For the Monsters that I've Been.

Within a few minutes, Frank’s pulse was pounding against Mikey’s fingers. There was a deep inhalation of breath and the boy’s eyes snapped open, pulled open wide. They stared up to Mikey, the body that they belonged to was quivering. Mikey pushed back the hair on his head, observing Frank with immense interest in his own eyes. “How does it feel, sweetheart?” He asked, his fingers tracing down the boy’s jawline, “Is there something wrong?”

Frank nodded, closing his eyes, turning his nose into Mikey’s thigh. He shivered slightly, talking with a mumbled voice into the man’s jeans. “My stomach feels just… bad… and my whole body just- it’s tingling. Like I’ve been running for a long time. It’s like my lungs can’t work fast enough-”

Mikey pushed the hair on the back of Frank’s head back. He could feel moisture accumulating on his leg. He had a slight twinge in his gut as Frank let out a quiet sob and which caused Mikey to pull the boy closer. “Are you still tired then?”

Frank shook his head, “I couldn’t sleep if I tried.”

Mikey continued to run his fingers through Frank’s hair for a few moments, then let his hand move down to Frank’s back, rubbing the length of it in a manner that Mikey could remember his mother doing when he was very small, sick in bed with the flu. It was the only thing she really could do. She couldn’t make him better, but she could try to make him as comfortable as possible.

Mikey sighed, thinking of how ridiculous it was to be comparing himself to his mother, let alone be thinking about her. He was quite sure that he hadn’t thought about her in years, actually. I’m the only family you need, Gerard had told him once. But now Mikey wasn’t sure that it was true. He could remember the hurt in his mother’s eyes as Mikey (on Gerard’s orders) spoke as little as her to possible. He could remember a time when Gerard had locked him in his bedroom by taking off the doorknob on Mikey’s side of the door. Mikey had been sitting on his bed, crying, but his ear was pressed to the wall, listening to Gerard’s movements, waiting until he was finally allowed out.

He could remember his mother knocking on the door that day. He wiped his eyes and straightened himself. He could remember longing for her to come in and ask him what was wrong and wrap her arms around him, rubbing his back. He could remember longing to lean into her side and cry and tell her that he didn’t want to be locked in his room, but he was certain that Gerard would punish him if he did, so instead, he cleared his throat and used the voice that Gerard had told him to use and snapped at her to go away.

She didn’t say anything further to him, but she seemed to linger at the door for a few moments. Then he could hear footsteps down the hall and another knock, this time on Gerard’s door. Gerard had answered, slightly annoyed on his own accord, but he asked her what she wanted. Mikey could remember hearing his mother ask Gerard what was wrong with Mikey and Gerard answering that he didn’t know. What was he, Mikey’s babysitter? Mikey could hear a sigh and then footsteps again. He heard Gerard’s door close and then footsteps receding the stairway, a soft sob carried to Mikey’s door from the stairwell.

“Mikey…” a hand on his leg snapped Mikey back to the present, and his eyes moved down to meet with Frank’s blotchy, red ones.

He raised his eyebrows using the hand that wasn’t on Frank’s back to wipe the skin under his eyes. “What’s up, sugar?”

“I like when you call me that,” said Frank with a small smile on his lips. Mikey returned the smile but stayed silent, Frank’s mouth was open and he was actually quite interested to hear what the boy had to say. “Your hand stopped,” Frank noted, simply.

“Oh, of course…” Mikey moved his hand again in a rhythmical motion on Frank’s back. He leaned back against the headboard on their bed, letting a long sigh out of his lungs. “So, are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah,” Frank nodded. Mikey noticed a weird sort of action happening as he spoke. Frank’s tongue was overly active in his mouth, it almost looked like a dog panting.“It just takes a little bit to get used to,” he continued, “I’ve only ever taken a fifteen before, what are those, thirties?”

“Dunno,” said Mikey, while one hand continued to rub down Frank’s back, the other lifted the boy’s chin, his brow furrowed as he observed the boy. “Are you okay though?” he asked, noticing the odd movements of Frank’s mouth even when he wasn’t speaking. “You look… just weird.”

Frank shook his head a little, looking up to Mikey hopefully, “My mouth is really dry…”

“Ah, got ya, come on then. Let’s get you to the kitchen” Mikey moved his hand from Frank’s back and allowed the boy to get up and then stood as well. He led the boy down through the bedroom door and down the stairs into the kitchen to get what would be the first of many water bottles that Frank would drain that day.

The rest of the day was rather uneventful. The two stayed at the house for the entirety of the day, watching TV when Ray had woken and freed room on the cough. Mikey noticed, with satisfaction, that Frank did not talk half of the amount that he would have normally. Even when Ray and Matt addressed him, Frank would look at them apprehensively, then look at Mikey, and then he would give the shortest answer that he could muster, hanging close to Mikey’s side the entire time. Eventually, the two seemed to give up on talking to him all together, and Mikey was glad of this. Instead, the other two seemed to act as if they and Mikey were the only people in the room and Frank was simply forgotten by all but Mikey, who preferred it this way.

Later that night, when Mikey was ready to sleep, Frank was still wide-eyed and wired. He contemplated giving the boy an Ambien, but thought better of it, given the possible risk of mixing these pills when Frank wasn’t quite used to the first one yet. Instead, he changed into a pair of boxers and a wife beater, instructing Frank to do the same. When the boy claimed that he was not tired, Mikey replied that he did not particularly care. He was going to sleep and Frank could do whatever he wanted as long as he stayed in the room and kept quiet. Mikey locked the door and turned the light off, making a mental note to make both sides of the door lockable by key the next day.

He slipped between the sheets and let his eyes close and in a matter of minutes, Frank climbed into the bed next to him, still trembling from the Adderall as he curled into Mikey’s chest. Mikey pressed his nose into Frank’s hair, however, and moved his hand to Frank’s back again, rubbing it in the same rhythmic motion that he had done that morning. Within a matter of minutes, Frank’s shivers subsided and Mikey could finally fall into a deep sleep.



In the morning, Mikey awoke to the sun peering in through the window. Frank was now sleeping soundly, which caused a small smile to form on Mikey’s lips. He tightened one arm around the boy, but leaned over him, using the other hand to open the bedside drawer. He considered pulling out the Adderall again, but another look to Frank’s sleeping body was enough for Mikey to decide against this: he could sleep for a bit longer, it surely wouldn’t hurt. Instead, Mikey pulled out Frank’s cellphone then laid back down. He flipped through the text messages, then erased them, deeming none of them important, then went to Frank’s contact list, typing in a ‘G’ and selected ‘Gerard’ from the list, hitting ‘send’ on Frank’s phone.

He was actually not entirely sure if Gerard had his phone with him or not, but he hadn’t seen it on the bedroom floor, so there was always a possibility. He had to try either way because it had been three days since Gerard had been in the hospital and from what his brother head said the day previous, he was supposed to be getting out that day.

There were several rings (about four and a half, Mikey would guess), and then there was a yawn from the other side of the phone line, and a groggy voice answered, “‘low?”

“When do I need to come get you?” Mikey asked quietly, as not to wake his sleeping partner.

“Dunno,” said Gerard on the other line, yawning again. There was a shuffling sort of noise and Mikey assumed that he had turned over in bed. “Guess when the doctors say it’s okay. ‘was sleeping though. ‘ll call you when they say I can go.”

Mikey simply rolled his eyes and snapped the phone shut, placing it on the unused pillow behind him. He yawned a rather large yawn and closed his eyes again, wrapping his arms around the sleeping boy next to him. He would make damn sure that he was a good half hour late to pick up his brother.



It was almost noon of the same day, and Mikey was sitting in the hospital parking lot in the driver’s seat of his brother’s car. Incidentally, the same brother was standing outside of the driver’s side door, one hand resting on top of the pane of glass in the window, the other on top of the car. There was a bandage over the right side of his neck and bags under his eyes, but despite both of these things, he had a sort of thrilled spark in his eye as he observed Frank in the passenger’s seat looking up at him with wide eyes.

“One of you is going to have to move,” Gerard said, bluntly, his eyes settling on Mikey, “because I’m not sitting in the back of my own car.”

“That’s funny,” Mikey replied, rather indifferently, “because you forget that I could just leave you here; make you take a bus…”

“You owe me,” pressed Gerard, a hint of anger in his voice now. “You’re two hours late.”

“Not really,” Mikey shrugged, meeting Gerard’s gaze with raised brows, “I did ask you when I was supposed to pick you up. It’s your fault you didn’t know. You could have been more informed.”

“That doesn’t make you not an asshole for being late,” Gerard looked over his shoulder and shivered slightly, “I fucking hate hospitals.”

“Great,” said Mikey dryly. He pressing the button to roll the window back up. “Then you’ll shut up and get in the back of the car so you can leave sooner.”

Gerard’s lips formed the words ‘fuck you’ through the glass, though Mikey assumed that the man had said the words under his breath, because he could not hear the actual words. He turned his attention toward Frank, in the passenger seat briefly. He could see the boy’s eyes watching Gerard enter through the cab door behind the driver’s side door. Mikey looked up to watch his brother’s reflection getting situated in the back seat via the rearview mirror, then shot him a smug sort of smile as he put the car in reverse and proceeded to exit the parking lot in transit to the main road. It was only after he observed Gerard’s eyes narrow and move to Frank that it occurred to Mikey that he perhaps should have let Gerard have his way.

“So,” simpered the older Way, sliding over so that he was now behind the passenger’s seat, “Frank, you’re looking well. You get a haircut or something? Start a diet? On some new meds?”

Frank’s eyes flicked briefly to Gerard, then he turned to look out the window, shaking his head, not in a response, but rather in disbelief. Actually, Mikey noted, those brown eyes seemed to focus on him for a moment before they were focused elsewhere. This made his stomach sink slightly in what he could only assume was guilt. So his eyes narrowed momentarily on his brother’s image in the rearview mirror and his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Leave him alone, Gerard.”

“Aw, Mikes, I’m just giving him a compliment. I mean really,” Gerard chuckled, leaning back in his seat, but he opened a hand in Frank’s direction, “look at him. He’s much less obnoxious now that he’s learned his place. Remember before? He was so cocky, so naive. Now look at the guy, tail between his legs and a whimper to boot! It’s adorable! He’s like your goddamn puppy or something.”

Mikey simply rolled his eyes in an attempt to ignore Gerard. He glanced sideways at Frank, the side of whose head was pressed against the glass of the passenger’s window, his eyes now downcast. He wondered, pulling his eyes to the road instead of Frank, if he regretted taking Gerard’s advice on the boy after all.

The silence seemed to be too much for Gerard, however, and this time, he leaned forward and turned toward Frank. “Now, I’m wondering: has he actually fucked you yet, or is he still too disgusted by you to? I mean, let’s be real for a few moments here: you did almost give me a blowje the other night. Remember that? I’m, like ninety nine percent sure that that’s what caused all of this. I wish I coulda seen his face when he saw that. Probably broke poor little Mikey’s heart to see his little boyfriend on his brother, eh Frank?”

Frank looked to Mikey pleadingly as the latter’s hands tightened even more threateningly on the steering wheel. He seemed to be asking some reassurance with this look. It was true, Mikey hadn’t had sex with him since the whole mess with Gerard had happened. Mikey was not exactly sure if he could actually attribute this to how disgusting the unwavering image in his head of Gerard advancing on Frank was or if he simply hadn’t had the time. It was quite certain, either way, that he hadn’t gotten the urge to do anything of that sort in the last couple of days.

Gerard seemed to catch the look that Frank was giving to Mikey, because his grin widened sickeningly and he turned, shoving Mikey’s arm slightly, “So come on, Mikes, inquiring minds want to know: what’s wrong with old Frankie here? He tainted goods or what?”

Mikey glanced to Frank again, whose eyes seemed to be getting rather glossy. “There’s nothing wrong with Frank,” he muttered. Then his eyes cut back to Gerard in the rearview, “And I clearly remember telling you to leave him alone.”

Gerard chortled at this, leaning back in his seat to observe the show, “Like you left him alone after you saw his dirty little eyes practically undressing me on the spot?”

Color built in Mikey's face, his eyes slits as he watched his brother through the rearview mirror,“God damn it, Gerard, I-”

“You what? Don’t want to hear the truth? Don’t want to-”

Mikey growled, deliberately stomping on the breaks for a moment, causing Gerard to lurch forward, losing his trail of speech as he had to throw his hands out to avoid slamming into the seats in front of him. “Don’t fucking interrupt me,” Mikey almost screamed, actually turning to make eye contact with Gerard, “and for the last time: leave Frank alone. Anything regarding him is none of your motherfucking business. Do we have that straight or do you need another trip to the hospital to get the point?”

“You’re a fucking psycho,” Gerard said, with an incredulous tone, but there was a slight smirk on his lips. 


“Whatever,” Mikey muttered. He glanced over to Frank, but the boy had turned his head so that it was almost impossible to make out his expression.

The rest of the ride back to the house was almost silent. And as Mikey parked the car, Frank immediately reached for the door handle and exited the car so quickly that Mikey’s seatbelt was hardly unbuckled before Frank reached the front door and disappeared inside.

Gerard simply laughed as he got out of the car himself, “Looks like someone’s sensitive…”

Mikey rolled his eyes and ignored him, throwing the car keys at, rather than to, his brother. He proceeded up the walk and through the front door and ignored a greeting from a bandmate on the couch. Instead, he went immediately upstairs to the bedroom that he and Frank shared. The door was closed as he approached it, however, and he paused, listening to fresh sobs from inside the room.

“God damn it,” he said under his breath. Then he reached for the door handle and turned it. 

 Unsurprisingly to him, Mikey saw Frank sitting against the headboard of their bed, knees pulled into his chest, his face buried in those knees, body quivering. Mikey let out a sharp sigh and crossed the room, then sunk down on the bed next to Frank, pulling his feet underneath him in an indian-style position and leaning against the headboard as well.

“You’re honestly going to give credibility to anything that Gerard says?” he asked, moving a hand to Frank’s back, despite his annoyance.

“I don’t know,” Frank spoke into his knees, shivering as feverishly as ever. “You just- you-”

“I what,” Mikey asked calmly.

“You didn’t say anything against what he said,” Frank stated, lifting his head from his knees his eyes meeting Mikey’s. “Not one thing.”

“I told him to leave you alone.”

“But you-”

“And I said that anything about you is none of his business,” Mikey added. “So why would I bother replying to any of his bullshit?”

“I don’t know.” Frank brought a hand up to wipe his eyes, then glanced downward momentarily before looking up to Mikey again. “But you haven’t though,” Frank said quietly. “You haven’t slept with me- you haven’t done more than kiss me a few times- not once since that night.”

“That’s true,” Mikey conceded, shrugging his shoulders.

“Is that why then? Because of Ger-” Frank cringed slightly at the name and Mikey was pleased. He could clearly remember telling the boy to never speak of his brother. He was sure that his fist had met Frank’s face, even, to seal the point. “Because of him?” Frank finished. Fresh tears leaked from his eyes and he sobbed further. “If it is, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Mikey. I don’t want him. Not at all. I hate him.”

Mikey took a few minutes to observe Frank’s face, then nodded. “I believe you,” he said simply. He moved his hand up on Frank’s arm, rubbing up and down between the boy’s shoulder and elbow to comfort him as he spoke before finally letting the hand settle on Frank’s waist. “And,” he said, as he felt Frank’s head rest on his shoulder, “if I really didn’t want you, do you really think I’d care what you did? Why would I keep you so close if I didn’t care about you?” He paused and Frank stayed silent.

Mikey’s eyes were lost somewhere in the bedspread. He was recalling the jealousy that he felt when he did see Frank on his brother, but also the feeling of absolute necessity to take Frank with him when he left the house previously to keep the boy from being blamed for the attack on Gerard. And aside from that, the feeling of necessity to have him close in general.

Of course, the thought of leaving him there to be near someone else; to be in close proximity to another person in Mikey’s absence; the thought of someone touching what Mikey had so throughly claimed as his was infuriating. Yes, he couldn’t deny that, but didn’t that alone make Frank important? He couldn’t say that he felt jealousy for any other person, at least not that intensely.

So he spoke again, having proven the following truthful to himself: “You mean the world to me, Frank.”

“You mean that?” the boy murmured.

“Have I ever lied to you?” replied Mikey.

“No,” Mikey watched a small smile pulse the boy’s lips. Then Frank closed his eyes, sighing into Mikey’s shoulder. “I’m so lucky to have you.” And it did not seem to occur to either that Mikey had lied about his relationship with Gerard the majority of the time that they’d known each other. “I’m still so tired."

“Do you want an Adderall?”

“No,” said Frank, shaking his head slowly. “Would it be okay if went back to sleep?”

“Of course.”

And Mikey reached over the bedside drawer, pulling out the baggie of little blue pills. He poured a few into his own hand and then placed them into Frank’s already open palm. The boy swallowed them dry.

“Lay down with me,” Mikey instructed, and Frank obliged.

Mikey laid on his back and he allowed Frank’s head to lay on his chest. He rubbed Frank’s back in the usual comforting manner as he fell asleep next to him. But Mikey simply lay in thought while the breath of the boy next to him slowed. His eyes were fixated on the ceiling instead of drooping closed like his partners. And he did wonder as he lay there, now that it was brought up, why he (having done anything to sleep with Frank when bound to Gerard), hadn’t felt a single sexual urge since he’d had Frank to himself.