Vodka

Both of them have a bottle of vodka in their hands… gazing into each other's eyes with the same liquid hazel color. They sit on the cold pavement, legs crossed, eyes still locked on each other's.

Gerard’s hand rests on Mikey's neck, fingertips stroking slightly, sending shivers down Mikey's spine. Entwined arms, a little trail of vodka falling down Gerard's chin. Mikey's lips are chapped and swollen.

Mikey drinks from Gerard's bottle, the liquid straining off between the bleeding cracks on his lips, making them sting and itch.

Gerard moves closer to Mikey and raises his bottle of vodka.

“Raise your glass high for tomorrow we die and return from the ashes you call,” Gerard sings in a low voice, his words almost refusing to come out and his tongue vaguely knowing how to pronounce them.

It takes Mikey a moment before he knows how to answer.

“What the fuck? Gerard, you're drunk.”

“As much as you, Mikes,” Gerard whispers in his ear. “That could be a good end to that song…”

“What song?”

“Mama. Don’t you think so?”

Mikey sighs something that Gerard could either take as a yes and then he kisses his little brother's cheek and presses his lips against Mikey's for a second.

“Let's go, we've got a crowd waiting for us to perform.”

Mikey just nods and stands up, offering his hand to Gerard. He takes it and Mikey pulls him up. He mutters a weak 'thanks' with a drunken smile printed on his face, and walks without really knowing where he’s headed.

“Gerard.”

He takes a glance at Mikey.

“I love you.”

“Yeah well, Mikes, brothers are meant to love each other.”

And here it comes again, a sharp pain in his broken heart. Brothers are meant to love each other; that's what Gerard always feels when they’re together.

Mikey will remember it the next time they spend a day drinking like there’s no tomorrow and fucking like they’ve lost a whole lifetime of kissing, loving and cuddling.