Chapter Text
The kitchen smelled like burnt toast and coffee. Gerard sat at the table, pushing scrambled eggs around on his plate without really eating them. He wasn't hungry in the mornings, usually it was just this excuse to have a talk with his family, which now wasn't really making him much excited. His mother stood by the counter, holding her mug with both hands like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
"Did you sleep okay?" She asked, not looking at him.
"Yeah, fine."
"Gerard."
"I said I'm fine, Mom." He didn't mean for it to come out so sharp. She flinched anyway, just slightly and went back to staring out the window above the sink. There was a version of him that wanted to say something real, wanted to ask her why she never pushed Mikey the way she pushed everyone else, why one phone call to therapist's office had felt like too much to ask back then but suddenly, now, it was the first thing she arranged for Gerard. He wanted to ask if she thought about it too, late at night, the same way he did- if she ever laid awake wondering whether ten sessions with someone like Collins might have kept Mikey's door from ever going that quiet.
He choose not so say any of it. She already looked like she was barely holding on together. Gerard wasn't about to be the version of himself that made things worse for her on purpose, so he swallowed it, the way he swallowed most of things lately, and let the silence between them stretch out instead.
"Your headmaster called." She said eventually. "Said you did fine on your first day."
"Did he mention the part where he ambushed me with a therapist?" His mother shoulders tensed at the another cold answer. "Gerard, I thought it would help you-"
"Well, I have an early session today. I have to go." He grabbed his bag off the chair and was out the door before she could finish her sentence. He immediately regretted it, the way he always did, but going back to apologize somehow felt worse, than just leaving it hanging. He loved his mother. He was almost certain of that, somewhere underneath everything else he felt for her.
New Jersey in the early hours had a particular kind of ugliness Gerard had grown to appreciate. The sky sat low and colorless. Everything smelled faintly of wet asphalt and the distant refineries out past the highway. It wasn't the eighteenth century. It wasn't Gregorian facades he saw on his school in nice neighborhood. It was just his usual Jersey, stubborn and grey where he walked dozens times before. There was almost something comforting in that. At least the weather didn't pretend to be anything it wasn't.
He walked the last few blocks with his hood up, sketchbook pressed tightly to his chest. The school's building looked especially phenomenal today- under overcast light, the details softened gently, creating a seamless whole. Somehow, this building once again became his small inspiration to use on boring lessons. Making a mental note to himself he went right into the school's hallways.
Mr. Collins was already behind his desk when Gerard walked in, no knock this time and still no hesitation. The room smelled like the same coffee his mother made, burnt and reheated in microwave. Gerard wondered briefly if all adults just drank the same bad coffee out of habit.
"You're early." Collins said, not looking up from whatever he was writing, in his other hand he played with the same ball as yesterday.
"Couldn't sleep." Which got the therapist's attention. Collins set the pen down.
"Before we get into anything, I feel like yesterday was a mistake. UNO cards, no real introduction, I want you to trust me Gerard, let's do it properly this time."
"Do what properly?" Gerard send him a confused look.
"The stuff I'm supposed to ask you before anything else." Collins leaned back, unbothered, like this was routine for him a hundered times over. "So. Do you know why you're here? Not the version your mom or headmaster Alden gave you. I want to know what you think."
Gerard shifted in his seat. "Because everyone decided I need therapy after my brother died?"
"That's still their reason." He didn't have an answer for that, which annoyed him more than the question itself. "I don't know. I guess because I said fine too many times and now suddenly everyone's got worried." He responded with a irritated sigh.
"Fair enough. You think you need to be here?"
"No." He hesitated. "Maybe a small part of me."
"Great." Collins said, like the whole point of the question was Gerard's honesty, not the answer itself. "How's your motivation for stuff outside of school? You made some new friends?"
"Drawing's fine, school is whatever and I don't have a friend yet."
"Maybe today will be the day?." Collins tapped his pen against the desk. "Last one, and it's the one people usually hate. Do you think you have problems right now? Outside of 'everyone's making me talk about my brother's problems'?" Gerard felt himself getting tense. Almost saying 'no' on the reflex, just as he does with his mom, but something about Collins straightforwardness made Gerard open up more, making the session more meaningful.
"Yeah? I don't sleep great. I get annoyed at basically everyone including people who don't deserve it. So yeah, probably."
"That's a good answer, thank you Gerard."
The session didn't end till later- spent talking about how he liked the school, kids and headmaster's office, which was an art piece by itself. Collins didn't want to bombard his patent with a lot of questions, his wounds were still fresh and loosing the small bridge of communication with Gerard would be fatal. " See you tomorrow after school, alright?"
Gerard nodded, grabbing his bag, still raw from what he'd let slip in today's session. He pulled the door open, ready to disappear into the hallway before anyone noticed his face was doing something complicated, like thinking of how stupid he is- and nearly walked straight into someone standing just outside. It was the guy from yesterday. The one with the tattoos and messy black hair, except today he had a manila folder tucked under one arm and a laminate badge clipped crookedly to his belt. Up close he looked even more out of place in the building than he had from a distance- dark jeans, a band shirt Gerard didn't recognize, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. He looked like he belonged in a green room somewhere, not a schools psychologist's office. His hair fell messily over one eye, and there was ink crawling up one forearm that Gerard couldn't help but track for half a second.
"Oh- sorry." The guy said, stepping back to let him through.
"It's fine." He managed, and for one stretched out second neither of them moved. Their eyes just caught, held, something unreadable passing between them before the guy glanced down at the folder under his arm like he'd just remembered it existed.
"Collins in?" Guy asked, already looking past Gerard toward the door, probably didn't see much more, since they were almost the same height.
"Yeah."
"Cool. Thanks" And then he slipped past, folder and all, disappearing into the office Gerard had just left. The door clicked shut behind him. Now, the only thing he could hear was a hushed conversation behind the door: "Good morning, Frank." coming from my therapist.
He had no idea who that was, or why this 'Frank' guy who looked like he should be on stage was walking around with what was very obviously a case file under his arm- his case file for all he knew. It should've bothered him more than it did. Instead he just filed the whole encounter away somewhere and headed to class, unable to totally shake the feeling of being in a file, which people he didn't know went through.
Mr. Miller was already mid-sentence about the reading when the door opened and a tall boy with an afro stepped in, canvas bag slung over one shoulder. He handed a slip of paper to the teacher, who barely glanced at him before pointing to the one open desk left in the room- the one beside Gerard.
"Everyone, this is Ray. Just transferred in." A few kids snickered, Ray gave an easy wave to the room, entirely unbothered by the attention, and dropped into the seat next to Gerard like he'd sat there a hundred times before. Gerard didn't look up also. He held his head down over his sketchbook, shading the same brick wall he'd been working on for two days, hoping that if he just stayed quiet enough, the new kid would take the hint and leave him alone.
He didn't.
Gerard could feel him glancing over more than once, not staring exactly, just curious in a way that was hard to ignore. He kept his shoulders angled slightly away, pencil moving shakily, making himself look busy enough that conversation wouldn't seem worth the effort. "That's really good." Ray said, leaning over just enough to see the page properly. Gerard startled slightly, not expecting him to actually say something out loud.
"Thanks." He muttered, not looking up.
"No, like- genuinely." Ray tilted his head, studying the drawing with an attention that felt oddly sincere for someone he'd known for exactly four minutes. "Is that the building out front?"
"Yeah."
"You draw it from memory or were you like, out there sketching it this morning?"
"Memory." Gerard finally glanced over, half expecting to find the usual polite disinterest people gave him after asking a question they didn't care about the answer to. Instead Ray was just watching him, like he actually wanted to learn more.
"That's insane!" Ray spoke firmly- too loudly for the place they were in. "I can't draw a straight line, but you probably hear that everyday, huh?" Gerard felt his shoulders loosen slightly, the wariness in his voice now turning into something less guarded. "It's not that hard once you get the proportions right."
"Easy for you to say." Ray grinned, nodding at the sketchbook. "You ever think about doing the whole city? Like all the old buildings in this area? Would be SO cool." Which made Gerard crack a smile.
Ray, it turns out, was the kind person teachers visibly lit up around, despite being new- answering the questions before they were fully asked, already ahead in the textbooks. Someone mentioned the gifted program, the one that met after school twice a week, and Ray just shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, though Gerard could tell it kind of was, especially for someone who'd been at the school for less than a full day.
"They want me to test into it." Ray admitted at lunch, picking at a sandwich he clearly wasn't much interested in. "Feels like a lot of extra work for something that just means more homework."
"I think you should do it."
Ray grinned. "I'm so bad at turning down a challenge..."
By the middle of the day, Gerard had noticed something else about Ray- he just seemed to know everyone just by the first day. The first snickers from classmates now turned into full on conversations and friendly smiles. He was well liked, and he didn't had to pretend someone he wasn't. Gerard envied him, but also wondered why he talked with him, someone not that well liked. But what was more important- if anyone in this school knew anything about anything, it was probably him.
"Hey." Gerard said, trying to sound like the question just occurred to him. "Random, but- you know that guy who hangs around the guidance office? Tattoos, looks like he's in a rock band?"
Ray raised an eyebrow, clearly clocking the attempt at casual. "Frank? Yeah, everyone knows him. He's like some kind of assistant for Collins, helps out with case stuff, I think he's finishing a psych degree. Why?"
"No reason. Just saw him in the hall." Gerard busied himself with his bag so he wouldn't have to explain further.
"Uh huh." Ray clearly didn't buy it, but let it go, a small knowing smile tugging at his lips. He didn't know everything for sure, but he imagined why Gerard could ask about him, for now keeping it a secret.
After school they ended up on some bench by the pond, near the school building. This time Gerard got to learn about Ray more, turns out he's not only a prodigy in school subjects, but he also mastered the art of guitar. His case leaning on the same bench they're sitting on. The guitar was clearly loved, despite a few spots where the paint chipped. Gerard could tell he's talented just by the way he held his guitar.
"You play?" Ray asked, noticing the way Gerard gazed at his instrument.
"A little, not anymore at least." Gerard said- it brought him back many memories when his brother asked him to play with him. House has been so quiet lately, no longer waking up in the middle of the night because Mikey keeps messing around with his amp at 1am.
"Show me."
"I'm not good."
"I didn't ask if you were good." Ray handed it over anyway, patient in a way that made it hard to keep refusing. Gerard fumbled through a chord progression he barely remembered, something simple Mikey taught him before he passed away, it was intimate in a way to play it for Ray- even if the attempt was bad. He winced through his performance and waited for Ray to laugh. But he didn't. "Okay, that's a little rough." He said instead, grinning. "Here-" He took the guitar back and showed him the same progression cleaner, his fingers moving easy and fast as he'd never seen before. "You've gotta anchor your thumb here, that's why it sounds muted."
They passed the guitar back and forth for a while like that, Ray patiently correcting him without ever making him feel stupid about it, which was new. Most people who were better than Gerard at something made sure he knew it. But Ray just seemed to want him to get better, no strings attached. "You're gonna be annoyed you started this." Gerard muttered, missing another chord.
"Nahhh, I like teaching stuff. Feels less lonely than just doing it by myself." Something about that stuck with Gerard. He didn't respond, just kept fumbling with the guitar, but the thought sat warm in his chest the rest of the afternoon.
The hangout eventually wandered over to the coffee shop on the corner, ordering drinks neither of them really needed, and Ray kept the conversation easily, filling silences that Gerard usually let sit empty. He talked about his old school, his little sister who wouldn't stop stealing his headphones, the guitar he'd saved up two summers for. He didn't ask about Mikey, or maybe he didn't yet know. Which would be surprising with how gossip spreads in this school. He just talked, easy and unbothered, treating Gerard like a normal guy with normal life, which felt refreshing in those suffocating couple weeks. He realized that this was the first conversation he'd had in weeks that didn't orbit around what happened.
It felt good. Stupidly good, actually sitting there, listening to Ray ramble about scales and music theory homework, like maybe here was one person who didn't know the truth and wouldn't look at him differently once he did. Gerard wasn't ready to tell him. Wasn't sure he ever would be. But for now, it was nice just being someone without a tragic story attached.
By the time they said their goodbyes outside the station, the sky had turned that soft, tired orange it always did before streetlights kicked on, and Gerard walked home a little lighter than he had in weeks, guitar chords still fumbling around in his head alongside something that felt something like hope- and somewhere further back, a name he still thought about since seeing him in the hallway, carrying his folder.
