Folie a Deux

I hate Mondays.

With a passion.

A burning passion.

For the most part, my day was boring as hell. Like I had told Frank, I liked learning, but I'm not a fan of the whole "sit and read from a textbook" thing. I think that's part of the reason why I miss public school so much- I miss actually having people to have discussions with. I mean, sure, Mikey, Mom, and I talk a lot, but otherwise, I don't get to debate about books with multiple people, or have group projects with a million different ideas spewing out and turning into one coherent theme like I used to.

No, my days were a bit more bland than group-collaborations and debates over the use of a certain metaphor in Shakespear's poems.

Lessons, coffee break, and then more schoolwork.

That was my life, now. Every school day I started school at nine, took a break at twelve, and then worked until four. After that, I read or painted or wrote a song, and then went to bed at nine. Weekends consisted of the after-school things, the creative time-wasters that I only did because I had to do something besides stare at a wall while I thought.

But, I guess that wasn't exactly right. Frank had been a part of my shedule for the past few days- he had replaced the time-wasters with something that actually made me happy.

"Gerard," Mikey sighed, plopping down in his chair next to me at the kitchen table. "Explain the math again. Mom explained it good but I don't think I did it right."

I sighed and reached over, lifting his paper. "She explained it 'well,' Mikey. Not 'good.'" I glanced over his work for a few seconds, nodding slightly. "You did it right. Just find the square root of your answer and you're done."

He blinked rapidly, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose. "Really?"

I nodded, giving the kid a smile and ruffling his short, brown-blonde hair with one hand. "Yep."

He was smarter than he thought-

"Are you sure?"

"Positive.

-but as much as I loved my brother, he doubted himself far too much.

"Oh, okay, then..."

And we both went back to our work.

Mikey and I had grown up to depend on each other- he wouldn't be confident enough to do anything if I weren't here, and I would have no one to talk when I felt bad. It might not sound like a fair trade, confidence for words, but it was. I gave him the ability to believe in himself and he gave me a reason to not think too much, which was sometimes a life-saver.

If one thinks too much, one discovers things about one's self that one doesn't like, and that was a bad thing, for me. Mikey helped me stay away from that- he provided a distraction from all of the bad things hiding deep inside my head.

I think Mikey looks up to me a little too much, sometimes. He's only thirteen, four entire years younger than me, and has always been convinced that I hold all of the answers to every problem.

And most of the time, when it came to academics, I did. But when it came to real life problems... I'm more or less a classic example of what not to do when in a social issue.

I could still remember the first time Mikey had his first crush. He was seven, and I was eleven, and he was head-over-heels in love with this girl named Julie Foster. She was a pretty girl, and was always fairly nice to me, but she had the nastiest attitude when it came to people she didn't like, or when it came to people annoying her, and her dad was a professional boxer.

Mikey was one of those kids who, if he liked someone, would give them a flower and then run away as fast as he could from being so nervous...

Normally when I don't have an answer to something, I just don't answer the question, but I was his big brother, so I was supposed to know how to make her like him. The only problem was, I had never really had a crush on anyone before, and I didn't really know how to act around girls.

I couldn't just not help him, though. I tried- I really did. I told him what I had read in books.

He got a black eye and a bloody nose, to put it simply. I'd always felt guilty for it, but he never seemed to want to hold it against me. He still looked at me like I was a genius.

"Hey, Mikey?"

"Yeah?"

"You're always coming to me for advice- can I ask you something, for a change?"

He blinked a few times, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "Uh, sure. I don't see why not."

I nodded and looked up at the ceiling. I didn't have an exact question, but... "What's it like to have a friend?"

He stared at me. "What?"

I shrugged, looking away. Seventeen is too old to be asking a middle schooler what friendship is like. I've never felt more awkward talking to my own brother before in my life. "Like, what do you and your friends do, and...?" I trailed off, sighing. "I don't know what I'm trying to say. Never mind."

He frowned a bit. "Gerard, is everything alright with you...? You've been kind of distracted the past few days."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just... I don't know. I think I need to get out of the house."

"Oh. But you were out a lot this weekend-"

"And I think I'm going to start being out a lot more, too."

He stared at me, brown eyes confused. "But-"

"You'll be fine, Mikey," I assured him. "I just need some time to myself."

That was a complete lie, but it was also fairly true. Being with Frank did feel like time to myself, because all my other time was spent with my family, so being around someone new was a brilliant, majorly refreshing thing.

"Okay, then," he said softly, sighing. "How long do you think you'll be out...?"

I shrugged. From the way the past few days had gone, it seemed like a while. "I'll probably start going out around three, and coming back... Well, whenever, I guess. About seven." That gave me thirty minutes before I had to meet Frank and about an hour after he had to go home, so I technically wasn't lying. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine." He didn't make eye contact with me.

I sat my math book next to his, stood up, and left.

As much as I loved Mikey, he cared about me a bit too much, sometimes.

"Mom?"

She stood by the kitchen counter, the window open, a cigarette clutched between her fingers. She tapped it out the window before putting it out in her ever-faithful ashtray. "Yeah?"

"Can I leave a bit early today?"

"Early? How early?"

"Like... Now, early?"

She glanced at the clock. "Gerard, it's only noon."

"Please?"

She sighed, shaking her head a bit. "You're lucky I love you."

I grinned, grabbing my hoodie off of the table and kissing her cheek. "Love you too, Ma."

As I disappeared out the door, I heard her call, "Don't get into trouble!"

Trouble? I don't get into trouble. I cause trouble.

??

---

??

I didn't have to really think about where I was going- there were only two high schools in this town, and it was obvious from what he had told me that Frank went to the public one, so it narrowed my choices down pretty quickly. The fact that it was noon made it easy to get the timing right, and knowing Frank's personality and the state of his shoes, it wasn't hard to guess where he ate.

"Gerard, what the serious hell are you doing here?"

I shrugged, sitting next to Frank on the bench. "Being bored."

He stared at me. He looked deviously adorable today, with his hoodie pulled carelessly over his hair, strands of black sticking out at odd angles. "It's lunchtime. On a Monday. And we are at my school."

"And? We're outside. It's not like I'm going to be taken down by a cop for intruding, or something."

"But what if a teacher sees you?" he hissed, tapping my foot with his.

"Then I'll leave."

"But-"

"Or we could just both leave now, and there's no risk of getting in trouble."

He stared at me, hazel eyes wide.

"Are you asking me to skip school with you?"

"No. I'm giving you a choice. Stay here or leave." I stood up, putting my hands in my back pockets. "Here, or the park. Doesn't matter to me. Either way, I'm sticking around until lunch is over."

We fell into silence for a few minutes and I took that time to really look at him- short, thin, and at the moment, curling his fists in annoyance. It was kind of cute, the way he was turning pink. "Damn it, Gerard. You're lucky I hate school."

I grinned as he stood up. "So you're coming?"

"Yes."

We started walking, and he tossed his brown paper lunch bag into a trash can as we waltzed off of school campus- no one had said anything when I had come on, and no one mentioned it when we left.

"How did you find me?"

"Well, it's kind of obvious. I know you go to Northender because it's the only public high school here, and I know you eat in a strange place because you hate everyone at your school, so you'd probably want to sit really far away from them, and also your shoes are always pretty muddy on the bottom, so you're probably outside a lot."

He stared at me. "You're either a stalker or extremely, scarily observant."

I laughed. "Let's go with observant."

"Anything else you know about me?" he asked, bumping my shoulder lightly.

"Oh, Frank," I grinned, not bumping him back but instead allowing our shoulders to brush as we walked. "I could go on for hours."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really, now? You think so?"

"I know so. But I'm not going to."

"Well, why not?"

I just smiled. "I'd prefer to ignore my observations and experience them for myself before I make a bunch of guesses. Anyways, I can't focus too well right now... Haven't had my coffee yet."

He laughed and I did, too, but I was actually quite serious. I didn't feel awake until I had coffee. I never did. It was one of those vital things that I needed. It was like flicking the lights off and then tapping the switch down two more times before I left the room just to make sure it was off all the way, or looking at each corner of my ceiling for exactly two seconds each before I flipped the switch off (touching it two more times, just to make sure it was off all the way,) and then running as fast as I possibly could though the dark to jump into my bed.

The doctors say it's all part of my OCD.

They say the coffee is, they say that the lights are, they say that checking the corners and straightening stacks of books, and looking on both sides of the room for exactly four seconds before you entered were all bad, OCD habits that needed to stop.

They say that my OCD is getting worse.

I'm convinced I don't have it.

Drinking every drop of coffee wasn't obsessive, touching the light switch three times in total wasn't compulsive, and checking my room for bad things didn't mean I had a disorder. It was all just habit; it was a part of my daily life. It was how I have always lived and always will.

It's a part of my system, and nothing breaks my system.

Break my system and you break me, too.

Something touched my arm and I jerked my head towards Frank, blinking. I glanced down- his fingers were touching my arm.

"I've been trying to get your attention for a full five minutes, Gerard."

I stared at his hand touching my arm. "Sorry."

His hand dropped, fingers curling slightly by his side.

"You're awfully moody today..."

I looked away, focusing my eyes on the street ahead, blinking a few times in confusion. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, his shoulder brushing mine. "You just got really quiet, is all."

"Oh. Sorry. Could we- do you maybe want to go to the diner? I haven't had lunch yet."

"Well, I didn't finish mine because it was interrupted..." He gave me a playful glare and I answered with a tiny smile. "So, sure."

We fell into silence, shoulders brushing every few seconds. It was nice, walking with Frank; it gave me a minute to gather my thoughts. I starting humming, running through math equations in my head. How long would it take for someone to notice he was missing from school? Thirty minutes at the least- that was about when his lunch period probably ended. Never, at most- Frank was a quiet kid...

Kind of like me, but only a different kind of quiet. I was more of an observant quiet, and Frank was... Well, he was an outcast kind of quiet.

"Gerard?"

I counted how many steps it took to cross one square of sidewalk, trying to push that word, 'outcast,' out of my head- it took me three steps and it took Frank four and a half.

"Gerard."

He wasn't an outcast, and I wasn't, either. We were just quiet.

I ran my fingers through my hair, sighing. The bright red dye was slowly becoming both annoying and unnecessary. It had started out as a cry for social attention- something I'd never enjoyed, but as a human, it was needed to keep myself from going insane.

"Gerard..."

It had certainly worked, the sudden change in appearance. The few acquaintances I had started talking to me a lot more after that. It was now irrelevant, though. People noticed me again, and I didn't like it. I wanted to be invisible- I wanted to fade into the background, like I used to, and go unnoticed again. I no longer had a need for such an unnatural hair color.

"Gerard!"

There was a sudden yank on my arm.

"What?" I asked, surprised, spinning to face Frank as we both stopped walking.

"Did you hear me calling your name?"

I blinked. "I- I did."

"Then why the hell did you not answer me?"

"I was thinking."

"About...?"

"Several things."

He stared at me and then tore his eyes away, sticking his hands in his back pockets. "Fucking hell, Gerard, sometimes you're too weird for your own good."

"Well, you are too-" He glared at me. "-but I like it."

We both sighed and I looked down at my feet, kicking at the ground slightly.

"Look," he said. "I'm sorry. It's just... I don't know. I was having a shitty day at school, and I guess I'm not over it yet."

"Oh." I could understand that- there were some terrible people at schools. Sometimes it felt more like a torture chamber than anything else.

I met Frank's eyes, his expression solemn.

"Oh," I realized. "Did you- did you want to talk about it?"

He let out a small laugh, looking at his feet. "Is it that obvious?"

I smiled, too. "Kind of... Come on. Let's get to the diner." We started walking again, not quite as close as before. "So... Um..."

He looked up at me, eyebrows raised. "You're not very good at this, are you?"

"I'm horrible, actually. So, uh, what happened? Did someone say something, or...?"

"Yeah, that happened. But there's more..."

It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. "Really? What, did you get shoved against a locker, or-"

"Worse."

I whistled.

He nodded as we walked up to the diner. "Yeah. It was pretty shitty." I pushed the door open and he ducked slightly, walking under my arm, saying a quiet "Thank you," that I replied to with a nod. "Take another guess."

We went to the same booth that we had been sitting at for the past few days, sitting on our respective sides.

"Was it something someone called you?"

"I'll give you a hint- it was a combination of things."

I sighed, shaking my head. "You might as well tell me, Frank. We'd be here for hours if I just kept guessing."

"Well, it started this morning."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "My mom yelled at me for a good half hour."

"About what?"

He laughed, rolling his eyes. "My diet."

"Your diet...? What's wrong with your diet?"

"'Vegetarian'," he explained, "is a synonym for 'eating disorder', in my house. If you're not eating meat then you're evidently starving yourself."

I stared at him. "That's a load of shit... That's not- that's not how eating disorders work... You don't just stop eating. There's more to it then that, I mean-"

The waitress walked up to our table, smiling. I hadn't seen her in the before in the few days since Frank and I had started meeting here. "Hi, my name is Danni- can I start you guys off with something to drink?"

"Actually," Frank said, glancing at me. "I already know what I want, I get the same thing every time..." He laughed a bit, awkwardly. "If you don't mind, could I go ahead and order now?"

"No, I don't mind!" She pulled out her notebook and pen. "Go ahead."

"Well, just a salad for me, and, uh, water to drink, I guess."

"Okay," she smiled and turned towards me. "And how about you?"

I felt my stomach churn slightly- the way she had been looking at Frank made me sick. "I'll just have a coffee, thank you... Black, please..."

She nodded, jotting down our orders. "Okay, I'll be right out with that!"

Frank looked at me, his expression worried. "Speaking of diets..."

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "I'm just not hungry anymore."

"But you haven't had lunch, you said so yourse-"

"I'm not hungry, okay?" I snapped.

"But-"

"It's none of your business!"

He stared at me. "What the fuck is your problem, Gerard? You're acting like an ass today."

"I'm just not in a good mood-"

"A good mood?" he snapped. "You're not in a good mood? Today I got told that I should use my shoelaces to hang myself, Gerard. And then I got called a fag, and then, you know what someone else said to me? They said that no one would miss me if I were to kill myself. And you know, I think it's actually fucking true. So don't you complain to me about not being in a 'good mood,' Gerard Way. I'd rather just go ahead and kill myself then argue about this shit."

I stared at him. "Frank..."

"What?" I couldn't bring myself to look away from him as he slowly realized what he had just said. His fingers dragged through his hair and he closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I, I just-"

"It's okay," I said softly. "I get it... People are assholes. I understand."

He met my eyes, laughing a bit. "Yeah, I guess you would."

We fell silent until the waitress returned with his salad and my coffee.

"A few weeks ago," Frank confessed quietly, stabbing at his salad. "I almost did it."

"Did what?"

He shrugged, chewing quietly. "You know..." He held the fork close to his neck and dragged it all the way across, in a mock-slicing motion.

I felt my stomach lurch. "Frank-"

"I'm over it, though."

I couldn't stop staring at him. "Frank."

He sighed, laying the fork down. "I knew I shouldn't have told you."

"Frank, why the fuck-"

"Because, the kid at school is right! No one would miss me if I just disappeared."

I could feel something deep in my chest sinking a bit- he was causing a physical reaction, deep in my mind, and it hurt. "I would," I whispered. "I would miss you."

He looked down at his plate. "But if I had just gone ahead and done it, you wouldn't have met me, anyways. Then... Then, no one would care..."

I didn't know what to say, because I think he was right.

Who did he have, besides me? His mom, I guess, but he said that they hated each other, anyway.

"C- can you promise me something?" he said quietly.

"Of course."

"Promise me that- that we'll stay friends?"

"Of course, Frank... I promise."