Married In My Mind

“Me and Gerard are gonna take 5!” Mikey called out to the rest of the band, waving a pack of cigarettes.
I followed M out of the practice room, down a flights of stairs and out into the back parking lot. I found a good spot to lean against the building, and lit a cigarette. I puffed in hard in desperate need of a nicotine fix.
Mikey was staring at me with a curious, expectant expression. An unlit cigarette dangled in between his fingers.
“So?” Mikey pressed.
“We haven’t actually like… we’ve just been fooling around not actually… like, fucking.” I shrugged.
“Gross. I don’t want details dude.” He said, scrunching his face up.
“You’re the one who wanted to know so bad.” I grumbled.
“I just wanted to know how long...” M sighed.
“Maybe.. 3 weeks? Since I relapsed basically.” I mused, puffing my cigarette. “I mean, things only got… we only started to be like… y’know intimate or whatever in the last couple of days.” I shrugged, trying to keep the word choice PG.
“You guys have been seeing each other this whole time!?” He practically shouted, eyes widening. Well, it wasn’t very loud, but for Mikey it was.
“Keep your voice down.” I hissed. “But yes. Sort of. It’s really, really complicated.” I sighed dramatically.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” He asked, obvious dejection in his voice.
“I’m sorry I just… The first time it happened I had a hard time believing it was even real so I lied. And then… it was just easier to lie about it. Are you like, mad at me? ...For not telling you?” I asked.
“Getting mad at you isn’t going to solve anything.” Mikey shrugged, blinking rapidly and pushing his glasses up his nose like he did when he was frustrated. “But I’m definitely seeing a pattern here, Gerard. I don’t get why you won’t just trust me with shit like this? I’m not gonna judge you and you know that…”
He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up and then training the locks into a sweeping frame around his face. “It just feels like before you got clean… You’re not telling me shit anymore.” There was a heavy look in his eyes. “I thought we told each other everything.”
I gulped, feeling guilty for all the secrets, but not wanting to tell him about the other secrets. Like, Bert and or Bert's pills.
“You don’t have to tell me everything now” He continued. I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “This isn’t an interrogation. I’m just worried.”
“I’m sorry.” I mumbled.
“So you and Frank broke up? Like last night?” He asked.
“This morning.” I sighed.
“Oh so you guys were like… oh.” He whispered, finally lighting his cigarette.
“Yeah.” I breathed, feeling tears prick at my eyes.
“Shoulda figured with the wet hair an all… Oh my god. I can’t believe- You guys were like, a thing.”
“Yeah.” I repeated, chewing my lip.
“Holy fuck! Gerard, are you okay?” He asked.
“I don’t know. Yes but no. Depends.” I said honestly, voice wavering involuntarily. I felt a tear spill over. “I’ll be fine eventually.”
“So who dumped who?” He asked.
I gawked at him. The pathetic hopelessness in my chest was back. This was definitely gonna take way more than 5 minutes. I could feel myself getting worked up and the rest of the band would be looking for us soon. I puffed hard on my cigarette.
“I guess he dumped me. Not the other way around.” I whimpered. “We didn’t really break up cause we weren’t exactly together. But we’re definitely not going to be seeing each other anymore...”
I took a deep breath, trying to hold back a sob.
“Can we talk about this later though? I’m kind of a wreck right now.” I choked.
Mikey pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly. “Of course. If you’ll actually fucking talk to me about it.” he mumbled against my hair. I could hear the hurt in his voice.
“Yeah.” I sighed. “I will, M. I swear.”
What a perfect fucking day. I’d been dumped by someone who was never even mine to begin with and my brother thought I didn’t trust him anymore.
At least it couldn’t get worse, I told myself.

We finished our cigarettes in comfortable silence and went back inside.
I continued to try and keep my eyes off of Frank which was harder than it should’ve been. He kept floating around the room, no space was safe to stare off into. I’d close my eyes and take some deep breaths to try and cleanse my thoughts of the anxious, helpless feelings that kept building up. Then every time I’d open my eyes Frank and his stupid, beautiful face would be right in my line of sight.
He didn’t look sad or happy. He just looked blank.
That was probably why the record label had put that clause in our contract… I would’ve happily abandoned my band if it meant I didn’t have to watch the person I loved go about their day acting like they were just fine without me.
I couldn’t have been happier when practice was finally over.

After practice I had some time to kill until Mikey came by to pick me up for this sceney party Brian had asked us all to make an appearance at. Some record label was thinking about signing some band and so everyone was going to some venue for drinks and networking. That was as much as my misery-clouded brain could gather. I didn’t care who was going to be there. The only person I didn’t want to see was Frank and he would definitely be there.
After that I was working some after party for an art opening with Bert and some of his friends from the art world.

After getting dressed up for the party (in all black, naturally) I sat on my couch and tried to zone out on cartoons. The cartoons just made me think about Frank and what he’d said.
I couldn’t change his mind but I could certainly change the channel. I flipped to some action movie, reasoning that explosions had nothing to do with Frank so the movie wouldn’t trigger any thoughts of him.
But then I was just thinking about not thinking about Frank.
I couldn’t get Frank’s stupid, perfect lips out of my head. And the way he’d said he loved me was burned into my brain and playing on repeat. And all that shit about how he wanted to be together and go out on real dates...
I was so confused and hurt. I couldn’t believe he’d changed his mind after everything he’d said the night before. After what we’d done.
Sneaking around wasn’t a solution. I could accept that Frank was right about that.
But the way things had gone at band practice wasn’t a solution either. I would have a complete and total meltdown if I had to see Frank like this everyday.
I stared at my phone screen and drafted a text. I didn’t want to talk to Frank. That was a lie. Frank was the only person I wanted to talk to. Either way he deserved to know that Mikey knew about us.

“Mikey knows. Please don’t be mad. I didn’t tell him. He found out on his own.”

I bit my lip hard and pressed send. I cursed under my breath for sending the text message in perfect grammar and spelling. It made it too obvious that I had typed it out 20 times, revising carefully and making a point of not saying too much or taking an emotional standing on the matter.
He didn’t reply but I knew he’d read it eventually.
He always read my texts. He’d said so once before.

On the car ride over to the party I told Mikey about our entire relationship. The nightmares, the handjobs, the appointments I drove him to, the conversations we’d had, the conversations we’d avoided having. Mikey stayed respectful and reassuring throughout our whole talk, not judging me for the way I’d handled things.
“I’m just so proud of you for staying clean through all of this, Gee.” he said, squinting and staring out the back of his car as he tried to parallel park in a spot close to the party. His tongue caught between his teeth in concentration like it always did when he parked in a tight spot.
“It’s not that big of a deal.” I sighed, unbuckling my seatbelt and slipping out the passenger door.
“It is though!.” he called over the top of the car. “I couldn’t fucking keep it together like you have.”
Icy brown leaves crunched under our feet as we walked towards the venue. Usually when I told someone everything there was to tell, I’d feel better because I’d let it all out.
Instead of feeling any kind of relief, I was just tired on top of the despair I already felt.

I ordered a diet coke from the bar, hoping the caffeine would pick me up. I took a sip, letting the fizzy sensation flood my mouth. I could almost pretend it was beer if I focused on the carbonation instead of the flavor. I immediately spotted the back of Frank’s head in a crowd of people and moved towards the opposite end of the party, pulling Mikey by the arm.
“I didn’t know there’d be karaoke here! Can we?” Mikey asked excitedly against my ear so that I could hear him over the music. He pointed towards two people twirling around on a small stage with microphones in their hands. It certainly explained the slightly off-key singing coming through the PA system.
“Sign us up.” I smiled.
“Can we do The Smiths!?” He yelled.
I nodded.
He practically skipped through the crowd towards the sign-up sheet. I quickly lost his mop of perfectly messy hair in the dimly lit sea of strangers.

“Damn, Gee.” a familiar voice said.
I spun around to acknowledge the sinister figure I sensed behind me.
Bert, naturally.
He’d touched up his dye job since I’d last seen him. His shock of black hair contrasted vividly his white suit jacket.
“Bert.”
“How are you, my darling?” He asked with a smirk, sliding his arm through mine.
“Shitty.” I replied without thinking. He pulled me into a corner of the room where the sound of karaoke music was less overwhelming.
“Oh what’d Frankie do now?” He cooed.
“It’s not about-” I started, then shook my head. “We kinda broke up.” I squeezed a dent into my soda can absentmindedly.
“Broke up, huh? I thought you guys weren’t like, a thing?”
“We weren’t. But now we’re really not.” I explained.
“I think I understand.” He smiled. “I’m so sorry. I know you really liked him.”
He pulled me in for a hug. I relaxed against him and took a deep breath. He smelled like cigarettes and booze and some type of cologne that was earthy and sweet.
“So… does that mean we’ll have more time together then?” Bert asked.
I nodded, smiling weakly.
“See? It’s not all bad.” He said, sliding my hair out of my face. The backs of his fingers brushed against my cheek.
“Yeah. You’re right.” I sighed. “Thanks… I think I needed to hear someone say that.”
“Listen, I gotta go make some rounds. But if I don’t see you around here again I’ll see you at that after party. We can talk more then, ‘kay?”
“I’ll text you.” I agreed.
“Take care of yourself tonight, alright? Things’ll get easier, I promise.” He said, pecking me on the cheek, and then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd.
I realized that I hadn’t even bothered to ask Bert how Bert was doing. It was sweet of him to be so protective and caring of me, but I suddenly felt like a shitty fucking friend. It was always about me or me and Frank. I didn’t want it to be like that anymore. I didn’t want to be defined by my feelings for Frank.
I felt a blip of anxiety as I thought about My Chem’s fanbase. I’d stayed off all social media ever since things blew up with my fanfictions. If I wanted people to think of me for anything else I’d have to start being something else.
I pulled out my phone and opened twitter. I cringed at all the notifications… all mentions in tweets proclaiming that everyone knew and had always known that “Frerard is real.”
“Just kill me.” I whispered, scrolling through my feed.
I opened a draft. I hadn’t posted anything to twitter in over 3 weeks. It was intimidating to try to think of what to say. I was completely prepared to act like nothing had happened but that didn’t mean I knew where to start.
“Gerard and Mikey Way, please come to the stage!” a woman’s voice announced over the PA system.
I waded through the crowd towards the karaoke machine. I was still thinking about what to tweet and how fucking stupid twitter was anyways when someone handed me a microphone.
I looked around and realized Mikey wasn’t anywhere near. Of course, the opening measures to “There Is A Light That Never Goes Out” by The Smiths, one of Mikey’s all-time favorite songs, started playing without him.
“Take me out tonight.” I sang into the mic, glancing over at the lyrics changing colors on the TV screen. I knew the words by heart but it was easier than staring at all the strangers talking and laughing in little groups all throughout the room.
I slipped into that zoned out state I always fell into when I sang, not even really thinking about what I was doing anymore, just feeling it. My skull buzzed with the happy familiarity of the words.
“And if a double-decker bus crashes into us-”
I noticed Frank was standing in the crowd somewhere, watching me. He knocked back the rest of whatever he was drinking.
“To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.”
I stared right back at him as I sang those words. He wiped the back of his hand against his cheeks. It sort of looked like he was wiping away tears, but I couldn’t be sure in the dim of the room.
“And if a ten ton truck crashes into us, to die by your side- well the pleasure and the privilege is mine.”
Scratch that. Frank was totally crying like a lovesick idiot.
It was so sweet and sappy and pathetic. I wanted to drop the mic and run over to him and kiss him in front of everyone. Fuck the rules. Fuck the band. But if I wanted to ever be known for anything other than loving Frank Iero, I’d stay right where I was and finish the song.
So that was exactly what I did.
“There is a light and it never goes out.” I finished, flashing Frank a small, sad smile. He wasn’t even standing where he’d been standing so I had no way of knowing if he’d seen it and knew it was meant for him. I handed off the mic and stepped out of the lights. Where the fuck was Mikey when you needed him?
I waded through the partygoers, avoiding where I’d last seen Frank standing. I stepped out into the cold night and pulled out my cigarettes. There was no one else outside of the club. It was almost too windy to smoke - that was probably why. I leaned against the exterior wall of the building and cupped my hand around my cigarette to light it away from the wind.

I texted Mikey to tell him I couldn’t be around Frank and that I needed to leave. After that I called Bert and told him I was heading to the other party early and that I was walking. It was 40 degrees and the second party was a good 2 or 3 miles but I had a thick coat on and I needed to clear my head. I pulled my hood up and and adjusted my scarf to cover the lower half of my face.

My head was far from clear by the time I made it to the after party. I ended up getting to the place about the same time as Bert. He shot me a reassuring smile as we went inside, arm in arm.
We’d worked it out that I would hang out in the hallway by the bathroom. Bert and this other guy that Bert hadn’t bothered to introduce me to would go around the party and direct people to me, texting me to let me know what they wanted and how much money they were supposed to hand me. I’d “just sit and look pretty” (as Bert had put it) and handle the actual transactional portion of the process.
I’d found a cozy chair at the end of the hallway. It was a great vantage point for staring at all the fucked up party-goers in their shimmery outfits. My stare was caught by a girl with blue-green hair. I wondered if I could pull off those colors. She made it look so easy.
At that point I started chain smoking, flicking the ashes into a drink someone had handed me so I wouldn’t be tempted to gulp it down.
When customers came to me I’d pull them into the bathroom to exchange the pills for cash like some kind of dysfunctional alchemist, turning feelings into wealth. I made a point to never look at their faces, worried I wouldn’t like what I’d see.

I slumped back into the cozy chair, suddenly desperate for a cup of coffee. Someone had slung their coat over the back of the chair while I was in bathroom with that guy with the low voice.
I went back to scrolling through my old tweets, trying desperately to remember who the fuck I had been before all this shit with Frank. I found myself grinning at the stupid shit I used to say. I couldn’t explain why I felt like I was a completely different person now. There were the obvious things, like the blip in my sobriety, but there was something else about me that was different in this sinister, irreversible sort of way.
I wanted to go back to being the person I was before all this and I didn’t know how. I felt immensely stupid that twitter was what lead me to thinking about it. My grandmother, when she was alive, was always saying that inspiration came from the strangest places and that I shouldn’t question it. So I didn’t. Even about the stupidest, littlest things.

A text flashed across my screen from Bert’s friend (who I’d literally entered as a contact in my phone as ‘Bert’s Friend’). It said “pretty goth boy headed towards u. 10 pills/$120”
I closed the text and lit another cigarette, feeling the bag of pills as I tucked my pack back into my pocket.
“Gerard?” someone called out.
“Please don’t call me that here.” I said, flicking ash into my drink.
Whoever was standing in front of me didn’t say anything back, so I dared a glance upward...

...not expecting to see Frank glaring back at me.
If I’d thought things couldn’t have gotten any worse before, I was dead-wrong.

Notes

okay. so that shit with the karaoke was hella cheesy and i know that and i'm sorry. i just really wanted Frank crying over Gerard singing a song that was emotionally relevant to their predicament. i needed that in my life. ~*~*~*~*

is this fic doing okay? do you think it's gone downhill?
it's about to get more dramatic. idk how that's even possible, but it is.

please let me know what you think.

thanks,
m