Saturday, December 15th
"Damn, Mom," Frank breathed out, gaping at the palace-esque building before him. "How'd you get an appointment here, of all places?"
Juliet smiled at her son's amazement. "Barry Way is a pretty big patriot," replied Juliet, ruffling her son's hair as she passed him. "That was enough to get me a few free appointments and a discount on them all."
The tattooed boy nodded appreciatively. "I can see that."
"Speaking of such" -- he doubted whatever she had to say was related to his previous statement at all -- "Christina Way, my other therapist, said you could wander around the house while we're talking. She put emphasis on staying out of the basement though, so I suggest you comply. Okay, sweetie?"
Frank smiled at his mom and hugged her once. "Yeah Mom, I'll do that." He knew he was lying, but what teenager wouldn't be sucked into something so obviously suspicious?
Knocking on the door, Juliet ruffled her son's brown hair once more before it was opened. A young woman in a maid's uniform and a feather duster in hand stood there, smiling with sparkly blue eyes. "Please, come in," greeted the maid in a heavy French accent. Could this get anymore cliche?
As if the universe was hell-bent on proving Frank wrong, they stepped into what he assumed God's colon would look like; gold and marble covering the room with burgundy walls and several fancy-molded thresholds to different rooms. The maid smiled warmly at the family and hurried into one of the thresholds, returning with a couple who shared their dark hair. The woman had bright green eyes and the man was sporting glasses, hiding shining brown orbs.
"Hi!" chirped the woman, holding her hand out for the two to shake. "I'm Christi Way, and this is Barry, my husband. Please, Juliet, come with us. Frank, feel free to roam the halls. Just remember, stay out of the basement."
Was there any way in hell he wasn't going snooping down there now?
"Yes ma'am," replied Frank pleasantly, holding back a mischievous smirk.
As the four adults voided the room, Frank started strolling down the corridor at the other side of the room, whistling something severely off-key and stuffing his hands in his pockets. He may have looked nonchalant for anymore servants he may find (who the hell has servants in America? He may have been stereotyping, but he thought that kind of stuff was only for England), but, in reality, he was incredibly excited and nervous to find this infamous basement. What could be in it? Torture devices, the dead bodies of all those who appose the Way's, maybe an evil beast with a taste for human flesh!
He somehow doubted that was the case, otherwise he would have turned around and walked right out of God's digestive system. He'd be damned if he was going to be eaten by something before he even graduated highschool!
And with that strangely articulated thought, Frank found stairs. Stairs leading down. A flash of adrenaline shot through his veins, making him shudder in both fear and exhilaration. He crept down the surprisingly short flight of stairs and looked at the heavy wooden door that now stood between him and his prize. It was mocking him, telling him he couldn't do it with it's enormous size.
You know what? Fuck the door.
Frank pushed it lightly, before deciding it was too heavy for that and shoved his shoulder against the wood, hoping he didn't get a splinter in some painful, unreachable spot that made him cringe, just thinking about it. The door gave way, swinging open just enough for him to slip inside. When the door swung closed again, he was bathed in a surreal blanket of darkness, the only light being what floated in from the small basement window.
Groping blindly for the switch, Frank squinted when the light suddenly flickered on, revealing a messy room fit for a teenage boy. It was covered in paper, decorated with words and pictures respectively. A small pile of clothes sat in one corner, other hung neatly in a small closet near the window.
After surveying the room and finding it confusingly similar to his own (minus a load of papers and a television), his eyes settled on a huddled figure sitting near an unmade bed, peering at him with the utmost confusion written on the pale face. His pretty hazel eyes glinted with uncertainty as he stared. Black hair settled his face and neck, accenting the pale skin even more so. He stood slowly, his joints popping along the way, a baggy hoodie hanging limply off of his thin frame. He shuffled closer to Frank slowly, as if he were frightened.
"W-who are you?" he asked timidly, his voice cracking every few syllables. It sounded as if his vocal chords were a bit dusty. Frank thought back to the Wizard of Oz and the oil can they used on the Tin Man.
Frank straightened a little, replying with "I'm Frank Iero. My mother is a patient of Mr. and Mrs. Way."
The boy seemed even more frightened at that, slinking away quickly. "You shouldn't be here; She will not be pleased," he warned in a shaky voice.
Ignoring his warning, Frank plowed on. "Who're you? I thought the Way's only have one son?"
"I am Gerard Way; unknown elder son of the Ways," he murmured back, gazing at him with eyes glimmering with innocence.
"Unknown?" Frank demanded, his pitch rising slightly. "Why?"
"They said I was a flaw, so They put me here."
Frank was more or less appalled by the conversation, no matter how brief. A flaw? What the fuck was that about?! Advancing closer, Frank carefully watched Gerard as the boy settled on the bed, wide eyes gazing at him curiously. "What do you mean, 'flaw'?"
Gerard glanced down, as if ashamed. "I am insane, so They say. Schizophrenic," replied the black-haired boy. Frank finally sat on the bed, a few feet away from Gerard. So, this was what was hidden in the basement? A scrawny teenage boy with schizophrenia? Was he kept down there simply because his parents were ashamed of him? He wondered who knew about Gerard; his parents, of course, his brother maybe? He assumed the house staff did, especially if his parents were as embarrassed of him as he thought. But who else?
"Hey, Gerard," Frank edged, gazing at the scrawny boy carefully. He looked so crestfallen. "Does Mikey know you're down here?"
Gerard's eyes lit up at the sound of his brother's name. "Mikey. It has been so long since I have seen little Mikey. The week he was brought home, They put me away," he mused whimsically, falling back on the bed with a content sigh. It seemed to bring him so much joy, just thinking about the boy who didn't even know he had a brother.
"How old were you when they out you in here?"
"They," he stressed, sitting up and looking Frank in the eye, "sent me down here when I was three." Now, Frank didn't know much about three year olds, but her assumed they weren't very competent and putting one in a basement to live in didn't seem especially reasonable. The two boys could here Frank's mom calling for him from above. Gerard suddenly looked scared, his eyes widening significantly and he seemed to shrink. "You will come back, yes?" he murmured, leaning towards Frank slightly.
It was heartbreaking to see a teenage boy looking so young and helpless, begging for someone he had just met to return. "Of course, Gerard." The boy's face lit up and he tackled Frank in a hug, sending them both falling back onto the bed. He clutched the front of Frank's hoodie and sniffed him lightly. Sniffed? What the fuck, Gerard?
"Thank you."
And as Frank closed the heavy wooden door, leaving a beaming, waving Gerard to swim in the darkness, he couldn't help but wish he could get his new friend out of there. He seemed so naive, like a toddler or a sheltered teenager. Well, maybe because that's exactly what he was; a sheltered teenager, swept away from the world at such a tender age. And he wanted nothing more than to find a way to get the eldest Way son out of the basement.
Time to get the gang together.
BRAIN TRUST!
Too much Scrubs.

Notes

How's the new story, guys? Yeah, it was inspired by a dream I had yesterday night. Except not quite so creepy. Stupid overactive imagination...* desolves into incoherent mumbling*. Anyways, tell me what you think.
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-Stitches