Suffer All The Children

"You're not going to drink anything…"

It wasn't hard not to drink anything. Mikey had never really liked alcohol. Some of it burned when he drank it, and the other stuff tasted weird: really sour and bad. It made his throat dry as well, and he got really tired when he drank too much. He couldn't listen as well when he had it. He didn't look where he was supposed to. It made him do things that he didn't want to. It made Gerard hard to follow. It wasn't a good thing and Mikey didn't like it.

"...I just want you to sit there with me, and look pretty."

Gerard didn't make him drink any that night though, and that was good. He instead got him a diet coke, and told Mikey to sit there and drink it, and that he could ask the bartender for a new one whenever he ran out, but that was it.

"... Sit next to me, don't look at anybody."

Mikey tried his best not to look around a whole lot, mainly he just addressed the bartender and Gerard, when he wasn't busy talking to someone else, but when his brother was occupied with another person, Mikey couldn't help but let his eyes wander.

There were so many people in the club, it was hard not to look. He occasionally found himself turning on his barstool and just letting his eyes focus on whatever people looked particularly interesting at the time. Sometimes their hair looked weird, or sometimes it was the way they dressed, but a lot of the times, it was the way their faces looked. Not their attractiveness or anything (he wasn't supposed to look at other people that way: ever), but they way that two of them occasionally looked at each other. It was so odd.

It was hard to find the people, because there were only one or two of the couples out of all of them that looked the way he found so fascinating, but when he found them, Mikey couldn't take his eyes off of them, and he would watch them for as long as he possibly could before Gerard noticed and pulled his hair to get his attention back to him. Mikey knew it was bad to keep disobeying Gerard like he did, but he couldn't stop looking, these people were just too peculiar.

Most of the couples watched each other with narrowed, vicious eyes, setting in for a kill, growling and on the prowl, or sometimes their eyes would be closed and they wouldn't even be facing each other, just moving raucously against each other in rhythm to the music, gasping and grinding their teeth, enthralled in the jungle of bodies that they belonged to, blending with their partner, to it, until they were indistinguishably mingled in the group, impossible to pick which person belonged to the other in the intertwined movement of lust on the dance floor, perhaps even changing partners in the confusion; would it matter if they were separated?

Mikey figured it wouldn't; which was why he didn't watch them. They were too common, they didn't matter. They didn't know what they wanted, or perhaps who they wanted, and they seemed too selfish and looked too busy to be having a good time. Mikey didn't watch them. Instead, his eye traveled to the edge of the dance floor, beyond the couples attached at the lips, feeling one another, beyond the drunken pairs drowsily letting their eyes contact and their lips twist into identical smiles of mutual agreement, to a short blonde-haired girl with thick eyeliner and a bob-cut with her arms around the neck of a taller man, around his height, with shaggy black hair that came just below his ears, whose arms were, in turn, around her waist.

They were kissing, like some of the other couples there, but their hands weren't lifting the other's shirt. The guy didn't have the girl pressed against the wall. They seemed perfectly coordinated, not tripping over themselves, intoxicated. They didn't seem like they wanted to be with one another because they were horny. Neither one of them looked like they were in control of the other. They just looked so happy to be there with one another; it was so strange, but he couldn't help but wonder how it had to have felt to be them…

His gaze moved from them though, because as interesting as they were, he'd found something much more interesting, much more fulfilling to watch; Frank, and as luck had it, he sat at the bar not more than six or seven barstools away, nearest to the main exit doors. Maybe Gerard would let him go talk, there was an open seat right by him as he ordered his drink but…
…someone… took it.

The girl was around Frank’s height, maybe a little bit taller. She had dark red, almost purple tinted hair. She watched Frank take his wallet out and grab a few bills to pay for their drinks, then smiled as he sat facing her, his back to Mikey, she was facing him… that stupid smile on her face as she sipped her stupid little drink and twirled on her stupid little barstool… she looked like a slut… probably a stripper or something… she wasn't supposed to be talking to Frank like that.

Mikey's eyes narrowed as he watched them, biting on the straw from his diet coke. Frank's hand wasn't supposed to be on her leg like that. He wasn't supposed to be so close to her. He was just with him a few hours before on the back steps with Mikey doing almost the same thing; what made her so special all of the sudden…

His insides churned as he watched them talk. They kept moving closer. Mikey's hand tightened around the glass he had been drinking out of in an angry grasp. Why was Frank doing that? Was he calling her 'sugar' too?

Frank reached out for her hand and she moved hers forward, Mikey could feel himself scowl as their fingers linked. He'd figured things couldn't get worse though, so that was a plus, until Frank leaned forward, and the girl leaned forward, and he felt a jealous growl escape his chest as the girls fingers twisted themselves through Frank's hair…

"Mikey."

"…don't look at anybody…" He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, turning back to the bar; he'd broken a rule.

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, turning back to the bar; he been caught breaking a rule.

He wasn't surprised to find Gerard's watching him, his brow slightly heavy, his eyes sort of narrow, a fist clenched. He shivered and blinked once at the fist, involuntarily moving his body back a bit, then looked up to Gerard's eyes for a short glimpse and looked down to his own hands, cracking his knuckles nervously, "'M sorry… I didn't mean to." He felt Gerard's glare on his skin, but refused to look up. His chest sunk a bit and he shivered taking a short breath in, "I'm sorry."

"I don't know what's wrong with you tonight, Mikey…" it was hard to tell if he sounded angry or if he was just annoyed, though neither was very good. He glanced to an empty glass in his brother's hand, then reached his hand out and wrapped his fingers around it, then pulled it back, to which Mikey conceded and sat, waiting for his brother's scrutiny. "I told you to get more coke when you ran out…"

"I don't want anymore." Mikey said quietly, keeping his eyes on his hands. He felt Gerard watching him; his response had been quick. He was correct in thinking that Gerard surely wouldn't approve.

He heard the class clink down on the table beside him, then felt Gerard move closer. A cold, hard hand moved itself to Mikey's chin and grasped it, Mikey whimpered as it tightened and looked up to his brother. "I told you not to look at other people."

"Gerard…"

"Don't Gerard me…" his voice was a quiet growl, the kind that normally made Mikey's spine tingle and straighten, "next time I'm keeping you at the apartment and you won't get to come…"

"I don't care!" It wasn't good, and he knew it, but the words came, as quick and as inevitable as the tears collecting in his eyes, he couldn't stop them, he felt Gerard tighten his hand around his chin as he spoke, "I don't like this-ow! Stop it!"

Gerard's hand moved to his hair, and gripped it, taking a strong hold. He felt his head being pulled backward and felt Gerard's hot breath on his ear. He growled, breathing hard, his voice was low and dangerous, "You stop this shit now or I swear you'll never come out of that apartment again."

"Mph…" Mikey sniffled, closing his eyes, his breath shaky and almost sputtered, "Gerard, I'm bored… I want to go home."

"You'll go home when I say you can."

"Why can't you take me dancing instead of just sitting around? I'm bored!"

"Because you're my brother."

"So?"

Gerard kept a grip on his hair, but stayed silent for a second or two, then shook his head and let out a sharp breath. "Go to the bathroom and clean your fucking face off, Mikey. You look like a little girl."

"Yes sir," He nodded a little, then sniffled and shivered closing his eyes, "I’m sorry… I just want to go home. I hate how things are when we’re out. You never touch me like this.”

"What?"

"We're not at home, and you're touching me."

"So?"

Mikey let out a deep breath and moved his head to Gerard's shoulder, it hurt less that way, and he was warm, "I like when you do."

He heard Gerard sigh, then release his hair, moving his hand to his back, rubbing it, "If you're good, I might do it more."

“Okay,” Mikey nodded, leaning into Gerard, "when do we go home."

"Later."

"I want to go now…"

"We're going later."

"I'm tired."

"For god's sake, Mikey, you're being ridiculous."

"I'm sorry…" he blinked his eyes open, moving them around a bit. A few people's eyes darted away as he noticed them, it was very odd…

"I'll tell you what…" Mikey looked up to his brother, blinking the sleep from his eyes once or twice, "if you promise to be really, really good…"

"Mm…" Mikey nodded, yawning again, "I promise."

"Let me fucking talk, Mike."

"M…" he nodded again, his eyes moving to his hands, "sorry…"

"You've never pulled this shit before, Mikes... christ… you promise to be really fucking good, and not pull anymore shit, I'll take you to the car and you can sleep there until we're ready to go."

"I won't pull shit…"

"Alright, I can take you to the car."

"Please?"

"Yeah, why the fuck not," Gerard moved his hand from Mikey's back, standing, causing his brother to sway a little in imbalance before straightening out. He stood in front of Gerard, waiting for instructions, "Come on." Mikey cringed, Gerard's fingers closed tight around his wrist, and his arm locked up, but he let himself be led forward, deeper into the club, away from the back doors where he knew his exit was.

"I thought you said—"

"You're going to the bathroom first. I don't want you coming back in here," he pushed the bathroom door open and pulled Mikey inside, gesturing for him to stop where he was. Mikey obeyed, and fixed his eyes to Gerard, watching as his brother search his pocket for a bandana. He wet the one he pulled from his back left pocket. "Plus," Mikey let Gerard pull him forward to the mirror. He started rubbing the tear marks from the boy’s face in a quasi-careful motion that was much too rough and made his skin burn upon contact, "your face looks like hell."

"It does?" Mikey lifted his gaze to the mirror, blinking a bit to get used to the new light. He stifled a whimper as Gerard pressed hard on his cheek. Once his eyes were adjusted to the light, he brought his reflection into focus, trying to look at himself past Gerard's head. When he finally got a glimpse, he knew exactly what Gerard was talking about, and he was absolutely right.

Not only was his face twisted and contorted from being upset, but it was red and blotchy from crying, and he had sticky lines from his tears that scaled to his chin, complements of the small bit of eyeliner Gerard had rimmed his eyes with before they'd gotten to the club so that he didn't look odd under the lights, Gerard had said. But its primary purpose was gone, and all it did now was scream how stupid he was for not listening to Gerard and how much he knew Gerard would have to hurt him later for it.

"…sit there with me, and look pretty…"

He leveled his eyes with his reflection and felt his chest tense a bit; a noticeable shiver went through it, down his arms. He let his eyes unfocus somewhere in Gerard's hoodie. He wanted to move forward and wrap his arms around Gerard, and apologize. He wanted go back to the bar and sit next to him for the rest of the night; show him that he could be good, and he didn't mean to act like he did before, but it was much too late now, and Gerard would be upset if he tried, so he simply stood and let his brother clean his face off, ashamed to have produced the tears that had dirtied it in the first place "I'm so sorry, Gerard."

Gerard pressed the handkerchief into his chin, cleaning off the last black smudge that had managed to make it past his cheeks, then moved to his eyes, shaping the black smudges into his lash line. "We'll talk about it later, Mikey."

"Yes, sir."

He felt Gerard's fingers move back up to his hair, around the spot where he'd pulled it, and twist through gently, as if remorseful, "I don't know what came over you before…"

Mikey nodded, closing his eyes, "I'm just tired. I didn't mean to."

"You haven't been like that in a long time…"

"I won't again."

"I don't like it, Mikey. I can't risk you—" the door squeaked open and Gerard paused, moving his gaze to the doorway. "getting sick. Go on to the bathroom, I'll take you to the car in a second, alright?"

"But, Gerard,"

"Mikey," Gerard pulled the bandana back and stuffed it in his pocket, then took Mikey by the arm, leading him forward, in the direction of the bathroom stalls. "I insist." His voice sounded a bit scared, Mikey hadn't heard it like that in a long time, it was strange…

He moved into one though, and once Gerard pulled it closed, he locked it and stood inside for a second, then unzipped his pants and pulled his member through the hole in his boxers, he had drunk a lot of diet cokes that night, and Gerard hadn't taken him to the bathroom, so he let the splash of his urine break the odd silence that had to be between the two people outside his stall.

"Hey…" The voice was unmistakable Mikey could tell who it was from the first word. "what's wrong with Mikey?" Frank… He had no right talking to Gerard, or asking about him… what with that girl waiting for him and whatnot.

Gerard hesitated for a second or two, then Mikey heard him answer, his tone nonchalant. "He drank way too much. I'm taking him back to the car so he can start sleeping it off."

"Oh…" Frank sounded apprehensive, why, Mikey couldn't figure.

"Mhm…" There was a pause, then Gerard spoke again, his voice catty, impatient, "Did you follow us into the bathroom or were you planning on doing something?"

"I…" Mikey let out a heavy breath and shook himself twice before putting himself away and pulling his pants back up and zipping. Gerard's point was valid, and Frank was keeping him from getting to the van. He wouldn't leave the stall until Frank was out of sight. He was so rude by following them. "need to take a piss…"

"Well don't let me get in your way." With that, he dismissed Frank. The lighting changed, a shadow blocked out the light from underneath his stall door, he could hear a light tapping on the painted metal, "Mikey, you alright."

"Yeah." he reached forward and flushed the toilet, nodding, though it was clear that Gerard couldn't see him, "Just finished… I really don't feel well…"

"Oh," Gerard sounded surprised, but when Mikey opened the door, he took Mikey's arm to lead him over to the sink, moving his lips close to his ear, "Act dizzy." He whispered. Mikey minded his brother, and let his feet slip a bit, as they walked to the sink, he could feel Frank watching him from over by the urinals; the nosey fuck.

"You think we'll go back home soon?"

Gerard turned the sink on for him, and he put his hands under, then lathered them with soap from a dispenser on the mirror, "Within an hour tops, Mikes."

The boy nodded and rinsed his hands off, taking the paper towel Gerard handed him, then looked up to him, almost pleading, "Take me to the van for now?"

"Yeah."

He followed Gerard out the door, through the hall and to the back door, a moderately short walk at all, then about forty quick paces to the van where he huffed, waiting for Gerard to let him into it. "Is Frank staying at our apartment?"

"They all are, Mikey. I told you that." Gerard opened the door, gesturing Mikey in, but the boy stood where he was, watching his brother.

"How can we do stuff with them around?"

"They'll be out, don't worry. They're all wasted."

"But what if they wake up."

"They wo-"

"I don't want Frank staying!"

Gerard watched him curiously, his brow knitted slightly, then shook his head, pushing Mikey's arm for him to go in, "That's the second time tonight you haven't listened to me. I have my ways of dealing with things, have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?"

"Well…"

Gerard crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow, "Answer the fucking question, Mikey."

"No," he hung his head and bit his lip a little, his voice coming down a bit, "you haven't. You've always been good to me."

"And I've put up with a lot more shit than I had to with you; you know that Mikey?"

He nodded, avoiding Gerard's eyes, "Yes, sir."

"But I've always forgiven you and been good to you and you keep taking it for granted. You're lucky I don't just drop you now and find someone new. Do you think you could even make it an hour without me?"

He looked up to Gerard, his eyes glossy and shook his head, swallowing a little, moving a bit closer, "No. Please. I'm sorry."

Gerard watched him, and blinked once or twice, then nodded, slightly, moving his hand to Mikey's arm, "Get in the car. We'll talk about it later."

"Yes, sir."

The older way watched his brother climb into the car, then moved to the door, his hand on the door to close it. "I'm taking the keys with me, but I'm locking it again, don't come out; don't let anyone in, got it?"

"Yes sir."

"Alright," his eyes searched Mikey and he moved forward a bit toward the car, "come here real quick before I go."

Mikey complied and let Gerard grasp the front of his shirt and pull him in, pressing his lips hard against his; the pressure of Gerard's fingers tingled on his neck, but he didn't recoil until Gerard shoved him back into the car and slammed the door, walking away without another word. He was almost excited for what he'd do that night when they got home…

_______

He lay on the floor for a few minutes, watching the ceiling. Now that he was in the car, he wasn't particularly tired and he sort of did want another coke… He closed his eyes and sighed, biting his lip and tracing up the fabric on the seat he was laying on. He could ask Gerard for one when he got home… whenever they got home.

As his thought completed, the skin on the back of his neck perked up a bit. He heard the back door click open, then a pair of footsteps echo on the concrete, closing in on the car. He smiled a bit, but lay where he was, waiting, maybe Gerard had come back to take him in the back of the van; let his anger out on Mikey. He almost longed for him to punish him... rip his hair out, hit him... help him make up for how bad he’d been.

He sat and moved his gaze to the door as a figure approached. He waited anxiously for Gerard to unlock it, his nails gripping on the carpet in anticipation but furrowed his brow at a light tap on the glass. When he looked closer, his eyes narrowed, and he backed up to the window of the van, wanting to growl.

"Mikey," the man wasn't Gerard's height, and he didn't use his voice, he couldn't have had the key to get in the car, because he knocked on the window a few times, then leaned in close, which was lucky, because Mikey wouldn't let him in, "Mikey." He repeated, "Can I come in there?"

"No." Mikey growled and narrowed his eyes at the door. There was one rule he didn't want to break at all;"
"…stay the fuck away from Frank."