For the Monsters that I've Been.

Mikey Way took a sip of coffee a few seconds after it was set in front of him, ignoring both the burning sensation that it gave his lips and the fresh stare from his waitress. He observed the back of a short man with dark hair slipping into the bathroom at a diner instead of giving either any attention. It was very early in the morning and he could not pretend that he did not want to sleep, but he had to keep moving. He looked out the window to his brother’s Ford Escape that he’d stolen a few hours earlier (though, he wasn’t entirely sure if it was considered stealing at this point).They had to keep driving. He took another sip of coffee, then pulled an ashtray toward him. He pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips, rolling the metal gear on his lighter back to produce a flame. He pulled the smoke that was produced from this into his mouth slowly, then let it out with a deep sigh. This action, however, made not only the tobacco, but his lips burn for a second time.

He turned toward the dark window and observed his reflection in it. He couldn’t blame the waitress for starring at him earlier. He had hoped previously that there wouldn’t be noticeable contusions, but his brother, that asshole, had made himself impossible for Mikey to forget, leaving a lasting deformity on his reflection.

“Now you may want to clench your teeth a bit-“

The needle pierced through the skin on Mikey’s cheek. It stung and he opened his mouth to scream, but that simply pulled the thread harder and ripped more viciously at his skin, so Mikey’s mouth shut on its own accord and the needle passed through the crease in his lip from behind. The needle stung as it passed through each time, and the tension from the pulling was so rough that Mikey was sure that he’d passed out at some points during the procedure. When Gerard had finished lacing his lips closed, he tied a knot; a tight one, securing it close against Mikey’s cheek.

“God…” Gerard’s outline was blurry as Mikey looked up to him, but he picked up an air of fascination, of wonder, like a boy who had just discovered a dirty magazine, or a common house cat watching a bird through a window. “I’ve been wanting to do this for the longest time.” He continued. He slipped his legs from the sides of his whimpering brother and stood, observing his handy-work, flicking the needle that still hung from the boy’s cheek, watching it swing. “I have to say… it’s an improvement… more like a doll, don’t you think?”

More like a doll, indeed. Mikey didn’t know any dolls who could do what he did. He took in an angry breath with his next puff off of his cigarette. That motherfucker. He brought his hand up and attempted to wipe the blood off of his lip, but it more red liquid simply oozed through his lacerations to replace that which he had just removed. That motherfucker. He would swear that Gerard would pay for what he’d done, but Mikey had gotten his vengeance in the end.

“Mikey… please…” the words were muffled under his hand, but moderately clear nonetheless. He felt warm tears on the fingers that were pressed against his brother’s lips. He could hear Gerard sob behind them. “Lemme go Mikey… call the pla-lease. Sen me ta jail.”

Frank shifted forward toward the pair, “Mikey… he’s right just think about it…”

“Hm-mp,” Mikey shook his head and chuckled. Send him to jail. He wouldn’t suffer in jail. He pressed his hand more tightly over Gerard’s mouth then twisted the blade. His lips curled at the noise of it. He could hear skin rip, maybe a vein pop. He could feel his brother’s pulse pump hard as he pressed in further. His muscles twitched as warm blood spurted his cheek. He exerted more pressure, driving the blade into his brother’s neck. Then Gerard’s legs gave out and Mikey extracted the blade.

Mikey let the body fall to his feet as he used the sharpest side to slice the thread from between his own lips. The blood on the edge was still warm when he cut it. He could taste it as he parted his lips to take a sharp breath in. “God that was good…” His eyes moved to Frank, who cowered back against the chair he was still in, and narrowed. A low growl accompanied his words, “And you… you fucking whore.”

Yes. In the end, Gerard had gotten what he had coming to him. The time for Mikey serving him was over. He should have realized instead of clinging on. As bad as Gerard thought he could be, Mikey thought that these actions were pathetic. It was the opposite of the mindset that he should have held. He’d established control, but he’d done a horrible job maintaining it. He hadn’t deserved to have Mikey since he’d slipped and given him bouts of time in which he required Mikey to be away from him. His rules were inconsistent. His will was not concrete. And this made him inadequate, in Mikey’s viewpoint.

What made him almost the angriest wasn’t the fact that he hit him, it wasn’t the fact that he’d forced him to do all of the housework, that he’d made him join his band without teaching him how to actually play his instrument, it wasn’t even the fact that he’d used him for sexual release ever day since Mikey was about eleven. Mikey enjoyed most of it. He had enjoyed making Gerard happy. However, now, what Mikey absolutely hated about Gerard was one of his most constant demands; sit there and look pretty. How dare Gerard say that to him then turn around and do what he did. How dare he tell him to look pretty and then give him these horrible punctures on his lips. How dare he ask him to be attractive and then make him the exact opposite of the word.

But that misdemeanor would have warranted much less retribution on Mikey’s part. He saw himself physically hurting Gerard as he had been sewing his mouth closed. He saw himself making Gerard suffer. When Mikey looked back, he almost wished that he had dragged the his last moments with Gerard out a bit more. His anger remained pent up and his fists almost constantly clenched instead over the way that he had come on to Frank that night. Those actions sent Mikey seething. He had wished almost constantly since his brother had fallen that he could done something differently, not as an act of condolence, but so that he could have tortured him further. To show him how stupid he’d been to cross Mikey’s trust, to give him an order and then ensure that it could not be fulfilled. If Gerard was still alive, which was doubtful, he was probably pumped full of drugs unable to feel a thing. If he were dead, he was released, he would no longer be capable of feeling pain. And this thought was the most disturbing to Mikey by far. Mikey wished to seek retribution against his brother more than anything in the world, but all he had to get back at was Frank, who Mikey wasn't entirely sure even knew the severity of his actions.

He blinked, taking one last puff from his cigarette before he snuffed it out in the ashtray. Where was Frank, anyway? He could clearly remember watching the boy walk to the bathroom at the back of the diner, but his coffee had been full at that point and he had gotten through an entire cigarette in his absence. This was too long for Mikey to wait, so the man stood, leaving his jacket and cigarettes on the table. He made his way passed tables and booths, most all empty because of the early hour. When he reached the bathroom door he stood and waited, listening to the boy on the other side of it: Frank was sobbing freely.

Mikey sat on a toilet in a bathroom stall at his high school at lunchtime. His legs were pulled to his chest and his face was buried in his knees. He hated school. He wasn’t sure why he had to go to it. Gerard attended the same school, of course, but he couldn’t have classes with him, they were in two separate grades. The separation from him was horrible. Mikey wasn't sure how to even act when Gerard wasn't around.

His brother was normally in the lunchroom though, waiting for him when he got out of class. Mikey was lucky for this. Gerard could have sat with other people if he wanted to. But Gerard sat with him. Just him. Mikey felt so special because of it, so privileged. However, Gerard wasn’t in the lunchroom today. He wasn’t anywhere to be found, as far as Mikey could tell, and Mikey had looked meticulously for his brother.

On a normal day, Mikey would come downstairs from his third hour and Gerard would be waiting. He would take him by the wrist and lead him to a corner in the hallway behind the lunchroom where they sat against a wall together. There was no need to take up a table: Gerard discouraged Mikey from talking to anyone else so all of the extra seats would just bring potential threats his way.

But this seclusion made rumors fly around. ‘Those creepy Way boys…’ Mikey heard people whisper as they passed sometimes. He’d also been shoved into lockers before; the word ‘faggot’ hissed in his ear. Mikey supposed it didn’t bother him all that much. He couldn’t find himself caring whether or not these people approved of him. He didn’t need them, he had Gerard.

But not that day. Gerard was nowhere in sight that day and the derogatory whispers buzzed in his head as he moved awkwardly between lunch tables, looking this way and that to perhaps catch his brother’s eye from a bench for some reason, or buying something from a vending machine. But he couldn’t find Gerard anywhere and he was becoming distraught. He observed a foot placed in front of him in an attempt to trip him. He backed up, shivering as he meandered to avoid it. This made him decide to simply be done with the searching all together. ‘What’s the little gay Way doing out of his corner?’ he heard someone whisper as he retreated. ‘Probably got off his leash or something…’ His face flushed deeply. He decided to separate himself even further.

Reasonably, they were supposed to stay in the lunchroom during their lunch hour, unless they had a pass to be elsewhere, but Mikey knew of a door that was never locked that lead to the art hallways where it was always quiet and there was a bathroom that hardly ever got used.

He stayed there for a good ten minutes, just crying into his knees, simply because of Gerard’s absence, before someone else came into the room. Mikey immediately quieted his sobs, as not to draw more negative slurs his way, but shivered slightly as heavy footsteps trekked across the floor toward the stall that Mikey had locked himself in. The boy held his breath, bottom lip quivering until a voice made his ears perk, his spine tingle, and a smile tighten across his lips.

“Mikey, open the door,” said Gerard from the other side of it. The boy wiped at his eyes and stood, slightly off-step and dizzy from his perch, undoing the lock and his brother pushed the door open, stepping into the stall with him. “What are you doing in here? Why didn’t you meet me at lunch?”

“Because,” the boy’s voice cracked as he answered, “I looked. I couldn’t find you. I didn’t know what to do.”

Mikey winced as Gerard brought the back of his hand across his face. But didn’t contest it. He should have known not think for himself. “You don’t wander off.”



“Yessir,” Mikey mumbled.

Gerard surveyed him, then took his wrist, leading him to the mirrors without another word. The older brother proceeded to wet a paper towel, then clean the tear streaks from his brother’s face before saying. “Next time, just wait for me.”

“I’m sorry.” said the boy, and his brother nodded, taking him by his wrist from the bathroom.

It seemed forever ago that Mikey was the one in the situation. Of course, high school had been quite a long time ago for him. He had graduated when he was eighteen. He was now twenty three and Frank was a year younger than he was. That made Frank twenty two. Twenty two and crying like a teenage boy in high school. Mikey should have felt pity for him, he was sure. He should have felt guilty for drawing him to a state of tears. He should have felt guilty for yelling at him to clean his face of the tears that he had caused to run down it. He should have felt guilty for treating Frank the same way that his brother treated him. He should have felt guilty for a lot of things that he’d done to Frank, but he really couldn’t find the reasoning in that.

He had been on Frank’s end and he had gone though things worse than Frank could even imagine. People could say that he should have felt empathy, yes, but instead, he felt apathy. None of this would have to happen if Frank simply followed his rules. And if Frank had felt injustice, he should have taken a leaf out of Mikey’s book and rebelled instead of blubbering like a baby in a bathroom. And with the completion of that thought, Mikey decided that he was sick of the crying.

He pushed the door open to reveal the boy, who shrank back a bit from the mirror as he saw the newcomer, just like Mikey had in the high school bathroom.

“What’s taking so long in here?” Mikey asked quietly. He progressed to Frank with ease, not letting the younger man’s tensing effect him as he was aware that it probably should have. The boy stayed silent, so Mikey advanced, ready to strike if he had to. “I asked you a question.”

Frank’s eyes were focused on the floor as he answered weakly. “I’m just- ow, Mikey, stop.” the older of the two men had gripped the hair of the younger, yanking it back so that his chin would tilt upward.

“Look at me when I speak to you.” Mikey growled, “You understand?”

“I’m s-sorry, Mikey.” the younger nodded, his face pained as Mikey had still not let go of his hair. “Y-you told me to clean my face, but I just… I can’t stop more…” his voice lowered, ashamed, “I can’t stop more tears from coming…”

“I see.” Mikey let go of his hair and moved his thumb to the skin under Frank’s eyes and the boy moved closer as he wiped a fresh tear away. A few hours earlier, the tears leaking from Frank’s big, brown eyes would have been cause for alarm. Mikey would have been distraught. He would have spoke softly to him asking what the matter was and wrapped his arms around him, kissing him gently. But now, all he saw was Frank with his eyes hungry on Gerard. Those brown eyes that used to search Mikey’s face and body had searched Gerard in the same way and the images that they gathered made Frank smirk and pant in excitement. Those brown eyes made Frank dirty. The things they saw, the things they liked to see… it all made Frank a slut. A whore. They made Mikey unable to look at Frank as an equal. The boy had said that he’d only come on to Gerard to give Mikey a chance at a getaway, and maybe that was true, Mikey reasoned, but to do so in front of him, to see Gerard’s hands on him. It was enough to drive him mad.

God, he hoped that Gerard was still alive so that he could throttle him the next time he saw him. He hoped that it would be possible to make Gerard suffer just a little bit more. Of course, there was a very real possibility that his brother was dead, however. Mikey had dialed 911 before leaving the house for good. He remembered Gerard’s face as he crouched before him, speaking with a tone of indifference to the operator, ‘My name is Gerard Way,’ he had said, giving an address, ‘I’ve had an accident.’ With that, he dropped the phone on his brother’s chest, producing a small groan from the man. Mikey then reached into his brother’s pocket and extracted his keys, chuckling as Gerard groaned again in an attempt to communicate. ‘Good luck, brother.’ he smirked, ‘Be seeing you.’

After that, he’d taken Frank, he’d gathered a few possessions, mostly clothes, and he drove. The diner was the first place they’d stopped. Mikey wasn’t sure where it was, his initial plan was to get as far away from the police that may or may not have been looking for him at that very moment. Gerard was surely not in a fit state to tell anyone what had happened to him and Mikey wasn’t sure if he would, however, he was also unsure what Ray or Matt (the other two bandmates who lived in the house with them) would say to the police. He was uncertain if they would cast the blame on Frank or not, and that surely wouldn’t do: Mikey had heard what they did to guys like him in prison and as much as the thought of Frank disgusted him at the moment, something in him wanted to keep the boy as close as possible.

That was the main reason that they were at the diner anyway; simply to keep Frank safe from something of Mikey’s responsibility. So he did relay a bit of kindness toward Frank and brushed the boy’s hair from his face.“What are you even crying about?” he asked, sighing out of exasperation more than anything.

“It’s just… I… I don’t even…” Frank shook his head, he looked to Mikey, who nodded, before he moved forward and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in his shoulder. “I don’t even know. I’m sorry”

Mikey stood and let him cry for a few moments. He even moved his hand to Frank’s back, rubbing up and down rhythmically. When Frank’s breathing seemed to have calmed a bit, Mikey moved his hand to his chin, lifting it to establish eye contact. “We have to keep moving.”

Frank simply nodded, lip quivering slightly. “Where’re we going?”

“We’re just going.” Mikey replied.

Frank sniffled and nodded again. “Okay,” he said quietly. He let Mikey take his wrist, still shivering as he followed the man.