Sequel: Sick Boy ›
Sick and Sain
Chapter 20
With Burger King and the rest of New Jersey behind them, it was seven o’clock before Gerard pulled into the parking lot of Madison Square Garden, past the security barrier and right up to the tour buses. With a kiss on the cheek to his mother, he handed his car keys to her and off she sped to enjoy the luxury of her son’s automobile until he arrived back home in the coming months. Ryan was now stranded until well…until he called Brendon to come get him.
“You’re an evil genius, you know that Gee?” Ryan groaned when he discovered what Gerard had thought of before his own mind was even awake.
“I try, I try. Now would you like to use my phone or yours?” Gerard grinned slyly. You are brilliant, Gerard. Pure brillance. Sain. You can be sain now, maybe forever. But—it is kinda fun being insain, isn’t it? Sain. Insain. Hm…sain. It’ll take some getting used to, but I guess you can probably follow it, right? Yeah.
“I’ll use mine, thank you. You’re insane.”
Gerard glanced over to ten feet away, where three of his four band mates watched him in curiosity, “No. I’m not insane. I’m insain.”
“Motherfucker, that’s what I just said.”
“No. You used an ‘e.’ I use an ‘i.’”
Ryan juggled his phone in his hands, “I-N-S-A-I-N? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Gerard blushed. It sounded stupid now. Petty and childish. “Yeah. Kinda stupid huh?”
“No, not at all. That’s pure brilliance, Gee. Brilliant. How long have you been doing that?”
“Since like…um, May? I think…”
Ryan grinned, “I still think that’s like…perfect. Fine, then you’re insain. God, I don’t have anything near as good as that except—I have a habit of calling myself sick.”
“Sick. Ryan you’re sick. Sick boy. Mmm…that’s cute,” Gerard smiled, “Fine you can be sick, and I guess I’ll be sain. Sick and Sain. Deal?”
“Sick and Sain. I like the sound.” See boy? There’s someone just as fucked up as you. And you thought you were the only one. Ha. Welcome to the real world. But being not so unique didn’t bother Ryan now. He was on air. Gerard loved him. Love. Love, love, love. Lovelovelovelovelove.
“Good—now call your friends,” Gerard muttered, looking over to his four band mates, in a cluster, talking and watching him holding hands with Ryan Ross, “I’ve gotta…take care of something.”
Ryan gulped as Gerard left him on his own, dialed Brendon’s number and waited for the phone to stop ringing. Please let it be a message. Please. Please.
“Ryan!”
That was not the phone.
“Ryan! Please! Ryan!”
Ryan hung up his phone and looked up. Brendon, Jon and Spencer were leaning against the fence, fighting off a couple overly enthusiastic young girls and receiving threatening glares from a security guard.
“Hey,” he almost smiled at the sight of Brendon kicking a girl in the shin.
“Hey! Fuck you!” she snapped.
“Fuck off, can’t you see we’re having a conversation?” Spencer snapped and the girl looked reproachful. God! What dicks. Panic! are so not cool anymore. Plus, like…oh. My. God. I think RyRo’s gay. And Brendon kicked me. Seriously, what the fuck? Maybe Jon’s nice at least. Nah, better not try.
“How’d you guys figure out where I was?” Ryan asked, astonished.
“We’re not stupid, Ry,” Jon muttered, “Gerard Way was here last night, you were here with Gerard Way. We figured you wouldn’t actually go on tour with them.”
“Look…Ryan, about yesterday,” Brendon sighed quietly, silencing Jon with a flick of his hand, “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…well, you know. You should um…fuck anyone you want. I don’t really think you’re gonna get AIDS or something…” He blushed a deep crimson.
“Stop, Bren,” Ryan said. This was more awkward than he had imagined, but at least it was easier. He had anticipated a shouting match, some more screams and maybe possibly a nice apology in the end. “I guess, I mean…I should have told you. It was stupid of me not too…”
“No it wasn’t, it’s your business. I talk too much, I know that.”
“Yeah,” Ryan snorted in slight laughter, “but so does Spencer.”
“Hey—I didn’t tell anyone,” Spencer defended himself.
“Yeah, I really had no idea until last night,” Jon admitted. It was a shock. Oh Jonnyboy, your best friend Ryan—he’s going out with Gerard Way. Nice—huh? Yeah. You were the only member in your band who didn’t know. You’re completely oblivious and 1,500 miles away, aren’t you? But hey, it’s nice sometimes, isn’t it?
“Spence—you didn’t tell him?” Ryan asked. What? Huh? How—“Who did?”
“No one,” Brendon and Spencer said together than exchanged looks, silently deciding Brendon should continue on his own, “I figured it out myself. It was kinda obvious, to be honest. I mean…well, yeah. It was easy, one of the lyric sheets you gave me to learn still had um…Gerard’s name in it. Twice.”
Ryan blushed. He hated letting people know what his songs were about—even if it was obvious. No! ‘Camisado,’ isn’t about a hospital and alcoholism and stuff! Seriously. Jac Vanek has nothing to do with any songs on any record he might have recorded—seriously.
“Yeah…” Spencer muttered, never one to acknowledge an awkward silence welcomingly, “Look Ry, we’re sorry. I mean…it’s only music, isn’t it? We were wrong to make you choose between us and him. It’s not a choice you can make.”
“No, it is,” Jon muttered, “I think though—I mean, you made the better choice.”
“Yeah?” Ryan raised his eyebrows hopefully, “So you’ll take me back?” Please, bring me in from the cold boys. It’s only warm when Gerard is here and currently, he’s over there. Please. Let me in.
“Of course!” Brendon laughed, “You were never out. I mean…who would write our songs? We’d be shit without you.” Nice to have you back Ryan. Now hopefully we get the real Ryan Ross this time. Not the fake one who’s heart is wherever Gerard Way is. Well that wouldn’t be too bad, just…not all the way.
And so Ryan grinned.
**
Meanwhile, Gerard was having his own confrontation of sorts. When he had seen Ryan go to talk to Brendon and the rest, he had figured everything would be fine—because you didn’t get up at seven AM just to go find a band member you were going to kick out of the band. Or at least you don’t, Gerard. Mostly ‘cause you’re lazy. And sleepy. And you’re usually drawing at this time of day.
“Hey Gee…what’s going on?” was the first question asked of him. Ray. The only member of the band who might have the courage to stand up to his insain band member.
“Well…you know, that’s a funny story.” And Mikey’d be glad to tell it. Do not add that, you freak! Your brother is not your confessional. He is not your ambassador. Shut up and confess to the choir now.
Three of the four men leaned in, intrigued.
“I’m in love. With Ryan Ross,” Gerard muttered quietly, looking at his scuffed shoes. There. He said it. Now they could take him or leave him.
“Oh. Okay,” Bob shrugged, “I like this one better, Gee. I like this one the best.”
“Yeah,” Mikey nodded.
“Agreed,” Ray nodded. Gerard and his various relationships always went unsaid around the tour bus, especially with boys. When they happened, they became a big deal. They would be important for a few days and die down again. Like always. But they were always stupid, skanky boys. Like that little boy known as Bert. But Ryan Ross was better, sweeter. A newer model. Gerard’s Bitch 2.0. And maybe it wasn’t really his bitch, per se. Just well…his boyfriend.
“And, Frank,” Gerard turned to the one member of his band that hadn’t said anything yet, “Frank?”
“Mmhm, Gerard?” Frank asked quietly, peering upwards towards his best friend. Oh dear. Apologize? Please Gerard? I’m so sorry! I was such a dick! Please Gee—I really…please.
“I’m sorry. I treated you like shit. It’s not your fault. That…asylum I guess, Sea Forest, was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Frank sniffed, unable to say anything, “Mmkay.”
“Alright?”
“Alright.”
“Are we good?”
“We’re good.”
Gerard smiled. He felt an arm around his stomach and for a moment took the time to realize the beauty that was Ryan Ross. They were alone now, as his band mates went to say their goodbyes to family members and their hellos to Ryan’s friends.
“I’m gonna miss you,” Ryan muttered, his chin on Gerard’s shoulder, his lips on his ear.
“Same. But this time, I think we’ll actually have cell phones and stuff.”
“Mmhmm. And I don’t have to tour for a month or so, so maybe I’ll fly out to see you.”
“Yeah? That’d be good.”
“Oh, Gee. There’s so much to do now. We can actually have a functioning, real relationship now. In the real world.”
“Whaddaya mean Ry?”
“I mean like…houses and friends and…well, media.”
Gerard smiled, “Ryan you’re so…twenty-one. But you’re also right. Can’t we deal with that later? I don’t want to think now. Well I do, but mostly it involves you and not…houses or clothes…”
“Kinky.”
“No shit.”
“Save the kinkiness for when I see you next?” Ryan kissed Gerard’s neck once, then replaced the kiss with his arms. He felt his hips placed against Gerard’s and the rub of denim against denim. Beautiful.
“Of course. I’ll see you soon though, I promise.”
“Keep that promise,” Ryan smiled, “And I’ll keep mine.”
“What’s yours?” Gerard smiled. The zipper on Ryan’s jeans caught on his and then moved on, side to side, as Ryan rocked back and forth, side to side.
“I love you. I think that’s it. And you love me.”
“Okay.”
“Gee! We really have to go! C’mon, even Mikey’s done saying goodbye,” came Frank’s shout from the tour bus window. Ah. The old Frank was back. Good thing, Gerard? Yes. Yes, very good.
“Goodbye.”
“Bye. I love you.”
One last kiss and Gerard was off, running up the steps to the bus, leaving Ryan behind once again. But this time Ryan wasn’t alone. He felt a rub on his back from Brendon and a slow comment from Alicia, Mikey’s wife.
“They’re always back. Don’t worry.”
Maybe you’re not so sick Ryan. Maybe you’re sick, but just…in a good way. Lovesick. Like Gerard doesn’t think insain is a bad thing. But maybe he’s more sain than you know. Dunno. Ry, you’ll never know Gerard’s mind. You’re not Gerard. But you’re…you. Sick. Beautiful, huh? Yes. Admit it to yourself Ry, you’re beautiful. You don’t hate yourself. You don’t hate anything—do you? Hmm…no. You don’t. Sick though, you’re still sick.
Yup.
Sick and Sain.
The End.
**
Before I go, I want to thank everyone who read, reviewed, supported and listened to me babble about this story for hours (read: my mother). There are a bunch of people who helped with this story, and I wouldn’t dare not mention them. There are a couple people I feel the need to thank. Druscilla, for reccing me (twice!) and her wonderful reviews, and for spreading the Ryrard love. The Way, who is my wonderful wifey, wasn’t too hot on this plot in the beginning and is mostly the one responsible for the ‘sain’ thing, because she caught my mistake. Shh, don’t tell. Sardonic Grin, your reviews made me smile. I had to read them a couple times to make sense of them. Darkened Angel, yes. I am god. And everyone else who I’m too lazy to list (Tokio, Bastard Son, Mr. Whirly!, Sensual Violation and so on…), thank you.
I’m not a big playlist-sharing person, but I guess for the sake of well…sainity, I’ll give you my personal writing play list too this.
7 Minutes in Heaven—Fall Out Boy
Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks—Panic! At the Disco
There's a Good Reason…—Panic! At the Disco
Demolition Lovers—My Chemical Romance
The Sharpest Lives—My Chemical Romance
My Way Home Is Through You—My Chemical Romance
Round Here—Counting Crows
Give 'em Hell Kid—My Chemical Romance
All That I've Got—The Used
Lying Is the Most Fun…—Panic! At the disco
This Is Halloween—Panic! At the Disco
Build God, Then We'll Talk—Panic! At the Disco
I Don't Love You—My Chemical Romance
It Hurts—Angels and Airwaves
Lunacy Fringe—The Used
Why Do You Love Me?—Garbage
London Beckoned…—Panic! At the Disco
Cemetery Drive—My Chemical Romance
Alison—Elvis Costello
There you have it. As an end of story comment, would you please comment even if you never have before? Thanks.
I will continue this if you want. In a sequel. But you have to tell me what you think I should do. Because I won’t write it if you don’t want it, I have other ideas.
If you want it, I shall most likely call it either Sick Boy or Black Sweatshirt Kids. It’s undecided as of so far.
Love and thanks,
Fish
“You’re an evil genius, you know that Gee?” Ryan groaned when he discovered what Gerard had thought of before his own mind was even awake.
“I try, I try. Now would you like to use my phone or yours?” Gerard grinned slyly. You are brilliant, Gerard. Pure brillance. Sain. You can be sain now, maybe forever. But—it is kinda fun being insain, isn’t it? Sain. Insain. Hm…sain. It’ll take some getting used to, but I guess you can probably follow it, right? Yeah.
“I’ll use mine, thank you. You’re insane.”
Gerard glanced over to ten feet away, where three of his four band mates watched him in curiosity, “No. I’m not insane. I’m insain.”
“Motherfucker, that’s what I just said.”
“No. You used an ‘e.’ I use an ‘i.’”
Ryan juggled his phone in his hands, “I-N-S-A-I-N? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Gerard blushed. It sounded stupid now. Petty and childish. “Yeah. Kinda stupid huh?”
“No, not at all. That’s pure brilliance, Gee. Brilliant. How long have you been doing that?”
“Since like…um, May? I think…”
Ryan grinned, “I still think that’s like…perfect. Fine, then you’re insain. God, I don’t have anything near as good as that except—I have a habit of calling myself sick.”
“Sick. Ryan you’re sick. Sick boy. Mmm…that’s cute,” Gerard smiled, “Fine you can be sick, and I guess I’ll be sain. Sick and Sain. Deal?”
“Sick and Sain. I like the sound.” See boy? There’s someone just as fucked up as you. And you thought you were the only one. Ha. Welcome to the real world. But being not so unique didn’t bother Ryan now. He was on air. Gerard loved him. Love. Love, love, love. Lovelovelovelovelove.
“Good—now call your friends,” Gerard muttered, looking over to his four band mates, in a cluster, talking and watching him holding hands with Ryan Ross, “I’ve gotta…take care of something.”
Ryan gulped as Gerard left him on his own, dialed Brendon’s number and waited for the phone to stop ringing. Please let it be a message. Please. Please.
“Ryan!”
That was not the phone.
“Ryan! Please! Ryan!”
Ryan hung up his phone and looked up. Brendon, Jon and Spencer were leaning against the fence, fighting off a couple overly enthusiastic young girls and receiving threatening glares from a security guard.
“Hey,” he almost smiled at the sight of Brendon kicking a girl in the shin.
“Hey! Fuck you!” she snapped.
“Fuck off, can’t you see we’re having a conversation?” Spencer snapped and the girl looked reproachful. God! What dicks. Panic! are so not cool anymore. Plus, like…oh. My. God. I think RyRo’s gay. And Brendon kicked me. Seriously, what the fuck? Maybe Jon’s nice at least. Nah, better not try.
“How’d you guys figure out where I was?” Ryan asked, astonished.
“We’re not stupid, Ry,” Jon muttered, “Gerard Way was here last night, you were here with Gerard Way. We figured you wouldn’t actually go on tour with them.”
“Look…Ryan, about yesterday,” Brendon sighed quietly, silencing Jon with a flick of his hand, “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…well, you know. You should um…fuck anyone you want. I don’t really think you’re gonna get AIDS or something…” He blushed a deep crimson.
“Stop, Bren,” Ryan said. This was more awkward than he had imagined, but at least it was easier. He had anticipated a shouting match, some more screams and maybe possibly a nice apology in the end. “I guess, I mean…I should have told you. It was stupid of me not too…”
“No it wasn’t, it’s your business. I talk too much, I know that.”
“Yeah,” Ryan snorted in slight laughter, “but so does Spencer.”
“Hey—I didn’t tell anyone,” Spencer defended himself.
“Yeah, I really had no idea until last night,” Jon admitted. It was a shock. Oh Jonnyboy, your best friend Ryan—he’s going out with Gerard Way. Nice—huh? Yeah. You were the only member in your band who didn’t know. You’re completely oblivious and 1,500 miles away, aren’t you? But hey, it’s nice sometimes, isn’t it?
“Spence—you didn’t tell him?” Ryan asked. What? Huh? How—“Who did?”
“No one,” Brendon and Spencer said together than exchanged looks, silently deciding Brendon should continue on his own, “I figured it out myself. It was kinda obvious, to be honest. I mean…well, yeah. It was easy, one of the lyric sheets you gave me to learn still had um…Gerard’s name in it. Twice.”
Ryan blushed. He hated letting people know what his songs were about—even if it was obvious. No! ‘Camisado,’ isn’t about a hospital and alcoholism and stuff! Seriously. Jac Vanek has nothing to do with any songs on any record he might have recorded—seriously.
“Yeah…” Spencer muttered, never one to acknowledge an awkward silence welcomingly, “Look Ry, we’re sorry. I mean…it’s only music, isn’t it? We were wrong to make you choose between us and him. It’s not a choice you can make.”
“No, it is,” Jon muttered, “I think though—I mean, you made the better choice.”
“Yeah?” Ryan raised his eyebrows hopefully, “So you’ll take me back?” Please, bring me in from the cold boys. It’s only warm when Gerard is here and currently, he’s over there. Please. Let me in.
“Of course!” Brendon laughed, “You were never out. I mean…who would write our songs? We’d be shit without you.” Nice to have you back Ryan. Now hopefully we get the real Ryan Ross this time. Not the fake one who’s heart is wherever Gerard Way is. Well that wouldn’t be too bad, just…not all the way.
And so Ryan grinned.
**
Meanwhile, Gerard was having his own confrontation of sorts. When he had seen Ryan go to talk to Brendon and the rest, he had figured everything would be fine—because you didn’t get up at seven AM just to go find a band member you were going to kick out of the band. Or at least you don’t, Gerard. Mostly ‘cause you’re lazy. And sleepy. And you’re usually drawing at this time of day.
“Hey Gee…what’s going on?” was the first question asked of him. Ray. The only member of the band who might have the courage to stand up to his insain band member.
“Well…you know, that’s a funny story.” And Mikey’d be glad to tell it. Do not add that, you freak! Your brother is not your confessional. He is not your ambassador. Shut up and confess to the choir now.
Three of the four men leaned in, intrigued.
“I’m in love. With Ryan Ross,” Gerard muttered quietly, looking at his scuffed shoes. There. He said it. Now they could take him or leave him.
“Oh. Okay,” Bob shrugged, “I like this one better, Gee. I like this one the best.”
“Yeah,” Mikey nodded.
“Agreed,” Ray nodded. Gerard and his various relationships always went unsaid around the tour bus, especially with boys. When they happened, they became a big deal. They would be important for a few days and die down again. Like always. But they were always stupid, skanky boys. Like that little boy known as Bert. But Ryan Ross was better, sweeter. A newer model. Gerard’s Bitch 2.0. And maybe it wasn’t really his bitch, per se. Just well…his boyfriend.
“And, Frank,” Gerard turned to the one member of his band that hadn’t said anything yet, “Frank?”
“Mmhm, Gerard?” Frank asked quietly, peering upwards towards his best friend. Oh dear. Apologize? Please Gerard? I’m so sorry! I was such a dick! Please Gee—I really…please.
“I’m sorry. I treated you like shit. It’s not your fault. That…asylum I guess, Sea Forest, was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Frank sniffed, unable to say anything, “Mmkay.”
“Alright?”
“Alright.”
“Are we good?”
“We’re good.”
Gerard smiled. He felt an arm around his stomach and for a moment took the time to realize the beauty that was Ryan Ross. They were alone now, as his band mates went to say their goodbyes to family members and their hellos to Ryan’s friends.
“I’m gonna miss you,” Ryan muttered, his chin on Gerard’s shoulder, his lips on his ear.
“Same. But this time, I think we’ll actually have cell phones and stuff.”
“Mmhmm. And I don’t have to tour for a month or so, so maybe I’ll fly out to see you.”
“Yeah? That’d be good.”
“Oh, Gee. There’s so much to do now. We can actually have a functioning, real relationship now. In the real world.”
“Whaddaya mean Ry?”
“I mean like…houses and friends and…well, media.”
Gerard smiled, “Ryan you’re so…twenty-one. But you’re also right. Can’t we deal with that later? I don’t want to think now. Well I do, but mostly it involves you and not…houses or clothes…”
“Kinky.”
“No shit.”
“Save the kinkiness for when I see you next?” Ryan kissed Gerard’s neck once, then replaced the kiss with his arms. He felt his hips placed against Gerard’s and the rub of denim against denim. Beautiful.
“Of course. I’ll see you soon though, I promise.”
“Keep that promise,” Ryan smiled, “And I’ll keep mine.”
“What’s yours?” Gerard smiled. The zipper on Ryan’s jeans caught on his and then moved on, side to side, as Ryan rocked back and forth, side to side.
“I love you. I think that’s it. And you love me.”
“Okay.”
“Gee! We really have to go! C’mon, even Mikey’s done saying goodbye,” came Frank’s shout from the tour bus window. Ah. The old Frank was back. Good thing, Gerard? Yes. Yes, very good.
“Goodbye.”
“Bye. I love you.”
One last kiss and Gerard was off, running up the steps to the bus, leaving Ryan behind once again. But this time Ryan wasn’t alone. He felt a rub on his back from Brendon and a slow comment from Alicia, Mikey’s wife.
“They’re always back. Don’t worry.”
Maybe you’re not so sick Ryan. Maybe you’re sick, but just…in a good way. Lovesick. Like Gerard doesn’t think insain is a bad thing. But maybe he’s more sain than you know. Dunno. Ry, you’ll never know Gerard’s mind. You’re not Gerard. But you’re…you. Sick. Beautiful, huh? Yes. Admit it to yourself Ry, you’re beautiful. You don’t hate yourself. You don’t hate anything—do you? Hmm…no. You don’t. Sick though, you’re still sick.
Yup.
Sick and Sain.
The End.
**
Before I go, I want to thank everyone who read, reviewed, supported and listened to me babble about this story for hours (read: my mother). There are a bunch of people who helped with this story, and I wouldn’t dare not mention them. There are a couple people I feel the need to thank. Druscilla, for reccing me (twice!) and her wonderful reviews, and for spreading the Ryrard love. The Way, who is my wonderful wifey, wasn’t too hot on this plot in the beginning and is mostly the one responsible for the ‘sain’ thing, because she caught my mistake. Shh, don’t tell. Sardonic Grin, your reviews made me smile. I had to read them a couple times to make sense of them. Darkened Angel, yes. I am god. And everyone else who I’m too lazy to list (Tokio, Bastard Son, Mr. Whirly!, Sensual Violation and so on…), thank you.
I’m not a big playlist-sharing person, but I guess for the sake of well…sainity, I’ll give you my personal writing play list too this.
7 Minutes in Heaven—Fall Out Boy
Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks—Panic! At the Disco
There's a Good Reason…—Panic! At the Disco
Demolition Lovers—My Chemical Romance
The Sharpest Lives—My Chemical Romance
My Way Home Is Through You—My Chemical Romance
Round Here—Counting Crows
Give 'em Hell Kid—My Chemical Romance
All That I've Got—The Used
Lying Is the Most Fun…—Panic! At the disco
This Is Halloween—Panic! At the Disco
Build God, Then We'll Talk—Panic! At the Disco
I Don't Love You—My Chemical Romance
It Hurts—Angels and Airwaves
Lunacy Fringe—The Used
Why Do You Love Me?—Garbage
London Beckoned…—Panic! At the Disco
Cemetery Drive—My Chemical Romance
Alison—Elvis Costello
There you have it. As an end of story comment, would you please comment even if you never have before? Thanks.
I will continue this if you want. In a sequel. But you have to tell me what you think I should do. Because I won’t write it if you don’t want it, I have other ideas.
If you want it, I shall most likely call it either Sick Boy or Black Sweatshirt Kids. It’s undecided as of so far.
Love and thanks,
Fish