The Perfect Foundation

Mikey knew Gerard was going to break at some point. He could see it coming a mile off, could see his brother get more and more stressed, more and more upset, knew he was feeling helpless, like a rabbit in a trap. Between him, Ryan and Frank they tried to reason with him and calm him down: convince him that everything was going to be fine and that he had done the right thing. Mikey thought it might be Brendon who had tipped the balance. Seeing someone he'd basically grown up with and looked out for in such a state of misery and disrepair would be hard for anyone, let alone anyone who got emotionally invested and attached like Gerard did. Mikey came in to Gerard's room one morning to see the man sprawled over his desk, fast asleep, drawings surrounding him cuccoon-like. He walked over without a sound and leafed through some of the sketches. They were of the kids, all of them. But the one Gerard had underneath his cheek was of Brendon. Just his face, beautifully sketched, showing Gerard's affection for the young man. Mikey couldn't remember that much before Hell Day but what Gerard didn't know was that he did remember Brendon, at least the child-version at least. And he saw that what Gerard thought was sadness in Brendon's eyes when he looked at him, was confusion too. Brendon did remember Gerard, but Gerard had come a long way from the pudgy, dark-haired school kid they had all once known. He couldn't place him, and Gerard was too scared to say anything for fear of rejection. So that same morning, Mikey took without permission, or rather - stole - the portrait sketch of Brendon and headed down to the youth's room. He knocked quietly and was rewarded with an: "Enter at your peril!"
He did, holding the drawing behind his back as he approached the bed. Brendon was sat up, a smile fixed on his face, but physically he was getting better. There was more spark in his huge brown eyes and he was slowly building up his body mass again.
"Hey Mikey!" Mikey responded with his usual lop-sided smile and perched on a chair next to the bed, shuffling it closer so they could talk.
"What brings you to my humble abode?" Mikey just stared at him for a long moment until Brendon's smile wavered and almost broke and Mikey could see the nervousness shining through.
"What? What's wrong dude?" The younger Way brother thought he might as well put it to him straight:
"You don't remember do you?"
"Remember what?"
"Gerard and Me."
"What - what do you mean?"
"You went to school in LA didn't you?"
Brendon was struck speechless. He couldn't remember exactly but it did ring a bell.
"Yes. Los Angeles. That's right. Wait - how did you know?"
"You don't remember? You and your parents lived at the back of our house. You had to cut through to -."
"To get to the church..." Brendon trailed off, his mouth hanging comically open in shock, his eyes wide.
"Oh my god. That's-. You're-." He pointed at the door and at Mikey along with his choked out words.
"Gerard Way. How the hell did I not figure that out?!"
"A lot has happened since then." Mikey told him emphatically, but not unkindly.
"I can't believe-. Does Gerard know?"
"He's the one that recognised you, when he saved you from solitary. Jon said he had a panic attack, he had no idea you were alive."
Brendon stared unseeingly at the duvet as he processed the information.
"I had no idea. I mean, I thought he sorta looked familiar y'know but...I didn't know why. School...it was so long ago, I was so young."
"I understand." Said Mikey. Because he did, mostly.
"I wonder. Gerard. I wonder what he thinks of me..." He seemed to be thinking aloud now, so Mikey whipped out the drawing and passed it over.
"I think this basically sums it up. But you should hide it, Gee doesn't know I took it."
Brendon just stared at it for at least several minutes before hiding it under the bed. He did this with surprisingly little difficulty.
"Have you tried walking yet?" Mikey was curious.
"Nope, not yet."
"Want to try standing?" Brendon looked up at him like a lost puppy and nodded slightly.
"So long as no one sees."
Mikey stood up and silently waited for Brendon to order his legs over the edge of the bed and onto the wooden floor. His legs looked thin in his too-big pjs but he grasped Mikey's hand when it was offered and slowly pushed himself up, the effort plain on his face. The older boy had been gifted with patience, and didn't complain when they were stood there for a good ten minutes. Brendon was visibly sweating but grimly determined and gradually began to take small steps round the room, leaning heavily on Mikey all the way round and back to the bed. Then he collapsed back into it and closed his eyes as he sucked in huge amounts of air.
"Not bad."
Mikey commented. Brendon laughed breathlessly.
"Thanks." Mikey got up to leave.
"Wait." He turned at the door.
"Thanks for telling me."
"No problem. Try and get some rest." Brendon nodded and closed his eyes, a small smile on his lips. Mikey shut the door behind him quietly and ran straight into Gerard.
"Is he ok?" Said the red-haired man concernedly. Mikey nodded and put a finger to his mouth.
"Sleeping." Gerard nodded several times too many, looking washed out and frazzled. Mikey took him by the shoulders and propelled him back along the corridor.
"What?" His brother protested weakly.
"You can see him later. When you've had a bath. And slept some more."
"I just got up!"
"Desk-sleep doesn't count. Bath and bed. Now."
It said a lot that Gerard didn't throw a hissy fit right there, and instead let Mikey lead him to the bathroom and run him a bath, sitting dejectedly on the toilet seat and staring off into the distance. Mikey didn't think now was a great time to tell him about his conversation with Brendon. He would find out soon enough. He finished filling the tub, waved his hands in front of his brother's face to get his attention and pointed meaningfully at the bath.
"Ok, ok Jeez." Gerard stripped carelessly and threw himself in, swearing at the temperature.
"Fuck, Mikey, you tryin' a kill me?"
"My plan is foiled." Gerard made a 'v' sign at him and Mikey smirked unashamedly, getting up to give Gerard some peace.
"Don't fall asleep."
"I'm not ten years old, dude!"

Gerard had very intention of not sleeping but once he got into bed and decided it was a good idea to lie down he was out like a light. Mikey checked in on him a good hour later and he was still dead to the world, as was Brendon downstairs. He smiled to himself and wondered if he should appoint himself house caretaker. Him and Ryan seemed to have taken it upon themselves to look after everyone else. Maybe they should have a smackdown for the title or something. He wandered idly to the kitchen to fix himself some coffee when one of the older kids, Pete appeared in the doorway.
"Hey Mikey."
"Hey."
"How's things?"
"Oh, you know, helping people, the usual."
"Totally."
"Want some coffee?"
Pete looked at the machine wistfully for a moment, lip caught in his teeth, then shook his head firmly.
"No. Thanks. I'm trying to keep off any kind of drug."
"Even caffeine?"
"Yeah. Especially caffeine." Mikey nodded in mild admiration. Maybe it was a Way curse but neither him nor Gerard could keep away from coffee for long. It had become part of the family some time ago. Pete sat heavily at the small table, that was more like a butchers block really.
"D'you mind?"
Mikey shook his head and leaned comfortably against the counter as he stirred his drink absently. He usually took it black but today it was more milk than coffee. He'd just felt like a change.
He hadn't really spoken to Pete before. Because he was older than the others: about 25, Mikey wasn't really sure, he had been a lot of help in being Ryan's second in command and he had been instrumental in facilitating the escape. Mikey was kind of in awe of Pete because he seemed so...together most of the time. He was impressed that he hadn't reached his breaking point yet. But then he figured it was only a matter of time. Everyone had a breaking point. Even him, Mikey Way, everyone else's rock. He wasn't sure what it was yet - after the apocalypse - but he was sure that if Gerard broke, he wouldn't be far behind.
"Would you like something else? Tea? Hot chocolate?"
Pete shook his head, staring at his hands where they lay open on the table-top. Mikey frowned. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Pete was breaking right now.
"Are you okay, man?"
Pete looked up slowly, and Mikey noticed for the first time that his eyes were reddish brown, like autumn leaves. Or something equally silly. Maybe he was getting romantic in his grand old age of 20.
"I miss coffee." The older man replied, his mouth lifting in a cynical smile.
"You can have some if you want, I'm sure one cup won't kill you."
Pete genuinely considered the offer for a moment, then rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand and sighed.
"I can't. But thanks for asking. You're sweet, Mikey Way." He ended his sentence with a huge grin and Mikey was dumfounded for a second. He looked away, concentrating on the vapours rising from his cup as though it was really important to track their movements. He knew Pete was...well; there wasn't another word for it really: flirting with him. It was all there, in his clear brown eyes and open smile. Except it wasn't really open, was it? He knew he couldn't be sure whether it was an act or not, whether Pete was flirting because it came naturally as a defence mechanism? It was confusing. I mean, Mikey wasn't an idiot, he had been flirted with before and he doubted this would be the last time but he couldn't...take it lightly. It just wasn't him, so he ignored Pete's dazzling smile and took a sip of his coffee, staring out of the window at the late morning sun.
"Oh come on, don't be like that," Wheedled his companion, "I was just..." Mikey couldn't help but look back at the guy as he trailed off and saw him, eyes downcast, clenching and unclenching his hands on the table and suddenly Mikey felt guilty for jumping to conclusions.
"I know..." He answered quietly, then couldn't think of an appropriate way to say 'it's okay, I know you can't help it and it doesn't mean anything.'
He was aware of offending the boys, and sometimes it was hard not to let it get to him.
"Y'know what?" Said Pete abruptly, bringing his hands closer to him across the table and curling them into fists, "Can I try some of your coffee? Is it very strong?"
Surprised, Mikey held out the mug with a:
"Not today."
Pete plucked it from his fingers and held it reverently, wrapping his hands around it tightly and raising it to his nose to take a whiff of the contents. His eyes closed in ecstasy and a lazy smile spread across his face.
"I love the smell of coffee," he murmured, taking another long sniff, then eventually put the mug rim to his mouth and took a minute sip, savouring the taste with satisfaction written all over his face. Mikey was mesmerised by the scene, as he watched Pete's terracotta eyes close and press thick black lashes to his gorgeous olive-skinned cheeks. He knew he was staring, but somehow couldn't bring himself to care. At least for the next five seconds anyway, while Pete worshipped his shitty milky weak excuse for coffee. Oh god, this was bad. Had someone slipped something into the coffee this morning? Was he going crazy? He had torn his gaze away from Pete and was glaring at something beyond his left shoulder when the man was suddenly right in front of him, picking up the hand that had frozen in a claw-like grip on the edge of the counter and pressing his mug into it gently. How the hell had he missed him get up? Pete was smiling again, this time he seemed amused and on the verge of laughing, and did when Mikey frowned at him because he couldn't think up any appropriate response to any of this shit. Whatever script Pete was following he was definitely on the wrong page. In fact he was in a completely different fucking play altogether.
"Dude, you're out of it," Pete laughed, putting a warm hand on Mikey's bony shoulder for a second, then moving back to his seat.
"Nice coffee though. Thanks." His hands were back on the table top, laced together now. Mikey snapped back to reality with a start.
"Yeah, no worries." He mumbled, looking down at his shoes and wishing for one moment that he was straight and not stuck in a house with a ridiculously attractive former sex-worker. But alas.
"I'd forgotten how good it was." It took Mikey a beat to realise he meant the coffee. He glanced at the mug and felt blood rush to his cheeks as he thought about Pete drinking from it. Yep, he was going crazy.
"It's funny how a simple thing can make you happy." Mikey sucked in a breath. He could answer that one.
"Tell me about it. At least the apocalypse left us that much."
"Totally."
"How are you settling in?" Pete laughed again, a mocking kind of laugh.
"Good, good..." He nodded, "I'm very grateful for everything you've done."
Then, after a pause he met Mikey's gaze head on, eyes deadly serious.
"I'm glad I don't have to go back." Mikey nodded.
"So am I." There was silence as both men locked gazes. Anyone who had walked in at that point could have seen the tension between them. Pete didn't help things by beaming at the younger man and Mikey had to forcibly order his face into his usual unemotional mask to cover up his embarrassment and mild - very mild - infatuation.
"You're awesome." Declared Pete, unashamedly and Mikey couldn't hide it then. He bit his lip and willed away his blush, completely speechless. Ryan came in through the door, thankfully with a:
"Who's awesome?" Mikey jumped on it:
"No one, no one! Nothing is awesome. Except coffee!" He brandished his mug far too obviously.
"I see," said Ryan.
"Can I make you any?"
"Sure," the boy said slowly, looking from Pete to Mikey subtly with confusion, "Lots of milk and sugar, it thats ok?"
"Yeah." Mikey turned away from them and busied himself making Ryan's drink. At least he didn't have to look at Pete then, as much as he wanted to know what expression he was wearing after Mikey had denied his awesome-ness.