For the Monsters that I've Been.

"Are you sure that you're up for a show, G?"

Several days had passed since Mikey had been involved with his brother for the most recent time, and now he watched, following his bandmates as Gerard plowed into the club in which they were to perform that night flanked by Ray, who he was clearly trying to shake off. Gerard was carrying with him an amp and a case containing his microphone and the corresponding equipment to set up with and Ray's hands were empty as Mikey had observed him moments before, telling Gerard that he ought not to be carrying heavy objects in his condition until the front man rolled his eyes and pushed past the guitarist, clearly angered at being told what he could and could not do.

"Seriously, Gerard," said Ray, gripping the singer's arm to stop him, surely to try and reason with the man. "No, really. Just-"

"Ray, I'm fine," assured Gerard, twisting his arm out of the lead guitarist's grip and reaching instead for the door. "Look, I'm not canceling the show, especially since we're getting cover on this one. If this place fills up, we'll be looking at eight dollars a person times... like... fucking whatever the capacity is on this place. Like two hundred or whatever. That's... that's..." he paused for a few moments, thinking but walking as fast as ever, "That's sixteen hundred bucks. That's rent and then some. Right there. All out of the way so, yeah, I'm up for the fucking show."

"Yeah, but if you pass out half way through it because your fucking neck pops open or some fucking-"

"My fucking neck's fucking fine. And I'll fucking take it slow for this one." Gerard put the amp on the stage that they had arrived at during the conversation and turned to face Ray, clearly exasperated at the crossed arms of the guitarist, "I swear, I'm fine. Alright, mom?"

Ray let out an annoyed sigh and turned, surely heading back to the van to start retrieving his equipment for the show. "Sorry for giving a fuck about you," he said loudly as he retreated, "but whatever you say, princess. I'll have an ambulance standing by, shall I?"

"No need," Gerard called, "we're in the city. The hospital's like two blocks away. I'm sure they won't take too long to get here when I collapse on stage."

Mikey set his guitar case and amp down near Gerard's things, looking up just in time to catch a rather rude gesture that Ray displayed on each of his hands for Gerard before the door closed and the brothers were left in privacy.

"Fucking nosy, man. Seriously," growled Gerard, lifting himself onto the stage to sit with his legs dangling over the sides. "It's like he doesn't want to make money or some shit."

"Or he gives a fuck about you," replied Mikey, leaning against the stage next to Gerard. He crossed his arms and gazed toward the door. "You should appreciate it. He's probably the only one."

"Bullshit." Mikey could feel Gerard's eyes on him and hear a slight hopefulness in his brother's voice. "You give a fuck about me, Mikes."

"M..." the younger Way merely raised his eyebrows, shrugging his shoulders slightly, "whatever you tell yourself to keep the gun out of your mouth."

Gerard stayed silent for a few moments then cleared his throat. Mikey heard a slight rustling as his brother moved a hand through his own hair. "You don't mean that," stated the older Way, though he didn't sound sure of the statement himself.

Mikey raised his brows, but kept his eyes on the door. His voice came out bland and rather dull, quite bored-sounding as though his vocal chords were instinctively camouflaging the amusement that getting a rise from Gerard was giving him, "And how do you know what exactly I mean?"

"I just know," retorted Gerard. "And you don't mean that."

"I care that you front the band that I'm in, therefore providing me with money," Mikey conceded. "Does that make you feel less neglected, princess?"

"That's not funny, Mikey."

"I don't think I was trying to be amusing."

"Well, you weren't amusing, just douche-y."

"Okay, Princess."

"Mikey..."

"Princess..."

"Just stop it, Mikey!"

The younger Way looked up to see the elder’s eyes shining and his face slightly contorted. He forced his voice to drop its dry tones. "Whatever, G. Sorry."

"Whatever," Gerard sniffed, dropping back off of the stage and turning slightly away from Mikey, his arms crossed moodily. "And why do you all keep calling me that?"

"Calling you what?" mused Mikey, a smirk playing about his lips, "Oh, you mean, 'princess,' princess?"

"Yes," Gerard said shortly. "That."

"I dunno," shrugged Mikey. He advanced at a casual pace toward the door. An echo of footsteps told him that Gerard was close behind. "Probably cause you act like a pampered little princess."

"I do not."

"Maybe not as much lately."

"I never have."

"You've never acted pampered?"

"Never."

"You sure about that?"

"Fucking sure."

"Really?"

Mikey looked over as Gerard fell in step beside him, "Really."

"Okay," offered Mikey, "How many times have you carried your shit in for a show before tonight?"

Gerard paused for a few moments, then scoffed, "Whatever, Mikey."

"Do you need a tissue, princess?"

Gerard rolled his eyes yet again. "Fuck you."

"Ugh," Mikey groaned, "rather not." There was a squeak of rubber on the wood of the club's floor as Gerard stopped suddenly and Mikey couldn't help but laugh as he halted as well. "God, you're such a little bitch," he chuckled as he turned to observe a hurt expression on his brother's face. Gerard just shook his head and attempted to push past Mikey who grabbed his arm, "Just shut up, Gerard." Their lips met then after a few seconds Mikey pulled back. "You're being a baby," he said quietly.

"And you're being an asshole," replied Gerard, but with a slightly vacuous smile on his face.

Mikey shrugged, heading back toward the door, "I am an asshole."

"Fair point," the older brother continued walking with the younger for a few seconds, then pulled a pack of Marlboro’s out of his pocket as they stepped outside and lifted a cigarette to his lips. "Speaking of assholes," he sparked his lighter then pulled the smoke from his cigarette into his lungs, "where's that Frank kid? Shouldn't he be setting up something?"

Mikey took this cigarette from between his brother's lips, inhaling the smoke from it as well. "He has work 'til five," he explained with the first exhalation of smoke. "Or, well," he pulled the boy's cellphone from his pocket and read the time: 5:16, "he had work 'til five." Mikey watched Ray's back disappear into the club and waited until Matt's back did the same before saying: "He should be waiting at him for me to come get him now though." In spite of this fact, the younger brother leaned against the band's van, taking another hit of his cigarette. "I told him to take a bus home, lock himself in our room and take an Ambien since the show doesn't start 'til nine," Mikey took a rather harsh drag and smiled in a rather twisted manner as his eyes focused somewhere in the distance. "Knowing him, he's probably out cold by now."

Gerard lit up a new cigarette for himself and there were a few moments pause where the brothers stood, smoking in silence against the van.

"Not to try and sound like I give a fuck about him," Gerard said tentatively (Mikey turned his gaze toward his older brother who had a look of genuine unease about him), "but it might be a good idea to lay off the pills for a bit. I get the whole control thing, obviously I do, but it's a balancing act, isn't it? You've got to know the right time to give them for his body or there won't be any blood flow for the pills to distribute in, will there?" Mikey looked to Gerard incredulously, slightly shocked to say the least. "You'll make him overdose," Gerard said, bluntly.

It took a few moments for Mikey to comprehend what his brother had said to its entirety, but once the words sank in, he felt his cheeks tinge red slightly with embarrassment for his heavy hand with the pills, but a bigger portion out of a twisting, hot feeling in his stomach that seemed to have risen as Gerard had started to tell him what he should do with Frank. "I'll have to be more careful in the future," he remarked. "But when did you start caring if Frank lived or died. I would think you'd be happy to see him go."

"Eh," Gerard shrugged, ashing his cigarette to the concrete below their feet, "It'd suck to have to find someone to replace him in the band."

"But otherwise you don't-"

"Otherwise," Gerard said strongly, looking distinctly at his younger brother, "I see how you look at him. I know how you'd feel if you didn't have him so, really, for your sake," Gerard flicked his cigarette away from him, then looked back to his brother, an odd sort of defeat in his eyes. "For your sake- lay off the pills you give him."

Mikey stared for a few moments, then flicked his cigarette away as well, having finished the final hit from it moments before. "Let's get the rest of this stuff in," he suggested in slightly more quiet tones than he was speaking in before. "I've got to use the van to go pick up Frank soon."

Gerard studied his younger brother for a few moments, his eyes scanning the man's face before he nodded slowly and advanced to the van, grabbing the first items that he came upon and following Mikey inside the club.