#9 - Months

#9; Months

When they were on the road, they were on the road for weeks. And when they were on the road, sometimes, these weeks dragged into months. And it was during these months constantly cooped up together on a tiny tour bus that the arguments happened. 

"Two days," Mikey said, bursting onto the bus unexpectedly and kicking the door shut behind him angrily. Bob started. It was rare for the younger Way to express any emotion, even more so a negative one. He'd never seen Mikey angry. 

"What?" he asked, clueless as to what was going on.

"Two days," Mikey repeated. "Two days, Bob." 

"Right," Bob nodded. There was a moment of silence. "Aren't you going to tell me two days since what?" he asked eventually. Mikey narrowed his eyes uncharacteristically. 

"Frank and Gerard." 

"Oh." That explained everything.
-
At the start of the tour, Gerard and Frank had been fine, their usual selves. They'd joked around with each other, just as much as with anybody else. Nobody had suspected a thing was wrong. 

Two and a half months into the tour, something changed. Ray had walked in on them having a massive argument, shouting and yelling and breaking of objects all included. Neither had ever enlightened anybody as to what the fight was about (Gerard hadn't even told Mikey, which was an apocalyptic sign), and the fights had just continued. Sudden bursts of anger, were they on or offstage, were becoming frequent between the elder Way and his best friend, Frank Iero. 

Bob had no clue what the fuck was happening. Call of Duty was easier to understand, so he left it at that. 
-
"Mikey," Gerard called. Mikey ignored him. "Mikey," he called a little louder. Still no answer. "Mikey, I know you're pissed I broke your promise, but he deserved it!" 

Down the corridor, two people sat up in their bunks, both their blood boiling with anger. 

"Gerard," Mikey replied. "A promise is a promise is a promise. My Chem is supposed to e different. We're supposed to have chemistry. Are you two really gonna fuck up everything all of us have worked so hard for just because of some petty argument?" He recieved a growl from the bunk opposite him in response. 

"It's not petty, believe you me," Frank's deep voice came from his bunk.

"Which is exactly why neither of you will tell any of the rest of us what's going on," Mikey retorted. Jesus, his brother and best friend were so goddamn stupid all the goddamn time. 

"It runs deeper than that," Frank replied after a moment of silence, and there was an undertone to his voice that made Mikey stop questioning.

He still hadn't forgiven Gerard though. 
-
Ray decided something had to be done about the matter. It was bearable when they sniped coldly at one another, but now they flat out refused to talk soundcheck was becoming impossible. 

"Gerard," Ray said, approaching his friend from behind. Gerard whirled around, raising his eyebrows and taking a sip from the coffee he was holding when he saw who it was. 

"Ray," Gerard said. "Formalities over, what d'you want?" 

"Frank," Ray began, and the look of iciness that crept across Gerard's features was not a good sign. 

"Continue," Gerard said curtly, leaning against the counter. 

"The rest of us...well, we're sick of it, to be frank - no pun intended," Ray added. "It's...well, we're going to end up all leaving the band or kicking both of you out."

"Why kick me out?" Gerard scoffed. "I haven't done a thing. It's him you want out with."

"So," Ray asked. "What did he do?" Gerard didn't reply. "Thought so," Ray sing-songed, already off in search of Mikey. 
-
Mikey wasn't in the best of moods with either of the pair, but if he had to choose one to be more amicable with it was definitely Frank. Frank was more open than Gerard, so maybe Mikey'd get something out of him. 

"Frank," he said, sidling up to him. Frank whirled around, face splitting into a grin when he saw Mikey.

"'Sup," he said. 

"What happened with you and Gee?" Mikey asked bluntly. Frank's expression twisted. 

"I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"He'll get offended, and...look, Mikey, I don't want to like...hurt his pride, or whatever," Frank said, chewing on his lip ring. 

"He's already offended," Mikey pointed out stubbornly. 

"Fine," Frank said, rolling his eyes. "He said something, and I didn't reciprocate and...he didn't appreciate that."

"What the fuck, Frank," Mikey huffed. "That's not an explanation."

"That's all you're getting."
-
Ray had tried to talk to Frank, honest to God he had, but they were constantly sidetracked by guitar riffs and general guitar jargon. He knew that if he tried again, the same would happen, so he decided to work on Gerard. 

"Gerard," Ray said, when his lead singer walked into the back room/studio on the bus. Gerard started - he hadn't expected Ray to be there, or acknowledge his presence. 

"Um...hi?" he tried. Ray rolled his eyes. 

"Look," he said. "We really need to talk." 

"If it's about Frank, it can wait," Gerard interrupted. "I'm sick of it."

"So are we," Ray said softly, looking up from the guitar he was tuning. "Gerard, we've known each other since we were what, fourteen? We spend our lives together twenty-four seven. The band is going to end up splitting because of this." 

"The band won't split," Gerard said decidedly. "I won't let it. And all you're getting from me is I said something to Frank and he didn't answer, and it hurt my feelings. A lot. But the band won't split over this."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Ray muttered, going back to tuning the guitar. 
-
Gerard had apparently waited in ambush for his younger brother's early morning coffee run, because he jumped out and scared the living shit out of Mikey, Jesus.

"Did you have to do that?" Mikey asked. "Was that really necessary?" 

"It's the only way I can get you to talk to me," Gerard said, appearing nonchalant, but Mikey'd known him long enough to hear the underlying desperation. He was lonely without Mikey, Mikey realised gleefully. He was dependent on Mikey. 

"Are you going to explain the situation to me?" Mikey asked. Gerard remained silent. "Thought as much," Mikey muttered, pushing past his brother. 

"Wait, Mikey-" Gerard was cut off by Mikey whirling around and approaching him.

"Listen," Mikey said, because it wasn't often that Gerard did. "We're all fucking sick of you two and your bullshit. I don't care if emotions were hurt - sort it out. There's no way My Chem can stay together if two of the most vital members aren't talking to each other and making life unnecessarily difficult and aggravating for the other three. I'm sorry," Mikey said, cutting Gerard off as he was about to speak. "But I'm not standing for this anymore. The kids know something's up. Cut the crap, Gee. Man up. Or...I'm leaving." The last part was the killer. Gerard's eyes widened.

"N-no, Mikes, no, no, no, you can't..." he said desperately. "I need you here." The sight of his brother on the verge of tears was almost enough to override his anger - almost. 

"I'm done here," Mikey said, making his way to the living rooma area. 
-
"Any luck?" Ray asked. 

"Told him I'd leave if he didn't sort his shit out," Mikey said.

"I don't understand them," Bob said mildly, "Frank especially. Usually when he's pissed he just breaks our stuff and swears a lot, but then he's okay." Ray shrugged. 

"It's odd for Gerard to be so closed as well," he said. "Usually he's strutting around telling everyone who isn't remotely interested everything about his life." Mikey shrugged. 

"I'll try with Frank soon," Bob said. "It's been three months of this. I can't stand it."

"Neither can I," Ray and Mikey said simultaneously.
-
Bob wasn't oblivious to the situation they were in - he wasn't fucking blind, Jesus - but he didn't exactly know how to approach the matter - or who to breach the subject with, come to think of it. Whilst he shot zombies and watched them re-die violent, gory deaths, he considered it.

"Frank," he said, hearing the younger man step into the room. 

"'Sup, Bob," Frank said falling into a chair. "Damn, you beast. You beat my high score." Bob snorted. 

"Not like it was hard to beat."

"Hey, fuck you," Frank said indignantly. "I just don't have your hand-eye co-ordination because I'm not a drummer."

"You need hand-eye co-ordination for guitar as well," Bob pointed out, narrowly missing a shot from a zombie behind him. That was too close for comfort. 

"Whatever," Frank sighed, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

"Don't do that," Bob said automatically. "Gerard'll get pissed."

"What does it matter?" Frank said. "He's already pissed at me."

"I was meaning to talk to you about that, actually," Bob said, swearing under his breath as he died. He had been so close to beating that level. 

"Oh, Jesus," Frank groaned laboriously. "Go on then."

"Well, it'd help if I had some kind of explanation?" Bob said, and Frank narrowed his eyes. 

"You're not getting one. Work with what you've got."

"Okay," Bob said amicably, waiting in ambuh for the zombies to appear. "So, why can't you two patch it up?" 

"Because...it's about emotions, hurt emotions, dented prides," Frank said carefully. "Next." 

"Why don't you even talk anymore?"

"It's not my choice," Frank told him. "It's his." Bob considered this whilst throwing a grenade in the midst of some zombies and splattering zombie brains against the wall. He made an interested 'huh' noise in response. 

"So, why are you annoyed at him?" he said eventually. 

"Because he's making a big fuss about something that doesn't require a big fuss in any shape or form," Frank sighed, carding a hand through his short black hair. He still wasn't sure if he liked it like this. 

"It's hard for all of us to understand when no one has a clue what the fuck even happened," Bob hinted heavily, cursing as a zombie attacked him from behind. Jesus, that was a low blow - a real man always attacks from the front. Although, well, they weren't really men anymore, he supposed. 

"This is all I can tell you," Frank said. "It's about something I said...or rather, didn't say, because I was in shock. He's making a big deal about it, and not even letting me explain..." Bob didn't show any change in expression at all. 

"He told you he loved you," he said, attacking a zombie with venom. Frank gaped at him.

"Did he tell you?"

"No," Bob shrugged. "I guessed." There was a moment of silence (if you count Bob's character dying in agony as silence). "Why didn't you say it back?" Bob asked eventually.

"Because I was in shock," Frank said quietly. "I would have loved to tell him. I love him, I do, but I couldn't say it then. That's when he got all annoyed, started shouting at me, asking me why I'd led him on. He gave me no time to explain, which pissed me off." Frank sighed. "It all went downhill from there. Gerard would first only make cold, curt comments at me, and then it worsened. He wouldn't speak to me, he'd turn away in disgust whenever my name was mentioned. I gave up trying to apologise, trying to explain, and started on the game myself. Two can play," he said. "Two can play at acting hurt. I let the anger and frustration that he wouldn't listen to me cloud my judgement and..." he trailed off. 

"You two are so goddamn stupid," Bob muttered. "Go away and only come back when you two have made up." 
-
Frank burst open the door to the back studio, before realising Gerard was already in there. He had tear-tracks all the way down his face, his eyeliner was smudged, and he looked so utterly lost and broken that Frank couldn't just turn away, despite the last few months. 

"Gee?" he said, testing the nickname. It felt warm and familiar and unused on his tongue. 

"He said he'd leave," Gerard's voice cracked. "Mikey. If we didn't sort it out. Mikey would leave. Mikey." He kept repeating his name as if it were some kind of talisman, as if if he said it enough Mikey wouldn't go. Frank's heart ached for him, and he crossed the room in two steps, enveloping his former lover in a warm hug. 

"Mikey won't leave," he soothed Gerard, stroking his short blonde hair, although a wave of cold fear was crashing through him. He wasn't so sure - maybe Mikey would leave. He couldn't even bear imagining it. 

"I'm sorry," Gerard sobbed into Frank. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for the last few months, I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry for hurting everyone...and I'm sorry for loving you," he whispered. Frank felt his own eyes become moist, and blinked away the tears that stung, ready to fall. 

"I'm not," he said. "Well, I'm sorry for hurting you and the others," he amended. "But I'm not sorry for loving you."

"But you don't," Gerard wept. "That's the problem."

"You wouldn't listen to me," Frank said, feeling an odd yearning towards the man who was sobbing in his arms, the man who'd been his bitter enemy for the past three months. "Gerard, I may have only realised this after the...day, but I really truly do love you."

"You're just saying that," Gerard choked. "You don't and you never will." Frank hooked a finger under his chin, forcing Gerard to look him in the eye, hazel to hazel. 

"Gerard," he said slowly. "I love you with every fibre of my being. I love you with every cell in my body. It took me a while to realise it, but I do, I will, I have and I can't not." Gerard broke into a fresh wave of tears. 

"I love you too, Frank," he sobbed. "I love you too." 
-
"Is it all done then?" Mikey asked as Ray entered the front room. Ray smirked. 

"You'll see," he said. Bob shared a look with him, then smirked too. They knew something he didn't. 

"Wha-" Mikey was cut off by a loud moan from the bunk area. He knew that moan. That was his own kin. "Oh, gross!" he yelled, covering his ears and drawing his knees into his chest. Bob and Ray were chortling, the motherfuckers. "Guys, that's not funny! D'you know how disturbing it is to know your best friend is giving your brother a blowjob?" 

"Who said anything about blowjobs?" Bob asked, perplexed, and Mikey groaned. 

"There's only a certain amount of times you can hear your brother having sex before getting to know his moans," he said, and Ray shrieked with laughter. "Fuck you all, I'm done with this discussion. I'm getting therapy. Goodbye," he said, clambering out of the door heading towards the Fall Out Boy tour bus.