I Mean This: Never Again

Gerard expected to be woken up by his alarm clock, seeing as it was a Tuesday, but the low buzzing wasn't the sound that roused him.

It was the sound of his bedroom door creaking closed. He flicked his eyes open and caught a glimpse of a figure sweeping out of the room. Frank.

Gerard, figuring Frank was going to the bathroom, curled back up with the intent of falling asleep once more. That intent was destroyed when he faintly heard Frank say: "Hey, Mikes? I need to talk to you."

Afrer a few seconds, Mikey's voice asked: "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I'm, uh... Not sure. It's about Gee, though," Frank stuttered. "Can I come in?"

"Un... Yeah, sure," Mikey said and there was a bit of silence until the definite sound of Mikey's bedroom door closing and the lock clicking.

Gerard wasted no time in getting out of bed and slipping on a pair of boxers and a Nirvana t-shirt. His muscles and joints were stiff as he made his way down the hallway as quiet as a mouse. He stopped just shy of his brother's door and listened intently.

"...No idea where it came from," Frank said, his voice a whisper through the door. "One minute he was fine and the next, he was crying and yelling about being a monster."

"You said he dreamed he had relapsed?" Mikey asked and there was a moment of silence as Frank nodded his head. "You don't think he will, do you?"

"I hope not," Frank said and let out a small sigh. "It was just all so sudden. I feel like maybe I did something to trigger it."

Gerard wanted to shout: "It's not your fault!" but he stayed silent.

"You didn't," Mikey said. "He just has a lot on his mind right now, you had nothing to do with it."

"He didn't tell me, but he mumbled my name, then something about ruining..." Frank trailed off and a sharp gasp came through the door. The next time Frank spoke, his voice was a bit higher and cracking. "Ruining my life."

"Frank, this isn't on you," Mikey insisted. "I promise. This whole thing is just really stressful for him."

"Define this."

"You, Frank.You are this. You're 20 years old. You still have your woke life ahead of you, and Gerard is afraid that, if he stays with you too long, he'll mess up your life and you'll never forgive him. He's afraid of losing you, is what this is. So, when you really think about it, that's what the nightmare was about: he 'messed up' your life or whatever, you hated him, and he couldn't cope with it any other way. That's what this is: the fear of heartbreak."

"... Wow."

"I know, it's a lot," Mikey nodded. "Sometime I hate being a psych major. It's helpful sometimes, like right now, but other times, I see things that I might not want to see, if I see really private parts of someone's personality just by the way they fix their hair or something."

"Like?"

There was silence before Mikey said: "Your right pinkie— the nail is bitten down to the quick. See, biting fingernails is usually a sign of OCD, but you don't have obsessive-compulsive tendencies. You do have people you love that you have to be away from a lot of the time, though, so seperate on anxiety is more likely. And it's only the pinkie on your right hand— the same finger you lock with Gee. So, I say that you have mild to moderate separation anxiety about Gerard. Not necessarily about what he does while you're away, but rather you just hate the distance."

"... Wow," Frank repeated.

"Yeah," Mikey said and chuckled softly. Then, he made a noise and said: "I need you to help me with something. Okay, I have to observe someone close to me for part of a project, and I was going to observe Gee, but I'm barely ever around him. All I need you to do is tell me when— or if— he asks if he's pretty. When he does, I need you tell me everything— the time, the day, where you were, what you were doing; hell, even tell me what he was wearing. I just need to know everything."

"If he's pretty?"

"I'll explain later, but the short of it is that, studies show that people like him always ask their significant others at one point those exact words, in that exact order."

"'People like him'?" Frank repeated. "I'm confused."

It was silent for a few seconds, and Gerard imagined his brother chewing on his bottom lip in thought. "Gee has really bad body image issues," Mikey whispered finally and Gerard stiffened. While it was what he expected Mikey to say, he also expected him to dance around the subject; not hit the subject head on. "He's kinda always been like this, but it's gotten worse lately. That's why all his clothes are a baggy; he's too small to fit in them anymore. He also uses them to sorta hide in, but that's for a different day."

"Lately?" Frank asked. "Since when is lately?"

Mikey sighed. "Since September 12, 2001, at a show for a punk band."

Frank immediately made the connection. "It's because of me?" He squeaked, his voice cracking again. "But-but, I love him! He doesn't need to change!"

"He may not realize he's doing it," Mikey said. "But it's happening, and I think I know why. How many times do you see him naked, per week? Rough estimate."

"Almost every night," Frank said quietly.

"So, you're seeing parts of him that he never had to worry about before," Mikey said. "He could always hide his thighs or his stomach. But, since you came along, now he's visible to one of the people he cares the most about. He's trying to make himself look desirable for you."

Frank took a moment before whispering: "I miss his tummy, how it would press into my back a bit while we slept. It was really cute."

That was the last that Gerard heard, as he seemed to levitate out of his body and into a cloud of thought above him.

Mikey knew about his future worries with Frank.

As did Frank.

Frank hated being away from Gerard.

As did Gerard.

Mikey knew about his weight issues.

As did Frank.

Frank was calling his name.

As was Mikey.

"Gee?" Frank's soft voice shattered Gerard's somewhat-peaceful cloud and he plummeted back to his body to see Frank standing in front of him. Or rather, on him— Frank's scrawny arms were wrapped tightly around Gerard's middle, his head burrowed in Gerard's shoulder.

"I'm here," Gerard said distantly, running his hand down Frank's back. "It's okay, baby."

"How much did you hear?" Mikey asked, nervously picking at a hangnail.

"All of it, I think," Gerard said and a shuddered gasp ran through Frank, making him huh Gerard tighter. "How did you know about my weight issues?"

"You've kinda always been like this," Mikey said, his voice growing smaller and smaller.

"I miss your tummy," Frank said, making Gerard smile.

"I'll try my best to get it back," Gerard said, landing a kiss in Frank's hair.

"Really?" Frank asked, looking up at Gerard. His eyes were dimmed with red from crying, and the tip of his nose was flushed crimson as well. Tear tracks ran down his smooth, tan face, and collecting in the corners of his mouth, half-upturned in a small smile.

"Anything for you, Frankie," Gerard said. "I would kill for you; I would die for you. I love you, Frankie."

"Oh my God, set me on fire," Mikey mumbled, rolling his eyes.

Notes

I love writing filler chapters that are loaded with exposition! (note the sarcasm).

Current mood:

xoøli