For the Monsters that I've Been.

Mikey drove quickly from the club once the rest of the band's things were unpacked, his mind focused everything but the road before him. Gerard's words churned in his stomach and images of Frank lying dead swam through his head.

He'll overdose.

No, Mikey told himself, he's just going to be sleeping.

There won't be any blood flow for the pills to distribute in.

And Mikey couldn't help but picture Frank, stiff-limbed and still, on their bed, his eyes starring unseeing, his skin pallid and cold.

He's just sleeping.

Mikey pulled the car into the driveway, his world moving in what seemed to be slow motion, though he walked as quickly as he could. The anticipation of reaching his destination, however, was slightly crippling and it was quite difficult to pay attention to what his eyes were showing him, let alone walk, when the images in his mind's eye were so repulsive that he couldn't steer his thoughts away from them. But he proceeded inside and up the stairs as best he could, his fingers fumbling to find the right key from his ring to enter his bedroom.

But Frank surely lay behind that door, something dark trickling from the corner of his mouth, his eyes wide with shock, and cheeks streamed with the marks of tears long since evaporated-

No, Mikey reminded himself, there would be no blood, no tears, and Frank's eyes would be closed peacefully. He was, after all, only sleeping.

Once Mikey found the right key, he forced it, hand shaking, into the keyhole on his bedroom door which he turned slowly.

Frank did in fact lay on the bed, but it was with his back to the door. Mikey simply lingered in the doorway, he dare not move forward to observe further. Doing so would surely confirm the worst. From this distance at least, Mikey could pretend that Frank really was just asleep. He could pretend that he was coming back to the Ambien induced sopor that had been expected. He could pretend that he hadn't killed his boyfriend, that he could see Frank's chest rising with breath instead of- wait... no...

Mikey blinked, his eyes adjusting to the lack of light. The room may have been still, but Frank's form was not stiff. In fact, Mikey took a slow step forward, then let out a sigh of relief: Frank's chest rose and fell slowly, but steadily. The boy really was just sleeping, just as he'd been instructed.

“Shit,” Mikey advanced forward, then sank down on the bed, next to Frank, who groaned feebly and turned in his sleep so that he was facing Mikey, a hand finding the bassist's jeans, its fingertips curling against the hem of the fabric. Mikey let a small smile stretch to the corners of his lips as he moved a hand, in turn, to Frank's hair brushing a few locks of it from the boy's quite paler than usual, but still very alive, face. He then moved his hand down to the boy's chest where a pulse beat dully against his fingers.

Now that he was here, feeling Frank's heartbeat for himself and noting the boy's state of at least adequate health, Mikey realized how tight his chest had felt before this moment of realization. Though Frank's heart was beating a slow, peaceful time, Mikey's was hammering in his own chest, just now starting to regain its normal pace. He felt slightly stupid, slightly ridiculous for worrying so much. Frank was fine and there he had been, in a fit of hysterics, making quite a fool of himself in a moment of weakness. Did the boy really mean that much to him that he should have put himself through such a state? And what if he had found Frank lying lifeless on the bed? Would anything really change?

Of course, he loved having Frank do as he said and of course, the cycle of pills that the boy was now on seemed to be the best way to achieve this but now even Gerard was giving him warnings on continuing this behavior, and they were genuine warnings at that. The best possible course of action seemed to be to keep Frank on the medication, but simply medicate him less often. However, this also meant taking Gerard's advice and (though he knew it was rather arrogant of him) it drove Mikey mad to admit that his brother was right, especially in regards to anything involving Frank. This considered, there was, of course, another option that could be taken.

Mikey could simply continue giving Frank as many pills as he saw fit to keep the boy up to the standards that he was used to, but by doing this it an overdose was almost imminent. But didn't Mikey have the right to bring that about regardless? Frank had very avidly shown his faithfulness to Mikey, it could even be said that the boy had put his life in Mikey's hands, so wasn't the termination of that life up for grabs with the control of it? Mikey supposed it was, but that brought into question: could Mikey actually live with himself knowing that he'd effectively killed Frank?

He would, of course, have Gerard if Frank were to die, that much seemed clear, but was that an even trade? Subserviently, no, Mikey thought. Though Gerard had seemed to have lost his domineering nature after Mikey had turned against him, their relationship (though Mikey did seem to call the shots now) was on a more even footing than his and Frank's. Their relationship was, in fact, quite brotherly now (or as brotherly as it could ever be between the two) but that was not the only uneven aspect of the trade. Though Mikey would never admit it, he could not help but feel an attachment to his brother, no matter which role either was playing in their rather unorthodox status as siblings, but this did not cancel out or make less the attachment that Mikey felt toward Frank. Yes, Mikey would still have Gerard if Frank were gone, but would that really suffice? Physically, yes, Mikey decided finally, but physical relations really only went so far.

The fact was that nothing that Gerard could do would replace Frank, not even if the elder Way had decided that he would be perfectly happy doing anything that the younger decided he should do. Mikey did not want that from Gerard. Again, he would never admit it, but he quite liked Gerard as he was. He was the friend that Mikey had never gotten to have as a teenager and the brother had he had missed out on for nearly a decade while they were in heavier relations. He was still there for something casual, yes, but Mikey did not feel the same need to have him near as he did with Frank.

Gerard did not fascinate him as Frank did. Gerard's hands simply did not feel the same on Mikey's skin as Frank's did and, contrasty, Gerard's skin did not feel the same under Mikey's fingers as Frank's skin. Gerard would kiss him, yes, but it was brief and lustful. Frank would kiss him like there was nothing else he'd rather be doing. Frank would curl up next to him and, even in sleep, seem to always be touching him in some way as if he too felt the need to keep Mikey close; as if afraid of loosing him. It was as if the two shared some unspoken, yet completely understood feeling that the other should be near at all times. So, as fond of Gerard as Mikey was, it was very plain once he thought on it that there was simply no replacing Frank. And though, in Mikey's opinion, this was a rather large weakness on his part, he could think of nothing to do for it. It was a simple truth that he cared very much about Frank, regardless of how weak this made him feel, and that he would, in fact, be devastated beyond words if the boy were to die, not to mention, if he had something to do with the boy's death.

Having made this decision, Mikey cast his eyes down to Frank, who still slept beside him as peacefully as ever, then checked the boy's phone. 6:38. The equipment had already been set up for the show and when Mikey had left the others, they were chatting contentedly at the bar (which had opened for business while they were finishing the set up) drinks in hand. They were surely still enjoying themselves and therefore would not be likely to miss their bassist and rhythm guitarist for another hour or so. As long as the pair showed up before they were due to be on, Mikey couldn't see the harm in letting the boy sleep a bit more.

Frank stirred slightly as Mikey put his arm around him, subconsciously burying his face deeper into the bassist's side who set an alarm on the phone in his hand then closed his eyes, holding the guitarist close as he drifted off.

_________________

"Where the fuck have you been!" Mikey could hardly help from laughing as Gerard approached him, arms flailing angrily, "We're on in, like, ten! Fucking ten!"

He felt Frank tremble slightly at his side as he steered the boy into the back of the club. "Cool it, G," Mikey warned, moving a hand to the small of the boy's back and maneuvering him past his brother.

Though he couldn't imagine feeling intimidated by Gerard now, he also couldn't help but feel an intense empathy for what Frank must have been feeling at that moment- drugged out of his mind and barely awake from an Adderall that he had had to beg Mikey to give him, he knew that Frank was on edge and able to be rattled and influenced by the slightest things. It was what Mikey had been through for years and, though it was good for Mikey to use to his advantage, Gerard was in no place to have that much power over Frank's emotions.

"I fell asleep at the house," Mikey lied (he thought it a bad job to tell Gerard that the real reason that they had been late was Frank's inability to wake fully,) "it's not even a big fucking deal. We're here now."

"What the fuck ever," Gerard threw his hands in the air in a fit of what Mikey could only describe as bitchiness, stalking past them toward the back entrance of the club. "Just get your shit sound-checked. The rest of us are already done."

Mikey rolled his eyes, not bothering to tell his brother off for giving him orders, and took Frank to the stage where they took their instruments through their usual pre-show tune up and tested their mic volumes. Gerard, it seemed, did have a point as Frank was just finishing sound check as the band was starting and as the lights dimmed, Mikey kept a close eye on the boy as he swayed on the spot, barely able to keep his eyes open by the look of him.

The first number went well enough, Frank at least seemed to be able to play through the song, but Mikey noticed that he barely seemed to move on stage- a far cry from his usual performances. The same could be said for the second song, but when this one ended, Gerard started talking to the crowd, so Mikey took this opportunity to slip behind Frank, whose chest was rising and falling heavily despite his minimal movement.

"How're you doing?" he asked, lips to the boy's ear.

"I don't know," Frank looked to him, eyes drooping, but shiny, "I think I'm speed-balling. Everything’s just... I don't know. It's spinning. I'm dizzy." He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and looked back up to Mikey, his hand shaking slightly on the guitar's neck. "I don't think I should have taken that Adderall."

Mikey watched him for a few moments, taking in his extremely exasperated appearance, then nodded, coming to the decision that this gig was not worth what it was taking from Frank, "Do you want me to have Gerard call the show?"

Frank shook his head, positioning himself for the next song as Gerard lead the band into it, "No, I can do it. I'm fine."

"You could sit out for a bit," Mikey suggested.

But Frank just shook his head more fervently, "I can do it, Mikey. I'll be alright."

"Okay," Mikey moved his fingers to the right frets on his bass, stepping back from Frank slightly as they started playing the song, talking over his own instrument, "but I'm going to get you some water after this one's over."

However, as the song progressed, waiting until it was over seemed like less and less of a good idea. Though Frank had managed through the rest of the tracks with little difficulty up until now, his hands just couldn't seem to keep time now and several chords came out sour. With furtive looks from the rest of the band at his back, Frank shook worse than ever, and as they reached the chorus for the second time, he stopped playing all together. Mikey was sure that the most practical thing to do would be to continue playing without the boy, at least until the song was over, but this didn't seem to be the time to be practical and, anyway, his fingers couldn't have kept going if he'd wanted them to, they, as well as he, seemed to know that there were more important things at hand as Frank was shaking worse than ever and his legs looked like they would give out any second.

And sure enough, before Mikey could even lift his bass from over his head, Frank gave an almighty lurch and collapsed.

"Frank!" Mikey screamed, throwing his bass aside, but the crowd didn't seem to know what to think of it. A dull murmur of laughter emitted from them as the rest of the band stopped playing as well- they seemed to think that it was some sort of stunt. After all, Frank convulsing on the ground during a show was nothing new. They surely thought that this was just another one of his stage oddities.

Mikey, however, couldn't spare any thought toward them as he threw himself to the ground at Frank's side, smoothing the sweat-drenched hair from the boy's forehead, shaking almost as badly as the fallen guitarist who he turned on his side as started to gag. "G-Gerard," he stammered, looking frantically to his brother, "call someone. Call an ambulance. Do something!"

"I-" Gerard simply watched frozen in shock, wide-eyed and terrified looking.

"Ray!" Mikey cast around to the rest of the band, desperate for help as Frank started to cough up something that Mikey could not bring himself to look at as he positioned Frank's head for him to prevent the boy choking on whatever it did happen to be that he was expelling from his mouth, "Matt! One of you! One of you fucking call an ambulance! Someone give me their water bottle!"

Mikey couldn't really be sure who had done what, but he was aware of himself wetting a towel that was also thrust into his hand, the other running up and down Frank's back in an effort to calm him down at least enough for him to stop shaking. "Frank, please," he murmured, there were tears streaming his own cheeks. He had no idea what else to do or say, so he simply called to anyone who would listen, "Is there an ambulance on its way?"

"It's coming," said one of the band members behind him. "It'll-it'll be here soon."

All Mikey could do was nod at this news. When it seemed that Frank was finished throwing up, he moved the boy back slightly and used the damp towel to wet his forehead slightly, then wipe the sick from his mouth. Frank lay still now, unconscious, but this was almost worse as Mikey realized that the crowd now clearly understood the gravity of the situation as well. There were a few screams and rather than leaving the club or at least standing back to give Frank his space, they all seemed to have rushed the stage, all craning around to get a look at him. Mikey could only think to keep rubbing the boy's back, though he was sure that Frank couldn't really feel it at this point. It was more to calm himself, really, to still feel the warmth in Frank's skin as he lay motionless, to still be able to feel a pulse through the boy's back and the rising and falling of his lungs until he could get the boy to a hospital or a doctor or a medic or anything he could to just make Frank be okay again.