Suffer All The Children

Mikey's head swam; his stomach churned. He lay wavering between consciousnesses and otherwise simply for the fact that he was too frightened at drowning in his own vomit to stay in one position for too long. He moaned and writhed, but didn't dare pull at his constraints; there would surely be hell to pay if he took them off without consulting Gerard, but the tears and the groans he couldn't help. He was in agony. Perhaps Geared really had intended to kill him this time; drown him in his own waste; make him suffer as much as he could before he took his life.

He sat and took the punishment however; knowing he deserved what he got, for even bound, gagged, and constantly choking on sick he found himself still longing for a small body entangled with his own on the kitchen floor and the innocence he felt after committing an atrocity so vile.

At some point, while it was still dark out, the duct tape was painfully removed from his skin, pulling out bits of hair as it became discarded. After the same was done with the cords that had wrapped his wrists, he felt himself being lifted and moved, then placed down again a second later, the flow of icy water told him that he was in the shower. He hadn't noticed how warm he'd been on that floor, but as he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the ceramic of the bathtub he sat in, he noticed how wonderful it felt to shiver and breath in cool air; how free it was to let the cool droplets slash on his clammy eyelids.

He sat a while, enjoying himself, but was disappointed when the sensation stopped a minute or so later. He let himself be pulled into a sitting position and felt his shirt being pulled over his head. He moved to help it off. His glasses were removed, which made his already cloudy vision worse. He could only see the outline of his brother and closed his eyes, again moving so his pants would be easier to remove.

His face felt warm again as his boxers were removed. A new sensation of warm water solely on his cheeks told him that he was crying.

"Gerard," he murmured, leaning toward the dark figure to his right, "Gerard-" he shook and sobbed, pressing his face into his brother's shoulder, breathing hard, "Gerard, no more. Please, no more I swear."

"That's enough," Mikey squeaked a bit as Gerard slipped from his reach, blinking and scrambling toward him. He was unsure of where he was going. He only knew that he didn't want to be alone and that he didn't want to upset his brother again. "I said that's enough!"

Mikey brought his blurred eyes to what he figured must have been Gerard's. His head nodded a bit to the side, for it was hard to hold upright. He breathed heavily, still very sick to his stomach. "Gerard…"

"Just shut up, okay?" though the words themselves were cruel, his tone was softer. Mikey felt his brother's arms moved under him and fastened his own around Gerard's neck, leaning his head into the other's shoulder, taking  in the aroma of him; energy drinks and alcohol, cigarettes and ozium… everything he kept separate from his younger brother.

Mikey pressed his lips to his neck though, not really kissing, more enjoying the stability that he offered, enjoying the feeling of being completely his. "I won't be bad anymore." Sighed Mikey, mumbled into his skin, "I'm yours. I won't forget anymore.”

He felt Gerard's hand rub on his back, his lips pressed onto the top of his hat, "Knew you'd get there." Gerard crooned, placing Mikey in their bed, he felt his forehead and turned on a fan, covering Mikey with a sheet. "Go to sleep…" He placed a trash can next to Mikey's side of the bed, pushing the boy's hair back again, "throw up here if you need." He felt Gerard retreat, then slide in bed beside him, after a minute or so. Mikey turned over and moved as close to him as possible, content on never causing him to want him to leave.

Several times during the following hours, Mikey stirred slightly into consciousness. The first time it was bright; he felt Gerard next to him and moved closer, as they'd drifted apart during the night, cowering into his chest before slipping back to sleep. The second time he was quite alone, but it was less bright out. He was tucked in very warm and tight under his sheets. He pushed them off a bit for ventilation and turned to fall back asleep until Gerard returned.

Hours later, he woke again, the blankets were still off, but he felt very hot, but his nose was freezing as he touched it with his fingers. He pulled the blankets up to cover it, whimpering as the movement caused his head to throb.

He came fully into consciousness only when an external force caused this. He heard Gerard say his name and felt him prop his body up pressing something against his lips, which he parted taking in a cool liquid. He convulsed a bit as it brought back the taste of all three of the venomous alcohols he'd been given what only seemed like minutes ago, but Gerard pressed it harder to his lips, so he drank, moving a clammy hand to take it himself. Remembering the night previous, Mikey drank heartily, emptying the glass as not to upset Gerard. He blinked a few times, his sight much more clear. However he was very aware of the absence of his glasses. He felt humiliated laying there with Gerard's eyes trained on him. His own stung with tears but now they were too dry to cry anymore.

Neither said anything for a while. Mikey lay silent as Gerard felt his forehead. He let him press two fingers to his neck for a pulse (which Mikey felt press into his brother's fingers; it pounded a bit irregularly, but in what seemed to be a normal pressure). Gerard seemed satisfied as he took the glass from Mikey, then got to his feet and moved toward the door. Mikey wasn't stupid enough to ask him where he was going, but longed for him to come back and crawl in bed next to him.

"I'm going out." Mikey nodded, listening, "You can watch TV if you like, or read, or… do whatever you like, just as long as you stay in the apartment. Drink some water and eat something before I get back."

The younger Way again nodded and smiled as much as he could without causing his head to pound, "Thank you."

Gerard's eyebrows raised, he looked almost amused, "Thank you?"

His brother nodded a little, wincing at the glare of pain he'd sent to his temple with the action, "For coming back for me."

Gerard stared a second, then nodded, as if disregarding the words. "I always take care of my things." He shook his head a bit as he watched Mikey wish the hint of an odd emotion; was it pity? "Just be good while I'm gone. I'll get you something nice."

"Yes sir."

Mikey lay back and turned to his side, closing his eyes into the fabric of his pillow case, much more than content at how good he had things.

Before going back to sleep, Mikey did as Gerard had told him. One trip to the kitchen got him food and water, which he took to the sitting room because of its soft light and lack of loud sounds.

After eating, he sat and starred at the blank television screen for a moment or two. He hadn't ever watched much television. He wouldn't know what to turn on if he did decide that it was what he wanted. Plus, the television set had both bright light and loud sounds, neither of which he particularly would like… Instead he took his dishes to the sink and washed them, then took a new glass of cold water back to the bedroom, drained it, then curled up to sleep again. He hoped that Gerard hadn't gone to practice without him again.

"Mikey." The room had faded to dark when they boy woke again. He felt his glasses being slipped onto the bridge of his nose and the ends tucked behind his ears. He subconsciously gravitated toward the edge of the bed as he woke. He reached his hand out and smiled as he felt warm fabric in his grasp. He blinked a few times and felt Gerard's fingers move through his hair, glazing over the sensitive patches where the duct tape had ripped a few tufts of hair from his head. Gerard's face skewed a bit as he observed the fresh wounds, then shook his head, moving his hand up to Mikey's forehead as he had earlier.

"Are you feeling better?" His tone reminded Mikey of a doctor he'd gone to see when he'd come down with a nasty chest cold as a child; concerned, but detached.

"Yes." Mikey moved in closer, feeling down Gerard's leg with a finger. He smiled and nodded, closing his eyes as he yawned wide, "My head doesn't hurt as bad anymore."He arched his back as Gerard's fingers moved down it. He enjoyed the sensation; these times were worth everything that Gerard did to harm him.

"That's good," said the latter, continuing to coddle his younger brother, "I was thinking of taking you to tonight's practice if you felt up to it."

Mikey took a sharp gasp in, his eyes widening, "Oh, Gerard!" he beamed, shuffling to sit upright, "Can I go please?"

The older nodded, but slowly; unsure, "Ray and Frank want you there as much as possible. They both want to work with you. They reckon you've got potential."

The younger of the men blushed a bit, his smile becoming much more sheepish, "When does it start?"

"A bit over two hours."

"What do you want me to do 'til—"

Gerard pulled his glasses off again and pressed a finger over his brother's lips. "Right now I want you to shut up," He stated, opening a drawer on the side table beside the bed, "because I haven't gotten off in over a day and I'm still contemplating sewing your mouth shut considering the only thing I'd miss from it are those fantastic blow jobs I'm so partial to."

Mikey nodded and silenced. He laid back and let his brother bind his hands, then gag him, this time with a bandana. He sat silent while Gerard used him, for Mikey was not a stupid person and was very aware that he was only implemental as Gerard saw fit.

Not that Mikey minded; he felt perfect when Gerard took him; he felt so wanted.

_____________________

The brothers arrived at their band-mate's house; both slightly flush in the face. Gerard pulled along Mikey (who was in his usual childish state of unwavering obedience) with one hand and carried his reliant's instrument in the other. He let his hand go only when they approached the door. The front-man turned to the bassist and extended his guitar case for it's intended to take, but held it as the other positioned his hand to take it; the gesture demanded attention on him.

"Ray and Frank wanted to work with you after we played a few songs together. I assume they meant alone. You remember what I said about Frank?"

Mikey furrowed his brow, racking his mind, "I—"

"About if he talks to you?" Gerard prompted.

Mikey nodded, his cheeks tingeing a bit, "I'm supposed to tell you what he says."

"You will?"

Without hesitation, the boy nodded, "Yes sir." He wasn't yet sure if he was lying or not.

"Good boy." Gerard released the case, relinquishing it to his brother. He reached for the doorknob and turned it, opening the door. The front-man tacked on a phony smile as before he led the way inside.

They entered to find the rest already there; the guitarists picking at the strings of their instruments, sprawled on the same sofa, Frank upside down, his legs curling slightly over the back of the couch. The drummer, Matt lay on his own sofa, tapping a drumstick on the side of it, apparently to the beat of one of the songs they had in their set.

Gerard closed the door behind he and his brother; the three looked up in acknowledgement.

"Hi Mikey!" Frank grinned up at him for a second (which the boy couldn't help but return), then looked to the other with a subtly less amount of exuberance in his voice and a bit of a drop in his smile, "Hey Gerard."

Mikey's smile quickly faded as his brother raised an eyebrow in Frank's direction. "Well," he looked around at the rest of the band without acknowledging the greeting, his eye seemed to linger sardonically on Frank for a second longer than the rest, "we gonna get started?"

The group gave him a cast of apprehensive looks, then after a few moments of silence, Frank strummed a short rift on the acoustic he was picking at, beaming as usual, then set it down, "He's right." Mikey couldn't hold in a small chuckle as Frank did a sort of crab walk off his spot on the couch before standing and gesturing the group forward, "Let's get going."

He moved toward the door to the basement that had been designated their practice area. The rest followed suit. Mikey frowned a bit as Gerard stepped in front of him, walking a bit more slowly than he normally tended to go. He wasn't quite sure if the sudden urge he had to overtake Gerard to go to the front of their little convoy was a good idea or not, so he hung back like he felt his was probably supposed to.

The practice wasn't much special in Mikey's opinion; it consisted of all things they'd done before. There wasn't much variation now that the pressure of their first show was off. Occasionally, Gerard, Ray, Frank, or Matt would halt the group for an edit or a suggestion. Mikey sat back during these disturbances, waiting for the others to start up again. Gerard’s motto, when it came to Mikey in the band was always ‘shut up and play’ so the boy obediently did just that. And he was sure, for the most part, that his opinion wouldn't be much of an asset anyway. It never really had been at any time in his life.

They played well into the night and only ended up stopping when a neighbor called, threatening to alert authorities of a noise violation at such late hours if the music did not cease. Of course, they complied, slightly put off, but all thoroughly pleased at a noise complaint so early in their career.

Too tired to drive home, Frank and Matt decided to stay at the house for the night. It was only after very heavy convincing from the other three that Gerard agreed to stay as well, to which Mikey was thrilled. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept somewhere with someone other than Gerard.

His excitement was doubled when his brother told him that he was allowed to stay in the basement with the other two guitarists to get pointers while he (Gerard) and Matt left to rent movies and buy food, for there surely wasn't enough sustenance for five full grown men in a house usually stocked for one. However it only took one look from Gerard for Mikey to understand that though he was allowed to stay, he hadn't forgotten the previous night. The younger way understood this very well and assured his brother with a small smile that he would never repeat that mistake again. To Mikey's utter amazement, his brother nodded curtly and exited, leaving him alone for the first time in as long as Mikey could remember with two other men. He was half excited and half terrified of what might happen while his brother was gone.

"You're doing really well." Ray plugged Mikey's bass into an amplifier, turning the volume low as not to again upset the neighbors, then took a place beside the bassist and handed the instrument to him.

"He's right; I can't believe how quickly you're picking it up." Frank hovered behind, very much dwarfed by the two in height, but made himself apparent nonetheless. He chuckled a bit as Mikey blushed and stammered about how he really wasn't very good, "It's adorable how nervous you get though," he added, slipping his fingers through the belt loops in Mikey's pants, sort of bobbing as he alternated his weight from his heels to his toes.

Mikey bit his lip, actually smiling awkwardly himself.

The pair jumped a bit at Ray's voice. They had, it seemed, momentarily forgotten of a third in the room with them. "I was under the impression that we'd be going to help Mikey learn how to play bass better." He rolled his eyes and sighed, pulling at his t-shirt, "If I'd known we were supposed to be trying to get in his pants I'd have worn something much tighter."

Mikey cringed a bit, he expected to be struck, but he caught Ray's eye and smiled a little. He was joking; laughing. Frank was a bit more red than usual, but smiled and laughed all the same.

The two seemed very safe, but in a much different way than Gerard id. He felt physically safe around them rather than protected he supposed. Unlike Gerard, they were there to smile with and make jokes with and wouldn't punish him for doing things wrong, at least not with pain, and though the technique was very different than what he was used to, he like it very much, it was a lot less stressful, so he let himself speak his mind while he practiced with them and even offered ideas into conversation. He liked being able to laugh around them and with them. He supposed they had to have been considered his friends; he liked the feeling of having them.

_____


            The three made an effort at least to try and turn their secluded practice into, well, a practice, however, the time for that seemed to have passed when the others of the band had left, so within minutes, they migrated back upstairs to Ray's TV room. The host broke out his Super Nintendo ("Old school!" gasped Frank.) and faced the rhythm guitarist in Street Fighters while Mikey sat (on the end of the couch with Frank to his side as the rhythm guitarist insisted) watching, slightly envious as memories of his Sega ensued. He'd never beaten the last boss…

However, he didn't have much time to pine for the game, as the phone rang soon after it started and Ray was forced to pause the screen.

"No fair." Frank signed, setting his controller to the side of him as his opponent answered the call, "you only picked up because I'm beating your ass."

Ray rolled his eyes, but ignored him otherwise, getting up to speak to whomever it was on the phone in the next room. The other two watched with mild curiosity as he spoke, but as he disappeared from view, Frank turned to Mikey who smiled and welcomed the diversion, especially considering where the diversion's hand had settled on his leg.

"So you having fun?" asked Frank, turning to Mikey, moving the slightest bit closer.

He nodded a bit and met Frank's luminous gaze with a small smile, "Yeah. It's usually just Gerard and I at home. I mostly just do things with him. I haven't seen a videogame since we were kids—I'd completely fail if I tried at this," he gestured to the game console before the other could ask if he wanted to play, "but I like to watch. It's nice. It makes me miss my Sega though."

Frank smiled and nodded a little, shrugging his shoulders a bit, "You should come to my place, sometime," he stated, almost matter-of-factly, discreetly moving his hand down to Mikey’s thigh, "I've only got a PS2, but there's loads of games for it. I could teach you how to play some. Maybe we could find a Sega at a Gamestop or something so you could give me some pointers on that. I've always been a Nintendo guy myself, besides the PS2, so I have no idea how to play anything by Sega." He finished fondly.

Luckily, Ray entered the room again, distracting Frank from their conversation, sparing Mikey the explanation of why it would be quite impossible to go to Frank's place, especially if he were alone with  him and especially if they were to play video games.

"That was Gerard," explained Ray, pocketing his phone. "Matt's car's out of gas. I've gotta go run them some so they can make it to the gas station to fuel up. I guess we'll all be back with everything in a few minutes. Here Mike." He picked up the controller he'd left on the couch and handed it to the boy, then headed to the door, "you play for me 'til I get back. Kick Frank's ass for me."

Mikey blinked down at the controller in his hand, then back to Ray, who was already pulling on a coat and slipping his shoes on. "See you two in a bit." He said brightly, then exited, leaving the two alone.

Neither spoke until they heard Ray's engine start in the driveway, at which they looked back to each other, a considerable amount of tension between them.

 "Er… you wanna take a shot at the game?" Frank asked, nodding toward the television

"Nah…" Mikey set the controller down and shook his head, "not right now."

The other followed suit and dropped his to the floor, his eyes observing the boy before him. He finally decided to break the ice on the subject they were surely both as anxious to get to, "Gerard seemed in a terrible mood when he woke me up the other day at your place." There was a bit of amusement in Frank's voice, a slight smirk to his lips, "Did he find out about anything?

"Sort of..." Mikey shrugged, his eyes downcast, "he found the pants you spilled your drink all over, but I took the rap for that. He doesn't know anything else happened, he just thinks I was in his shit."

"Sorry if I got him upset at you or anything," Frank bit his lip, obviously unaware of just how much trouble Mikey really had gotten in. "But-ah-was… I worth it?"

"Well," Mikey looked off a bit as he thought of the question. He thought of hours in agony on the bathroom floor, the taste of his vomit and the feel of it seeping from the duct tape on his mouth. He thought of the way he couldn't move from his bed for a day and the way his head screamed when he tried to move that day. But he also thought of the day before that, how clear his head had been. His mind was more overtaken with how safe Frank felt when he spoke to him before the show, how Frank's fingers linked so snuggly with his as he lead him. Instead of the vomit, he thought of how Frank's tongue was so much more fitting against his, how much better his lips were at keeping Mikey's mouth sealed than the duct tape and how good they felt on his neck and on his chest and on his ear. How good Frank's hands felt on his bare skin, the way he slept curled into Mikey on the kitchen floor, the way their legs tangled so effortlessly together and how comfortable it was to be near him, "Yeah, "he smiled up at Frank, nodding, "Very, very worth it."

Frank brought a hand up to his terrible little dreadlocks, doing the classic anime style hand-behind-the-neck nervous stance as he blushed and tried to hold himself back from a grin, his eyes flashing very nervously, "Would it be worth it again do you think?"

Mikey nodded slowly, because words didn't seem to be a good fit for the situation.

"Perfect," smiled Frank, "I thought so too—here." He reached forward for Mikey's hand and placed it on his lower hip, slipping the tips under the hems of his jeans. He positioned the other behind his neck, then moved his own hand behind Mikey's and pulled him toward him so that they moved back together, their lips touching before Frank's head touched the arm of the couch.

They kissed and felt each other, gasping as the other touched in a sensitive area or nipped playfully through the kiss at the other's tongue or lip, feeling each other's smiles pressed against their lips. They didn't dare remove clothing (it seemed an unspoken rule that they were not to continue once the rest of the band returned), but each felt as much of the other as they could in the minutes they had, gasping and groaning in pleasure.

"Mph," Mikey pulled back from the kiss slightly; a pair of lights shone briefly onto the wall behind them, "someone's back."

"Mmmmm-mmmmph…" Frank skewed his face a bit in disapproval so adorably that Mikey had to lean back down for another tongue-heavy kiss. "Mmm—Mikey!" he giggled pulling the boy back down by his shirt to peck him again on the lips once he'd moved off. Both ignored the slam of a car door outside.

He knew it was stupid of him, but Mikey found it hard to keep his hands off Frank, grinning as he kissed Frank one more time before they got up (and one more time after that—and one more time after that). They seemed to be so lost in one another that they were both actually surprised when the front door opened, not so suddenly. They both stumbled into sitting positions to see who had entered, each panting and red in the face.

"Oh please," Ray sighed and slipped his shoes off, throwing his keys listlessly to a side table by the door, "Don't stop on my behalf." He made to advance, then stopped dead, raising his brows, "Please tell me you're both still fully clothed."

"Nah," Frank pulled the hoddie he was wearing off and throw it at their band-mate's face,

"We're damn starker's over here. 'Course we're still dressed, asshole."

Ray just rolled his eyes, then threw the hoodie back which fell short by several inches and simply draped itself over the back of the couch, "I couldn't be sure." He crossed his arms and looked to Mikey for a second, as if amazed, then back to Frank, "Does Gerard know you've been defiling his baby brother?"

Mikey's smile dropped, he sat up even straighter, shaking his head, "Please don't tell him."

Ray shook his head, "Nah, I wouldn't, don't worry." Headlights flashed on the back wall again and he sort of nodded toward the pair of them, "But I'd get off each other unless you want him to find out from the sources themselves."

"Oh…" Mikey frowned a bit and nodded, sliding off of Frank's lap, which he had come to straddle when they'd sat up. "Right."

The two turned to the TV and Ray joined them silently on the couch. He smiled a tiny bit as he observed Frank's hand still rested on top of Mikey's and switched the game off, flipping through the channels. "Thanks Ray…"

Frank's hand started to slide from Mikey's as they heard two car doors slam outside this time. Mikey almost felt himself wishing that Ray had locked the door behind him.