Waycest through the years
From Gee to Mikey
Gerard’s POV
I was three when you were born. It was a cold night in September. Mom and Dad had left me home alone with Grandma Elena. I didn’t mind though, Grandma was always fun. She gave me ice cream and let me stay up past bedtime. Then she told me stories of monsters. I always loved when she did that. I was curious about where Mom and Dad had gone, though, so I decided to ask.
“Gamma, where Mama?” I said.
Grandma smiled warmly down at me, “Your mother and father have gone to get you new brother.”
“Budder?” Mother had told me of this strange brother person, but I didn’t quite understand what it meant.
“Yes, his name is Michael. He’s going to grow up with you and keep you and your parents company.”
“And you!” I said, not liking that grandma was leaving herself out.
She chuckled, “Yes, and me. Now go to sleep. Your father should be back in the morning.”
“Okay,” I said and closed my eyes. I t was three weeks later that they brought you home. You were just a squishy bundle in Mom’s arms. You cried a lot, and you smelled bad. I didn’t like you. Not one bit. Especially since Mom and Dad kept cooing over you and wouldn’t give me any attention. I wanted you to go back where you came from.
“Gerard, come see your brother,” Mom said.
“No!” I yelled and ran off to my room. Childish of me, yes, but hey, I was only three.
Mom came in a while later and rubbed my back, “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to say hi to Mikey?”
I shook my head, “He smells. And you lub him more.”
“Oh, Gerard, don’t be silly. Of course we don’t love him more. We love you both the same. And he’s supposed to be smelly, he’s a baby.”
I looked up at her with tears in my eyes. Maybe she was right. She was my mom after all. She couldn’t just abandon her love for me in three weeks, “I’ll say hi…” I conceded.
She led me down the hall to their room where your temporary cradle was set up. Then she lifted me up so I could see over the edge. You smiled up at me from the cradle. Your brown eyes were bright and shiny and your chubby face was so cute. I couldn’t help smiling slightly. Then you reached up and grasped the air. I reached down and you clasped your tiny hand around my finger. With that connection, I knew we would be best friends. I was eight when you were five. It was your first day of kindergarten, and you were scared. I tried to tell you there was nothing to worry about, but you wouldn’t listen to me. You insisted on holding my hand to the bus stop. Then you sat by me on the bus, even though my friend wanted me to sit by him. I didn’t mind though. I liked making you feel better.
When we got to your classroom, you clung onto my arm. I tried to shove you off but you held tight.
“I’m scared, Gee!” you complained, “They won’t like me. Don’t leave me here.”
“I have to, Mikes. I have my own class. It’s my first day of third grade.”
“Take me with you! I’ll be good, I promise!”
I shook my head, hating that I had to hurt you. I was about to leave when your teacher came over.
“Having trouble?” she asked.
“Yeah. He doesn’t want me to leave him alone, but I have to go to my class.”
She tapped her chin, eying the way you were holding my arm, “What’s your teacher’s name? I’ll tell her that you sat in to help your brother adjust. It’s the first day, after all. You’ll just miss the general introductions.”
You nodded your head enthusiastically. I had no choice. The rest of the day was spent with you answering general knowledge questions and making friends. You stopped holding onto me after about an hour, but I stayed to see if you’d be okay. It hurt slightly, knowing you weren’t going to need me anymore. But it was worth it to stay, because every time you did something good you would look over and grin at me. Y ou were ten when I was thirteen. It was a confusing time for me. I was taking my first steps into adolescence. Dad took me aside to explain things to me one day, but most of it just embarrassed me. Afterwards I went to your room and asked if you wanted to pretend Star Wars with me. You were going to be Luke Skywalker and I was going to be Chubakka. It was a game only me and you knew about.
That day you wanted to do something different, though, “Be Princess Laea!” you exclaimed at me excitedly.
“No way! She’s a girl! I’m a guy!” I countered.
You put on your best puppy face, adorable behind your new glasses, “Please, Gee? I wanna rescue you.”
I sighed and gave in. It was a fun game, to be honest. I hated playing a girl, but what can you do? It was the end when you rescued me that sent my world spinning. You said something really crazy.
“All right, now I have to kiss you!” you grinned.
“No you don’t! That’s gross!”
“Nuh-uh. The hero always kisses the princess. Don’t you listen to Grandma’s stories?”
“Grandma tells me the good stories about vampires and werewolves. Not sissy princesses.”
“Well, I still have to kiss you,” you insisted, and before I could stop you, you had done it. Your smaller lips were warm and soft. They made me feel fuzzy inside. That was what made me remember a part of Dad’s talk.
He had said, “You’re going to start liking girls…as more than friends. You’ll want to hold their hands and kiss them and take them on dates. Just don’t be scared by it and only pick one girl.”
Well, I always wanted to hold your hand. It made me feel safe. And we went everywhere together. Did that count as dates? Plus, the kiss was so nice…What if you were the one I liked? I would choose you over a girl any day.
I told Grandma about this, because I thought she’d understand. Instead she got a cold look that scared me. I had never seen her angry before.
“Gerard Arthur don’t you ever think that,” she hissed, “It is completely wrong to like your brother. Go get a girlfriend and never bring this up again.”
I didn’t want a girlfriend, though, I just wanted you. I was fifteen when you were twelve. You were getting your bearings in middle school, but not quite succeeding. I mean, your grades were fine, but socially you were awkward. You played with Pokémon cards and kept to yourself. Some of your douchebag classmates didn’t like that.
I was walking from the high school to pick you up one day. The school year was almost over and the weather was warming up. I thought I would take you out for ice cream and we would go to the park since I had a day off from my part time job. That never happened, though, because when I got there, you were on the ground crying and a boy was kicking you in the stomach.
I ran over as fast as I could and pulled him off you. I wanted to hit him so bad for hurting you, but I couldn’t. he was too much younger than me. Looking around, I saw that your Pokémon cards were ripped up and thrown everywhere. I wanted to hug you and promise to buy you new ones, but I was busy with the punk I was holding back.
“Why are you saving that pussy? He can’t even stand up for himself. This is a man’s fight!” the kid snarled.
I leaned in close so you couldn’t hear and answered him, “Leave my fucking brother alone, or I’ll fight back for him.” He froze at that and nodded before grabbing his bag and running away. I fell to my knees next to you and pulled you into my arms, “Are you okay?” I asked.
You smiled at me through a bloody nose and said, “Yeah, thanks to you I am.”
I nodded and helped gather your stuff before we walked home. When we got there, we rushed inside and to my room so Mom wouldn’t see you. It would only make her worry. When we were on my bed you looked at me with sparkling eyes.
“You have to kiss me now,” you said.
“No, Mikey, Grandma said it’s wrong.”
You pouted, “But the hero always kisses the princess. And you’re definitely a hero.”
I couldn’t argue with that, so I leaned in and kissed you for the second time. Y ou were sixteen when I was nineteen. It was time for me to go off to the art school I had been accepted into. I had been packing for weeks, and we both knew it was coming. But, somehow I think we both were hoping it wouldn’t.
I pulled you close before I got in my car. I knew I wouldn’t be coming back for a bit, and I wanted you to know that I would think of you while I was gone. I didn’t know how, though, so I just clung to you. You discreetly moved to kiss my cheek, which only made it worse.
“Come visit soon, okay?” you whispered, and I nodded. Then Mom pulled me away from you and began crying into my shoulder.
“My baby boy is all grown up!” she wailed.
I patted her on the back, “I’ll come visit, Mom. And just watch, I’ll become a famous artist someday and then I can move you in with me.”
She attempted a smile, “Just…don’t be a stranger. Call often, okay?”
I nodded before looking at you one final time before climbing in my car and driving away. Y ou were twenty-one when I was twenty-four. That was the year it all started, do you remember? It happened just two days after your birthday. Ironic, huh? I imagine you were probably still hung over from your new freedom to drink. I was on my way to work, a work that despite being artistic didn’t really fulfill me. And I saw. I saw the planes crash into the towers. I saw the flaming bodies. You can’t imagine how horrific that is.
It really made me think, seeing that. What was I doing? I was at a job that I didn’t really like. My art wasn’t yet famous. Nobody was benefiting from my life. Not even me. That realization was a terrible one, but it did help in the end. I wrote Skylines and Turnstiles, my first song. And then I made my decision.
It didn’t take long to quit my job and call everyone up. You came over as soon as you could. You always did whenever I invited you. I showed you the song and you were so supportive. Your face lit up when you looked at me.
“Gee, this is fucking awesome! You have a gift,” you said.
Those words made me so happy. It was your opinion that really made my decision. I wanted to pursue a musical career. And I wanted you to join me. Of course you jumped on the opportunity, and Ray and Matt didn’t take much convincing either. We were on our way. I was twenty-seven when you were twenty-four. We had been a band for a few years and even picked up a new member: Frank Iero. He was a pretty cool guy, in my opinion. He was even a bit attractive, though I would never admit that out loud. We were on a tour for Three Cheers, and I had a lot of energy onstage.
What I wanted to spend that energy on was you. I wanted to kiss you, touch you, or really just be near you. But I couldn’t do that. Nobody would understand and the scandal talk would start. So I kept my distance, instead grabbing Frank into a sloppy kiss. The crowd went nuts at that, and I wanted to scream at them. Why was it okay for me to kiss one man but not another?
That probably shocks you. I bet you thought I actually liked Frank. Don’t lie; I saw the way you glared at him after that show. You looked so jealous. Do you even believe me when I say I was thinking about you while it was happening? I was thinking of you every time after that, too. Frank wasn’t my lover; he was your substitute. I am thirty-six, and you are thirty-two. The band is over now, and that really makes me a bit sad. I know it was mostly my decision to break up, but I miss all the time I got to spend with you. Isn’t it funny how we both got married and had kids along the way? I did it to try to forget you. A grown man my age shouldn’t have a crush on his little brother. It really is wrong.
Lindsey is great. She really is like my other half. Not as much as you were, but she gets me. I love my Bandit too. She’s the cutest thing. And she loves when Uncle Mikey comes over. Somehow, though, I can’t help imagining an alternate story for myself.
It starts back when I was fourteen and you were eleven. I had been fighting my attraction for you for a year, and it was a losing battle. You didn’t make it easy, either. You insisted on playing with me even though I was too old for your games. And you hugged me way too much. So I eventually thought of a way to be with you. We could run away where no one knew us and live a happy life.
Now I think of that happy life. We would have had tough living for a bit, because I wasn’t old enough to work. But after a few years, it would have gotten better. We could have bought an apartment and lived together and cuddled in the same bed at night. You would have been my secret and I would have been yours. Of course one of us would have changed our names. People couldn’t find out.
We would have grown old happily together, and when the time came, I would have pulled you in my arms and whispered my final words to you. But I guess that’s just a fantasy. It can’t really happen, not now, not ever. I’ll hold on to it, though. It makes me happy to think of it.
END
I was three when you were born. It was a cold night in September. Mom and Dad had left me home alone with Grandma Elena. I didn’t mind though, Grandma was always fun. She gave me ice cream and let me stay up past bedtime. Then she told me stories of monsters. I always loved when she did that. I was curious about where Mom and Dad had gone, though, so I decided to ask.
“Gamma, where Mama?” I said.
Grandma smiled warmly down at me, “Your mother and father have gone to get you new brother.”
“Budder?” Mother had told me of this strange brother person, but I didn’t quite understand what it meant.
“Yes, his name is Michael. He’s going to grow up with you and keep you and your parents company.”
“And you!” I said, not liking that grandma was leaving herself out.
She chuckled, “Yes, and me. Now go to sleep. Your father should be back in the morning.”
“Okay,” I said and closed my eyes. I t was three weeks later that they brought you home. You were just a squishy bundle in Mom’s arms. You cried a lot, and you smelled bad. I didn’t like you. Not one bit. Especially since Mom and Dad kept cooing over you and wouldn’t give me any attention. I wanted you to go back where you came from.
“Gerard, come see your brother,” Mom said.
“No!” I yelled and ran off to my room. Childish of me, yes, but hey, I was only three.
Mom came in a while later and rubbed my back, “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to say hi to Mikey?”
I shook my head, “He smells. And you lub him more.”
“Oh, Gerard, don’t be silly. Of course we don’t love him more. We love you both the same. And he’s supposed to be smelly, he’s a baby.”
I looked up at her with tears in my eyes. Maybe she was right. She was my mom after all. She couldn’t just abandon her love for me in three weeks, “I’ll say hi…” I conceded.
She led me down the hall to their room where your temporary cradle was set up. Then she lifted me up so I could see over the edge. You smiled up at me from the cradle. Your brown eyes were bright and shiny and your chubby face was so cute. I couldn’t help smiling slightly. Then you reached up and grasped the air. I reached down and you clasped your tiny hand around my finger. With that connection, I knew we would be best friends. I was eight when you were five. It was your first day of kindergarten, and you were scared. I tried to tell you there was nothing to worry about, but you wouldn’t listen to me. You insisted on holding my hand to the bus stop. Then you sat by me on the bus, even though my friend wanted me to sit by him. I didn’t mind though. I liked making you feel better.
When we got to your classroom, you clung onto my arm. I tried to shove you off but you held tight.
“I’m scared, Gee!” you complained, “They won’t like me. Don’t leave me here.”
“I have to, Mikes. I have my own class. It’s my first day of third grade.”
“Take me with you! I’ll be good, I promise!”
I shook my head, hating that I had to hurt you. I was about to leave when your teacher came over.
“Having trouble?” she asked.
“Yeah. He doesn’t want me to leave him alone, but I have to go to my class.”
She tapped her chin, eying the way you were holding my arm, “What’s your teacher’s name? I’ll tell her that you sat in to help your brother adjust. It’s the first day, after all. You’ll just miss the general introductions.”
You nodded your head enthusiastically. I had no choice. The rest of the day was spent with you answering general knowledge questions and making friends. You stopped holding onto me after about an hour, but I stayed to see if you’d be okay. It hurt slightly, knowing you weren’t going to need me anymore. But it was worth it to stay, because every time you did something good you would look over and grin at me. Y ou were ten when I was thirteen. It was a confusing time for me. I was taking my first steps into adolescence. Dad took me aside to explain things to me one day, but most of it just embarrassed me. Afterwards I went to your room and asked if you wanted to pretend Star Wars with me. You were going to be Luke Skywalker and I was going to be Chubakka. It was a game only me and you knew about.
That day you wanted to do something different, though, “Be Princess Laea!” you exclaimed at me excitedly.
“No way! She’s a girl! I’m a guy!” I countered.
You put on your best puppy face, adorable behind your new glasses, “Please, Gee? I wanna rescue you.”
I sighed and gave in. It was a fun game, to be honest. I hated playing a girl, but what can you do? It was the end when you rescued me that sent my world spinning. You said something really crazy.
“All right, now I have to kiss you!” you grinned.
“No you don’t! That’s gross!”
“Nuh-uh. The hero always kisses the princess. Don’t you listen to Grandma’s stories?”
“Grandma tells me the good stories about vampires and werewolves. Not sissy princesses.”
“Well, I still have to kiss you,” you insisted, and before I could stop you, you had done it. Your smaller lips were warm and soft. They made me feel fuzzy inside. That was what made me remember a part of Dad’s talk.
He had said, “You’re going to start liking girls…as more than friends. You’ll want to hold their hands and kiss them and take them on dates. Just don’t be scared by it and only pick one girl.”
Well, I always wanted to hold your hand. It made me feel safe. And we went everywhere together. Did that count as dates? Plus, the kiss was so nice…What if you were the one I liked? I would choose you over a girl any day.
I told Grandma about this, because I thought she’d understand. Instead she got a cold look that scared me. I had never seen her angry before.
“Gerard Arthur don’t you ever think that,” she hissed, “It is completely wrong to like your brother. Go get a girlfriend and never bring this up again.”
I didn’t want a girlfriend, though, I just wanted you. I was fifteen when you were twelve. You were getting your bearings in middle school, but not quite succeeding. I mean, your grades were fine, but socially you were awkward. You played with Pokémon cards and kept to yourself. Some of your douchebag classmates didn’t like that.
I was walking from the high school to pick you up one day. The school year was almost over and the weather was warming up. I thought I would take you out for ice cream and we would go to the park since I had a day off from my part time job. That never happened, though, because when I got there, you were on the ground crying and a boy was kicking you in the stomach.
I ran over as fast as I could and pulled him off you. I wanted to hit him so bad for hurting you, but I couldn’t. he was too much younger than me. Looking around, I saw that your Pokémon cards were ripped up and thrown everywhere. I wanted to hug you and promise to buy you new ones, but I was busy with the punk I was holding back.
“Why are you saving that pussy? He can’t even stand up for himself. This is a man’s fight!” the kid snarled.
I leaned in close so you couldn’t hear and answered him, “Leave my fucking brother alone, or I’ll fight back for him.” He froze at that and nodded before grabbing his bag and running away. I fell to my knees next to you and pulled you into my arms, “Are you okay?” I asked.
You smiled at me through a bloody nose and said, “Yeah, thanks to you I am.”
I nodded and helped gather your stuff before we walked home. When we got there, we rushed inside and to my room so Mom wouldn’t see you. It would only make her worry. When we were on my bed you looked at me with sparkling eyes.
“You have to kiss me now,” you said.
“No, Mikey, Grandma said it’s wrong.”
You pouted, “But the hero always kisses the princess. And you’re definitely a hero.”
I couldn’t argue with that, so I leaned in and kissed you for the second time. Y ou were sixteen when I was nineteen. It was time for me to go off to the art school I had been accepted into. I had been packing for weeks, and we both knew it was coming. But, somehow I think we both were hoping it wouldn’t.
I pulled you close before I got in my car. I knew I wouldn’t be coming back for a bit, and I wanted you to know that I would think of you while I was gone. I didn’t know how, though, so I just clung to you. You discreetly moved to kiss my cheek, which only made it worse.
“Come visit soon, okay?” you whispered, and I nodded. Then Mom pulled me away from you and began crying into my shoulder.
“My baby boy is all grown up!” she wailed.
I patted her on the back, “I’ll come visit, Mom. And just watch, I’ll become a famous artist someday and then I can move you in with me.”
She attempted a smile, “Just…don’t be a stranger. Call often, okay?”
I nodded before looking at you one final time before climbing in my car and driving away. Y ou were twenty-one when I was twenty-four. That was the year it all started, do you remember? It happened just two days after your birthday. Ironic, huh? I imagine you were probably still hung over from your new freedom to drink. I was on my way to work, a work that despite being artistic didn’t really fulfill me. And I saw. I saw the planes crash into the towers. I saw the flaming bodies. You can’t imagine how horrific that is.
It really made me think, seeing that. What was I doing? I was at a job that I didn’t really like. My art wasn’t yet famous. Nobody was benefiting from my life. Not even me. That realization was a terrible one, but it did help in the end. I wrote Skylines and Turnstiles, my first song. And then I made my decision.
It didn’t take long to quit my job and call everyone up. You came over as soon as you could. You always did whenever I invited you. I showed you the song and you were so supportive. Your face lit up when you looked at me.
“Gee, this is fucking awesome! You have a gift,” you said.
Those words made me so happy. It was your opinion that really made my decision. I wanted to pursue a musical career. And I wanted you to join me. Of course you jumped on the opportunity, and Ray and Matt didn’t take much convincing either. We were on our way. I was twenty-seven when you were twenty-four. We had been a band for a few years and even picked up a new member: Frank Iero. He was a pretty cool guy, in my opinion. He was even a bit attractive, though I would never admit that out loud. We were on a tour for Three Cheers, and I had a lot of energy onstage.
What I wanted to spend that energy on was you. I wanted to kiss you, touch you, or really just be near you. But I couldn’t do that. Nobody would understand and the scandal talk would start. So I kept my distance, instead grabbing Frank into a sloppy kiss. The crowd went nuts at that, and I wanted to scream at them. Why was it okay for me to kiss one man but not another?
That probably shocks you. I bet you thought I actually liked Frank. Don’t lie; I saw the way you glared at him after that show. You looked so jealous. Do you even believe me when I say I was thinking about you while it was happening? I was thinking of you every time after that, too. Frank wasn’t my lover; he was your substitute. I am thirty-six, and you are thirty-two. The band is over now, and that really makes me a bit sad. I know it was mostly my decision to break up, but I miss all the time I got to spend with you. Isn’t it funny how we both got married and had kids along the way? I did it to try to forget you. A grown man my age shouldn’t have a crush on his little brother. It really is wrong.
Lindsey is great. She really is like my other half. Not as much as you were, but she gets me. I love my Bandit too. She’s the cutest thing. And she loves when Uncle Mikey comes over. Somehow, though, I can’t help imagining an alternate story for myself.
It starts back when I was fourteen and you were eleven. I had been fighting my attraction for you for a year, and it was a losing battle. You didn’t make it easy, either. You insisted on playing with me even though I was too old for your games. And you hugged me way too much. So I eventually thought of a way to be with you. We could run away where no one knew us and live a happy life.
Now I think of that happy life. We would have had tough living for a bit, because I wasn’t old enough to work. But after a few years, it would have gotten better. We could have bought an apartment and lived together and cuddled in the same bed at night. You would have been my secret and I would have been yours. Of course one of us would have changed our names. People couldn’t find out.
We would have grown old happily together, and when the time came, I would have pulled you in my arms and whispered my final words to you. But I guess that’s just a fantasy. It can’t really happen, not now, not ever. I’ll hold on to it, though. It makes me happy to think of it.
END
Awww, thanks ^-^
6/26/13