persists.

It’s true and it kind of is what makes Gerard so angry. He doesn’t want to do it, he cannot forgive and forget what happened earlier in his life. He doesn’t care if it was motivated by passion, if the Police considered it momentary insanity, if it’s past in the eyes of society. In his mind, and deep in his heart, it still hurts. It will always hurt Gerard. “Dad, you have no idea what-” he tried.

“Gerard, you know.” His father looks deeply in his eyes, transmitting to him all the loss left behind by that unwanted, although predicted, death.

He nods, defeated. He really does know what his father means and what he has to do, no matter how much he dislikes it. Gerard inwardly hopes he only has to do it that night and let it all go away afterwards, because he truly doesn’t want to carry on with his life and having him ruining every single moment. It’s happened before and Gerard won’t let it happen twice.

As a result, Gerard’s father’s got his arm in both hands and guides Gerard through the living room. His shape is getting closer and Gerard’s mind is escaping with every step, fleeing back to his anger and hatred, and spiraling away from that house and that present right to the fondest and the most breaking memories of his whole life.

*

“The sun’s rising,” he said and Gerard found his eyes again. They weren’t shining, but they looked back at Gerard in a tender gaze, the same emotions they’d shared every time he met Gerard there. The boys were at an abandoned house, not because of the adrenaline of possible ghosts running around in the nothingness of their lost souls, but because they could be alone. That was the only thing they wanted and needed at the moment.

“Already?” Gerard exclaimed and draped one arm over his eyes to try and make the sun go back to the other side of the world. It obviously didn’t. “I want it gone. Forever. I don’t wanna spend another week in that Hell…” Gerard complained.

“Calm down, Gee,” he said softly, climbing on top of Gerard and kissing his pursed-up lips for a brief moment. There was that immediate sense of relief, Gerard feeling those lips of cerise against his own, leaving his scent and taste everywhere in Gerard’s body. It was Earth on Heaven, and not the opposite. “Is Mikey still bothering you?”

“Sometimes, if he wants to, or whatever. I just hate that it’s completely unpredictable now. I can never tell if he’s coming to my room that night or not, and you know I hate it,” Gerard clarified.

“Have you told someone about it?” he asked. Gerard looked at him, shooting him a clear glance of you-should-know-the-answer. “I mean, apart from me.”

“Yeah,” Gerard answered almost inaudibly. It was like Gerard was ashamed of his next words; “I’ve told my parents when there wasn’t anyone else around, but they didn’t believe me. They accused me of being jealous and trying to get attention from them, since he got so much of it after the bike accident.”

“What about Brent? You get along with him very well, you told me…”

“He’s too young. I can’t tell him such a thing.” Gerard sighed, annoyed and a little despaired. Gerard had to stop the situation and the uneasiness in his mind by himself and the boy by his side was the only one giving him some peace, once a week, to get his thoughts in order, et cetera. Gerard needed him in so many ways; he couldn’t even enumerate them.

“I wish I could rescue you, Gee,” he said. “I wish your parents would accept you as you are. I wish they could see what I see right now…” Gerard looked at him sadly, knowing that it wouldn’t happen any time soon. Perhaps it would never happen at all. He grabbed Gerard’s jaws and drew closer, his voice coming in a soft caress against Gerard’s face. “I love you, Gee.”

“Thank you,” Gerard said only before responding with the same words, in his kind voice, “I love you too.” Then, they kissed each other again and the feeling was superb. Gerard cupped the back of his head with one hand and placed his other one on the small curve of his spine, trying to hold him still in that position. They were so warm.

“You really like to do that, don’t you?” he asked Gerard with a silly smile on his face. At first, Gerard didn’t know what he was talking about, but then there was a reminiscence of a previous conversation they had had. Gerard was cupping the back of his body. It was a tender movement, but apparently Gerard did it all the time and he was wondering why.

“Yeah, I don’t want you running away,” Gerard replied, trying to play around with the situation. Gerard only did it because it was comfortable, actually, but both boys still giggled at his response. “I like having you here.”

“And you’re lucky that I like being here, too,” he stated in a whisper, eyes finding Gerard’s and lakes of understanding flying in between. “You’re really lucky.”

“Am I?” Gerard inquired dramatically, giving proper attention to the vowels and attempting a very thick accent, but it didn’t work out the way Gerard wanted to. He ended up giggling and laughing, not answering back. But shortly after, he calmed down and stared at Gerard in all seriousness. “I guess I am,” Gerard ended up concluding.

“I am, too - lucky and happy,” he spoke up with a smile and pecked Gerard’s lips. “Y’know, my mom totally wants to meet the girl that makes me so happy,” he said. Gerard found his eyes again and, in the next second, they were both cracking up in unison. They cradled one another’s shapes in one single embrace, touching heads and sharing laughs in a rare moment that not many people were ever able to share. Maybe it was a sign that they fit well together, that they were supposed to be there even if only once a week, because there was no Hell able to take that mood away from Gerard.

“I’m not gonna dress in drag, though,” Gerard said seriously. And he just cracked up against Gerard’s frame again, until their lips met casually and they mingled again in their favorite passion.

BANG! “Get off of him!”

He broke off the kiss, completely startled by the loud thud and the yell. It had been a mix of anger with surprise, that wicked voice sounding from above the earth in great rage and magnitude. Gerard’s eyes flew wide with that, too, but it was actually because he recognized the voice, the tone and the shape that had provoked it all.

“Mikey.”

“Say my name again, Gerard, I don’t mind,” Mikey said. He was looking deeply at Gerard, daring his younger brother to say something more, to attempt an excuse, to find some explanation for what was going on in that room. It had taken months for Mikey to find out where Gerard had been meeting him, but it didn’t matter anymore; Mikey was here now, and he could stop them. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Gerard remained silent.

He, though, tried to say something. “Gee’s w-”

“I was asking Gerard,” Mikey said brutally, eyes sputtering flames towards him, even though Gerard’s arm was in the way, trying to protect him from all the things Mikey definitely wanted to do to him. Mikey turned back to his brother. “Gerard?”

He tried to speak again, but Gerard pressed him further against the bed, further away from Mikey, because no matter what was going to happen in that abandoned room, he wouldn’t get in the way. Gerard would take it all with his body, the same way he had taken Mikey’s attacks, either in anger or desire, for the past twelve years. Gerard knew he couldn’t be involved in this… brothers’ problem. Gerard was shaking.

“Mikey, please.”

“That’s what you’ve been telling me for years, Gerard. Can’t you be a little more original?” Mikey questioned with that somewhat teasing tone, suggesting mock and pureness in his trials to show Gerard who he was and where he was supposed to be. “Fuck. Is that little shit what you’ve chosen over me? I can’t fucking believe you,” Mikey finished.

“You-” Gerard stared and flinched when Mikey put his hands in his pockets, no matter how inoffensive that gesture was. He put his hands over Gerard’s arm, the one shielding him between the bed and the brothers, and squeezed. Especially because Gerard jolted on the bed when Mikey smirked and pushed back a little more. Gerard seemed frightened and Mikey enjoyed that reaction. Mikey had always enjoyed it.

He squeezed the flesh in his hands a little more and Gerard squeezed his eyes shut, so forcefully that Mikey thought he was probably seeing stars in his brain. Then, Gerard opened them again and gained the guts to say: “You can’t have me forever, Mikey. Frank and I-”

“So, Frank’s the name, huh?” Mikey asked, the same kind of smirk on his face. Mikey knew he had always terrified Gerard with it, because Mikey always wore it whenever things were going to be done in the darkness of Gerard’s childhood bedroom. And, later in their life, in the natural dimness of Gerard’s basement bedroom. Stuff always happened, and Mikey was delighted to recall it every day, so he hated it when Gerard tried to make it all go away from their minds.

“Well, I’ve got two choices for you, Frank.” Mikey looked forward intently, trying to see past Gerard’s terror, right into Frank’s whatever feelings. However, Gerard’s arm was in the way. “Gerard, scoot,” Mikey finally ordered, his favorite tone of voice; the same one he used every time he requested Gerard to undress for him, to turn off the lights when they were naked on the bed and Mikey wanted to feel him, but not see him. He took two steps closer to the bed, but Gerard didn’t move. He was… well, he seemed keen on protecting Frank.

“Gerard,” Mikey said sternly. Gerard kind of flinched and whimpered, but Mikey couldn’t be sure of that with so many hisses and gasps in his mind from the gorgeous memories. “You know you can’t do this, little brother. You know-” Mikey hesitated.

“Listen, Mikey, I know-” Frank tried, but stopped immediately as Mikey flashed his angry look at him. Mikey was burning directly at Frank, not wanting him to speak, not wanting him there, not wanting him to exist. He was the one controlling Gerard’s mind now, and Mikey wanted that power back. Mikey wanted to be the one plaguing Gerard’s whole thoughts; he wanted to see Gerard freeze in fear and hear Gerard pant in horror from under him; Mikey wanted the control he had always had on his brother.

“Shut up,” Mikey threatened.

Frank didn’t seem to take it this time, though. “No. I know what you’re doing to Gerard and I don’t think he-”

“I don’t care about what you think. You had no right to take Gerard away from his family.” Mikey used his sternest voice and wore his angriest gaze to tell Frank that he didn’t want Gerard anywhere near him. Mikey was his family; he should have Gerard, not Frank. “He was such a good boy before you came in to the picture. He was obedient, didn’t talk much unless it was necessary, he didn’t even deny me the great things I wanna do with him. Gerard-”

“Gerard hates you!” Frank shouted immediately, red orbs in his eye sockets, red circles in his cheeks, red fury dangling from every breath he released. Gerard tried to hold him back, but he had already launched himself to the end of the bed, ready to get up from it and attack Mikey in whatever way. Gerard grabbed his knees, though, perfectly reading the one look upon Mikey’s eyes that told him to obey, or else. “Gee, let me go! I can’t listen to him-”

“Frank, he might hurt you.” Gerard’s voice was trembling, it was pretty clear, and Mikey wanted to laugh at that. Hmm, from the odious looks Frank was turning at him, maybe he really had laughed at the comment. “Mikey, please, whatever it is that you want, don’t hurt Frank. Don’t take him like you…” he trailed off and closed his mouth. Mikey was sure he knew the reason why, as he was tilting his head to one side and hiding his smirk in the opposite corner of his mouth. They both knew how hurt Gerard had gotten after Mikey gave him that look.

Still, Mikey loved that begging part of Gerard. He couldn’t stop admiring his brother for being so young and tasty at the moment, even if he was in bed with someone else rather than Mikey. He wanted to hold Gerard and nibble his throat to oblivion and his skin was tingling from only just the thought, but Frank was there and he would certainly ruin the moment. Well, unless Mikey used his plan B. There was always a plan B in confrontation scenes, so why not?

“Keep begging, Gerard,” Mikey said and crossed his arms. Gerard was looking at him, his eyes flashing with terror. It was the same expression Gerard always had whenever Mikey entered his bedroom and hid by the closet for the first seconds. Mikey just enjoyed scaring him a little bit more. “You know I love you for that. And I bet you want what I have to give you in return for so much longing and begging.”

“I-”

“He’s not gonna surrender now,” Frank defied Mikey again. Gerard pulled him back again and, this time, he managed to get Frank closer to him. They sat down by each other’s side and held their hands in a sickly dear motion. “I’m gonna rescue Gerard from his Hell and I’m gonna prove to your parents and everyone else the hideous things you’ve been doing to him. I don’t know why you don’t get yourself a whore or something, but-”

“I don’t need one,” Mikey clarified immediately, “I have Gerard. You know that.” He tapped his foot on the floor, completely impatient with all the chit-chat going on that he didn’t want to have after all. Mikey didn’t like to talk much; he preferred action, and Gerard had always been the perfect source of that kind of action so… pleasant.

“Don’t you dare,” Frank practically snarled and moved forward, but Gerard still held him back with both hands and arms.

“Yeah, you listen to Gerard because I’ve educated him enough. He knows what’s gotta happen, don’t you, Gee?” Mikey mocked Frank’s voice and uncrossed his arms. “Gerard, you’re coming with me. You should know it’s dangerous to have a sleepover in strange places.” He extended one hand towards Gerard, pressing him on taking it and letting Mikey lead them home, where they should have been all night. It shouldn’t have been Mikey looking for clues on Gerard’s whereabouts.

Frank didn’t let Gerard move at all. Mikey smirked and withdrew his hand, leading it to the inside of his jacket now. He looked sternly at Frank and, then, angrily at Gerard, before saying “You remember what I told you every time you were reluctant to listen to me, don’t you?” Gerard nodded and Mikey kind of predicted that he was mentally repeating the flashbacks of ‘You don’t want to see me when I feel rejected, little brother’ and the fiery eyes and the twitching mouth.

“Well, guess what?” Mikey flicked his gaze towards Frank and held it there, in his naked form, ripping that body to pieces with his mental hands and shredding that face to red lines with his snarls and angry barks. But Gerard whimpered to get Mikey’s attention again. “Good boy,” Mikey said to his brother and took a few more steps forward, so that he was face to face with Gerard. Frank tried to move in between them, but it was too late, because Mikey had his free hand on Frank’s throat when he moved. “I’m feeling rejected right now, Gerard. You came here and left me alone in my bedroom tonight; God knows how long you’ve been coming here, and I don’t want that. Mom doesn’t want you spending the night with strangers and Dad is gonna yell at you for not having told them where you were this night, y’know? Then, you’ll be crawling to your bed, begging for my mercy, because you don’t wanna feel even shittier, but guess what?”

Mikey took his final step close to the bed and squeezed Frank’s throat in his hand, no matter how much the guy tried to fight him, struggling on the bed, moving away, fighting off the grip. It still wasn’t deathly, though, and Mikey knew that. He continued, “Gerard, you abandoned me at home and came here to fuck this midget.” Frank tried to fight him a little more and he knew this time it was becoming effective. Mikey felt his arm going weak by the elbow with every hit from Frank’s palm or fist. Gerard only shook his head and his eyes widened in panic, adding to the punches against Mikey’s arm, but he stopped and froze at the next words, “You rejected me and Frank’s gonna pay.”

Mikey redrew his hand from the jacket and heard Gerard’s shout of “NO!” but it was already too late. The trigger was pulled and the bang sounded right there and then. Frank’s last attempts to fight back went to waste. The gun had punched a round and full-of-red hole on his forehead.

**

Mikey stares back at him in another frenetic mode, pretty close to the ones he showed only to Gerard in the past. He doesn’t freeze now, though, and Mikey knows he’s reading hatred inside those eyes that look so much like his own. He knows Gerard hates him for the past, but he hasn’t exactly regretted the whole thing because it brought Gerard back home, back to Mikey in those days. And it feels extremely good, no way to deny that.

“Dad, I don’t wanna-” Gerard’s saying as he approaches Mikey, who is still sitting and sipping on his glass of red wine. Red because it is his favorite color ever since Gerard was his again; red because it reminds Mikey of what he has so blatantly done. And, then, they are too close.

“You know why you’re here,” their father tells them both. Mikey waits as he glances at Gerard first, that kindness and stupid pity gleaming through the corners. Mikey knows that Gerard is trying to hide his weakness from him. But Mikey’s smarter than that. And, finally, Dad meets his own gaze and fights back any feeling he has in his heart, Mikey recognizes the signs of pupils contracting and the hazel color turning to a darker one with each second until his father looks elsewhere.

And Mikey’s alone with Gerard. “I’m only doing this because it was mom's last wish,” Gerard says, cold and cruel, and blunt as ever, “Not because I want to.” Mikey nods, actually, but he manages to hide his smirk as he swallows to clear his throat and speak:

“I don’t think we’re supposed to lie tonight, Gee.” Mikey knows perfectly that Gerard hasn’t allowed anyone to call him that, not since what happened. Gerard grimaces and the horror of memories mixes with the hatred of the confrontation until Mikey pulls out a sweeter face and says, “I thought we were supposed to make up honestly like adults? Brent says a person’s last wish must be taken seriously, otherwise-”

“Brent’s just a kid, Mikey, don’t bring him into this.” Gerard hisses at how cold Mikey suddenly looks. “No one believed me then, and I was forced to move out of here before I was even prepared to leave, ‘cause I couldn’t look in your face anymore.” Gerard is snarling at him at this point, but Mikey doesn’t even flinch. He’s used to so much loathing and revulsion in his life; he deals with it every day and every night, every single moment. “And I still can’t face you now, you disgust me.”

“Gee, Dad wouldn’t like to hear you right now…” Mikey sings his words out, because he knows Gerard can’t help but burn inside at the secret sound of mocking and teasing. “Not Dad, not Brent, Mom…”

“You weren’t there, Mikey, you don’t know a thing about Mom.” Gerard steps closer to Mikey’s face, his eyes widening. Gerard can feel the fire burning in those hazel lakes and the anger running throughout his veins and arteries and body organs. “She wished that we would talk to each other again, and here we are – fucking talking, facing each other like we haven’t done in ten fucking years, but I didn’t miss it. Be sure of that.”

Mikey feels kind of hurt from that. How could Gerard be so cold when talking about their mother? He didn’t know half of the story; Gerard couldn’t know what happened behind his back, right? “Gerard, look-”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Gerard says and he walks away. Mikey watches him as he turns on his heels and there’s almost grey smoke coming out of Gerard’s ears and hair. Mikey loves that, how damn delicious Gerard can still be after so many years of not having met or seen one another. Mikey actually licks his lips, just like in their good old days. He misses those.

**

“Mom, Mom, it’s okay, calm down,” Mikey soothed his dying mother with soft sounds and words. He had been there for almost an hour now. At first, the woman had been resting, sleeping her disease away as much as she could. She was, though, trying to say something, or ask him something, and Mikey wanted to know what it was before she collapsed in the middle of her own breaths or before her lungs were coughed out from her mouth. “Shh, take it easy, Mom.”

“Mikey…” she whispered and he waited. He would wait patiently, holding her hand and wanting nothing more than to know what she would say, ask, request, demand. He would take it, as long as it didn’t involve what Brent had told him before. She squeezed his hand lightly, and Mikey’s head jerked up to look at her again. “Mikey, has- has your father told you about our Gerard?”

“That depends, Mom,” Mikey said only, not really keen on continuing a conversation about someone who had completely deserted him, fucking left him with empty nights staring at his own useless hands.

“Gerard told us horrible things once, Mikey, things about you and every other night in his bedroom. He told us horrible things and I didn’t want to think of them as true things, but could your brother ever lie to anyone?” she asked slowly, not really from the impact of the words, but from her disease corroding her brain capabilities and possibly her throat as well. “Horrible things, Mikey.” She closed her eyes.

Mikey remained silent; he had an idea of what ‘horrible things’ meant to his mother, but he didn’t share that opinion. Of course he didn’t, he had never punished Gerard that much, but his brother had always been a whiny boy, so when would he exactly stop? Whiny and a fucking hypocrite, because Mikey remembered some of those nights when Gerard didn’t struggle against him, when Gerard didn’t fight back, when Gerard totally wanted Mikey in his bedroom and he didn’t go just to tease his little brother.

“Horrible things about you…” His mother closed her eyes slowly, shutting him out for one more second, and Mikey knew what he had to do.

He couldn’t let his mother die with that doubt, Mikey wanted her to know the truth and die in peace with her sins and her sons’ sins too. So, he got up slowly and licked his lips again, to wet them because his mouth was fucking dry at the moment from all the waiting and staring he had done at his mother. He got up, stretched his legs, watched his mother open her eyes and close them again, before he released one last sigh and leaned down to say,

“They weren’t horrible things at all, Mom.” The words came out, sounding heavenly to his mind, and his memories, and his wishes of it all being true again. Gerard had, after all, been the best one surrendering to Mikey’s will. And he needed that power again, but if he could only have it in his reminiscences, let it be so: “But he totally wasn’t lying.”

And he walked out and never saw his mother again. “Goodbye, Mom.”

**

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am,” the man said. “I photographed him putting it in a box and wrapping it up in red, like any other Christmas gift. And I saw him put it under the tree, just by the other presents.”

Gerard had known from his dying Mother what Mikey had said. He already knew what Mikey had done to him in the past, as those dire memories were plastered behind his eyes and came out every time Gerard closed them at night. He was afraid of the dark ever since and, sometimes, he could swear he heard noises in the background of his bedroom, and it made him wait silently under the bed covers for the door to open and the shady figure to come in. But it never did anymore, thankfully.

However, on that cold night of December, Gerard found out that his brother had confessed to their mother, and that his mother begged for forgiveness for not having believed in her boy before, and that his mind should come up with a plan to make Mikey pay for his sins. It shouldn’t be only Gerard to be tortured by the memories, by the constant silent images in his head of a dead body by his feet, and by the permanent sponge of the sound of the gunshot.

“Give it to me,” Gerard said curtly, not really meaning to be impolite, but because things in his head were just too complicated to deal with even after ten years. The man handed him the small object, the one Gerard had requested and the one with which he would carry on with the second part of his plan. The first one had already taken place; he had hired a private investigator to spy on Mikey and get any kind of information about what Christmas gifts he would get to the family get-together that year. And the man had found something really interesting, which totally went along with his own preparation for that holiday season.

“You did a great job,” he patted the man’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. The man nodded and waited for Gerard to remove his hand to turn around and walk away; his job was done there.

And hours later, knowing that no one would bother him, and knowing that probably no one would suspect on him, he used the object wisely and peacefully entered Mikey’s house. No one was around, Gerard made sure of that, actually. Then, he took one glance at the Christmas tree and the presents neatly placed around it and, then, he put one of his hands in his pocket. He felt the cold surface and heard the tingling of the objects against each other.

**

Mikey watches once more the nervous faces around the Christmas tree and he remembers why he’s spending another Christmas night at his childhood house. He hasn’t been there for so long, at least to stay the night. He has only been there before and after his mother died, to at least be present at her funeral. Mikey remembers how Brent made him go there for the dinner and the traditional exchange of Christmas gifts, so that they could fulfill their mother’s last wish, no matter how much Mikey was against it.

Maybe it hasn’t been at all bad to see Gerard one more time, because he looks good, Mikey has to admit. He’s all grown up and looking a little confident in the other corner of the room, not smiling at anyone and actually ogling all over Mikey’s facial expressions. It almost burns, just like how Mikey hasn’t felt in so many years, and he loves it. He loves how Gerard’s eyes burn so beautifully in his skin, how Gerard’s gaze makes him want to jump years and years back to the past, so that he could control it all better and never let the secret get out of those walls. Mikey loves it.

“Mikey,” he hears a male’s voice. It’s Brent, calling his name and Gerard’s, afterwards. They’ve been left for last, because everybody knows that they’re supposed to make amends on that Christmas night, no matter how they feel about it. Mikey doesn’t really care about what Gerard thinks of it all, because he’s really capable of wanting to complete their mother’s last wish, as much as their father and their youngest brother want and forced them to. He knows he’s kind of excited to see the expression on Gerard’s face as soon as he opens Mikey’s Christmas gift for him. It’s gonna be fucking hilarious, that’s for damn sure, and Mikey could almost get off to it because he couldn’t have been more… ironic in his attempt to complete their mother’s wish. Mikey has brought for Gerard the object of their last memory together; think of your fondest Frank, Gee; use it wisely.

He still tries to look deadly serious, all pun intended and Mikey’s actually smirking really widely and really madly and really wickedly inside his own mind. But his face is blank for now and he’s happy with it, because Gerard looks solemn too. Mikey wonders what Gerard can have to offer him, because there isn’t much from Gerard that haunts him… only the way he misses his younger brother giving in, and touching, and making little noises in Mikey’s ear, because it was delicious once. And it still sounds delicious, now that he thinks about it; Gerard’s voice is one of an adult now, whatever tone or character those ten years added to it that Mikey can’t exactly identify, but he doesn’t worry about it too much.

For now, Mikey has focused on the wrapped-up box Gerard hands him. It’s nicely shaped of a shoe box, so maybe it’s something manual, something that Gerard did himself and still has that Gerard scent lingering along its edges. Every time Mikey grabs it in the future, maybe he’ll be able to smell Gerard. The idea is so delicious, Mikey feels like drooling right now.

Mikey listens carefully as Gerard ruffles with the huge amount of newspaper sheets that Mikey has added to his gift, and he has a reason for having done that. He still wants to open Gerard’s present for him carefully while his younger brother is opening Mikey’s present. The rest of the family remains behind both of them, as if they need space to breath, to fight or to hug each other after the presents are unwrapped. Mikey is thrilled about any of the possibilities, actually.

He focuses on opening the box in his hands and there are no newspaper sheets to distract him from his gift. His eyes immediately find the items Gerard brought for him and it’s not exactly pleasant, Mikey has to admit. He inspects it carefully, first with his eyes, then with his nose to realize that his favorite Gerard scent doesn’t linger around the box at all. It only smells of old, antiqueness and fucking retirement, like no one picked up that box for decades, and it’s only missing the cobwebs and bats flying off of it. The box smells of rope and notes, because that’s what Mikey finds in it and he hears everyone’s gasps and murmurs of surprise when something happens that he’s not really aware of. He ignores them and continues to examine his gift, picking up the items in his box, and he recognizes the knot on the rope as the one in the movies they use to hang people by their neck. And there’s a note too, you'll die for your sins; we might as well take care of it right now.

Mikey frowns and looks up to stare at Gerard and ask any question, but before he knows it, their father is shouting, everybody seems to run around him. Yet, Mikey only looks forward and all he sees is Gerard’s eyes completely surrounding what he had given to his younger brother.

Bang.