Keep the Faith
The Worst Nightmare
Startling hazel eyes gazed back at ones that mirrored its own.
"Come on, Mikes," Gerard coaxed, his voice gentle and reassuring. "It's time to go on and show those fuckers what we've got."
Mikey shook his head, blinking anxious tears from his eyes. "I c-can't do it, Gee," he stammered. "I can't. I need a drink."
"No, you don't." Gerard said firmly. "We promised we were gonna be sober when we performed, remember? The whole band is in on it. You can't back out."
"B-but Gee..." Mikey's hand tightened the his grip on the fingerboard of his bass. "I'm..."
"Fucking scared?" Gerard smirked. "You think I'm not? I am, Mikes. Fucking frightened. Singing up there scares the living shit out of me. But that doesn't stop me from doing it.
"We're on to something here, Mikes. We're going somewhere; this thing we got? This message? It's gonna go far. I know it. We just gotta hold on a bit longer, and give up some stuff. We can't have songs about moving on, despite all the hard parts, if we're so fucking drunk we can't even stand up."
Older, more determined eyes seeked his younger brother's. "You understand what I'm getting at?"
He bit his lip, glancing downwards.
Gerard laughed slightly. "You trust me, don't you, Mikes?"
Mikey's eyes shot back up as he nodded fiercely. "Like hell, Gee."
"That's all we need." Gerard smiled softly. "We just have to believe, okay? Everything's gonna be all right.
"We just have to believe."
-
-
"Where the fuck is he?"
Frank's usually cheerful face held an expression of panic and annoyance, but Mikey had to admit that he himself was feeling the same.
It didn't stop him from snapping back. "How the hell should I know?"
Frank rolled his eyes, trying to hide how he glanced at the clock.
"Well, he's your fucking brother."
Mikey resisted the urge to retort again and make the arguement bigger, as well as looking at the clock, ticking by and showing no ounce of care or mercy. He grit his teeth and turned away from Frank, putting his bass down.
"Fine. I'll go look for him."
Maybe Frank was still too pissed to reply, but he didn't care. Maybe all they cared about at that moment was the fact that they were supposed to start the concert in ten minutes, and their lead singer was nowhere to be found.
He didn't know how Gerard could just disappear without telling anyone, right before they were supposed to be making last-minute preparations and waiting in the backstage for the opening act to finish, or why he'd even do that.
Truth be told, he didn't know what was going with Gerard much these days. As if someone had taken his big brother and replaced him with someone who wore his face and stole his voice, but couldn't capture what's inside. The madman he embodied onstage seemed to have materialized beyond performances, and everyone was noticing it.
Hating it.
It wasn't just how he seemed to be an asshole now, good mood or not. How his words seem to be careless, intentionally trying to hurt those who used to matter. Like had forgotten about the things that he stood for, losing the belief he had inspired in so many who were lost.
Mikey heard the soft thumpings his footfalls made on the marble floor of the hallways; it was one of the more lavish venues they would have had the privilege of playing at, if they can even get to play.
But he had to stop playing devil's advocate. They would get to play, as soon as he finds Gerard and drags his ass back to the stage. He already had a suspicion of where he was, anyway.
He pushed open the back door, which opened to the side alley that didn't seem to connect to anything. Like a moment of eternity, floating in existence, a black hole where all the unsaid words and leftover promises of the world were kept, emotional and worthless and done.
But he was getting too poetic. That little excess wall space held nothing more than the blackness of night, huge garbage cans filled to the brim, and the brother he had been looking for, smoking a cigarette and staring at nothing in particular.
He was struck speechless for a moment, just gazing at that impromptu canvass that somehow seemed off. Wrong. There was nothing to look at, really. Just his brother's black-clad back, the rising gray smoke, and the darkness he was put against. There wasn't even that much light; as if the stars refused to shine in such a rejected place.
But somehow, he couldn't look away.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Gerard beat him to it.
"Hey Mikey," he said, without even turning around, his voice relaxed and nonchalant.
"What the fuck are you doing out here, Gerard?" Mikey demanded, the anger suddenly bursting and seeping through. "We've got a show in less than five minutes, and you're out here, smoking a fucking joint."
He reached out for his brother's wrist. "Now, let's go the fuck in and..."
"I don't want to." Gerard snatched his hand back.
"What do you mean you don't want to?" Mikey seethed, tiring so easily of all these mind games. "We can't fucking start without you, prima donna."
Gerard shrugged. "I don't care." Then took a long drag from his light, the smoke billowing from between his lips like dirty ashes from a lonely fire.
"Stop it, Gee," Mikey stomped his foot and shoved his brother lightly. "This isn't funny."
In less than a second, he suddenly saw something lash out against him, and then there was a hot, stinging pain lingering on his cheek, and he collided with the wall behind him. He slumped against it, shocked, then sank to a sitting position as Gerard stepped into view.
He blew out another stream of the mercurial, purposeful haze. "I'm not trying to be funny, Mikey. I'm telling the truth."
"I. Don't. Fucking. Care." He said, slowly, deliberately, indifferently, looming before his little brother like a monster.
Tears of hurt and surprise welled in Mikey's clear eyes. "W-why?"
Gerard paused for a moment, thoughtful. "Because they don't."
Mikey's mind whirled in confusion. What was Gerard talking about? "You mean us?"
"Maybe. Doesn't matter."
"How can you say that, Gee?"
Gerard shot him a glance that silenced him immediately, crippling his heart and devouring his soul. But Gerard was no stranger, it was his big brother... wasn't it?
"How can they say those things about me?" Then the corners of his lips curled in a sardonic grin. "Well, they were right anyway."
Mikey struggled to rise to his feet. "R-right about what?" He asked, then afraid of the answer.
Gerard's expression remained twisted in that state of hysteria. "About everything.
"I'm sure you hear people say I'm asshole now. It's everywhere, Mikes. Don't tell me you haven't."
Mikey shook his head feverishly. "Where do they say tha--"
"Oh, shut up, Mikey." Gerard rolled his eyes, releasing another puff of smoke, clouding his features. "It's all you ever hear about me now. I'm obsessed with the fame, I'm only doing it for the money, I only married Lyns 'coz I fucked her and she might have been pregnant, but we had it aborted."
He chuckled, with no trace of mirth.
"Oh, you know what else? I'm back on drugs; that's why you see me sniffing in interviews, and why I've lost weight and why it's like I haven't slept. I have also picked up a habit I kicked three years ago; I drink now, you know? I'm not fucking sober anymore. Boohoo.
"And, while they're at it... haven't you heard?
"It seems I've committed suicide backstage, 'coz I wasn't strong enough to take it all."
Then he laughed right in Mikey's face, high and piercing and mocking.
Mikey's lip quivered, reduced to that smaller, kicked-around brother whenever Gerard had mood swings as a child and refused to give back his favorite toy. Back to the past, yet not quite.
"And don't you even think of pulling that, 'I know you're better than that, Gee.' Because I know you believe it, Mikey. I can see it in your eyes; that fucking questions. The rest of the guys too. They're wondering where I've gone. And I face it every single time I fucking appear on stage, written on the faces of those people who call themselves 'fans.' I can see their disgust, Mikes. They're glaring at me. Accusing. I have no right to choose whatever the hell I want, by the way. Apparently, I'm supposed to be bound to their choices. Who they want me to be. Those kids who haven't even lived half of what I've gone through are telling me what to do. Or else they were gonna hate me. As if that would let them get the 'old' me back.
"But does it make a difference? They already hate me anyway. Bottom line is, Mikey: they think I've changed."
For a moment, his tone wavered, quieted to a broken whisper. As if it was too much to bear. Then the moment passed, and he regained his composure. Mikey watched in horror as his big brother transformed before his eyes. So pale, so flawless, so together outside, but then, gone was the hero inside. His heart, blackened by flames of deceit and hatred, hardened into obsidian. Unsalvageable, too far back in the abyss to guarantee redemption.
"Because you know what, Mikes?"
Gerard neared him, sneering, backing him to the wall once again. Gerard placed a hand on the surface above Mikey's shoulder, his face drawing close to Mikey's so that he could finally see how much damage was done in the cruel planes of that once beautiful angel facade.
"They were right."
-
-
Gerard laughed slightly. "You trust me, don't you, Mikes?"
Mikey's eyes shot back up as he nodded fiercely. "Like hell, Gee."
"That's all we need." Gerard smiled softly. "We just have to believe, okay? Everything's gonna be all right.
"We just have to believe."
"Come on, Mikes," Gerard coaxed, his voice gentle and reassuring. "It's time to go on and show those fuckers what we've got."
Mikey shook his head, blinking anxious tears from his eyes. "I c-can't do it, Gee," he stammered. "I can't. I need a drink."
"No, you don't." Gerard said firmly. "We promised we were gonna be sober when we performed, remember? The whole band is in on it. You can't back out."
"B-but Gee..." Mikey's hand tightened the his grip on the fingerboard of his bass. "I'm..."
"Fucking scared?" Gerard smirked. "You think I'm not? I am, Mikes. Fucking frightened. Singing up there scares the living shit out of me. But that doesn't stop me from doing it.
"We're on to something here, Mikes. We're going somewhere; this thing we got? This message? It's gonna go far. I know it. We just gotta hold on a bit longer, and give up some stuff. We can't have songs about moving on, despite all the hard parts, if we're so fucking drunk we can't even stand up."
Older, more determined eyes seeked his younger brother's. "You understand what I'm getting at?"
He bit his lip, glancing downwards.
Gerard laughed slightly. "You trust me, don't you, Mikes?"
Mikey's eyes shot back up as he nodded fiercely. "Like hell, Gee."
"That's all we need." Gerard smiled softly. "We just have to believe, okay? Everything's gonna be all right.
"We just have to believe."
-
-
"Where the fuck is he?"
Frank's usually cheerful face held an expression of panic and annoyance, but Mikey had to admit that he himself was feeling the same.
It didn't stop him from snapping back. "How the hell should I know?"
Frank rolled his eyes, trying to hide how he glanced at the clock.
"Well, he's your fucking brother."
Mikey resisted the urge to retort again and make the arguement bigger, as well as looking at the clock, ticking by and showing no ounce of care or mercy. He grit his teeth and turned away from Frank, putting his bass down.
"Fine. I'll go look for him."
Maybe Frank was still too pissed to reply, but he didn't care. Maybe all they cared about at that moment was the fact that they were supposed to start the concert in ten minutes, and their lead singer was nowhere to be found.
He didn't know how Gerard could just disappear without telling anyone, right before they were supposed to be making last-minute preparations and waiting in the backstage for the opening act to finish, or why he'd even do that.
Truth be told, he didn't know what was going with Gerard much these days. As if someone had taken his big brother and replaced him with someone who wore his face and stole his voice, but couldn't capture what's inside. The madman he embodied onstage seemed to have materialized beyond performances, and everyone was noticing it.
Hating it.
It wasn't just how he seemed to be an asshole now, good mood or not. How his words seem to be careless, intentionally trying to hurt those who used to matter. Like had forgotten about the things that he stood for, losing the belief he had inspired in so many who were lost.
Mikey heard the soft thumpings his footfalls made on the marble floor of the hallways; it was one of the more lavish venues they would have had the privilege of playing at, if they can even get to play.
But he had to stop playing devil's advocate. They would get to play, as soon as he finds Gerard and drags his ass back to the stage. He already had a suspicion of where he was, anyway.
He pushed open the back door, which opened to the side alley that didn't seem to connect to anything. Like a moment of eternity, floating in existence, a black hole where all the unsaid words and leftover promises of the world were kept, emotional and worthless and done.
But he was getting too poetic. That little excess wall space held nothing more than the blackness of night, huge garbage cans filled to the brim, and the brother he had been looking for, smoking a cigarette and staring at nothing in particular.
He was struck speechless for a moment, just gazing at that impromptu canvass that somehow seemed off. Wrong. There was nothing to look at, really. Just his brother's black-clad back, the rising gray smoke, and the darkness he was put against. There wasn't even that much light; as if the stars refused to shine in such a rejected place.
But somehow, he couldn't look away.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Gerard beat him to it.
"Hey Mikey," he said, without even turning around, his voice relaxed and nonchalant.
"What the fuck are you doing out here, Gerard?" Mikey demanded, the anger suddenly bursting and seeping through. "We've got a show in less than five minutes, and you're out here, smoking a fucking joint."
He reached out for his brother's wrist. "Now, let's go the fuck in and..."
"I don't want to." Gerard snatched his hand back.
"What do you mean you don't want to?" Mikey seethed, tiring so easily of all these mind games. "We can't fucking start without you, prima donna."
Gerard shrugged. "I don't care." Then took a long drag from his light, the smoke billowing from between his lips like dirty ashes from a lonely fire.
"Stop it, Gee," Mikey stomped his foot and shoved his brother lightly. "This isn't funny."
In less than a second, he suddenly saw something lash out against him, and then there was a hot, stinging pain lingering on his cheek, and he collided with the wall behind him. He slumped against it, shocked, then sank to a sitting position as Gerard stepped into view.
He blew out another stream of the mercurial, purposeful haze. "I'm not trying to be funny, Mikey. I'm telling the truth."
"I. Don't. Fucking. Care." He said, slowly, deliberately, indifferently, looming before his little brother like a monster.
Tears of hurt and surprise welled in Mikey's clear eyes. "W-why?"
Gerard paused for a moment, thoughtful. "Because they don't."
Mikey's mind whirled in confusion. What was Gerard talking about? "You mean us?"
"Maybe. Doesn't matter."
"How can you say that, Gee?"
Gerard shot him a glance that silenced him immediately, crippling his heart and devouring his soul. But Gerard was no stranger, it was his big brother... wasn't it?
"How can they say those things about me?" Then the corners of his lips curled in a sardonic grin. "Well, they were right anyway."
Mikey struggled to rise to his feet. "R-right about what?" He asked, then afraid of the answer.
Gerard's expression remained twisted in that state of hysteria. "About everything.
"I'm sure you hear people say I'm asshole now. It's everywhere, Mikes. Don't tell me you haven't."
Mikey shook his head feverishly. "Where do they say tha--"
"Oh, shut up, Mikey." Gerard rolled his eyes, releasing another puff of smoke, clouding his features. "It's all you ever hear about me now. I'm obsessed with the fame, I'm only doing it for the money, I only married Lyns 'coz I fucked her and she might have been pregnant, but we had it aborted."
He chuckled, with no trace of mirth.
"Oh, you know what else? I'm back on drugs; that's why you see me sniffing in interviews, and why I've lost weight and why it's like I haven't slept. I have also picked up a habit I kicked three years ago; I drink now, you know? I'm not fucking sober anymore. Boohoo.
"And, while they're at it... haven't you heard?
"It seems I've committed suicide backstage, 'coz I wasn't strong enough to take it all."
Then he laughed right in Mikey's face, high and piercing and mocking.
Mikey's lip quivered, reduced to that smaller, kicked-around brother whenever Gerard had mood swings as a child and refused to give back his favorite toy. Back to the past, yet not quite.
"And don't you even think of pulling that, 'I know you're better than that, Gee.' Because I know you believe it, Mikey. I can see it in your eyes; that fucking questions. The rest of the guys too. They're wondering where I've gone. And I face it every single time I fucking appear on stage, written on the faces of those people who call themselves 'fans.' I can see their disgust, Mikes. They're glaring at me. Accusing. I have no right to choose whatever the hell I want, by the way. Apparently, I'm supposed to be bound to their choices. Who they want me to be. Those kids who haven't even lived half of what I've gone through are telling me what to do. Or else they were gonna hate me. As if that would let them get the 'old' me back.
"But does it make a difference? They already hate me anyway. Bottom line is, Mikey: they think I've changed."
For a moment, his tone wavered, quieted to a broken whisper. As if it was too much to bear. Then the moment passed, and he regained his composure. Mikey watched in horror as his big brother transformed before his eyes. So pale, so flawless, so together outside, but then, gone was the hero inside. His heart, blackened by flames of deceit and hatred, hardened into obsidian. Unsalvageable, too far back in the abyss to guarantee redemption.
"Because you know what, Mikes?"
Gerard neared him, sneering, backing him to the wall once again. Gerard placed a hand on the surface above Mikey's shoulder, his face drawing close to Mikey's so that he could finally see how much damage was done in the cruel planes of that once beautiful angel facade.
"They were right."
-
-
Gerard laughed slightly. "You trust me, don't you, Mikes?"
Mikey's eyes shot back up as he nodded fiercely. "Like hell, Gee."
"That's all we need." Gerard smiled softly. "We just have to believe, okay? Everything's gonna be all right.
"We just have to believe."