When the Savior Is Damned
Anyone But His Brother
It was the night after a right after a show, and if this was a time before Bob, their new drummer, came in, they’d all be super wasted and high and other goddamned things. But Bob Bryar, heaven bless him, was responsible and upright and acted as a sort of big brother, or even a father, to their little band of misfits, and they were all thankful for that.
“I’m gonna go to bed,” Mikey said, leaving the others to playing poker in the living room of their temporary band house while Dawn of the Dead was showing on the TV. It was funny, really, because here they were, big-shot rock stars with a platinum album and a tour and a couple of fantastic videos in their arsenal and more than a lot of devoted fans, but they were still just a bunch of dorks who sometimes could miss out on the partying for a Friday night spent home.
“I’m fuckin’ tired too,” Gerard commented.
“Yeah, that’s right, it’s way past your bedtime, babes,” Frank teased, “But ain’t you gonna give me a kiss good night?” And he ended up laughing at his own joke.
“Hey, Dad, I think you better regulate little Frankie’s alcohol intake,” Gerard retorted, referring to Bob.
“Nah, I think he’s good,” Bob shrugged his shoulders playfully. “Maybe you should just give him what he’s asking for to make him shut up.”
“This isn’t a fuckin’ show, you idiots,” Ray stepped in. “You better remind that boy he’s engaged.”
“Homophobia’s gay, Torosaurus,” Gerard joked, to which Ray pouted on cue. “Hey, Frankie, come over here!”
Frankie giggled, stumbling into Gerard’s arms and kissing him full on the lips, like he always did at the concerts after they made the infamous I’m Not Okay video.
Then Gerard pulled away, sitting the drunken Frank on a chair. “That’s enough, honey. G’night, my minions.”
“Night, Gee,” they chorused together.
“How about my brother here?” Gerard put his arm around Mikey. “He’s a Way man too.”
“Night, Mikey!”
Afterwards, Gerard and Mikey tipsily made their way to the room they shared, and upon arriving there Mikey threw himself on the bottom bunk of the double decker.
“I love this band, Gee,” he muttered.
“What, Anthrax?” Gerard jibed, because Mikey was staring at the poster he put on the bottom of the top bunk. “So much for band loyalty.”
“No, seriously, I can’t imagine myself doing anything else. I fucking love you for starting this thing.”
“Well, you came up with the name, sugar. And I fucking love you for that too,” and Gerard gave a full, sincere laugh, ruffling Mikey’s hair, like he always did before.
“Hmm,” Mikey murmured in response, then closed his eyes and was just about falling asleep when Gerard started to gently shake his shoulder.
“Huh?” He rose a bit from the bed, and in less than a second Gerard was able to snatch the glasses he forgot to take off.
“I wonder what’s gonna happen to you when you don’t have me to take care of you?” Gerard chuckled, but there was a tinge of melancholy in his voice anyone else would have missed. Anyone but his brother.
“I love you, Gee.” Mikey muttered, just because he felt it.
“Love you too, Mikey,” Gerard managed to choke out just as his little brother drifted off to sleep.
“I’m gonna go to bed,” Mikey said, leaving the others to playing poker in the living room of their temporary band house while Dawn of the Dead was showing on the TV. It was funny, really, because here they were, big-shot rock stars with a platinum album and a tour and a couple of fantastic videos in their arsenal and more than a lot of devoted fans, but they were still just a bunch of dorks who sometimes could miss out on the partying for a Friday night spent home.
“I’m fuckin’ tired too,” Gerard commented.
“Yeah, that’s right, it’s way past your bedtime, babes,” Frank teased, “But ain’t you gonna give me a kiss good night?” And he ended up laughing at his own joke.
“Hey, Dad, I think you better regulate little Frankie’s alcohol intake,” Gerard retorted, referring to Bob.
“Nah, I think he’s good,” Bob shrugged his shoulders playfully. “Maybe you should just give him what he’s asking for to make him shut up.”
“This isn’t a fuckin’ show, you idiots,” Ray stepped in. “You better remind that boy he’s engaged.”
“Homophobia’s gay, Torosaurus,” Gerard joked, to which Ray pouted on cue. “Hey, Frankie, come over here!”
Frankie giggled, stumbling into Gerard’s arms and kissing him full on the lips, like he always did at the concerts after they made the infamous I’m Not Okay video.
Then Gerard pulled away, sitting the drunken Frank on a chair. “That’s enough, honey. G’night, my minions.”
“Night, Gee,” they chorused together.
“How about my brother here?” Gerard put his arm around Mikey. “He’s a Way man too.”
“Night, Mikey!”
Afterwards, Gerard and Mikey tipsily made their way to the room they shared, and upon arriving there Mikey threw himself on the bottom bunk of the double decker.
“I love this band, Gee,” he muttered.
“What, Anthrax?” Gerard jibed, because Mikey was staring at the poster he put on the bottom of the top bunk. “So much for band loyalty.”
“No, seriously, I can’t imagine myself doing anything else. I fucking love you for starting this thing.”
“Well, you came up with the name, sugar. And I fucking love you for that too,” and Gerard gave a full, sincere laugh, ruffling Mikey’s hair, like he always did before.
“Hmm,” Mikey murmured in response, then closed his eyes and was just about falling asleep when Gerard started to gently shake his shoulder.
“Huh?” He rose a bit from the bed, and in less than a second Gerard was able to snatch the glasses he forgot to take off.
“I wonder what’s gonna happen to you when you don’t have me to take care of you?” Gerard chuckled, but there was a tinge of melancholy in his voice anyone else would have missed. Anyone but his brother.
“I love you, Gee.” Mikey muttered, just because he felt it.
“Love you too, Mikey,” Gerard managed to choke out just as his little brother drifted off to sleep.