For the Monsters that I've Been.

It was the second day after Frank had gotten out of the hospital, and he lay in bed with Mikey, just waking up from the consistent pulsing noise coming from Frank's cellphone which lay on the bedside table closest to Mikey's side of the bed, who picked it up, blinking sleep from his eyes as he observed the title 'Mom' across the screen and after a few moments deliberation, passed the phone to Frank. The boy answered it, rather sleepily as he sat up, but beamed down at Mikey in sheer gratitude as he pulled his legs underneath him.

Mikey turned on his side and listened to the pair as they spoke. The subject matter was light: mainly Frank's mother asking how he was feeling and Frank explaining how much better he doing. Then Frank's mother asked if he was going to visit soon, and Mikey sat up, shaking his head, and he watched the smile fade slightly from Frank's face.

But Mikey moved his hand down Frank's leg, his lips pressing to the boy's unoccupied ear, “Maybe when I feel better,” he prompted.

“Maybe when I feel better,” Frank repeated into the cell phone. “I'm still pretty sick,” he continued, only a slight delay following Mikey's voice. “I'm really tired though, mom. I'll call you later, alright?”

Mikey could hear Frank's mother sigh, then say:“Alright, get some rest. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Frank said, disheartened as he let Mikey slip the phone out of his hand. There was silence between them for a few moments while Mikey placed the phone away from Frank again, then the boy crossed his arms, looking quite resentfully toward Mikey. “Why can't I go see her?” He demanded, but his demeanor rather reminded Mikey of a child having a fit. “It's not like she's a threat to you. She likes you, Mikey. She's happy we're together and you could come and watch and make sure I don't do anything wrong, but it's not fair that I can't see her at all! I don't know why you won't let me see her!”

“Because I said you couldn't,” Mikey found that his voice came out rather lazily, probably just to spite Frank, he figured, “at least not right now. Maybe later.”

“Well, when's later?” Frank snapped, his brow knitted, “Later doesn't mean anything. If you can't tell me when I can go see her, I'll just go myself! You can't tell me that I can't see my own mom, Mikey!”

“Frank,” Mikey said quietly, sharply, and he clenched his fist, tensing.

The boy's face dropped as he observed Mikey's fist, he then looked up to Mikey's face with wide eyes, “I'm sorry,” he said quietly, “I just-”

Mikey shook his head. Frank had only been back two days and he was already missing the Ambien. But he refused. He couldn't give them to Frank, not again, not after what they'd done last time. However, this consideration did not extend to everything with Frank. For instance, asleep or not, Mikey found no objection to locking the boy in the room alone, at least until he had time to clear his head.

“It's fine,” Mikey lied. “But, you know what, I'm going to go downstairs for a little bit. You should get some more sleep. We've got another show coming up.”

“Mikey,” Frank shook his head, his face skewing slightly, “I'm not tired,” but Mikey stood anyway and pushed Frank's shoulder back down as he attempted to follow, “let me come with you.”

“No.” Mikey pulled on a pair of jeans, as he, like Frank, had only been sleeping in a t-shirt and boxers, then pocketed Frank's phone and took his keyring from the bedside table. “Don't worry, I'll be back.”

Without a backward glance, Mikey left the room. He locked the door behind him, ignoring the cries that had been suppressed with the turn of his key, which he then stowed safely in his jean pocket. He then headed down the stairs, across the living room, and to the kitchen. He had intended on making a pot of coffee, but found a half-full one already on the burner. What was more, he noticed a man with bushy hair sitting at the kitchen table, reading some music-themed magazine and sipping black coffee from a mug.

“Were you planning on sharing this?” He asked Ray, indicating coffee pot.

“No,” replied Ray, dryly, “I planned on drinking the entire pot myself.” He looked up to Mikey, whose eyebrows were raised, “I'm being sarcastic. I only make a huge pot because you all bitch if I have coffee and you don't.”

“I don't think you've ever heard me bitch,” Mikey mused as he poured himself a cup, but he said it with a bit of a smirk. “I don't think I've once bitched to you about anything, actually.”

“Fair point,” Ray allowed, “let me rephrase: I only make a huge pot because Gerard bitches if I have coffee and he doesn't.”

“Fucking princess,” Mikey laughed. He took a seat across from Ray at the table, pursing his lips as the hot coffee burned the punctures around his mouth.

Ray laughed as well, then, quite casually, changed the subject. “Frank's doing alright?”

“Mm,” Mikey nodded. He was actually quite excited at the mention of Frank's name. Even if he wasn't on the pills anymore, there was a thrill in keeping the boy locked away. “He's doing better. A lot better. The doctor's say that he has something called Epstein-Barr Syndrome. I guess it's from getting Mono when you're a kid or something. They think he passed out from complications.”

“We were all wondering,” said Ray, observing Mikey over his coffee cup. “I was hoping it wasn't overdose.”

Mikey shook his head, slightly heated at these words. “I don't know why they told people that. I hope they realize what sort of reputation-”

“Well, to be fair, at a show people really just assume-”

“Still,” insisted Mikey, “I wish they'd never even mentioned-”

“You know something you've never mentioned?” Ray asked, flattening his magazine on the table, then gestured to Mikey. “What happened to your mouth?”

“There's a great reason for me not mentioning it, Ray: and that's because it's none of your fucking business, is it?”

“Suppose it's not,” Ray answered slowly, “but that doesn't keep me from wondering.”

“Wondering isn't going to-”

“You know what else I wonder about, Mikey?”

The bassist didn't say anything, he merely raised his eyebrows.

“I wonder what really happened to Gerard.” And when Mikey ignored this as well, he pressed, “And why you've been acting so differently lately. And why Frank's suddenly so skittish. Something happened between you three- that night Gerard got hurt. Something big happened. I'm not stupid. You go missing, Gerard and Frank fight, then the next thing I know, fucking paramedics are knocking on the door and you and Frank are gone. And I think you know more than what you're saying you do. If you want me to believe you, you're going to have to stop being so fucking shady.”

Mikey and Ray simply observed each other for a few moments, then Mikey smiled, lifting his mug to his lips before he spoke again, taking his sip of coffee much more gracefully this time. And when he lowered his mug, he spoke quite slowly, quite deliberately. “I know you're not stupid, Ray. Just like you know that I'm not stupid. And we both know that there's something not quite right with everything that's happened lately. But, really, I hope you can trust me when I tell you to leave it alone for now. Gerard's okay and so is Frank, and that's all that really matters for the moment, isn't it?”

“Yeah, and that's all good and shit,” said Ray, “but you guys should know that I'm your friend and you can trust me. You just said it, I'm not stupid. I see more than you guys think I do, but I'm smart enough to know that this band's going places, so I keep my mouth shut. And even if it weren't, you guys are like brothers to me.” He gave a pointed look as Mikey made a noise of disbelief in the back of his throat. “All of you, Mikey, and I don't want to see anyone getting hurt.”

Mikey nodded. He couldn't help but be impressed, especially because, if Ray was saying what he thought he was- Matt was the only person completely ignorant of his and Gerard's relationship. “Listen, Ray,” he reasoned, “I'll make you a deal. Let it die down for the moment, just for a while. And when the time is right, I'll let you know everything and it will be your choice if you want to stay in the band or not after that.”

“I'm in this for the music,” said Ray, “and I'm not about to get into people's business that I'm clearly not welcome in, but I'll hold you to that if you make me a promise: the next time I ask you to tell me, this will have died down and we'll have quit our day jobs. We'll have everything into this band and there won't be backing out, and then you'll tell me.”

“Alright,” Mikey nodded. “But why are you so confident about this?”

“You remember Eyeball, don't you? One of the record companies that we sent tracks to? Well, they called me yesterday... I never got a chance to tell you because you've kind of been in hiding since you and Frank got back from the hospital. Not that I blame you,” he said quickly, “I don't imagine you slept at all while you were waiting for him, but I've been excited to tell you two- we're going to start recording at their studio. Recording an album. Our album. We're basically as good as signed.”

“Holy fuck, Ray!” It was easy to pretend that he cared much about the break in their music because Gerard's words from days previous reverberated in his head If things go well with recording... “That's insane! When do you think we'll be able actually get it released?”

“If we start this week? I'd say two, maybe three months considering we've already got a whole album's worth of songs written.”

“Holy fuck,” Mikey repeated, staring of toward the opposite wall. If they got a record deal and they did not have to scrape by on day jobs and cover charges... if they did not have to all live in the same house to decrease living expenses...

...We won’t need side jobs at all. So work hard, little brother, and make Frank do the same...

“So it is a deal then?” asked Ray

“Of course,” Mikey replied.

“Once our record's released, you'll tell me everything?”

Mikey shook his head, “When the time is right.”

“And when will that-”

“I'll know when it's the right time.”

“God, I'm starting to think you're more stubborn than your brother,” chuckled Ray, holding out his hand for Mikey to seal their agreement on their terms.

“Oh, I'm much more stubborn than him.” But Mikey shook his hand regardless and shook it, promising himself that he really would only tell Ray when there was no harm that could be done in doing so.

...You'll get your kicks in the end...

________________

“Frank!” Mikey burst through the door to their bedroom, “you're not going to believe what Ray just told me. He-”

But the sight in front of him was rather surprising, really. He'd been so excited by Ray's news that he'd forgotten the state in which he'd left Frank. But now it call came crashing back as he observed the boy, face streaked with tears, something dark trickling down from each side of his forehead, a red that quite horribly resembled the liquid on his face under his nails as he shivered slightly, his back against the bed, hugging his knees to his chest. “Frank...”

Mikey came slowly closer, kneeling as to find the origin of the trickles of blood. He expected Frank to shrink back at his touch. However, as Mikey pushed the boy's fringe back, Frank threw his arms around his waist with a fresh sob. “I th-th-thought you w-were angry w-with me,” he choked as Mikey found two lesions gouged on either side of his forehead. The blood under his fingernails now made sense.

“Why would I be angry with you?”

“I w-was talking b-back to you. Th-then you left.”

“I told you I'd be back,” said Mikey, quietly. “Just because I go, doesn't mean I won't come back.”

“I, d-d-don't think you w-want to, somet-times,” sobbed Frank. “I don't think you want me.”

Mikey held Frank close as he shivered. “I wouldn't come back if I didn't want you,” he said, simply. But Frank continued to shake, his breath shaking. “Baby, calm down,” he begged, softly, “You're working yourself up too much.”

Frank nodded, he closed his eyes against the fabric of Mikey's shirt, his breath was still labored, but slowing as Mikey's finger tips passed through his hair. It took him a few minutes to steady himself enough to speak again. In this time, Mikey sat himself next to Frank against the bed, a hand moving across his back to comfort him. Then, after a while, Frank sniffed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve His eyes focused on the door, rather than Mikey, when he spoke again. “You think I'm annoying,” he said, quietly.

“Baby...”

“You do, I know you do. You put a lock on the door so I can't leave because you don't want to be near me. I know it's true, Mikey.”

“I want to be near you, Frank. It's just-”

“And, you know, if you're not going to talk to me, it'd at least be nice for you to not lock me up. No one talks to me anymore,” Frank cried, looking down, ashamed. But he didn't move away from Mikey or shrug his hand away. “My friends at work hardly talk to me anymore. A lot of them are pissed 'cause they think I'm ignoring their phone calls and texts. 'Cause you took my phone. And I don't even fucking care, Mikey, I don't even fucking care! But if you're not going to let me talk to anyone else, the least you could do is to not leave me alone.” He shuttered again, tears scaling his cheeks, “I hate being alone.”

“You're overreacting,” Mikey said softly, his hand on Frank's back as the boy broke down in sobs which he was now trying to stifle into his knees, “I hardly even leave you.”

“You don't know what it's like to be locked in here,” Frank tried, feebly.

“I do know what it's like,” Mikey retaliated, and he sighed, leaning his head back against the bed. “I know it's not fun. And I'm just... I'm sorry, but it's probably not going to stop. Maybe not ever.” Frank shivered under his hand, but didn't say anything. Mikey stayed silent for a few moments as well, then asked softly: “Do you want to leave?”

Frank's face turned toward him, confused, “Leave?”

“Leave me,” Mikey clarified, “break up.”

Frank's eyes started to water again, he shook his head vigorously, “Mikey, please don't do this-”

“I'm not doing anything,” Mikey assured him.

“Why would I want to leave?” Frank asked.

“You just told me how unhappy you were.”

“That doesn't mean I want to leave... I don't want to leave. I just... I don't know. It was stupid of me, Mikey. I'm sorry. I just... don't... don't go... please. I'm not unhappy. I was just being stupid. Please...”

“Calm down, sugar, I'm not mad at you,” and for some reason, he wasn't. Normally, he supposed, he would have struck Frank for making demands of him, for asking him to change his behavior, but perhaps it was the quickness in which he'd backed down that had changed Mikey's attitude. Perhaps it was the fear in his voice when he'd thought that he was in danger of being dismissed that kept Mikey's temper from rising. “I was just asking, honest.”

Frank nodded a few times, swallowing back tears just on the verge of falling. “I don't want to go,” he said again.

“I know you don't,” nodded Mikey, and he moved his arm around Frank as the boy huddled into his side. “I don't want you to go either. And... as for being in here... It's not going to be so bad soon,” he said consolingly, his eyes focusing somewhere in the carpet. “I was talking to Ray a little bit go,” he said after a few minutes, “And you know how Ray was sending some tracks out to a few different labels?”

“Yeah,” replied Frank, Mikey could feel him nod into his side, “Did we get a reply?”

“Yeah,” said Mikey, “from Eyeball. Ray says we're going to release an album with them.”

“Shit, Mikey...”

Mikey could picture this moment if he and Frank had a normal relationship. Mikey would have burst in the completely unlocked room, telling this to Frank originally, and Frank would have been smiling his usual full-tooth smile. He probably would have jumped up, wrapping his arms around Mikey's neck, and Mikey would have spun him around, kissing him. But in their fucked up little world, Frank just smiled sadly, keeping himself from tears.

“I'd have thought you'd have been more excited,” Mikey admitted.

“I am excited,” Frank said, “just not as excited as I am to be here with you, I guess.” He chuckled slightly, looking up to Mikey, who smiled back, then leaned down, kissing him for a few moments.

“Listen,” he murmured as he pulled back, “why don't you go get yourself cleaned up... Take a shower, clean your face off, and we'll go out somewhere, alright? To a movie or to get coffee or something. I don't know. Whatever you want.”

“Are you sure?” asked Frank, but his eyes were already starting to get less red and the light in them was starting to come back.

“'Course I'm sure. We've got to celebrate Eyeball calling us back, don't we?” Mikey stood, then held his hand out to help Frank up.

Frank let Mikey lead him to the bathroom, but he almost had to be pushed in as Mikey told him to just clean up on his own. It took a few kisses and a bit of Mikey promising that he would be in the bedroom when Frank was done, then, finally, Mikey had closed the door behind Frank and was headed back to their bedroom.

He sunk down on the bed when he got in, picking Frank's phone up immediately and browsing through the messages. Older ones were what Mikey was sure must have been normal types of texts: Hey call me when you get this., what're you doing tuesday. theres a party if u r interested., Wanna come to the bar 2nite?, then they changed to things like Dude, wtf? Where've u been?, U mad at me? havnt heard from u in forever, and K, fuck u 2 then. Dont no what your deal is lately.

Mikey hadn't expected Frank to lie, but this was the proof that he needed for himself and it made his stomach sink. He'd never intended on getting people mad at Frank. Of course, he didn't like the thought of anyone near Frank, really, but he'd never meant to have people angry at the boy either. The only justification that he could think of was that Frank would be out of the situation shortly and he decided that he, Mikey, would just have to work as hard as he could to get this deal signed, to bring the time that their work could solely be on their band around as quickly as possible. To at least have one less thing for Frank to worry about.