Burn Like Stars

“What’s up booger brain?” Gerard says when he picks up the phone.

There’s a long pause before Mikey’s voice says, “Excuse me? Booger brain?”

“There’s like, a kid, sitting in the table behind ours, I can’t call you what I would like to call you.”

“Oh, fuck I knew it. Ray!” Mikey says loudly, so that Ray might hear him. “Ray Toro! Ray, can you hear me, Ray!”

“Um, he’s predisposed at the moment, I tied him up and left him in the car,” Gerard replies. He glances over at the kid in the booth behind theirs. He doesn’t seem to have noticed. Ray, sitting across from him, rolls his eyes, and reaches for the phone, before Gerard swats his hand away.

“I’m here, Mikey,” Ray says, a little louder than is politely acceptable, so the kid at the table behind them looks at him kind of funny. At least Gerard didn’t say fuck.

“Ray, where are you right now, if you tell me Burger King, I swear to god I will put your testicles in a vice.”

“Okay, seriously, what is it with the Way family and overly colorful threats?”

“We share one brain cell,” Gerard shrugs.

“Yeah, only you’ve never asked for it back,” Mikey says, still not on speaker phone, but he’s just loud enough to hear, because he’s made it a point to be loud enough to hear. Hopefully the kid can’t hear him. Gerard is not a particularly good person, make no mistake, but he does have a certain piece of decency.

“You’re at Burger King, though, aren’t you? I just know it.” This would be a dumb question if it were anyone else, but usually Gerard does prefer Burger King because they have onion rings, and Gerard just loved his ringed onions.

Ray and Gerard both look around them at the golden arches, and both, in tandem say, “no,” very slow and drawn out. Very casual, definitely nothing to suspect.

“Oh I get it,” Mikey says, “McDonalds.”

Ray shrugs, and stuffs like six French fries in his mouth so that he doesn’t have to be the one to respond.

“Ray, you’re a bastard and if I was looking at you right now, I’d put a curse on you.”

“Oh come on, Mikes,” Gerard says, “it’s not like one gosh diddly cheeseburger is going to kill me.”

“Your doctor literally told you not to eat fast food, Gerard.”

“What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him,” Gerard says, and he takes a big bite out of the burger that honestly you could rip from his cold dead hands, and he’d tell Mikey as much, that’s how much this means to him. Mikey, the scariest person he knows, who would literally beat Gerard up if Gerard were to try to hurt himself, which sounds counterintuitive, but Mikey has been the older brother since before Mikey was born and Gerard was literally already 3 years old.

“It slows down your recovery, oh my god, I fucking hate the both of you. I literally even went to the store to buy us dinner, and there you go eating poison.” Gerard can tell he’s distraught, but he really doesn’t care right now, because this is all he wanted in this world, and now that he has this cheeseburger, he won’t ever be parted with it until digestion happens.

“You’re not my mom,” Gerard says through a mouthful of onions, lettuce, and pure joy. He’s kind of annoyed with Mikey right now in a non-joking way, but he’s playing it off as a joke, because he’s not quite ready to be a real dick. Yet.

“Gerard, mom is literally the person who told me to be so hard on you about this stuff. I’m literally just doing what she asks. But also, I agree. Like maybe one burger isn’t going to kill you or slow down your progress or whatever, but Gerard, like you literally keep having ‘just one order of tater tots’ or ‘just one slice of cake’ or all that other shit that you think I don’t know about, but like you’re really bad at hiding your Uber Eats bags. It actually has to stop, like this is becoming a problem”

“Oh screw you, stop being so like, caring and all this other bull- uh, bologna. I don’t need everyone to always be worrying about me.” There’s a child, Gerard, watch your fucking language.

Mikey sighs, the sigh that Gerard knows very well. It’s the ‘no this itself isn’t a really big deal, but it’s everything that it all means in the long run that’s a big deal’ kind of sigh. Why does everyone care so much, he’s being an asshole to everyone, and it’s not so that people will get closer.

“Mikey, I’m sorry,” Ray says, and Gerard looks very betrayed as Ray tries to pull the speaker closer to him, which Gerard refuses. “Ugh, Mikey, if you can hear me, I’m going to stop letting it happen. I’ve been a bit of a pushover.”

“You absolute snot eating buttface,” Gerard says. There’s a child present.

“Thank you, Ray,” Mikey shouts so that he’ll be able to hear him which prompts Gerard to pull the phone away from his face and overdramatically grasp at his ear. “Gerard, get home soon, though, ‘cause we need to have a talk.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“Oh my god, you just can’t take anything seriously, can you?”

“I can, it’s just that I’m not going to take anything seriously coming from you.”

“You’re a fucking dildo,” Mikey responds.

“That is usually what you do with those.”

“Finish your fucking diabetes bomb and come home, asshole.”

“You’re really giving me incentive not to come home.”

“Get home as fast as y-” Gerard hangs up there, and he’s going to regret that later, but he really is trying to grow into this new personality he’s been cultivating where he gets everyone who loves him to question why they love him. And the sad answer to the question no one asked is that he doesn’t love himself anymore so why should anyone else?

“Did you just hang up on Mikey effing Way?” Ray says, looking like that moment when you realize your mom is about to walk in on you masturbating.

“I like to live life dangerously,” Gerard says before he takes a hit off of his diet coke, but it comes out of a straw, so he’s cool because straws kill sea turtles or some shit.

“I don’t know what scares me more, the method he’s going to use to kill you, or your lack of fear from your death.”

Gerard rolls his eyes, “you worry too much. He’s going to chew me out, but what’s he going to do? Ground me? What’s that going to do? It’s not like I have a life to miss out on.”

“I don’t want to be there when you get home, but I have to drive you.”

“Let’s not go right away,” Gerard says, making a face. “Can we like, go to a bar or something? I need to be inebriated to face Mikey.”

“He just said…”

“Ray Toro, I have all this lawsuit money and nowhere to spend it.” Ray looks visibly disturbed by this one, and Gerard stares at him daringly for the several seconds it takes for Ray to open his mouth to respond.

“That was a really gross joke, Gerard,” Ray says. Gerard is always pushing the limits to see how much he can get away with. A normal person wouldn’t put up with any of that shit, but again, Gerard Way has been his best friend for like a solid third of his life, so he does put up with some things. Not all things, though.

“Oh, calm down.” There’s something in his eyes when he says it. Something very defeated. He’s gone through all of the depression, the loss, the heartbreak, the sorrow. He tries to excuse it away as a joke, but it’s not funny, and Ray doubts that even he finds it funny. There’s a certain point where you think you’ve cried all the tears you can. Gerard’s still yet to find that point. The funeral didn’t drain him, but maybe joking about it will.

Ray doesn’t know what to say. How do you help your friend going through this kind of loss? When he came into this life, into this job, he was never supposed to help Gerard. He was never supposed to watch Gerard’s life fall apart, and lose everything, absolutely everything.

“I lost her too, Gerard,” Ray says finally.

Gerard won’t look at him. He’s all clenched jaw and low eyebrows, eyes aimed at the window. The sun is setting, but it’s not a pretty sunset. It’s just pale blue meeting the light hues. “Tough,” Gerard bites back.

“Maybe we do need a drink,” Ray responds.

Gerard doesn’t waiver in his attitude, even though he feels relief. His face is a waning moon with shadows falling haphazardly like a charcoal drawing. At least he can drink away the pain soon. Like it’ll go anywhere.

Ray finishes up the last of his fries, while Gerard eats his cheeseburger, but like in an angsty sort of way. He skipped over that phase in high school, and was just the nerdy art kid, so now he’s really trying to catch up on this brooding stuff. He’s learned a lot from all of his soap operas, he really knows how to pull off the wounded warrior archetype.

“Finish up, Gerard,” Ray says, standing up to throw away his trash while Gerard shoves the rest of his food into his mouth, which is definitely too much food, but he’s a trooper. He’d love to say he’s used to big things in his mouth, but he is not.

“Only, like one drink, okay? ‘Cause I have to drive you back, and I’m not going to drink anything.” Ray takes Gerard’s trash from him, and then Gerard wheels himself off behind him, not bothering to say thank you to Ray.

“Um, that sounds like a you problem,” Gerard says, because he doesn’t see why the passenger can’t get as wasted as he wants when he’s not driving. To be fair, he’s glad. A year, two years ago, Ray would’ve had a drink with him, not enough to even be inebriated, but that’s not something either of them is comfortable with anymore. Gerard just hopes that alcohol will fill in the cracks inside of him.

“Text Mikey, to tell him where we are, okay? So that he doesn’t worry.”

“Will do,” Gerard says, and as he says so, he pulls out his phone and immediately turns it off. Mikey’s going to be an overbearing annoyance if the phone is still on, because he won’t like that Gerard is going to a bar, so Gerard can’t tell him that but if he leaves the phone on, he will probably call him in ten minutes when he’s not back yet, and then again every five minutes thereafter. Gerard doesn’t want to deal with that. He’d rather do anything in the world than deal with that.

Ray holds the doors open for him, but doesn’t try to push his chair, because of obvious reasons. Gerard is now full of food which makes him more alert, so he’ll punch you way faster.

“Fuck! Shit! Cock! Dick!” Gerard says immediately as they exit the building. “God, it’s so hard to stop myself from swearing, I feel free as a bird now. Fuck!”

“You having fun there?” Ray asks.

“Always.” Gerard gives him the most insincere smile of all time. Ray could never possibly understand that Gerard hasn’t had fun in over six months and probably never will again.

Gerard is not very good at listening, and that’s really not anything new. He was the kid that got in trouble all the time in elementary school because he couldn’t stop talking, and never heard what the teacher said. They had to physically move his cot away from other kids during nap time, because he would talk and wake other kids up.

He doesn’t listen, doesn’t like to play by the rules, and doesn’t get permission from anyone before he does anything. That’s how it goes, and that’s why Gerard rolls out of the bar so wasted that he doesn’t care that Ray is pushing him. To be fair, Gerard thinks that he is pushing himself, he’s just so fucking drunk that he hasn’t noticed Ray behind him.

“One drink, Gerard, I said one drink.”

“No it was way more than that,” Gerard laughs.

“Mikey’s going to kill me.”

“Not if I kill you first,” he says.

Usually, Gerard isn’t much of a help getting him out of the chair and into the front seat, but he’s way less help now. Ray has really built up his forearms by helping Gerard sit in various locations, so he’s able to pull Gerard into the seat without help, but it would be nice at least. Gerard lolls around a little bit in the front seat, manages to find the lever that adjusts the seat, so he falls all the way back, and then laughs uncontrollably while Ray gets the wheelchair into the trunk.

“Christ, Gerard,” Ray says, when he has to come back around to put the seat back up. Gerard, an asshole even when he’s drunk, does it again, falling back and laughing even more this time.

“Alright, fine, whatever. You’re riding the whole way back like that then, jackass,” he walks all the way back around to the driver’s side, and Gerard looks just as ridiculous from this side as he does the other.

“Mm, good night,” Gerard says, closing his eyes, and pretending to fall asleep, which is not effective because he keeps giggling.

“Mikey is gonna rip my head off, why did I agree to this,” Ray says to himself, and Gerard ignores him. He only looks up when he feels the car start to move, and to look out the window he has to fully pull himself up from what is almost a lying down position because of his goddamn seat.

“Don’t take me home,” Gerard says as he looks out of the window. He seems quite a bit clearer now than he had just a few seconds back. Funny how consequences will sober you up pretty fast. “Pleeeease, I don’t wanna.”

“You have to, Gerard. Even though you texted him, Mikey’s still going to be worried about you.”

“I didn’t text him. Fuck that guy.”

“You what?” Ray says, literally almost slamming the breaks out of sheer surprise, or maybe terror. There’s quite a lot of play between Gerard and Mikey, a lot of silly “I hate you’s” and all that, but no one thinks it’s real. There’s also something that has only been showing up since the accident where Mikey is a little too overprotective, and a little too short with Gerard. They still joke around, but there’s a hint of seriousness behind it, just like Gerard’s joking is often used to mask the sadness behind the very jokes. This is a recipe for absolute chaos. Mikey was already pissed off about Gerard eating unhealthy, and now Ray is bringing him home completely off his tits, and two hours after he said they were coming back.

This is only going to go one of two ways. Either they’re going to have a really big argument, or Mikey is going to be too defeated and disappointed to put up a fight. Either way, it’s gonna be bad, and it’ll be Ray’s fault.

“He’s always telling me what to do, and I don’t care. Screw him.”

“Stop saying that, Gerard. He’s your brother, you’re just drunk.” Ray is very worried. He’s not speeding, but he’s definitely not driving below the speed limit. He’s still overly cautious, because there’s always the possibility that someone as drunk as Gerard is out there driving, and that’s not a mistake you make twice.

“I just want to go to bed,” Gerard mumbles, eyes closed, and Ray thinks that he has spontaneously switched from adrenaline drunk to tired drunk.

“I’m taking you home,” Ray reminds him.

“No, not there.”

“Well where else would you go?”

“Anywhere but there.”

“What’s wrong with home?”

“So depressing. Mikey’s always like doing things for me, and his husband is like… I don’t know, won’t let me do anything for myself. Not even allowed to fold laundry. Fuck off.”

“So basically, they care a lot about you?”

Gerard groans, and rolls around in the seat, looking all of a sudden very surprised that his seat is all the way back. Ray sees him looking for the lever, but he can’t find it, and Ray’s not going to help him out because he got himself into this mess.

Gerard is pretty much silent the rest of the way. He makes a few annoyed sounds when the car turns, and he asks Ray again not to take him home, but when Ray again says no, Gerard stops talking to him entirely.

He knows they’re in big trouble when he comes upon the street and sees the front lights on. He drives slowly down the street, and as he gets closer he sees someone standing in front of the garage, pacing back and forth. Big trouble.

Mikey is looking at the car already by the time that Ray actually pulls into the driveway, and he’s so glad that it’s dark so that he can’t actually see the medusa look in his eyes. Ray puts the car in park, takes a deep breath, and looks over at Gerard, who’s crossed his arms, and has his head turned away from Ray, so he knows that Gerard is also unhappy with him.

Ray has a split second where he stops, puts his hands on the steering wheel and thinks to himself for a moment. How much of this new personality is Gerard joking, and how much of it is real? There’s a lot of things he says which play as jokes, but there’s a very real chance there’s sincerity there, and that idea has scared Ray for quite some time, which is why he tries not to think about it. Gerard was his best goddamn friend in the world, and it’s hard to admit that someone has changed, but he’s unrecognizable.

Gerard was gonna start a band. He was going to learn how to play an instrument and bought himself a guitar which they both quickly learned was a bad idea, so he sold the guitar and bought a violin, and that went poorly too. He was going to create a startup, but he didn’t know what he was starting up. He was going to be a teacher. Then he was going to write comic books or make a board game. He was the struggling artist friend, and the guy who invited you to concerts you know he couldn’t afford.

In their college apartment, there was a day when they hung fairly lights up in the living room, because there wasn’t a goddamn lighting fixture in there and Gerard got so mad at him, because Ray either wasn’t holding the tape measure right, or hammered a hole in the wrong place. Eventually Gerard just quit and stayed in his room for an hour. The next day, they got gyros and it was all okay again. They put up the fairy lights and watched a shitty Ben Stiller movie, and everything stayed the same.

You don’t really know what’s missing until it’s been months since you last had it. Like that one goddamn diner that they went to which had the best sauce in the world, and a month later it was gone, and they were heartbroken because they could never have that sauce again. There was always the promise of going to that diner next week to go dip fries in that sauce, but once they actually made it, they couldn’t.

Ray might’ve taken for granted what having Gerard has meant to him all these years. They’ve always stayed close, even though Ray’s life went in a completely different direction than Gerard’s. Neither of them could ever really leave the other, so they decided to move back to Jersey together so that Gerard could be close to his brother, and they didn’t even share an apartment anymore, they just didn’t want to be in different cities. He’s always just been the default best friend. He could just show up at Gerard’s place for an impromptu Scooby Doo marathon and the only issue would be that Gerard hadn’t done the dishes so there was no bowl to put the popcorn in.

Ray looks now at Mikey who is glaring at him from the light of the headlights and he knows that everything has changed. For the worst. Even if he could, Gerard would never hang fairy lights. He would get mad, and it wouldn’t brush off the next day. He wouldn’t move to a new town with Ray. He wouldn’t watch Scooby Doo.

Gerard finds the lever on his seat and pulls it up, only to make a loud annoyed sound when his head pops up and he sees Mikey looking at him through the window. He doesn’t want to, but he opens the car door, while Ray walks around the car to the trunk to grab his chair.

Mikey does not wait at all before he starts, “Gerard Arthur Way, what kind of a time do you call this?”

“Did you just middle name me?” He asks incredulously.

“What time do you think this fucking is?”

“What? I’m not allowed to do anything without telling you first?” He’s definitely feeling genuine annoyance. Ray comes around with his chair, and he’s almost too distracted by being annoyed at Mikey to process the trip from the car into the wheelchair.

“I called you. Like thirty times. I asked you to come home, and then I wait three hours and you weren’t here. How was I supposed to know you weren’t dead? I thought you were driving him. What am I supposed to think? I worry, Gerard, I’m sorry. Is that okay with you?”

“You don’t need to be a dick about it, okay. I’m sorry, whatever. Next time I try to have a life, which I thought was what you wanted, I’ll consult you first.”

“Oh, that’s rich, Gerard. I’m here worrying about you, but you turned off your phone, because you knew I’d be worried, because I’m your brother and I have to be. Why would you do that? I thought there had been an… an accident. I was waiting for the call to tell me you didn’t make it this time.”

“Shut up,” Gerard says, and the aggression behind those words is not a joke. There’s something in the atmosphere, and the dark night closing in doesn’t make it any better. Ray looks around from the car, up the drive way and down the little path to the doorframe where he sees Pete. The two of them make eye contact, because they know that this is going to be a real one. This is going to be one of their real fights, the kind that startles birds.

“Excuse me?” Mikey says, and his teeth are almost bared.

“Stop thinking you’re my mom,” Gerard shouts up at him, and his mind is pretty clear for a guy who’s drunk. Like, he knows he’s drunk, but he also knows he’s pissed at Mikey. The inhibitions are gone, it’s time to say how he really feels.

“You are so goddamn irresponsible that if I act any other way you’d die of malnourishment or stupidity, whichever comes first.”

“Oh, you think you’re so mighty and caring, because you have to take care of your poor crippled brother, but you’re not, you’re just some ableist piece of shit who babies me. I’ve got news for you, Mikey, I’m your older brother, I don’t take orders from you.”

“You think I do all the stuff I do for you because I’m what? Some just elitist fuck who took pity? I’m your brother, and one of the only people who can even put up with you anymore. You think your such a goddamn hero for being all bitter and shitty to everybody, like pushing people away will make your life better, but it won’t.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a fuckup!” Gerard shouts, trying to wheel away from his brother, but Mikey follows. Ray isn’t sure what exactly he’s supposed to do. He did the whole, getting Gerard to his house thing, but he probably shouldn’t leave just because things are bad, and likely about to get way worse.

“Now you’re just gonna run away from me?”

“I can’t!” Gerard screams, and those are the loudest words to have been said yet. Gerard points down to his legs with exasperation. He wishes so much that he could stand up and run away into the night, but he can’t because he’s stuck in this chair.

“What do you want?” Mikey yells back. “Sympathy? Because I’ve tried to give it to you, and it pisses you off. I try to give you space, and you fuck yourself over with it. I try to be your friend, but you push me away like leftovers. I can’t keep feeling sorry for you and not being allowed to or trying to help you and get called names. You’re my only brother in the world and I love you but god, I don’t think I like you at all anymore.” Gerard can see that Mikey is actually crying. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but he doesn’t care. Good, he thinks to himself, maybe now you’ll know what it feels like.

“I don’t want you at all Mikey. That’s what you want to know? What do I want from you? Trick question, I want you to shove it. I’m sick of being, this, poor, ‘oh god my older brother was in an accident, now I look after him.’ I’m not a project, but you can’t let me be. I can’t eat a cheeseburger without you telling me I’m killing myself, or watch a TV show without ruining my life. Nothing I do is good enough for you,” Gerard is gross now too. He’s got tears on his face and snot leaking from his nose. Nothing is pretty nowadays, not his language, or his habits, or him.

“You want me to hate you so much, don’t you? You’re doing a really fucking good job of it.”

“Good!” Gerard says, and he wheels himself over to the front door, where Pete steps all the way out of the entry way, as if to hide elsewhere in the house, while he rolls himself up the ramp that Mikey installed so he could get in.

Mikey gives Ray a look, and Ray breaths in deeply, not quite ready for Mikey to explode at him too, but amping himself up for it. “Where the fuck do you think you’ve been?”

“We, he… he just wanted… it was just going to be one drink, I just, I’m sorry.”

“Oh great, so you got him wasted.”

“I didn’t mean to! He did that to himself.”

“I know he did, he’s self-destructive, Ray! That’s why you can’t give him a goddamn cheeseburger every time you see him or bring him to a bar. Hand him a noose next time Ray, why don’t you? Only a few hours ago, you said you’d stop being a pushover, and look what you fucking did, you let him push you over!” He screams. Yelling at Ray doesn’t make Mikey cry, because he’s just pissed at Ray, whereas he’s pissed and depressed about Gerard. Yelling at Ray might just be therapeutic.

“I’m sorry,” Ray says.

“Sorry? What the fuck, Ray! Sorry enough to not answer your goddamn phone, when I call you?”

“My phone…? Shit. Mikey, I put it on silent for work. I didn’t know you called.”

“Oh, great, so the next time Gerard convinces you to piss me off, you won’t pick up then either. He’s the one in the goddamn chair, Ray, how is it always you that gets pushed around?”

“He said that he texted you,” Ray doesn’t think there’s anything he can possibly say that will make Mikey less angry with him.

“You’re smarter than that. Just… just go away, Ray, you’ve already done enough damage.” As awful as it makes him feel, Ray couldn’t be happier to hear those words. He doesn’t want to be a part of this, doesn’t even want to touch it with a stick. He stands there for a minute longer, watching Mikey turn away from him and up the path. He slams the door shut behind him, and Ray is so thankful to be on this side of the door and not the other. It’s going to be a long night.

Mikey enters the living room, seeing Gerard sitting there, like he’s ready to kick back off with Mikey. Pete has found shelter in the dining room, but when he hears the door slam, he knows he should probably provide moral support to both parties, or maybe moral support isn’t the right word. He needs to make sure that one doesn’t kill the other.

“I have done so much for you, Gerard,” Mikey says, breathing heavily as he tries to find his bearings through the weight of his tears, which have come back now that he’s looking at Gerard. “I let you live in my house, I threw out practically half of my furniture so you could live here at all.”

“Poor baby.”

“You don’t fucking get it, Gerard,” Mikey says, and he hears Pete walk in, though he can tell that Pete stays on the edge so that he doesn’t get caught in the crossfire. “It’s not about, like, god, it’s not about putting in a ramp, and remodeling the bathroom so that you can get into it, or fuck, selling all the furniture. Its about what it means, like, I did all that for you. So that you could live here, and so you could be with me, because I know it’s hard-”

“I never asked to live here, Mikey! I just couldn’t get back into my apartment.”

“I am trying so hard for you,” Mikey pleads.

“What do you want, a medal?”

“I,” Mikey gasps, “I honestly just want my fucking brother back.”

“I’m right here, Mikey! Don’t like me anymore? Too bad, this is who I fucking am, you want a new brother, go to the store and buy one.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“That’s kind of the goal.”

“Well it’s a stupid goal,” Mikey says, kicking the couch in frustration before he puts his head into his hand, and makes a loud sobbing noise into it.

“Grow up,” Gerard says, and that’s all he has to say before he wheels himself away, leaving Mikey standing there openly weeping. Left all alone in his own living room, feeling like a stranger to the person who he grew up with. Feeling like his own brother hates him.

As soon as Gerard makes it known that he’s finished with the conversation, Pete comes swiftly to hold Mikey. He practically falls against him, putting his face into Pete’s shoulder as he cries like he can’t remember ever having cried before. This is the worst part of a relationship, when you know the other is sad and there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s so hard to watch someone you love hurt, and Pete loves both of these goddamn Way’s.

“He’s just so-” Mikey says, gasping into Pete’s shoulder, the shirt now wet and clinging to his skin, not like Pete cares.

“I know, Mikes. I miss Gerard too.” Somehow, those words make it worse. Because everyone, not just Mikey, can see that Gerard’s not there anymore. That’s just some lifeless shell that carries his skin. Every day he’s tried to deny it, and every day it’s becoming harder, but right now it feels obvious.

Pete kisses the top of Mikey’s head. The truth is, he’s not like overly mad at Gerard. Obviously, he’s very pissed that Gerard was being mean to his husband, but it’s not like they’re not both going through some shit. He remembers the old Gerard just as fondly as everyone else. He doesn’t think he’s romanticizing the past to say that Gerard was the coolest, nicest guy. He was the dork who bought them Arkham Horror as their housewarming gift, and only helped them set up the Ikea dining room table in order to play it.

“It’ll be okay,” Pete whispers into Mikey’s hair, and rests his head there, hoping, god does he hope, that it will.

He can hear Mikey crying, but he’s made it this far, and he’s not going to give it up now. At least not until he’s alone and can’t wallow by himself. Once his door closes behind him, Gerard takes a deep breath, wipes away his tears. He sits in his chair, and stares at nothing for a bit, his vision becoming entirely blurry as he focuses out.

Gerard doesn’t feel drunk anymore, or maybe he feels too drunk. All he knows is that he needs to get in his bed and cry there for like three hours. He pulls himself over to his bed, and then out of his chair onto it, feeling relief as he clambers in. He has to physically pull his legs onto the bed with his own two hands, because they’ll just dangle off of it. He breathes in deeply for a second, and maybe he won’t cry Maybe he’ll be fine. He looks up at the ceiling, watches as the ceiling fan that he never turns off hypnotizes him for a few seconds. But then he coughs with a swarm of sobs coming with it.

How did it all get so bad? So many things were lost that day. How do you keep going knowing that the paralysis wasn’t the short end of the stick? When there’s everyone in the world to blame, and you can’t scream loud enough? If everything you have is taken from you, what’s the point in holding on to everything else? God, has it really gotten this bad?