Sequel: Sick Boy ›
Sick and Sain
Chapter 8
[A/N: The Way, I hope this part makes you happy. Can you find your shout out? And those who read and don't comment, please do. You make me sad.]
Mikey Way sat in his apartment in deep thought. Growing up, he had wanted to be just like his brother. Perfect. Smart. Sweet. Nice. Wonderful. Well…that image of his brother had disintegrated by the time he was ten, but he had always looked up to him to some extent. Even when they fought, even when they weren’t speaking it was always going around in his mind that he could work to be as good at something as Gerard was. First it had been drawing. Mikey could draw pretty well, but not as good as Gerard. Then music. Mikey had learned how to play bass so he could be in Gerard’s damn band. Then fans. Oh Mikey had his dedicated fan base, but Gerard’s was twice that. Gerard. Gerard. Gerard. It had always been about Gerard. Never Mikey. Hell, he was still “Mikey,” like a little kid. Not “Mike,” or “Michael.” Then again, it wasn’t like he really cared. He was just pissed off. It was a better name than Gerard. That made him sound like a stupid vampire or something.
Now though—he had no intentions of ever wanting to be like Gerard. He was mad, insane, crazy. He had broken down, fallen apart and crumbled to pieces. Frank had been right—Gerard needed help. And the only person he was going to listen to was Mikey, his baby brother. His best friend.
It had started in April—at the ‘Teenagers’ video shoot. It wasn’t unusual for Gerard to act spasmodic on stage, Mikey would have been surprised if it were any different. But he was acting different around the fans—more like the stage Gerard than the normal Gerard. Frank and Mikey had been the only two to observe this—Ray and Bob had shrugged it off—but it hadn’t worried them immensely. They were on camera, shooting videos, too busy. It didn’t do good for Gerard to go around switching his personality—did it?
But then, it had never stopped. On the bus, with the fans, it was always like the Gerard on stage. Overdramatic, overbearing, too much to take. He was no longer as calm and easygoing as Mikey liked. He was uptight, talking in his sleep and anxious all the time. It would annoy Mikey and Frank at first but by the time the tour was drawing to a close it had gone too far. He was crazy, insane. He had to be. What else was happening to him?
Looking back though, had Gerard really been that bad? Had he been worse than…say when he was drunk all the time? On drugs? Just gotten dumped? Was he worse than all those times? No. He wasn’t. But what had possessed Mikey and Frank to think Gerard was sick, for lack of a better word? Maybe it was that he was changing. He was under stress. Under pressure. But Mikey didn’t want him to change. He wanted him to be the same. He loved his brother just the way he was. He was a perfect brother in Mikey’s eyes. One time when they were growing up, Mikey had been about thirteen and Gerard sixteen, Mikey had cursed at the dinner table. Their mother—as most mothers often do—frowned upon this and scolded her son. But Gerard had come to the rescue. “It’s my fault. I said that around him. Sorry.”.
So instead of Mikey, Gerard had taken the verbal beating, nodded and shrugged on cue until their mother finally gave up and went quiet.
“Thanks,” Mikey had said later that night.
“Whatever,” Gerard had muttered, not paying attention to his baby brother, “Don’t curse around her. That’s fucking stupid. Plus, I probably did say it around you.”
It hadn’t been much, Gerard had probably forgotten the incident within the week, but it meant a lot to Mikey. He always remembered it because it proved to him that his brother cared about him. His brother was his best friend. His soul mate. Not in an incest-type way but they had a bond that only siblings possess. It’s a deep understanding that there is no greater love than between them. Mikey and Gerard had grown up together. They had lived together, died together, starved together and hurt together. They had worked, played, loved and hated all together. Looking at a picture of the entire band, it was plain to see that wherever there was a Gerard, a Mikey was not far behind. On his left, as Frank flanked him on the right. Done. Simple. That’s the way it was.
On sudden impulse, but not really because the thought had been brewing in his mind for weeks, he just didn’t know it, Mikey picked up the phone. He dialed in seven digits and went about waiting for the message machine—because Frank never answered his phone.
“Frankie,” he said finally, “I’m going to whatever the fuck that place is that we put Gerard in. I want my brother back. They can’t have my brother. Yeah, bye. Call me.”
And so, with a kiss on the cheek to his wife, a phone call to Southwestern Airlines, and a moment to consider whether or not to bring overnight clothes, Mikey set off to get back his brother.
Mikey Way sat in his apartment in deep thought. Growing up, he had wanted to be just like his brother. Perfect. Smart. Sweet. Nice. Wonderful. Well…that image of his brother had disintegrated by the time he was ten, but he had always looked up to him to some extent. Even when they fought, even when they weren’t speaking it was always going around in his mind that he could work to be as good at something as Gerard was. First it had been drawing. Mikey could draw pretty well, but not as good as Gerard. Then music. Mikey had learned how to play bass so he could be in Gerard’s damn band. Then fans. Oh Mikey had his dedicated fan base, but Gerard’s was twice that. Gerard. Gerard. Gerard. It had always been about Gerard. Never Mikey. Hell, he was still “Mikey,” like a little kid. Not “Mike,” or “Michael.” Then again, it wasn’t like he really cared. He was just pissed off. It was a better name than Gerard. That made him sound like a stupid vampire or something.
Now though—he had no intentions of ever wanting to be like Gerard. He was mad, insane, crazy. He had broken down, fallen apart and crumbled to pieces. Frank had been right—Gerard needed help. And the only person he was going to listen to was Mikey, his baby brother. His best friend.
It had started in April—at the ‘Teenagers’ video shoot. It wasn’t unusual for Gerard to act spasmodic on stage, Mikey would have been surprised if it were any different. But he was acting different around the fans—more like the stage Gerard than the normal Gerard. Frank and Mikey had been the only two to observe this—Ray and Bob had shrugged it off—but it hadn’t worried them immensely. They were on camera, shooting videos, too busy. It didn’t do good for Gerard to go around switching his personality—did it?
But then, it had never stopped. On the bus, with the fans, it was always like the Gerard on stage. Overdramatic, overbearing, too much to take. He was no longer as calm and easygoing as Mikey liked. He was uptight, talking in his sleep and anxious all the time. It would annoy Mikey and Frank at first but by the time the tour was drawing to a close it had gone too far. He was crazy, insane. He had to be. What else was happening to him?
Looking back though, had Gerard really been that bad? Had he been worse than…say when he was drunk all the time? On drugs? Just gotten dumped? Was he worse than all those times? No. He wasn’t. But what had possessed Mikey and Frank to think Gerard was sick, for lack of a better word? Maybe it was that he was changing. He was under stress. Under pressure. But Mikey didn’t want him to change. He wanted him to be the same. He loved his brother just the way he was. He was a perfect brother in Mikey’s eyes. One time when they were growing up, Mikey had been about thirteen and Gerard sixteen, Mikey had cursed at the dinner table. Their mother—as most mothers often do—frowned upon this and scolded her son. But Gerard had come to the rescue. “It’s my fault. I said that around him. Sorry.”.
So instead of Mikey, Gerard had taken the verbal beating, nodded and shrugged on cue until their mother finally gave up and went quiet.
“Thanks,” Mikey had said later that night.
“Whatever,” Gerard had muttered, not paying attention to his baby brother, “Don’t curse around her. That’s fucking stupid. Plus, I probably did say it around you.”
It hadn’t been much, Gerard had probably forgotten the incident within the week, but it meant a lot to Mikey. He always remembered it because it proved to him that his brother cared about him. His brother was his best friend. His soul mate. Not in an incest-type way but they had a bond that only siblings possess. It’s a deep understanding that there is no greater love than between them. Mikey and Gerard had grown up together. They had lived together, died together, starved together and hurt together. They had worked, played, loved and hated all together. Looking at a picture of the entire band, it was plain to see that wherever there was a Gerard, a Mikey was not far behind. On his left, as Frank flanked him on the right. Done. Simple. That’s the way it was.
On sudden impulse, but not really because the thought had been brewing in his mind for weeks, he just didn’t know it, Mikey picked up the phone. He dialed in seven digits and went about waiting for the message machine—because Frank never answered his phone.
“Frankie,” he said finally, “I’m going to whatever the fuck that place is that we put Gerard in. I want my brother back. They can’t have my brother. Yeah, bye. Call me.”
And so, with a kiss on the cheek to his wife, a phone call to Southwestern Airlines, and a moment to consider whether or not to bring overnight clothes, Mikey set off to get back his brother.