The *** of Gerard Way

Mikey's eyes flew open, his heart pounding hard. His breathing was ragged and low. He took a deep, shuddery breath and sat up. He brought his hand up to his cheek, making sure he wasn't dreaming anymore. His skin was moist with sweat, and his eyes were wet with tears.

Mikey realized he was shaking. He brought his knees up to his chest to keep from trembling and stared at the wall ahead of him.

He had been dreaming. He didn't know what he was dreaming about, but he knew it was bad. Mikey squinted at the wall, trying to remember.

He got up from the couch after a while, still trembling. The apartment was empty. Strips of yellow tape still remained, but the men were long gone. He figured Ray told them to back off for a while. But he knew they'd be back.

As if on cue, a knock came from the door.

Mikey stood there, unsure of what to do. The knock came again, this time more eager.

He could just run to his room.

He considered this as his hand touched the doorknob.

He still had time.

They would never know.

The knock that followed decided for him.

Mikey opened the door.

A man stood there with a notepad in his hand.

"You Mikey Way?" He asked in a gruff voice.

Mikey nodded silently.

"I'm one of the men investigating your brother's death," the man said.

Mikey cringed. Even though he promised himself not to cry anymore, he still couldn't help hating everyone who said that. Death. [/i
]
Mikey nodded again.

"I have some questions to ask you," The man said.

Ray appeared behind him.

"I don't think that's a good idea." He said.

The man looked at Ray. "Why not?"

"The last guy who tried asking him questions got tackled." Ray said sincerely. He wasn't really trying to threaten the guy. He was just warning him.

The man looked at Mikey, unable to picture him tackling anyone, considering how skinny he was.

"I think I'm okay," Mikey said. He was surprised that the weak voice he heard was his.

The man nodded and stepped inside as Mikey held the door open.

Mikey stood in the middle of the room and crossed his arms across his Anthrax shirt. He didn't really feel like sitting down.

"You can sit down." Mikey said dully.

The guy sat down on the couch in front of Mikey.

"I'm Pete." The man said and held out his hand.

Mikey stood there, not moving.

Pete awkwardly rested his hand on his lap, like that was what he meant to do.

"Okay, Mikey-that is your name, right?"

Mikey nodded, a little grateful that he remembered his name.

"I think we know how your brother died," Pete said. He looked expectantly at Mikey.

He was murdered. That's what Mikey had always thought. There's no way that he would kill himself. No fucking way.

"We're thinking this is a possible suicide." Pete flipped through his notes busily.

Mikey stared at Pete, letting the words seep in.

Suicide.

"No," Mikey shook his head. "You're wrong."

Pete looked up. "Well, the evidence shows-"

"I don't fucking care what the evidence shows," Mikey said slowly. "Gee did not kill himself."

"Gee?"

"Yes, Gee."

"But the evidence." Pete continued. "We found a lot of drugs in his stomach. A lot."

"No," Mikey refused to believe this. "Gerard would never kill himself. He always thought that was a bullshit way to die."

Pete looked at his notepad. "He's a musician, right?"

"Yes." Mikey said.

"Well, most of his music..." Pete looked at his notepad again. "They were pretty depressing.... zombies, blood, and revenge. Don't you think that's a sign of suicidal thoughts?"

"Hell no!" Mikey scoffed. "He was my brother. I'm pretty sure I would know if he was suicidal or not." Mikey was starting to get angry.

Ray stood in the kitchen, watching them and making sure everything was okay.

"Hmmm." Pete thought for a moment. Once again, he looked at his notepad. "It says here that he used to be a drug addict, an alcoholic, and he was depressed..."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Well, if the crown fits.." Pete shrugged. He looked at his notepad again.

"Stop looking at that fucking notepad!" Mikey almost yelled. "That notepad doesn't know shit. I do."

Pete looked up apologetically. "I'm sorry." He said. "I'm just doing my job."

Mikey closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There was no way that Gerard would commit suicide. He had always thought against that kind of thing.

He opened his eyes again.

"No, it's not your fault." Mikey said in a calmer voice. "I.....I'm just positive that he wouldn't do this."

Pete thought for a moment.

"Well," Pete said. "We still need to investigate further on this, so I'm pretty sure we'll come up with something."

Mikey nodded. "Thank you." He said softly.

Pete nodded. "You know, I have a brother, too." He said thoughtfully. "Knowing
that makes me want to solve this case."

Mikey immediately decided that he liked Pete better than John Something.

"So, we're going to need a team here in a couple of hours." Pete said seriously now. "I suggest you find a place to stay for now, 'cause we're going to be pretty busy."

Mikey nodded.

Pete got up. "I should get going now." He said.

Mikey nodded and watched him depart.

He gave a big sigh and uncrossed his arms. He sat back down on the couch. The same couch he had fallen asleep on.

Suddenly, a little piece of his dream came flying back at him.

He was standing in a meadow filled with flowers and butterflies. He remembered feeling the hot sun beat down on his face. In front of him stood a man. A man with Gerard's face. The man had his arm outstretched toward Mikey, as if he were gesturing for him to go over. And Mikey remembered the joy he had felt in his dream. The joy of seeing Gerard so alive. But just as he took a step forward to greet him, Mikey realized that it wasn't Gerard after all. He didn't know how he knew, but he just had this feeling in his gut.

And then he disappeared.

Mikey knew there was more to the dream. He just knew it.

He realized the feeling remained in his gut. He frowned.

Like something bad was going to happen.

Something very bad.