Chapter Text
Mikey Way’s one bedroom apartment is pretty small, but it’s nice. The kitchen is right next to the front door and the living room is right next to the kitchen, and Gerard gets to sleep on the couch.
“Take your shoes off.” Mikey says, holding the front door open. Gerard slides his shoes off and leaves them on the rack by the front door. “The city is disgusting, I don’t need some MTA disease festering in here…”
Mikey tosses his keys on the small kitchen table, and Gerard drags his suitcase into the living room.
“How d’you know Frank?” Gerard asks while unpacking pajamas and his toothbrush.
“Oh, you know.” Mikey waves his hand around. “I’ve seen him around the Eyeball house. We’ve talked a few times, he’s a fun guy.”
“Remind me what you do again?” Gerard asks. Mikey rolls his eyes at him. “Sorry, sorry! I’m just… not entirely clear on what your job is.”
“I work at Barnes and Noble, Gerard.” He says, deadpan. “But I’m doing a thing for this guy named Alex which means I’m always at the Eyeball house. Music shit, y’know?”
“Right. Music shit.” Gerard nods solemnly. He flops down on the couch, Mikey sits down next to him, and he turns on the TV.
“So how do you know Frank?” Mikey asks.
“Uh, I kind of…don’t?” Gerard offers. “He just sat next to me on the train. He, um, invited me to a show he’s playing.”
“Oh yeah, I know the one. I was gonna ask if you wanted to go to that anyway.” Mikey says. “So that’s cool. You made a friend.”
“I guess I did.” Gerard says. “Hey, so, what are we doing on Thursday?”
“Mom’s hosting at her place this year, so…” Mikey trails off. “I don’t know, we’ll go over around five and get back super late and have enough leftovers to last us until next year.”
Mikey shrugs and switches the channel. Gerard rolls his eyes and gets up, heading to the kitchen.
“Do you have, like, any food?” Gerard says, opening the fridge, which contains 6 eggs, some indiscernible leftovers, various sauces and a pack of Kraft singles.
“Uhh…I think there’s some ramen noodles in the cupboard?” Mikey says. “Unless you wanna go out tonight.”
Gerard glances at the time on the stove, 8:30 at night.
“No, no, this is fine. I don’t want to go back out, I’m exhausted.” Gerard says, punctuated by a yawn. He fills the only pot in the apartment with water and sets it on the stove to boil.
“How’s cartooning going?” Mikey asks.
“Oh, you know.” Gerard says, tearing open a bag of instant ramen and sinking it in the water. “I’ve been working on this pitch idea lately…”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s just a kids show, but I like working on it. It’s about this, like, monkey that’s obsessed with breakfast food?” Gerard cracks a smile. He puts the lid over the pot. “It’s kind of stupid, honestly.”
“Sounds fun.” Mikey says with a smile.
Gerard leans against the kitchen counter and watches the pot boil, even though you’re not really supposed to do that. Tomorrow is Saturday, and he doesn’t have any plans besides sleeping in and waiting around for that guy Frank to call, even though Mikey knows where the show is anyway. He’s got some illustrations he should be working on and a couple comic and record stores to visit since he has time. Gerard lifts the lid and picks a noodle out with a fork to see if it’s cooked enough, and then drains the water from the pot. Judging from a quick glance into the living room, Mikey found a rerun of American Psycho or something.
Gerard transfers the noodles to a bowl and mixes the flavor packet in. He grabs a fork and sits cross legged on the couch with the bowl in his lap.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Gerard asks through a mouthful of noodles.
“I dunno,” Mikey says, reaching over to steal some of Gerard’s food. “I might be covering someone’s shift tomorrow? I don’t know yet.”
“M’kay.” Gerard says. They go back to quietly watching TV.
Eventually, Mikey gets up to reheat some of his leftovers, and Gerard washes his bowl in the sink and puts it in the dishwasher. I should probably call more, Gerard thinks as he watches Mikey flip through a stack of mail while waiting for his food to cool down.
“Do you need another pillow?” Mikey asks, pointing his fork at Gerard.
“Uhh…” Gerard says, assessing the throw pillows on the couch. “I don’t think so…?”
“Yeah, you do, those pillows suck to sleep on.”
Mikey gets up from his spot at the kitchen counter and goes to the linen closet in the hallway.
“Catch.” Mikey throws a balled up blanket at Gerard’s head. He laughs when Gerard reacts too slowly and he ends up looking like a sheet ghost.
“Thanks.” Gerard laughs from under the blanket. Mikey throws a spare pillow next, and Gerard accepts defeat and falls on his side.
“You’re terrible at catching.” Mikey laughs.
Another thing Gerard realizes he misses is the concept of home. When he’s in New York and thinks “I want to go home”, it means he wants to go to his apartment in Midtown Manhattan and take a shower and go to bed. Really, though, he wants to be 16 again in his basement room in Belleville, talking comics and Star Wars with Mikey, and that home doesn’t really exist anymore. Sometimes it feels like there’s this distance between him and his brother that he hasn’t quite figured out how to bridge yet. That’s how it is though, he thinks, being the older brother that goes off to college first. He needs to call more often.
“G’night.” Mikey says from the hallway with a wave. “See ya in the morning.”
“Night,” Gerard says, curling up on the couch. “Love you.”
“Love you.” Mikey says and turns off the light before going to his room.
Gerard wakes up at 9:45 in the morning on November 18th, 2000. Mikey must’ve had to go to work after all, because he’s nowhere to be found. He gets up, folds his blanket neatly on the couch, and goes to the bathroom. He spends 2 and a half minutes brushing his teeth and runs his hands through his hair until he looks presentable enough.
He changes into a loose pair of black jeans and throws on an old faded band shirt. He grabs the spare house key and his wallet and turns the air conditioner to standby mode before he leaves.
There’s a long line at the coffee shop near the bus stop when he gets there, but Gerard opts to wait in line anyway. He always gives local coffee shops a chance because they’re Not Starbucks, even though he’s unfortunately obsessed with Starbucks. The line moves faster than he anticipated, and he has to make up his mind on the spot.
“Good morning!” Says the barista. “What can I get you today?”
“I’ll have…a cappuccino, to go. Um, large.” Gerard says after staring at the menu. “And could I also get a chocolate croissant?”
“Sure thing.”
Gerard pays 10 dollars and 50 cents. The pricing doesn’t really make sense to him, but they’re a small business, so…
He waits by a table. It’s a nice coffee shop, at least. The lighting is warm and he thinks he’d enjoy sitting at a window and working on illustrations here. Gerard decided this morning that he’d visit that record store he hasn’t been to in a while, just to see if there’s anything in stock worth treating himself to.
“Gerard?” Calls a different barista.
“Thank you.” He smiles, taking his drink and his croissant. Gerard takes a careful sip and feels his body wake up.
Outside, the bus pulls up, and Gerard pushes past the doors of the coffee shop into the chilly morning air. He steps onto the bus, manages to grab a seat, and zones out while sipping his coffee for the next 23 minutes.
The record store west of Belleville proper is not at all busy on a Saturday morning, and Gerard has never known it to be busy. The bell above the door rings when he enters, and Gerard feels better already. He takes a deep breath and lets the nostalgia wash over him. There’s no one working the front desk, but Gerard assumes the old man who owns the place is in the back somewhere. He slowly makes his way down the aisles, perusing the near endless rows of cardboard boxes stuffed with vinyl records.
He pauses when he gets to the M section.
“How badly do I need another Metallica record…” Gerard mumbles to himself. He gingerly lifts up a pressing of Metallica’s Kill ‘Em All and turns it over in his hands.
“You can never have too many,” Says a familiar voice. Gerard jumps in surprise. “Chill, it’s just me.”
Gerard turns around and is met by an even more familiar face. Behind him stands Frank Iero, wearing a branded name tag and a Misfits shirt, smiling mischievously.
“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me…” Gerard mumbles. “Hi, Frank.”
“Hey,” He says. “Dude, since when was Mikey Way your brother?”
“I- what?” Gerard says. “Since… birth?”
“I tried calling you this morning, and got hit with the voicemail message of none other than Mikey Way.” Frank explains. “Clearly, you were out of the house.” He gestures to Gerard’s presence.
“He, uh, actually mentioned last night that he sort of knows you. From like, music shit, or whatever.”
“Oh man, he didn’t tell you?” Frank laughs. “Dude tried out for my band a couple weeks ago. He, uh, didn’t make the cut, but I like the guy.”
“That’s news to me.” Gerard says, cracking a smile. “What instrument?”
“Bass guitar,” Frank says. “He’s kind of terrible, but it’s kind of endearing. I think he’ll be a good bassist with time.”
“Hopefully one of us got musical skills,” Gerard jokes. “I can’t play the guitar to save my life.”
“Is that why you’re an artist?”
“Basically! I got kicked out of a band in high school cuz I couldn’t play Sweet Home Alabama!” Gerard scrunches his nose up at the memory.
“Ouch.” Frank laughs. “I’ve been in like, a billion bands since high school. I mean, none of them lasted that long, but I’ve never been kicked out.”
“How long have you been doing Pencey Prep?” Gerard asks.
“Since… I wanna say, last year? Right after high school, I think. I share an apartment with some of the guys, so it’s real convenient.”
“And you work at a record store.” Gerard notes.
“And I work at a record store.” Frank grins. “One of the few places I can work considering the piercings and tattoos.”
Gerard realizes he’s still holding the Metallica record and puts it back.
“I used to come here all the time when I was younger,” He says. “It hasn’t changed much.”
“Same. That’s why I like it. Nothing changes besides the stock.” Frank says. He follows Gerard around through the store. “I’m surprised we never crossed paths until now.”
“I dunno, we didn’t go to high school together, so,” Gerard shrugs. “That’s the only place I ever interacted with people.”
They make it to the S section of the store. Frank leans against one of the display counters.
“Do you do any actual work here?” Gerard asks over his shoulder. “Or do you stalk all your customers?”
“Nah, just the weird ones.”
Gerard rolls his eyes at him and goes back to thumbing through the display until something catches his eye.
“Hey, how much for this?” Gerard asks, holding up a pristine copy of Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness.
“40, but I’ll let you have it for 35.” Frank says.
Gerard tilts his head and gives him a confused look.
“Friends and family discount, obviously.” Frank explains. “C’mon, I’ll ring you up.”
“I- okay, wow, thanks.” Gerard says, face warm.
Frank heads behind the register and rings up the record.
“That’ll be 37 dollars and 32 cents.” He says in a customer service voice. Gerard digs two twenties out of his wallet and hands it to him. “Thanks for shopping with us today, here’s your change.”
Frank hands him a cool 2 dollars and 68 cents in change, along with his bag.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” Frank says. “What are you doing later, by the way?”
“Fucking nothing, man.” Gerard admits. “I might go back to Mikey’s and finish up some work stuff, but that’s about it.”
“Cool, so you don’t have plans.”
“Nope.”
Frank checks his watch.
“Wanna come smoke? I get off at noon.” He smiles.
“Um.” Gerard says.
“You’re an artist, right? You guys love weed, c’mon.”
“I…Okay, yeah, sure. Why not.” Gerard agrees.
“Cool.” Frank says. “Then it’s a date.”
Gerard tries not to get hung up on how that’s the second time he’s used that phrasing in the 24 hours since they’ve met, and tries to ignore how Frank said that with a wink. He fails both of these attempts, and agrees to meet up with him at noon. It’s a date, maybe.