It's Only Just A Dream

Gerard and Mikey spent the car ride home in silence; as far as Gerard could tell, his older brother was still angry at him for speaking to Frank - although, as Gerard told himself in his head, he couldn't have stopped Frank from talking to him just like he couldn't have stopped him from sitting down at his table in the first place - and he was in no mood to argue with an angry Mikey.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally pulled up the driveway to their house and came to a shuddery stop. Neither of them spoke as Mikey killed the engine and climbed out of the car, heading towards their front door without waiting for Gerard like he usually did. Gerard wanted to scream at him that it wasn't his fault, hell it wasn't even Frank's fault! If anything, it was Mikey's fault for forcing him to sit alone— Frank would never have approached him if he was surrounded by Mikey's gang. Yeah, it was Mikey's fault more than anybody else's; but to tell
Mikey that would be as good as signing your own death warrant. Nobody ever told Mikey Way it was his fault. Nobody.

Gerard went upstairs and drew for three hours straight. He ignored Mom asking him how he was and how his day had been— she had been asking for four days now, since his first day at school, and nothing changed. If anything each day was getting progressively worse, but telling her that would just make her worry about him unnecessarily, and the last thing Gerard wanted was for Mom to worry about him. That would cause an argument and at his particular point in time, he wouldn't be able to rely on Mikey to side with him. Gerard couldn't deal with three people all siding against him.

He drew until his right hand was numb and his fingers started spasming from being curled around a pencil for so long. He drew until his charcoal pencil was blunt and useless. He drew until he was out of paper and he could smell the meal his Mother was cooking wafting through the crack under his bedroom door. He drew until he was out of inspiration. He drew until he couldn't draw anymore, and then, and only then, did he allow himself to look at what he had been drawing.

Gerard rarely drew still life images— he didn't find it easier in any way to draw from pictures rather than drawing from the images in his head. He found than imagination lit up the page, made it more animated, in a way that simply copying from a picture or scene in front of him couldn't.

In front of him was a rough sketch of a woman plunging a dagger into the heart of her lover, a wolf with big, staring eyes staring out of a television screen, a skeleton wearing a helmet - where that particular idea had come from, Gerard had no idea - and several sketches of a scorpion with a curly tail. At least four A3 sheets of paper were filled with dozens of small drawings of the same scorpion in different sizes. It was familiar to Gerard, like he had seen it before, but he couldn't for the life of him remember where from. That would annoy him all evening, he knew, until he remembered. Maybe he could ask Mikey… but them Mikey was angry at him right now, and pestering him with pointless questions wasn't going to ease the tension between them.

Gerard groaned and threw his pencil at the wall, watching as it bounced off and rolled under his bed, before throwing his head back in dismay. His life was a mess! His brother hated him, he had no friends to talk to and he was getting so desperate for company that he had conversed with the person who had been his brother' since sworn enemy for as long as Gerard could remember.

Why had he told Frank Iero that he didn't hate him, that he didn't think he was an asshole, that he didn't know him well enough to have an opinion? That was practically an invitation to talk to him; no wonder Frank had started talking to him about Gerard's book. Gerard had been sending the wrong signals: when he should have been radiating hostility and unfriendliness, he had somehow given Frank the impression that he wanted him to stay, to stay and talk to him.

But some part of Gerard had wanted Frank to talk to him. And he had smelt so nice when he had leant so close to Gerard, like cologne and spices… the scent had been practically intoxicating…

And this was what Gerard was talking about. Here he was, practically swooning over the guy that had made his older brother's life a misery for as long they had known each other! God, his loyalties should lie with brother, with his family, not with some sexy, over-confident prick who had threatened Mikey and objectified Gerard within minutes of walking into school. Not only had Frank ruined Gerard's chances of sinking under the radar and making friends in his classes but he had also lead to Mikey looking weak in the cafeteria today— a feat which Gerard was sure would not go unnoticed by the rest of the student body.

And Gerard was the cause of all of it. He felt terrible.

He sighed in ashamed resignation and collected every sheet of paper he had drawn on, folding them in half as neatly as he could manage and slotting them into his folder for art class. He would show them to Mr Reed on Monday, would go to his art classroom and take advantage of the man's kind offer to avoid any further embarrassment or confrontations that came with sitting alone in the cafeteria. He would be able to get feedback on his work and he might even be able to get his teacher to give him extra credit if he went back at lunchtime and put extra effort into his work. If he was Mr Reed's favourite pupil - which he suspected he was - then he was sure he would have no trouble persuading him. Maybe that could be the one good thing that came from Frank Iero talking to him today.
__

Dinner was awkward to say the least. Their parents picked up on the obvious tension between Gerard and Mikey immidiately - it was unmissable - and conversation flowed jerkily with elongated gaps in between questions and answers. Donna and Donald kept stealing glances at each of them in turn, like they thought they were being inconspicuous, and Gerard would shift uncomfortably in his chair every time their gazes settled on him. It was the sort of situation

Gerard and Mikey would usually go upstairs and joke about after dinner was over, laughing at the way Mom and Dad had exchanged confused little looks across the table.
But that wouldn't happen, because Mikey was mad at him. Gerard couldn't stand it when Mikey was mad at him… and he always caved first.

As soon as Mikey excused himself from the table and shut himself in his room for the night, Gerard stood up and followed him with a quiet, "thanks," to his Mom for making the meal. He knocked on Mikey's door and let himself in without waiting for an invitation; he knew his brother would probably make up some excuse about being busy - or just flat out tell him to fuck off - if he asked to come in

"Gerard," Mikey sighed as soon as he lifted his head up to see who had interrupted him.

"What're you doing here?"

"I want to talk to you." Gerard replied as confidently as he could manage. He knew that if he let his voice shake or allowed himself to sound anything other than totally sure of himself now, Mikey wouldn't hear him out. He needed Mikey to listen to, and accept, what he had to say; and hopefully forgive him even though he didn't know what he'd done wrong. He just couldn't bear to be on bad terms with Mikey— it was a torture that couldn't be allowed to continue for any longer than a couple of hours. Mikey was his best friend - his only friend - and how could Gerard fight with his best friend?

"What is it, Gerard?" Mikey asked, sounding tired, as though Gerard was wasting his time. Gerard probably was wasting his time, but making amends with his brother was more important than Mikey talking to Alicia. Gerard watched as Mikey there'd a quick "goodbye" to his girlfriend before cancelling the call and laying his phone down.

"I know that you blame me," Gerard began. "You blame me for embarrassing you today and for Frank sitting next to me, but I couldn't have stopped him, okay?! It wasn't my fault— what could I have done?"

"It didn't look like you wanted him to leave." Mikey sneered bitterly, jumping out of his seat and starting to pace his room. He only did that when he was really mad. Gerard swallowed and took a step back to protect himself before remembering that he needed to be confident; the only way he could get what he wanted was by pretending to be sure of himself, and stepping back in fear wasn't going to help that.

"He came to apologise, Mikey! He was nice!" Gerard didn't know why he was trying to defend Frank— to the guy's worst enemy, of all people! He really didn't owe him anything, but he felt obligated to. Frank had been so nice, and he had leant so close to Gerard earlier that day, and he had smelt so good…

"He's a liar, Gerard!" Mikey screamed at him. Gerard had seen him this mad before, many, many times before, but this level of rage had never been directed at him before. "He'll say whatever he thinks you want to hear, he'll manipulate you and he will use you to get to me! I mean, why the hell did you think he was talking to you; because he likes you?! Because he thought you looked cool? You're just a way for him to get to me, and I can't let you be the reason my gang fails. Do you understand me?"

Gerard took a shaky breath in, not trusting himself to say anything. He hated when people were mad at him, and it was even worse when it was Mikey who was yelling at him, telling him, essentially, that he was unlikeable. He wasn't stupid or in denial. He knew he couldn't blame his social ineptness or his lack of friends on other people - except maybe Mikey and that gang - but to hear the person he looked up to and admired more than anyone else lay it out like that, like it was no big deal… it hurt. He blinked rapidly to get rid of the tears that threatened to well up.

"Why aren't you and Frank friends?" Gerard asked suddenly, his voice thick with tears. He didn't know where the question had come from, but when he thought about it, it was a good point. "You both want to same things: power, respect… you're practically exactly the same. In every other situation you'd be, like, best friends or something. So why aren't you?"

Mikey took a deep, shuddery breath. He was red in the face and out of breath from yelling, and he had started to look just a tiny bit guilty. He shook his head in confusion, but shrugged and flopped down onto his bed, splaying his limbs across the mattress and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Joint leadership never works Gerard— we couldn't be leader of the same gang. You know?"
Mikey didn't open his eyes as he spoke.

"You never even tried." Gerard scoffed, and laughed so he wouldn't start crying.

***

At about the same time that Gerard was leaving his brother's room in tears, Frank Iero was leaning against the wall outside the school gates, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth as he oversaw his gang's current operation. A short, scrawny kid with a pimple on a his chin was pushed up against the wall next to him, Ray's fist gripping his shirt as he held the kid an inch above the ground. Where Ray got his upper body strength from Frank had no idea, but it was helping them to get the information he wanted so he wasn't not going to spend too long questioning it.

"Fuck off," Ray growled, letting go of the boy and watching as he scrambled desperately to pick up his bag and run in the opposite direction. "And keep your mouth shut!"

Frank didn't feel guilty about using fear and intimidation to get what he needed. Asking nicely hadn't worked - they tried that first because Ray hated to use his fists so close to school where any passing member of staff could see him - and Frank enjoyed showing cocky, arrogant freshmen where they belonged. It was entertaining to see them start to panic and then to plead with him not to hurt them; a refreshing change from their usual 'I'm the toughest guy in the school' behaviour. Freshmen were so annoying; they didn't know their place and their overconfident attitudes pissed Frank off unbelievably. This one had been just as bad. When Frank had first asked him about Gerard, the boy had sneered and muttered something about the "goth freak". Maybe he thought that badmouthing the younger brother of Frank's worst enemy was going to get them on good terms with him.

Ray had kicked him in the shins for that, and the boy had started crying.

"I didn't ask you what you thought of him— I don't give a shit about your opinion. I asked you what classes he was in. I know you know; I've seen you two walking together." Frank pressed.

The boy had flushed, either angry or embarrassed, and reached up to swipe away at the tears on his cheeks. Ray hadn't done anything to stop him: the boy would have been far too weak to take on Ray, no matter where his hands were.

"Not together, I'm not friends with that freak! We're in some classes together so we were walking to the same place— not together." The kid's face had twisted up in disgust and Frank was shocked at how vehemently he was against the idea of Gerard and he being friends. Frank had looked to Ray and nodded, allowing his friend to jab the kid swiftly in the gut, leaving him to double over in pain. It hadn't been as hard as a punch, but it had been painful enough to stop the kid mouthing off. His voice was giving Frank a headache.

"So what classes are you in together?" Frank had asked, cocking his head as he waited for a reply.

"Just English— English fourth period and Maths first. Those are the only classes we have together, I swear!" The boy - whose name Frank didn't even know - had promised, beginning to sound more desperate. Frank could tell he was being honest, and so he had given Ray the signal to let him go.

"So," Ray began now that they were alone. They started to walk in the direction of Ray's house. "You're really getting into this thing, huh?"

Frank raised an eyebrow, although he wasn't sure Ray would be able to see it. It was getting dark; they needed to get back or Ray's Mom would be worried. She always worried when they were out after nine, especially since Ray had had his leg broken by Pete Wentz. Unlike Frank's Mother, Ray's Mom knew everything about the gang and the fighting they did and how everything worked. She disapproved of it, but she had known the boys since they were all five years old and she loved them all. She wouldn't try to stop them, but she did her best to protect them.

"What do you mean?" Frank replied, although he knew what Ray meant. He fished a lighter out of his back pocket and finally lit his cigarette, inhaling deeply before holding it out to Ray, offering a drag. Ray declined.

"I mean this whole business with Gerard. What are you gonna do with his schedule, anyway? Wait outside his class for him?"

"Maybe." Frank shrugged. "It would have to look like an accident— he'd be a little freaked out if he thought I was stalking him."

"But you are stalking him." Ray pointed out unhelpfully. They reached his house and Ray hunted around in his backpack for his front door keys, finding them eventually and sticking them in the lock. It was one minute to nine exactly: they had made curfew.

"You were the one who told me to befriend him in the first place— and look how that turned out! Remind me to never approach him in the same vicinity as Mikey Way ever again. He was all over my ass before I could even start talking to the kid."

"Really?" Ray spoke, and this time his voice sounded different. When Frank looked round, he was able to see Ray smirking in the hallway light. "It looked like you were having an interesting chat from where I was sitting."

Frank could hear Ray's Mom singing in the kitchen as she cooked - whatever she was making smelt good, Frank hadn't eaten in what felt like ages - and he shrugged, turning away so his friend wouldn't see his blush. His blush. Why was he blushing?! Frank couldn't remember the last time someone had made him blush, let alone with just the mention of someone three years younger than him. Someone three years younger than him that he was supposed to be lying to and using.

Ray's Mom must have heard the door click shut behind them as it was closed, because she ventured out into the hallway to see who it was. She was wearing fluffy pink pyjamas and her hair was tied back into a messy bun; her face relaxed and her shoulders dropped when she saw who it was.

"Cutting it close, boys." She warned playfully, wrapping her arms around both of them in a bone crushing hug. After planting a kiss on each of their foreheads - something which Ray had learnt to stop complaining about years ago - she disappeared back into the kitchen. Over her shoulder she shouted, "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Evan and James are already upstairs, like nice, curfew-respecting children!"

Ray groaned and shook his head. Ray's house had become the unofficial gang hangout for the four friends. Evan's house was overrun with siblings and James lived in a bungalow with three rooms and a bathroom. Frank's parents were going through a horrible divorce, and Frank liked to be out of the house as much as he could. Ray's house was where they went after school and every weekend.

Frank and Ray climbed the stairs in silence. Frank was still thinking about what Ray had said, about how he had blushed and about how Gerard had stood up to Mikey quietly, as though he was trying to draw as little attention as possible to his bravado. The kid was… interesting. Frank prided himself on being able to figure out a person's character in seconds - whether they were trustworthy, what their aim was, etcetera - and yet with Gerard, he couldn't figure it out.

He couldn't figure Gerard out. The kid was a mystery, and Frank didn't know whether he wanted to solve it or not.

Evan jumped on them as soon as they entered Ray's bedroom, bombarding them with questions. Where had they been? What had they been doing? Why didn't they call Evan and James for backup? Had it been something to do with Way? Frank's head was spinning and all he wanted to do was lie down, eat a meal and watch television. He wanted to relax. He took a long drag of his cigarette before crushing it out in the spare ashtray he kept on Ray's bedside table: Ray's Mom hated when they smoker in the house - it created a horrible smell and the smoke made her eyes water whenever she went near her son's bedroom, she said - and it was her house. Frank would respect her wishes in her own house— especially since she had been like a Mother to him for as long as he could remember. She had really helped him these past few months, whilst his parents had been replaced with uncaring asshole who only wanted to better half on the divorce settlement. Frank wondered which side he would belong to when it was all over and done with.

"Chill out, dude!" Frank commanded, shaking himself off as he flopped down into the space on the bed that wasn't being taken up by James and his school books. "We were by the school, getting info out of some kid. It wasn't a big deal so we didn't need backup. You didn't miss out on anything; I promise."

They nodded and decided not to press matters. If their leader wanted them to know what had gone on, he would tell them, and until Frank decided otherwise it was none of their business.

"So," James said, pushing aside his chemistry book in favour of addressing his friends. "Alicia Simmons is having a birthday party in a couple weeks: the twenty-second or twenty-third or something, I'm not sure. Whatever, but it would be a perfect time to have it out with Way. He'd be drunk, wouldn't be expecting you to be there. Take him by surprise and you'd easily be able to knock him out."

"Yeah!" Ray agreed animatedly, shoving Frank's shoulder. "That would gain you public popularity and more respect than Way for a month, maybe two if we're lucky."

"Alicia Simmons?" Frank snorted. "Yeah, only one problem there: we most definitely will not be invited, and no one gets into one of Alicia's parties without an invite. She has bouncers at the door and shit, man. Fuckin' bouncers. No one gets in there without an invite."

"Yes but," Ray grinned and drew out each syllable. "We know someone who can get us an invite— or at least, you do, Frank."

Frank turned to look at him, frowning in confusion until he saw the raised eyebrow on his friend's face and remembered their earlier conversation. He groaned, rolling over and kicking off a bunch of James' papers in the process.

"You've gotta be kidding me." He breathed.

"What?!" Ray cried. "You're already befriending him! You may as well try and get him to get us an invite! It has to be worth a try, right Frankie?"

Frank pushed his face into Ray's sheets - probably something he should have been cautious about doing after last time - and folded his arms over his head. He couldn't believe he was in this situation, having to rely on his charms to secure the future of his gang. He was essentially placing the future of his gang into the hands of a socially inept teenager!

"Gerard doesn't really strike me as the party type, y'know?" Frank argued snarked. "He probably won't even go."

"He'll go if you ask him to go with you." Evan contributed to the conversation.

"What, like a date?" Frank asked dumbly. No shit, he answered himself in his head. "You want me to ask him on a date?"

Evan leaned so close that Frank could see the whites of his eyes. He looked far too serious all of a sudden and Frank's was getting worse. He wondered if Ray's Mom had any aspirin she might give him. He needed another cigarette but he couldn't smoke in here.

"I want— no, the gang needs you to do whatever it takes to bring Mikey Way down. We've all worked so hard to get to the top of the food chain, Frank, and the only thing stopping us from owning the entire school is Mikey Way and his gang. We need to beat them. We've got one more year to do this Frank, before all our efforts will be gone. We'll leave school and never see Mikey Way again. We have to win before then; we're relying on you."

Frank didn't reply. He just stared at Evan, and then Ray and then James and then his hands. It had taken a lot to get into his position, Evan was right, and it wasn't undoubtedly worth it, but sometimes…

Sometimes he wished he was back in Gerard's position. Sometimes he wished he wasn't back in freshman year with a clean slate and a fresh attitude, eager to make friends and stay out of trouble. How has he got to here? Why did it matter so much anyway?

"Boys!" Ray's Mom shouted from downstairs before Frank could respond. He was grateful. "Dinner's ready!"

Evan, Ray and James all filed out of the room, rushing to get to the food before it all disappeared. Frank waited in Ray's room for a moment longer, just breathing deeply and thinking on his own. Then he too got up and descended the stairs.

Notes

Soo… Team Mikey or Team Frank?
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