Incisions to Corrupt a Mind

Part Five

Gerard stood in front of the cracked old door to his brother’s bedroom, eyeing the wooden ingress– the one that was covered with a myriad of old, peeling stickers of band logos or sad, humorless phrases that Gerard had begged his brother not to litter the door with, because, “It’s a work of art, Mikey! You don’t slab some dumb, ‘fuck the victors’ or whatever your lyrics, I don’t care, get the Anthrax symbol off your door!” or the split that ran through the center of the old wood because of events unspoken.

None of this was in Gerard’s higher concerns for the moment though, because the one currently reigning his anxiety was whether or not the younger Way would actually forgive him this time, because he was sure he’d gotten lucky the last several.

“Mikey?” he called, unsure. “I’m sorry,” and he leaned his head against the door for he knew it wouldn’t be coming open any time soon. He received no response, and continued, “I mean it, though. I know sorry s’all I ever say, but I mean it. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Go away, Gerard.”

The older boy sighed, ignoring his brother’s words. “No, lemme in, or something. I wanna apologize to your face, not your dumb door.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” was the younger one’s reply. Gerard huffed under his breath, one hand slipping down to the doorknob.

“I will come in there, Mikey, I’m fucking serious.” This was a real threat to the younger Way who was unexplainably annoyed at the mere thought of anyone other than himself in his room. This taunt, however, did not get the normal response. It received but a sigh, and then, “Fucking fine.”

And Gerard opened the surprisingly unlocked door to his younger brother who was sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring at the floor. Throughout the day his face had accumulated more loose curls to hang in it and he sighed heavily, blowing at his hair in slight aggravation. The blonde boy didn’t look particularly mad to Gerard though; mostly his expressionless face just read defeat, and that made the older boy feel worse.

“Hey, no…” Gerard made an attempt at comfort. Mikey didn’t look up, seemingly captivated in his sharpied-up old grey Chucks. “I’m–”

“Yup,” Mikey sighed. “Sit down, Gerard, please. Let’s go through this once more. You beg, and plead, and I cry, and we’re family. And it sucks, you know that? It sucks. You suck.”

Gerard was almost convinced that the instance prior had left Mikey officially done with any and all connection to the older Way, but the blonde boy soon muttered, “Fuckin’… like a vampire, dumbshit,” and Gerard know all was forgotten, for now.

“I am not,” Gerard retorted calmly, moving to sit next to the younger boy on his bed. Mikey looked up, humor almost evident in his features. Almost, but it was clearly heard in his tone with his next words.

“If your obvious suckiness wasn’t proof enough– you like, live in the dark, Gerard. I actually once heard you hiss when sun touched you; and you put up your fucking arms all, “oh, shit” like in the one infomercial where the guy’s sunglasses fly off. That’s another thing: you wear sunglasses, even inside. You are pale as shit naturally– we’re fucking Italian why don’t you tan, Gee?” The younger boy only paused to take a breath. “Every time you bleed you kinda just stare at it like, “oh, yeah, I’m getting off on that,” and it’s fuckin’ weird. You are obsessed with Dracula; you draw vampires all the time, too. You wear all black, you don’t eat fucking garlic, and the mirror practically repels you. I think that’s proof enough that you’re a vampire.”

“I’d have to be attractive to be a vampire. And thin, I think it’s a requirement that vampires are thin,” Gerard moped. Mikey rolled his eyes at the older Way, throwing a hand up in exasperation.

“Guess what, Gee? You are not fat. You are not overweight. You are not chubby, even. You have a fucking fat head, though, sometimes, but you’re not visibly– whatever, you’re practically pudgy but that doesn’t matter because pudgy equals fluffy and fluffy equals happiness. You fit into my skinnies, therefore you are not fat. As for the attractive thing– well, I am your brother. I am not allowed to have, nor want to have an opinion on whether you’re “hot” or not. But you aren’t fuckin’ ugly, so shush.” Gerard groaned, falling backwards on the bed at his brother’s blatant lies. Well, they weren’t lies to anyone but Gerard.

“You’re just saying all that because you have to,” Gerard huffed. Mikey sighed. “You know, I have fat cheeks and the color of my eyes equals like, mud. Gross mud. Also my nose is stupid and my mouth does that one thing… you know, the thing?” and Gerard pressed his face forward in Mikey’s direction. “See? Crooked, or whatever.”

“Get away,” Mikey flailed slightly, one hand up to barricade himself from his brother’s advancing face. “Weirdo. And no, you don’t have fat cheeks. You have a rounded face, and your nose is all cute and pointy like what, how does it do that so shaddup about your nose.” Gerard grumbled under his breath, leaning back and going slightly cross-eyed to see if he could notice what Mikey was talking about.

“Stop,” Mikey intoned. “Your eyes do look dumb when you do that. But for your information, they’re the same color as mine, and I was once told by this one chick, that my eyes were, “…like if honey color was a diamond but then not a diamond, like, you know? Uh, this russet-y potato thing, but it’s totally cool, like green and shit”, and I think she was just trying to get in my pants but after the potato comment that suggestion was completely lost to me. Anyway, that might not have been the best description–” The younger Way was cut off by a laugh. “Shut up! Okay, sometimes Gee, when you’re mad, they get this like, dark brown; it’s kinda creepy. But when you’re happy they’re, ugh, green…” Gerard laughed again. “I’m serious, shut the fuck up! Go find a girl to be all cheesy about your damn eyes, that’s not a brother’s job and I wasn’t raised in Incest-Is-Totally-Normal-Here-Land. And forget about your god damned crooked mouth because A, that’s not your fault and B, it gives you a crooked smile and that’s you and I’m gonna shut up now, and don’t expect anything nice to come from my mouth in the next ten years because that was all very creepy and weird and I’d shove you to get out but you’d yell at me again and–”

Mikey abruptly stopped rambling and frowned at the older boy. “Sorry.”

“No,” Gerard said, and then, “Ugh, no, that’s fine. I’m a fucking asshole, right, but I’m showered cos you damn told me to and your friend is gonna be here in what, five? The kid you’d bet I’d fuck yeah that’ll be fun but beside the point, I came in here to fucking hug you.”

“Are ya drunk? Or stoned?” Mikey asked, disbelieving. Gerard shook his head.

“Honest,” he replied. “I wanna try to being a weirdo, so hug me, or whatever.”

Mikey looked about ready to cry. He instead chose to furrow his brows, a skeptical expression quite readable on his face. “Are you sure? You don’t wanna start out with like, patting me on the shoulder or like poking my arm or something?” Gerard grunted.

“No. Come here,” he then whined, making ridiculous grabby hands at his younger brother. “I wanna fuckin’ hug.” So Mikey leaned in towards Gerard slightly, accepting the older boy’s awkward embrace.

“You have to hug back,” Gerard complained, and the younger complied.

“Wow you really did shower,” Mikey said. “You smell like artificial strawberry soap, not artificial strawberry booze.” Gerard laughed. “So is this hard for you, or something?” Gerard shrugged. “You can like, scream bloody murder at any time and I’ll let go.”

“No,” Gerard sighed, leaning in slightly more to his brother. “I am sorry. I had like a whole mental debate in the shower over whether I’d actually let myself to this. Like really, I’m sorry.”

“S’it bad for you? Like, awkward…” Mikey trailed off, and Gerard gave a laugh.

“No, it’s kinda weird, but kinda nice. When was the last time I hugged you sober… when I was what, nine?” Mikey laughed at that, monotone and humorlessly.

“Probably. We can stop?” Although Mikey did not honestly mind to be hugging his big brother, the hero of his childhood, for longer than a few seconds, he also didn’t want the older Way to end up traumatizing himself thanks to whatever weird reason Gerard had about him that made every little thing so hard.

“No,” was all Mikey received in reply. So they sat embracing, in silence.

Until the doorbell rang.

•••••

When Frank had mentally listed all of the possibilities of awkward events occurring on point of Mikey opening the door to him, he had most certainly not taken into account the one that actually had. No, Frank wasn’t expecting at all the younger Way to open up the door with a disgruntled expression and hair every which way, the older of the two boys clinging desperately to the younger one. And he surely, most certainly did not expect the first words out of the blonde boy’s mouth to be, “Gerard, your boyfriend is here.”

“Uh, what?” Frank got out, at just about the time that the older boy had screamed, “No!” flailing about helplessly, letting go of the younger Way in the process before punching him on the arm.

“No need to overreact, Coffee Bean,” Mikey spat back, reaching up to rub at his sore arm. “This is Frank, by the way.”

“I’d gathered!” Gerard called from somewhere in the kitchen, where he’d shuttled himself off to for safety of his brother’s taunts. “Sorry, ignore the dicksmack,” he added. “I’m Gerard.”

“I am most certainly not the dicksmack, Mr. Let Me Wake My Brother Up At God Awful O’ Clock With The Loudest Moans In The World,” Mikey retorted.

Frank didn’t know whether to laugh or be intimidated; he still didn’t know anything about the two strange Way boys– they seemed to bicker a lot. Frank figured this was a moot realization and shrugged to himself, before remembering the awkward situation the door had opened to and stuttering out, “Uh, sorry but was, I mean I– the door, and your brother– not interrupting…?”

Mikey blinked at him, and Gerard raised a curious eyebrow, until the older of the two let out a sharp laugh. Mikey turned to face his brother, confusion although not present, clearly evident to the older Way. “What?” Mikey intoned to Gerard, and the dark-haired boy laughed again, one hand clutching the kitchen counter as his eyes scrunched up at the corners, mouth pulling into a crooked smile.

“He like, thinks we fucked or something? No, kid,” Gerard said, and Frank blushed. That wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind but it was relieving to know that the Ways weren’t weird for another, less socially acceptable reason among the many others.

“Well, no–” Frank began, but Mikey cut him off.

“You can come in, you know,” the older boy monotoned, stepping away from the doorframe and letting the youngest through. Frank nodded and stepped in cautiously.

“So, Misfits? Coolness,” Mikey drawled, pointing with his middle finger at Frank’s Misfits muscle tank. Frank nodded.

“Yup,” he shrugged. Mikey regarded him with an indifferent sigh.

“Way different than those Catholic boy clothes you’re always wearing at school,” the younger Way added. Frank opened his mouth to respond something he hadn’t though of yet, but Gerard cut him off.

“You’ve got the Chucks on, from yesterday. Yeah, I remember cos they were so outta place,” Gerard reminisced. Frank cocked his head at the oldest boy, who then questioned, “Oh, we have like, booze, cigs, pie, do you need anything?”

“Gerard!” Mikey growled. “You don’t just ask someone if they want fucking alcohol or smokes upon arrival.” The blonde boy looked respectively mad until he added, jokingly, “You ease into that shit.” And he turned to Frank, “I know you’re veggie, I think we have something non-meat around here… Hey, come with!” Mikey turned around from waltzing toward the kitchen to Frank, who was set in place with the intent upon never moving a step closer into the Way house.

It wasn’t that Mikey or Gerard seemed mean, or even particularly threatening; Frank was only concerned from Brendon’s reasonable warning that the Ways were weirdos– the silent type of people who everybody knows but no one really likes. “Ah, okay,” Frank said, and sheepishly followed Mikey into the kitchen, where Gerard was sitting precariously cross-legged on the counter with a cigarette in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other– two items that seemed to have materialized out of thin air.

“We have,” and Mikey opened up the fridge and stuck his face very nearly inside, “like, ah… Gerard?” He turned to look over his shoulder at the older boy. “Do we have anything containing not meat?”

Gerard shrugged. “We have vodka, and Marlboros, and coffee,” he suggested, a helpful tone to his voice. Mikey narrowed his eyes at his brother.

“No, I mean food-wise. Don’t we still have–” and he cut himself off. “Oh, yeah, I’m sure we still have some frozen cheese pizza somewhere,” and he was halfway to reaching into the freezer before Frank interjected, embarrassed, “I’m lactose-intolerant.”

“Ah,” the younger Way said, and his face fell. “Well… maybe we have poptarts? Oh, do those have milk… Gerard, help me here!” The eldest boy looked at the younger two and shrugged.

“We got whiskey and fags and mocha cappuccino,” he responded. “Honestly, I’m sorry,” he then added. Mikey narrowed his eyes at his brother.

“Why don’t you go buy something then, from the dumb corner market a block down?” he near-begged.

“Why don’t you?” Gerard spat back, sticking his tongue out. “I don’t wanna walk that far and–” But then he looked at Frank, who looked honestly remorseful for being such a weird eater and causing so much trouble, and he sighed. “Yeah, but I’m taking your friend with me,” he finally agreed, shooting his brother a crooked smirk.

Mikey pouted, and then threw his arms up in exasperation. “Fine, Gerard. Ugh, you’re the worst!” and he stormed off in which direction Frank did not know, for he was too damn confused with the situation at hand currently.

The Ways were fucking weird.

“C’mon, kid,” Gerard said, hopping off the counter, coffee somehow still intact in his mug. He dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, which he stuck between his lips, and a black lighter.

“It’s cool cos I’m age-approved to buy these things,” he said, lighting up. “Like, I think I need more, anyway. I’d offer you one, but…” Frank just looked at him, blinking slowly. “Ah, you’re a kid. Anyway,” the older Way said, holding his arm out in a ridiculous gentleman gesture. “After you?”

And Frank really didn’t know what to think, at all, anymore.
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whoop this is weird