Incisions to Corrupt a Mind

“Why do you have your scars?”

“Oh?” Frank looked up from a vase that he had been staring intently at, getting lost in his daydreams while Gerard had rambled on about why Doom Patrol was the best, and all the movie directors he would marry if he could. It was actually somewhat cute, Frank had realized, about two minutes into the older boy’s heated monologue, and he had distracted himself with the vase to avoid any case of his blush being accidentally seen.

This question, although expected in the long run, still certainly pulled Frank away from his own world faster than he would have been had the vase he’d been eyeing so intently suddenly came to life.

“Sorry!” Gerard blurted immediately. “Don’t, I mean– forget it, never mind…”

Frank turned away from the vase, one eyebrow raised at the older boy. “It’s fine,” he said, waving Gerard off slightly. Truth be told, it was fine. Frank had about twenty pink, faded scars scattered over the length of his left forearm; each meant nothing to him anymore, except maybe stupidity. He figured Gerard might as well know, since no one was ever curious enough –or maybe Gerard was just lacking a social censor, which Frank didn’t have a very hard time believing.

“I’ll keep it short and sweet,” the younger boy said, flashing Gerard a grin. The older boy still attempted to provide Frank with an opt-out, but he wasn’t having it.

“Basically,” Frank began, “You can’t make incisions to corrupt a mind. It won’t work, and I learned that the hard way.” Frank proceeded to tell the older boy in a very quick, wrapped-up, and carefree manner how he would cut each time he had a dirty thought about a boy, to convince himself that it was wrong. “I eventually realized that if God was like the bible says, he wouldn’t care who I loved, right?”

Gerard wasn’t religious, not really, but he nodded in agreement anyway because it only made sense. “I’m sorry, though,” the older boy added.

Frank shrugged. “I’m sorry you thought it was such a big deal. I mean sure, for a while I felt like I was truly wrong; like I had been made wrong, or something. But when I realized that I had just pulled a big fat dumb move once again, trademark Frank Iero right there… I don’t know. I guess that’s why I don’t hide them, because they don’t bother me; and maybe they’re there in their own sick, weird way to remind me that God loves me no matter what.

“But what about you, though?” Frank finally asked, after the two had slipped back into a somewhat calm manner– if you could call Gerard’s insanely dorky passion about horror movie special effects calm. It took Gerard only a split second to register exactly what Frank meant, and he felt it only fair to share his story if Frank had shared his.

Gerard’s story was a bit different than Frank had been expecting– honestly, Frank didn’t know what to expect; he had a faint suspicion that the cuts might have had to do with the Way brothers’ dad, who Mikey had mentioned earlier in a less than ecstatic tone.

Gerard didn’t mention his father once, though. In fact, he didn’t mention much of anything at first, because all he had started off with was, “Sometimes I try to kill myself.”

“I’m sorry, what?” That was the furthest thing from what Frank had been expecting.

“I hate myself, you know?” Frank did not know. Come to think of it, he wasn’t super surprised about this news, but that didn’t change the fact that Gerard’s self-hate wasn’t as obvious as the older boy had thought.

“I couldn’t fucking graduate high school last year and be even the slightest bit normal, of course I had to fail math.” Gerard sighed. Frank felt déjà vu at this statement, it was something else that he remembered Mikey mentioning.

“That was the first time,” the older Way added. “The second was when I got beat up by my used-to-be best friend Bert, who found out I might have had a tiny crush on him, but it was tiny okay, and I was drunk when I told him, I wasn’t in my right mind, so he didn’t need to kick my teeth in.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank said, and he meant it. His voice was heavy with sincerity. Gerard just shook his head, waving him off.

“It’s okay… I mean no, it’s not, but… Fuck, thanks?” Gerard laughed awkwardly and humorlessly, and Frank gave him a sad smile.

“Well, the third one was when I found out about my haphephobia. I couldn’t deal with being a freak in second senior year anyway, so…” Gerard trailed off, seeming to silently recount the memory. “The fourth was when my dad left.” Ah, there it was, Gerard’s dad leaving. Frank suddenly wondered if Mr. Way knew about that. He mustn’t have, Frank thought. No one could be cruel enough to stay away from his or her own child after such an occurrence.

“The last one was, ah…” Gerard bit his lip nervously, almost ashamed. “This was only hours ago,” he finally finished, sighing. He flung his wrist out in offering to Frank, who could clearly tell that the scar deepest, the one right across the older boy’s clearly visible veins, was also the most red and raw looking; in fact, it looked as if it might reopen if Gerard just so happened to move his hand wrong.

Frank was terrified. For only knowing Gerard an hour or two, he most certainly didn’t want to lose him, because for once in Frank’s life, someone was exactly like him, knew exactly how he had felt. If Gerard had succeeded, Frank wouldn’t be sitting here right now.

“Oh, no, no,” Gerard pleaded, his face falling at Frank’s expression. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you…” Frank just shook his head softly, not looking up at the older boy. The entire occurrence had caused him to fall deep into the part of his mind that loved to torture him with the what ifs and the but hows that he never ever thought of, because he didn’t like to; but now, he was seemingly buried in them. It felt disgustingly suffocating.

“Frank, please– it’s okay, I’m not…” Gerard trailed off. Frank was completely unresponsive, curled in on himself and seemingly lost in an imaginary world. It was starting to freak Gerard out, just a little bit, and he wondered if this was what happened to Mikey when he had panic attacks… oh.

“Mikey!” Gerard called. “Shit.” He turned back to Frank, who was sitting there wide-eyed, breathing unnervingly irregular. “I’ll be right back, don’t move yourself,” and Gerard mentally kicked himself because of course Frank wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Gerard was halfway down the hall, calling his brother’s name with more irritability each time, until he called, “Michael James– unf!”

“What. Do. You. Want.” Mikey growled, and Gerard rubbed at his nose, which he had unfortunately bumped directly into Mikey’s shoulder.

“Fuck, what’s up with you?” Gerard stepped back, taking in his brother’s appearance. He was shirtless, wearing only low-slung grey sweatpants, and his cheeks were flushed unnaturally for someone of such pale complexion… “Mikey, ew! Ew, ew, ew! Blech, gross, you are yuck as fuck,” Gerard whined.

“Didn’t ask you to interrupt me, did I?” Mikey drawled. Gerard wanted to vomit.

“Look,” he said, holding back the urge to gag. “I’ll cry about this for years later, but Frank’s freaking out in there and I need your help, so–”

“Wait, what? He didn’t see a spider, did he?” Mikey looked suddenly concerned.

Gerard blinked. “Uh, no, I told him about my– uh, the thing…” Mikey raised an eyebrow.

“What thing?”

“OkayItriedtokillmyselfthismorningbecauseIthoughyouwerebanishingmeoutofthefamilyforgoodandIfeltworthlessandgrossandI’msorryokay?” Gerard rushed in one long breath.

Mikey let out a sound like an aggravated bat. “You did what?” he yelled. “Gerard, you fucking idiot! You don’t just tell someone that when you first meet them, “Oh, hi, I’m Gerard, I tried to kill myself this m– Wait, what?”

Gerard paled. “What do you mean, what?”

“You tried to kill yourself this morning?” Mikey questioned. Suddenly he looked very scared, and very small, and Gerard wanted to stab himself in the eyes so he didn’t have to see his brother’s raw horror. “Gerard?”

“I’m sorry,” the older Way let out. Mikey gave a choked noise in response, blinking back slight tears.

“I hate you,” Mikey said pathetically, but his voice only held relief that his brother was still there, standing in front of him. “You can’t fucking do that to people, Gerard.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” the older boy whined. “But Frank–!”

“Fuck, I forgot.” Mikey pushed past Gerard and into the living room, where Frank was still sat in the same place, looking the same amount of terrified he had when Gerard had first left.

Mikey crouched down in front of Frank, one hand resting on the youngest boy’s shoulder. “Frank?” No response.

“You idiot, he’s having an anxiety attack,” Mikey mumbled to Gerard, who threw his arms violently out to the side, shouting an, “I’m sorry!”

“Stop being sorry and help me, you dumbfuck,” Mikey hissed quietly. “And stop being so loud!”

“What do you want me to do then?” Gerard whispered fiercely.

“I don’t know, I’m gonna try and get him to snap out of it. Stand by and wait for further instruction,” Mikey requested.

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Sir, yes sir,” he muttered under his breath. Mikey glared at him.

“Frank, honey?” Mikey cooed softly. “I need you to calm down, okay, kid?” One hand ran soothingly through Frank’s hair. The younger boy blinked hard, his eyes squinting shut.

“No,” he replied, so softly Mikey barely heard him.

“Are you okay?” the younger Way asked. Frank nodded just slightly. “I’m gonna give you to Gerard now, okay? He’s here, he’s not going anywhere, alright?” Frank nodded again, this time more clearly. “Do you need anything?” Mikey asked as he stood up. Frank shook his head.

“Nah,” he responded lightly. Gerard almost gave a victory cry; he could hear the kid’s accent in his words again.

“Gerard, come over here and hold him, I’m calling mom to ask her if we have any Xanax or something, and hope I don’t get arrested,” Mikey sighed.

Gerard walked over to Frank, sitting down awkwardly next to him. Frank turned to look at him and he smiled, softly. Frank tried a timid smile in response and Gerard almost screamed out of relief.

“Mikes, I’ve got some– look in the mirror cabinet of the downstairs bathroom,” Gerard replied. Mikey looked at him, face void of expression.

“We’re not talking about why you have that, Gerard,” he said, more to reassure himself than anything. “We’re not talking about it; no, my brother isn’t leaving, my brother is not a druggie, my brother is not going to overdose and die…”

Gerard felt his heart squeeze painfully at his brother’s words as the younger Way receded down the hallway.

Today had been a fuck of a day.

“Frank?” Gerard finally questioned, when he knew Mikey was downstairs and probably finding an abundance of shit he’d get yelled at later for having.

“Yeah?” Frank replied softly.

“You can go home,” Gerard trailed sadly. Although he had enjoyed the lighter parts of his day with Frank, he wasn’t about to hold the poor kid hostage when he probably felt like running away from the Way house altogether.

“I don’t want to go home,” Frank said. “I like it here, and I like you here. You just scared me, s’all.” Frank sighed. “I probably should have mentioned something beforehand, but I have this deal with anxiety, where if I let my thoughts wander I get paranoid, and I get kinda lost, and it’s scary.”

“I’m so sorry,” Gerard said. “I should have never asked about your scars, and I should have never told you about mine. I was stupid, and I’m all to blame, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s really not your fault. God, I’m just tired,” Frank said, and then yawned, coincidentally for emphasis. He was intensively tempted to rest his head on Gerard’s shoulder, but he wouldn’t dare to disturb the older boy. He didn’t need two panic attacks in one day.

“C’mere,” Gerard said after a while. Frank looked over at him, questioningly. Gerard held out one arm open, gesturing for Frank to come over to him.

“But you… your hapheph– Wha? Gerard, wait, wait–!” But Frank was cut off as the older boy wrapped an arm around his waist, tugging him close so that he was now lying against Gerard, his face in the older teen’s neck.

He tried to ignore the butterflies.

Gerard’s arm rested across Frank’s hip and the younger boy sighed, letting himself relax slightly more and burying his face in Gerard’s chest. “You smell like strawberries,” Frank laughed. Gerard felt the squeezing in his heart again, and his skin was itching where it made contact with Frank’s; but the feelings were slightly different than normal, something that Gerard wasn’t used to.

It took him .5 seconds to realize that this was exactly how he felt around Bert.

When Mikey finally returned with the Xanax –which he’d found behind a myriad other prescription pills that Gerard really shouldn’t have; he cursed his brother for being a legal adult– he returned to the sleeping form of his brother cuddled around the much smaller form of his new friend. They both looked so fragile.

Mikey sighed, shoulders slumping. He set the bottle of pills upon the highest shelf in the kitchen he could reach before returning to his room, burying his face in his pillow and allowing a small sob to escape his lips.

He loved his god damned brother so much; but sometimes he hated his family.