Chapter Text
Inspiration strikes when you least expect it.
Kira hadn’t messed with shirts in a while, but this felt like the right time to start again. People had been staring at them which, normally, they were fine with because they knew they looked cool as hell, but they’re not a big fan of the pity they keep seeing in people’s eyes. Gerry’s still in the realm of recovery where you can tell something’s up with him, even if it’s not obvious it’s cancer. Thanks to skullcap treatments, Kira hasn’t lost all their curls, but there’s still bags under their eyes, and every day, it gets a bit more obvious that they’ve forgotten how to walk a straight line.
They cope with it the only way they know how to; by making matching shirts for them and Gerry. Kira’s says, “IT’S CANCER. FUCK OFF” while Gerry’s reads “I HAD CANCER. GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK.”
Gerry really likes his shirt. He wears it to his appointment and grins at Kira when the receptionist stares a bit too long. Kira has never felt so successful as an artist.
The appointment itself is kind of terrible, though. According to Gerry, the worst part of having a seizure was waking up after, being surrounded by medical professionals and worse, his boss, badgering him with questions that he couldn’t answer. And then there had been so much manhandling, because he still couldn’t stand, couldn’t find the words to tell them off, couldn’t even ask them to be gentle. Gerry admits to this quietly, fiddling with a hair tie on his wrist as they wait for the doctor. The walls of the waiting room had been enough to set him on edge, but of course, they had gone past that. Which meant things would just get worse from here.
“Do you want a distraction?” Kira offers. “I can tell you about this stupid urban legend I know. Ever heard of Grifter’s Bone?”
“Grifter’s Bone,” Gerry repeats. He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I guess it rings a bell.”
“I hate stuff like that,” Kira says. “Why are so many musicians obsessed with finding notes that hurt people and stuff? It’s like, in what way does that help you? If you want people to go to your shows, just become a better musician and stop relying on a gimmick to sell seats.”
Gerry snorts. He stops fiddling with the hair tie and brushes a lock of hair out of his face.
“As much as I’d love to hear whatever else you’ve got to say about that, you don’t have to try and cheer me up or anything,” Gerry says. “You’re here. I think that’s really all I need.”
Kira nods. They don’t know what else to say, so they just hold out their hand. Gerry stares for a moment before he takes it. Kira smiles at him. Gerry tries to smile back.
There’s no reason to spend more time thinking about the visit than they have to, so Kira doesn’t. What else is there to say? Kira is a little horrified with every fact they learn about Gerry’s medical history and the test for POTS—the tilt table test—is awful. Kira should have expected as much, since they had heard it involved being strapped down and lifted while a doctor watches you gasp for breath. But knowing that and actually seeing Gerry, chest covered in wires and gasping for breath, were two very different things. He hadn’t passed out during the test, which meant they needed to make things worse for him and give him something that, according to Gerry, felt like a panic attack.
So, yeah, Gerry wasn’t having a fun day, and Kira felt more than a little guilty that they were a part of that. They wished they could do more than just watch and squeeze his hand in reassurance.
At least they didn’t have to yell at any doctors, though that didn’t make talking about treatment plans any more fun.
They go to McDonald’s after. As they eat, Kira is hit with the dizzying realization that there is probably no one in the country who knows Gerry like they do. That couldn’t be right, could it? Gerry was still so much of a mystery to them and, really, all they knew was a fraction of his medical history. People were more than the facts they gave at doctor’s visits.
Gerry catches them staring. Kira looks away.
“Thanks for buying me lunch,” they say. Gerry makes a noise of acknowledgment, mouth filled with fries. “Do you have, like, an unlimited supply of money? Because you’ve got to be spending a lot, but you don’t really seem to care about that.”
“Not unlimited,” Gerry says. “But I’ve got enough.”
“Enough to pay for your doctor’s appointments and my rent?” Kira asks. “Do you even have insurance? I mean, I know traveler’s insurance exists, but that’s got to run out eventually, right?”
“I’ve got something,” Gerry says. “Don’t worry about it.”
Kira raises an eyebrow. They take a bite out of their burger.
“I guess I could have gone back to London for the appointment,” Gerry says, mostly to himself. “Might’ve been easier.”
“You’d leave?” Kira says, trying to keep the disappointment out of their voice. Of course he would. Who would willingly want to deal with the American healthcare system?
“Of course not,” Gerry says. “But Michael—it could make the trip in seconds. Doesn’t really matter where I am, if it helps me out.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Not sure if you should come with me if I did that, though,” Gerry says. “Like I said, Michael’s dangerous. If you can’t stand the sight of it, there’s no way you’d make it in its hallways. Maybe it’d be different if it just switched the doors around, but I don’t know how much safer that is. It might still mark you, and that doesn’t go away. Creatures like it get a bit bolder, once they see something’s already tried to make you afraid.”
“Well, I don’t want to go anywhere if it’ll make me look like monster food,” Kira says. “But maybe having a teleporting friend would make that worth it.”
“Don’t pretend you’re considering it,” Gerry snorts.
“I’m not,” Kira admits. “I don’t want to be mean because it’s your friend, but I never want to see Michael again. Not even if it has cool magic powers.”
“Good,” Gerry says. “Power isn’t worth the trouble it brings. Remember that.”
“Sure,” Kira says. They’re not really sure how much they care about power. It definitely doesn’t seem worth the stress. They pause for a moment. “Oh, am I why you didn’t go to London? Because traveling with Michael would mess me up?”
“It’s something I considered,” Gerry says. “Honestly, I don’t think I’m ready to go back. London’s just…”
“Too many memories?” Kira guesses.
“Something like that, yeah,” Gerry says. He pauses. “You took my beer a while back.”
“Yeah,” Kira says, a little surprised by the change in topic. “You didn’t look like you were, uh, in the right place to drink it.”
Gerry gives a short nod in acknowledgment. He doesn’t bother trying to argue.
“You keep helping me out,” Gerry says. “And all I can do is buy you a burger and fries.”
“You’re selling yourself short,” Kira says. “You’re the one paying my rent, and all I can offer you is some of my free time, which we both know I’ve got loads of. Shouldn’t I be the one worried about bothering you? All those movie marathons are probably cutting into valuable time you’d probably be using to save the world.”
“I like it when you bother me,” Gerry says. He smiles. “It’s a nice change of pace.”
“Then I’ll keep doing it,” Kira says.
They snatch the last fry from Gerry’s plate, who rolls his eyes and steals a handful of Kira's in response. Kira gasps.
“You weren’t going to finish them anyways,” Gerry says.
“But they were mine,” Kira replies. Gerry steals another fry. Kira gasps again, then laughs.
“I really didn’t expect you to care so much,” Gerry admits. “Not enough to actually take me to a doctor.”
Kira pushes the rest of their fries towards Gerry. He had been right; they weren’t going to finish it.
“You didn’t want to go alone,” they say. “And I wanted you to go. Seemed like a pretty obvious solution. Why wouldn’t I take you?”
“We’ve only known each other for a few months,” Gerry says.
“I would have gone with you even if we’d only known each other for a couple of weeks,” Kira says. “I don’t think it has to be that complicated. You’re my friend. I like you. I want you to be okay. And I mean, I could see you needed help. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t give it?”
“Yeah,” Gerry says. “I can understand that.”
Kira has too much free time. This fact surprises them more than it should until Kira realizes that, until recently, their free time had been spent freaking out about how weird Gerry was. Time really flies when you spent it making conspiracy theories about your roommate.
Honestly, Kira’s starting to think they may have overreacted. Gerry probably wasn’t that weird. Like, yeah, obviously he hung out with things like Michael, and, yeah, that was weird, but Kira hadn’t known that when they first met. Gerry had mostly just seemed weird at the beginning because Kira hadn’t known him, and because he hadn’t talked much. Of course, now that they knew he had been completely alone, in a new country, after he had both a seizure and brain surgery, the fact that he had been a bit quiet was no longer a surprise. Honestly, it’d probably taken him all of his energy just to keep himself standing. It was no wonder they kept finding him too exhausted to chat.
They’d actually had a pretty normal conversation when they’d first met. Kira wouldn’t have let him stay with them if they hadn’t. When they had first introduced themselves, they had begun explaining Basil’s pronouns, and Gerry had cut them off, saying they didn’t need to give him the cis explanation of things, because he wasn’t, so Kira had welcomed him to their “house of nonbinary snake lovers.” Gerry had laughed at that and said he was happy to have found his people.
In any case, whatever the reason Gerry had come to America, he was still just… Gerry. Maybe he was coming back to the apartment at weird hours because he was fighting monsters. Maybe he had a part-time job. Kira was pretty sure that second thing wasn’t true, because he didn’t actually have a green card or whatever—not like they thought that would stop him, honestly—but the point was, it was rude to judge your friends like that.
He’s still awake at weird hours, though Kira thinks that they and Basil might be peer-pressuring him a bit into an almost normal sleep schedule. But Gerry had told them that he felt the most productive at 1 AM, and who was Kira to say that was wrong? Honestly, it’s becoming a bit of a comfort now. If Kira feels like shit during the day, they can talk to Basil or Mae. But if they’re up past midnight having a breakdown while they try to cope with the fact that they’re living with a diagnosis that kills people, then they can go to Gerry. It’s nice.
As Kira thinks about this, the door opens. Gerry’s back. It’s 1 AM. He asks if there’s anything they want to talk about.
“No, no,” Kira says. “I’m fine. Just… can’t sleep. What about you, though? Anything on your mind?”
“You can’t avoid your problems by helping me,” Gerry tells them, amused.
“That’s not what I was doing,” Kira says. But this is Gerry, and Kira’s pretty sure he can smell lies, so they add, “Helping people is easy. Easy isn’t distracting.”
“It’s not,” Gerry agrees. “It’s just nice.”
It was. And it was nice to be needed by someone, even if Kira was half-convinced that all this would end with them dead, and the only way anyone would ever speak about them would be about how much character development they’d given everyone, as if they were just some sick friend of a YA protagonist. Kira hated the thought of it, hated that they might be remembered like some kind of saint just because they had the misfortune of dying young. Then again, it wasn’t the worst of fates. At least it would mean their life had meant something.
“What do you think happens when you die?” Kira asks. Gerry doesn’t even raise an eyebrow.
“Nothing,” he says. “You just get to rest.”
“Oh,” Kira says, feeling strangely disappointed. “My dad used to say it was Torah study.”
This, Gerry reacts to.
“Studying?” he says. “Even though you’re dead? What’s the point?”
“The point of knowledge is that you have more knowledge,” Kira says. “And that you use that knowledge to make something better. Also, sometimes it’s just nice to have the chance to talk about something you like, you know? Get a different opinion. Like… a book club. You’re not supposed to have the same experience. You’re just supposed to share, and maybe learn something new about a character you liked.”
“I’ve never been to a book club,” Gerry says.
“It’s fun,” Kira says. “It’s like arguing with people, but you’re all on the same side. Been a while since I read anything new, though.”
They pause.
“You’re not going to die from this, Kira,” Gerry says. He sounds so certain. “This won’t be the thing that ends you.”
“Oh,” Kira says. As weird as it sounds, they believe him. He makes it sound ominous as hell, but somehow, that doesn’t make it any less comforting. It just makes it sound like a prophecy. “Thank you.”
“Go to bed,” Gerry says. “You have to wake up at eight.”
Kira groans.
“I do,” they say. “What the hell am I doing up this late?”
At some point, Basil remembers that Gerry said he was originally in America for a business trip, which means that one, Gerry had probably been living out of, like, a singular backpack, and two, everything they had seen him wear was his business clothes.
Kira can’t imagine that there’s any job in the world where Gerry’s platform boots are acceptable business attire, though they do look like they’d be pretty good monster-stomping boots, which is what Kira assumes they’re actually being used for. Not that Kira’s going to tell Basil that when Basil doesn’t even believe in ghosts.
Turns out that Kira doesn’t even need to try to explain because Basil’s biggest concern about that is that this means Gerry needs to go clothes shopping. Like now.
Kira tries to protest, saying that they think Gerry might’ve bought a couple of shirts online or something, and he owned a Heinz ketchup shirt, which he had to have bought in Pittsburgh, and making him walk anywhere when his balance was still so bad was probably a crime, even if he had just bought a cane, but Basil’s already knocking on Gerry’s door.
“Yeah?” Gerry says.
“So,” Basil says. “You used to live in England.”
“I did,” Gerry confirms.
“And you didn’t plan on coming here,” Basil adds. “Which means that, like, you probably left all your clothes there. In England. Where you can’t get them.”
“Oh,” Gerry says. “No, uh, my, ah, Uncle Michael brought most of my stuff over?”
The weird look he gives confirms to Kira that, yes, he is talking about that weird monster they met. Was he only calling it an uncle because they had? That was kind of cute, actually.
“You have an uncle?” Basil asks. “I didn’t think you had any family.”
“It’s not family,” Gerry says. “It’s just… someone I know. Who can move things around.”
Kira wonders if Gerry knows the fact that he’s using neopronouns for Michael means Basil’s going to assume that Michael’s just some cool older trans person that helped Gerry transition or something. Then again, Kira couldn’t be sure that wasn’t also true. Maybe it went to Pride every year. They didn’t know how Michael lived its life.
“Oh,” Basil says. “But it has the keys to your house?”
“Oh, no,” Gerry says. He pauses. “I mean, yeah, it can get in, it’s fine.”
Basil turns to Kira, eyebrow raised, because it’s very clear that “Uncle Michael” is way too comfortable breaking and entering. Kira understands. No one should have a sketchy uncle that breaks into places. Kira wishes that was the only thing wrong with this conversation.
“So your landlord let it in or something?” Kira asks. Gerry looks relieved.
“Yes,” he says. “That’s probably what happened.”
“Oh,” Basil says. “Yeah, that makes sense. Anyways, want to go shopping?”
“Sure,” Gerry shrugs. “Why not?”
There’s a lot of cool shops in downtown Pittsburgh. Kira’s a little surprised to hear that Gerry hasn’t even been to Southside, especially since he had Micheal and his weird teleporter powers to help him get around, but apparently, Gerry only goes out when he needs to meet terrifying women for coffee. Which means Kira and Basil get to be the one to introduce him to this thrift store they sometimes go to, and every other cool shop. Also, Kira wants to know what Gerry thinks about American candy. One of the only things Kira knows about England is that the candy tastes different there. Basil says that’s because England has a different breed of sugar than America does. Gerry doesn’t know about that, but he bought some gum a while back, and it for sure tasted a little weird.
“Different sugar breeds,” Basil says seriously, as they all walk into another shop.
“It’s not sugar breeds, it’s…” Gerry trails off and glares at Basil. “Now I can’t remember. I can’t stop thinking of it as a breed, Jesus.”
Basil grins, victorious.
“You can prove me wrong later,” xe says. “Let’s buy something fancy. Kira’s cousin’s getting married in a couple months, and I’m invited because Kira and I fake-dated in high school and that’s a bond you can never break. You should come with us!”
“Sorry,” Gerry says. “Fake-dated?”
“Yeah, you know, it happens sometimes you’re a gay high schooler and you don’t want anyone to know,” Basil says. “Probably would have worked better if one of us actually looked straight.”
“I can either pretend to be straight or look straight, but I can’t do both at once,” Kira says. “Anyways, it wasn’t a big deal. Point is, if I’m invited somewhere, Basil is too.”
“And it’s not weird for all your roommates to come to your cousin’s wedding?” Gerry asks.
“Mae’s coming, too,” Kira says. “What can I say? I like traveling in groups. I’m a pack animal. Plus, it wouldn’t be fair if you had to sit around at home while we were off having fun.”
Gerry snorts.
“And you really want to introduce me to your family?” he asks.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Do you really think I know how to talk to people?” Gerry asks, amused. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, you two are probably kind of my only friends.”
Basil and Kira both let out a small gasp.
“It’s not that I don’t know anyone,” Gerry adds, seeing their expressions. “Got on pretty well with a few people I knew back in England, honestly, but I wouldn’t say we were friends. I mean, I didn’t want us to be. It would have been dangerous for them to get too close. My mum, she… Well, living with her didn’t make it easy.”
Basil pats Gerry on the shoulder.
“Well, it’s okay if you don’t understand people,” Basil says. “I have ADHD so I’m shit with social cues, but what I do know is that if someone’s cool, they’re not going to get mad if you can’t always show up. They’re just going to want to know you’ll come when you can. Like, you know, how we’re all hanging out now.”
“Of course I am,” Gerry says. “You asked.”
“Well, yeah, but you don’t have to do things just because we ask you to,” Basil says. Xe’s gone back to looking through the clothing racks, and spots a dress hanging nearby. “Oh, this would look good on you. Gerry, do you have any dresses? You should get some dresses.”
“I’ve got some skirts, but I don’t wear them that much,” Gerry says. “I get into a lot of weird shit, most days, and I don’t want to ruin them.”
“If you had more skirts, you probably won’t be so worried about ruining one,” Basil tells him.
“Maybe,” Gerry says. He goes to take the dress, but when Basil sees his hand, xe grabs his wrist and gasps.
“What’s on your hand?” Basil asks. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Gerry insists. He wriggles out of xir grasp, surprised by the sudden contact. “It’s just sports tape. I use it all the time.”
“Sports tape,” Basil repeats. “All the time? You know you can get ring splints, right? I mean, you’re supposed to go to a doctor, so they fit your fingers right. But you can just buy them online. You shouldn’t, but you could.”
Gerry goes still at the mention of doctors. Basil frowns.
“Is this what you meant when you said dislocating a wrist was no big deal?” xe asks. “Because it’s starting to sound like a big deal.”
“And I’m dealing with it, aren’t I?” Gerry scoffs. He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets.
“I mean, yeah, in theory,” Basil replies. Xe looks at him, eyes soft with pity. “Look… I know it sucks, figuring stuff like this out, but trust me, it’ll get so much easier once you do.”
“It should already be getting easier,” Gerry says, frustrated. “I beat cancer. I shouldn’t have to keep fighting.”
“You shouldn’t,” Basil agrees. “I’m sorry.”
Gerry’s face crumples.
“It’s stupid,” he says. “I mean, I already made my decision. I wanted to—I thought I wanted to live, even if it meant living alone. Not like I wasn’t already. Only people I met were the ones I messed with. It was—I guess it was some kind of comfort. To know there was something really awful out there, and I was ruining its day. Gave me something to do, anyways. A way to make myself useful. But it’s safe here, more or less. If I want trouble, I’d have to go find it, but what the hell would I go look for? I’ve been out of the loop for too long. There’s nothing waiting for me. No one to plan around. Nothing to do but get better.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Kira asks.
“Sure,” Gerry says. “If I actually knew how to do that, instead of making you drag me to a doctor.”
“You’re the one who let me drag you,” Kira tells him. Gerry shakes his head.
“Don’t pretend I’m someone who can take care of himself,” he says. He laughs, short and bitter. “Did you know, I almost didn’t realize I had cancer? Wouldn’t have even made an appointment if a friend hadn’t forced me to. Guess I was already so used to the pain I didn’t notice that it was getting worse. Just assumed my body was fucking me over, like always. And then I dealt with that. Exhausted myself with chemo for over a year, and still went on a trip here, of all places, and had the worst day of my life. Then I woke up the next day, and they told me I would die if I didn’t do something. So I got surgery. Easy to make the choice, when it’s laid out like that. But everything still hurts. It hurts so much, and I can’t breathe. Wasn’t I supposed to feel better? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to go? Why did I fight so hard if everything was just going to—to…”
Gerry trails off. Basil touches his shoulder, and Gerry leans into it, so Basil pulls him into a tight hug.
“Well,” Basil says. “We’re glad you’re here.”
“You barely know me,” Gerry says. “Half the time, I’m asleep when you get home.”
“So?” Basil asks, still holding tight. “We’re still friends. And I’m still glad you’re here.”
Maybe Basil doesn’t know what Kira does, but Kira thinks xe knows enough. Xe knows that Gerry’s had a hard time, and that he’s making the best of it now, and that he’s doing it sober. Sober and stuck in a country that wasn’t his own, and still somehow finding the time to help people with their nightmares. Still found time to sing to snakes, to do his make-up and have movie marathons, even though, thinking back, sitting still so long had probably made him ache. Kira hadn’t thought about it then. He hadn’t complained. Kira thinks this might be the first time they’ve heard Gerry actually really admit to his suffering. Even when he told them about his seizure, it had sounded so matter of fact. Like, yes, it had traumatized him, but obviously, it hadn’t been the first thing to do so, really, it wasn’t a big deal.
But it was a big deal. Because it had been the worst day of his life, and he had survived it. And if he had survived that, he could survive this. But that was a cheesy thing to say, even if it was true. Kira didn’t think Gerry would want to be comforted like that.
“Gerry?” Kira asks. “Can I buy you a donut?”
Gerry looks at them.
“It’s just… it kind of sounds like you’ve gone through a lot,” Kira explains. “And I think you might deserve a prize. Like, a really big one. But I only have enough money for a donut right now, so…”
“I can buy my own donut,” Gerry says with a sniff.
“Well, yeah,” Kira says. “But that’s not going to stop me.”
So they go get donuts, because the only thing embarrassing than being near-tears in a public place is crying in that place, and Gerry was getting dangerously close to the latter. There’s a shop Kira knows nearby that has some really good ones. Gerry gets a s'mores donut. It’s pretty much exactly what you’d expect; dipped in chocolate and filled with marshmallow creme, and topped with graham cracker crumbs, along with some burnt-looking marshmallow, and a mini Hershey. Basically, it’s an outrageous amount of sugar. He seems happy with his choice.
“Are there any good bands here?” Gerry asks as they all eat. “I’m just realizing, I haven’t been to a concert in a while.”
“They’re not worth your time,” Kira says seriously.
“They’re fine,” Basil says. Xe pats Kira’s head. It doesn’t calm them down. They’re too filled with rage. “Kira just has beef with like, three different local bands.”
“Four,” Kira corrects, taking a bite out of their donut with more force than necessary. Gerry looks at them, overjoyed.
“I never expected you to be so petty,” he says. “What’d they do?”
“It’s a long story,” Basil says. It really wasn’t. Basil just didn’t want Kira to rant about it now because there’d been enough emotions today. Too bad. Kira is filled with rage.
“They,” Kira says. “Are a disgrace. All of them.”
“They’re idiots, Kira. They’re not worth your time.”
“If I spend enough time talking shit, my words will turn into a curse against them.”
“We don’t have to go to a concert,” Gerry says, interrupting them. “I’ve just had a lot of free time lately. Been looking for something to do.”
“Does that mean there’s no more evil clowns?” Basil asks.
“None that I can find, at least,” Gerry tells xir. “Normally, I would have left by now. Found another country to cause trouble in.”
“Does that mean you want to go on vacation?” Basil asks. “Because we can go on a road trip or something if you want.”
“You don’t want to go on a trip with me,” Gerry says.
“Because the evil clowns will find you?” Kira asks.
“I feel like you two are really hung up on that,” Gerry says. “Honestly, it’s nothing you need to worry about. They’re probably gone now. Not that I really want to go looking for them. I tend to attract some weird shit when I go places, and I’m not so sure I want to deal with that right now.”
There’s something to be said about Gerry, of all people, not wanting to attract attention, but Kira doesn’t mention it.
“Guess I could paint,” Gerry adds. “But I left all my brushes back in London, and…”
And Gerry’s hands still shake. And they might always. Because recovering didn’t always mean you’d be able to go back to who you were before, especially when the thing you had hurt controlled so much of your life. Kira hadn’t played their guitar in ages, because it reminded them that their hearing might not get better. Sure, there were deaf musicians, but Kira didn’t know how to be one of them. And maybe it wasn’t very punk of them, but they didn’t want the last song they sang to sound like shit. They couldn’t stand the thought of realizing mid-song that they hadn’t properly tuned their guitar or, even worse, that they’d hit the wrong note and not even notice it. They used to think they’d spend the rest of their life writing songs, but now they’re not so sure.
“Maybe you should take up sculpting,” Kira suggests. “If you’re bored, though, there’s a lot of museums in Pittsburgh. We’ve actually been meaning to ask if you wanted to go to one with us. If you’re up to it, I mean. There’s a few smaller ones that aren’t too hard to get to, so it shouldn’t be that much walking.”
“Might be fun,” Gerry says with a shrug. “Already went to—what’s that one called? The Heinz?”
Basil and Kira look at each other.
“Gerry,” Basil says slowly. “The Senator Heinz History Center is a renovated warehouse. It has five floors.”
“Was it?” Gerry says. “Didn’t feel like five floors. It’s not like I looked it up or anything. I was just in the area, and the next thing I knew, I was looking at tomatoes and wandering around the gift shop.”
Kira thinks this sounds like what someone having a breakdown would do. They very politely decide against mentioning this.
“Well,” Kira says eventually. “I’m glad you didn’t have to walk through all five floors.”
When they get home, Gerry talks a little more about the sports tape and the reason behind it. He says he thinks he might have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which is apparently some genetic disorder that gives you really flexible joints which dislocate far too easily. Gerry says he can’t throw a punch with his right hand without something popping out of place. Also, apparently it’s comorbid with like, five different things that sounded like hell.
When Kira asks what they mean by super flexible, Gerry touches his thumb to his forearm. Kira tries and fails not to wince. They hate that his body can do this, and hate that Basil laughs when they react.
“I kind of forgot not everyone’s like this, honestly,” Gerry admits. “Probably doesn’t help that I’ve met a lot of weird people traveling.”
“Were they clowns?” Kira asks, before they can stop themself.
“A lot of them were,” Gerry admits. “But I already knew the clowns weren’t normal.”
“They’re clowns,” Basil says.
“Among other things,” Gerry agrees.
Basil opens xir mouth, then closes it.
“I don’t know if I want to know what kind of circus you went to,” Basil tells him. “But I’m getting the sense it was kind of fucked up.”
Gerry shrugs.
“Well, anyways, I don’t know too much about Ehlers, but I do know it’s kind of hard to diagnose,” Basil says. “Mostly because of doctors refusing to give out referrals and stuff. So I totally don’t blame you for not wanting to try. Especially since you were busy with your evil clowns, apparently.”
“Clown’s are a pretty new problem, actually,” Gerry tells xir. “They didn’t actually really start bothering me until a couple years ago.”
“Gerry,” Basil begs. “Please. I have so many questions to ask but I want to be a responsible friend and talk about your health.”
“Nothing much to say, is there?” Gerry says with a shrug. “You said it yourself; it’s hard to diagnose. Why bother?”
“Because there is no way you’re going to learn all you need to know about Ehlers just from browsing a few websites,” Basil says. “I mean, we won’t force you to do anything. You might not have to get a diagnosis to get actual ring splints, but it’s worth looking into that at least, isn’t it? Think about how much better your hands would feel with real splints.”
Gerry considers this.
“It’d fit your aesthetic pretty well,” Kira adds. Gerry snorts.
“Well, those both sound like pretty great reasons to go to a doctor,” he says.
“Does that mean you’re convinced?” Basil asks. “Because I need to know what your deal with clowns is.”
“Dunno how much I can really go into it,” Gerry says.
“Why?” Basil demands. “Did you sign some kind of NDA?”
“A no-clown disclosure agreement,” Kira says.
“Tell me one story,” Basil begs. “I just need a little context. I won’t be able to forget it if you don’t.”
“I’m not sure you’d like my clown stories,” Gerry says. “But there’s other weird shit I could probably share.”
Basil moves closer.
“Tell me,” xe demands. “I want to know how you live your life.”
Gerry laughs at that.
“Well,” he says. “I went to France a little while ago. Found a guy who fell in love with a beetle.”
“Okay, wait, when you say ‘fell in love’ are we talking like, actual love?” Basil asks. “Or cat parasite love?”
“Cat parasite?” Gerry asks.
“The one that makes you love cats,” Basil says. Xe turns to Kira. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”
“Toxoplasma gondii,” Kira says, proud that they had remembered it by name. “They can only reproduce in cats or something, so they mess up rats' brains to make it so they don’t get scared of cats. And if people get it, they just start liking cats a lot.”
“This is real?” Gerry says. He sounds genuinely concerned. “What else does it do?”
“Wait, so he was really in love with a beetle?” Basil asks. “With a beetle? How? Why?”
“Technically, it was more of a swarm,” Gerry replies, distracted. “But cats? Just cats?”
“Just cats,” Kira confirms. “It’s fine, it doesn’t, like, actually hurt people. The most it can do is make you a little weird.”
“I’m already a little weird,” Gerry says.
“Then you don’t have to worry, do you?” Kira says. “And anyways, you’d know if you had it.”
It’s a total lie, and Kira knows Gerry can tell, but he chooses to be comforted by it.
“Can we please go back to the beetles?” Basil begs. “What happened?”
“Oh, we burned down his house,” Gerry tells xir. “Only way to deal with an infection like that.”
Basil and Kira stare. There’s nothing either of them can say to Gerry’s matter-of-fact tone. Maybe Gerry was just a regular exterminator. Maybe in France, that’s just how everyone dealt with bugs. Then again, that didn’t really explain the clowns. Unless it did. Had Gerry ever said they were human clowns? Wait, no, they don’t want to go down that rabbit hole.
“Oh,” Kira says eventually. “I see. Of course.”
“Couldn’t you have just… gotten bug spray or whatever?” Basil asks hesitantly.
“Maybe,” Gerry says, but it’s clear he doesn’t think so. “Wasn’t really my idea, actually. Told you I was traveling with someone, right?”
“I can’t believe there’s someone out there who’s as much of a pyromantic as you,” Basil says, overjoyed. “What did you do for a living?”
Gerry just shrugs.
“I kind of want to meet your boss now,” Basil adds. “I need to know what kind of person suggests fire to get rid of bugs. Do you know if she’s coming back to America soon?”
Gerry frowns and looks down at his hands. He starts fiddling with a piece of sports tape still stuck to a finger.
“I don’t,” he says. Kira gets the sense that xe had asked him to admit something painful. “Don’t really know what she’s doing now. She hasn’t—I mean, we haven’t really kept in touch.”
Basil tilts xir head at his tone and looks at Kira, but they had no words of comfort to give. All they knew was that Gerry wore loneliness so often it might as well be another pin on his jacket. Nothing Basil couldn’t see xirself.
“I’m sorry,” Basil says carefully.
“Not really a surprise, honestly,” Gerry says. “She was never one for small talk. But I’m sure she’ll call me if she needs me.”
Kira doesn’t tell him how sad that sounds. It’s clear from the forced casualness of his tone, he doesn’t want to hear it.
“Well, she’ll just have to wait,” Kira says instead. “Because we need you.”
Gerry comes to Kira’s next appointment.
Mae already promised to go, so he doesn’t really need to, but Kira’s getting another brain scan, and they appreciate the extra support. Also, it’s kind of funny to see Gerry and Mae in the same place. When the two stand next to Kira, they feel like they’re part of a punk-to-goth gradient. They also both have terrible resting bitch faces, and Kira is really enjoying the wide berth everyone is suddenly giving them. No one’s ever really scared of Kira, even with the spikes on their jacket. They’re just too short to be properly threatening. It’s a sad truth, but they’ve made peace with it.
Anyways, the appointment goes surprisingly well. Mae holds Kira’s hand while the nurse talks to her, and Kira’s proud to announce that most of their symptoms have gone away, except for the ringing in their ear. The nurse doesn’t seem too surprised, and tells Kira that might take a while to fade, but they don’t see why it shouldn’t.
And then they get the MRI.
“I know the drill,” Kira tells the nurse. “You can’t tell me anything, right?”
“There’s no need to sound so negative,” the nurse says. “Your tumor has been shrinking for a while now. I can’t promise good news, but it’s very unlikely things will get worse.”
“Okay,” Kira says, unconvinced.
“Barring any extreme changes, you should be able to finish chemotherapy soon,” the nurse tells them. “And then you can get back to your old life.”
“Yeah,” Kira says, feeling strangely undone by the choice of words. “My old life.”
“It’s just weird, I guess,” Kira says, once they leave. “I got so wrapped up in being sick, I never thought about what I’d do after.”
“I know the feeling,” Gerry says.
“This is after for you, though, isn’t it?” Kira says. “Shouldn’t you have some kind of idea of what to do? Don’t you have some sage advice to give me?”
“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, Kira, but I have a lot more problems than just cancer,” Gerry tells them.
“Yeah,” Kira mumbles. “I know the feeling.”
It’d be easy, if the tumor had been the only thing. If bodies were so simple that you could be cut up, and they’d take all that was wrong with you away, and that’d be it. No more problems.
But they hadn’t recovered yet. And when they did, there’d still be more. More bills to pay, more problems to solve, and a new host of nightmares to deal with on top of the ones they’d had since childhood, dreams where the bark pushed harder and harder into Kira’s skin until they were one and the same. Their therapist had never fully managed to cure them of their fear of containment. One of the reasons why a part of Kira couldn’t find it in themself to blame their body for the tumor. Of course their brain wanted to escape from the prison of bone that surrounded it. Hadn’t freedom always been what they wanted?
But they were free now. Or getting close to it, at least. And maybe one day, they’d be able to see their body as a friend, instead of something keeping them trapped.
G-d, what were they going to do with their free time? If Gerry wasn’t sick, and Kira wasn’t sick, then they’d really have nothing to do but go back to making music, but they still didn’t know if their hearing would come back. At least it had only been one ear. At least it still worked, even if it didn’t work well. Fuck, Kira was so tired of being grateful that things weren’t worse.
“Gerry,” Kira says. “What’s your favorite song?”
“What?” Gerry asks. “Why?”
“I want to learn a new song,” Kira says. “I’ll do a cover of it for you.”
“Better pick fast,” Mae adds. “If you don’t, they’ll just choose something for you.”
“That’s right,” Kira agrees. “I’ll choose an MCR song.”
The look Gerry gives them goes past confusion. Kira bursts out laughing.
“What does MCR have to do with anything?” Gerry asks.
“The… main singer’s name is Gerard?” Kira says.
“It is?”
“Okay, there is no way Kira is the first person to make that joke,” Mae cuts in.
“I’m sorry I don’t pay attention to the names of American musicians,” Gerry tells her.
“You knew the band!”
“Doesn’t mean I know everyone in it! I’ve only listened to one song!”
“Okay, okay,” Kira laughs. “I’m sorry, Gerry. I didn’t mean to sound like a music snob about MCR.”
“Thank you,” Gerry says. Kira giggles.
“It doesn’t have to be MCR, though,” they say. “I just want to sing something. Even if it’s weird metal shit. I can scream really loud. I haven’t done it lately, but I know I could be a great metal singer.”
Gerry snorts.
“I’ll think about it,” he says.
After they get back from temple one afternoon, Kira cleans their room. It’s the first time they’ve bothered to try in months. But the women at shul always ask about their health, and one of them almost cried when Kira mentioned that they were now officially cancer-free, a fact Kira had already celebrated with Basil and Gerry. Basil had joked that because of xir arthritis and Gerry’s POTS, they would soon be the only roommate who wasn’t immuno-compromised, and that they better not ruin that anytime soon. It was surprisingly energizing to know how many people had been worried about them. Kira didn’t want to let them down. They needed proof. Proof that they really were doing better. A clean room was a good start.
They’re singing to themself when Gerry walks into their room, expression unreadable. Kira’s mouth snaps shut.
“I hate bugs,” is all Gerry says. Kira had been singing a weird song, so it was a fair response. “Bugs in the kitchen and mold in the sink” isn’t really a line that makes a lot of people feel better, even if Kira thought it was funny as hell to sing while cleaning.
“Uh,” Kira says. “Noted. Sorry. Guess I got a little carried away. Just got back from temple, so I guess I’m just feeling spiritually pumped or something. Makes me wanna clean my room.”
“Glad to see meeting Michael didn’t ruin your faith,” Gerry says.
“If you’re going to tell me G-d isn’t real, I don’t really care,” Kira tells him. “I mean, I know you wouldn’t say that, but I just want you to know that I’m not trusting anything some white Christian says about religion.”
“You shouldn’t,” Gerry says. “Just wanted to say that I think it’s impressive. I don’t meet a lot of people who see what I’ve seen and still believe in a higher power. Well, not the kind you do.”
“I’m not sure what I believe, honestly,” Kira says. “But I think there’s something to be said for doing a ritual just because it’s a ritual. And I mean, it’s temple. If G-d exists, that's where I’d find an answer. Or at least find the right questions to ask to get one. And if I don’t, that’s fine. I’m not going for G-d. I’m going for me.”
“Huh,” Gerry says.
“It’s okay if you don’t get it,” Kira tells him. Gerry shrugs.
“I’m not really one for rituals,” he says. It was a lie. Gerry had playlists for, like, everything he did. Instead of mentioning that, Kira just shrugs.
“Anyways, there’s a stain on my wall I’ve been staring at for months, so I’m going to go clean that up, unless…,” they say.
“Uh, yeah,” Gerry says. “Just wanted to say I made the appointment. Probably won’t go get an actual diagnosis or anything, but I guess I could ask about it?”
“They’ll probably want you to take some blood tests,” Kira says. “Gotta check all their bases or whatever.”
“Probably,” Gerry agrees. He makes a face. “Do you know how many tests Basil had to take to get diagnosed?”
“At least like, ten,” Kira says. “But I think there’s more? Rheumatoid arthritis is actually really easy to spot, apparently.”
“Good for xir,” Gerry says. He doesn’t sound jealous, but he does sound tired.
“If you don’t come out of your appointment with at least a referral, I’ll fight a doctor for you,” Kira promises. “With my fists.”
Gerry laughs.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he says. “Have fun cleaning.”
“I’ll do my best,” Kira says. They wouldn’t consider cleaning fun.
Gerry snorts at that and heads back to his room. Kira picks their paper towels back up and starts singing a different song.
“Don’t know how to live, but I’m sick of learning how to di-i-ie,” Kira hums. “Vampirism is for posers in junior high.”
Kira’s cousin gets married in the spring.
Gerry goes with them, but disappears soon after they get to town with the excuse of having some prior engagement. He comes back smelling of smoke with a cut on his cheek. When he does, Mae wordlessly sticks a Hello Kitty bandaid on him, but otherwise, none of them bat an eye. He doesn’t smell like cigarettes or anything like that, so Kira figures it’s not their place to ask.
“Ready to meet my family?” Kira asks.
“Still can’t believe your cousin’s fine with me coming along,” Gerry says.
“They know what I’m like,” Kira says. Gerry snorts.
When they arrive at the wedding, Kira sees, like, three people do a double-take when they see Gerry. It’s a bit obvious that Kira’s family is surprised to see someone as tall and goyishe, but then see Kira standing next to him and just nod, as if that explained everything. Because of course if anyone was going to bring someone so weird to any family gathering, it’d be Kira. What could they say? They were known.
It does get a bit more embarrassing when Kira’s parents meet Gerry, though. They thank him for paying Kira’s bills and it’s awkward, because Kira knows they feel bad that they couldn’t pay it, and Gerry doesn’t want to make a big deal about it, because it’s fine, really, he had the money, and he was just grateful they’d been willing to room with a complete stranger. Kira’s dad says he’s glad they could help each other. It feels weird to have all their time together described so simply.
Other than that, though, it’s a nice night. Gerry doesn’t know anyone there, but stops caring once he gets into a surprisingly animated conversation about paintings with Kira’s aunt.
“You know,” Gerry says, once he makes his way back to Kira. “I’m kind of surprised you never looked me up.”
“What brought this on?” Kira asks with a laugh. “And how do you know I haven’t?”
“You would have said something,” Gerry says, a little bitter. “Definitely wouldn’t have brought me here, either.”
Kira’s not sure what to do with that. Truth was, they’d never looked up Gerry because at first, it would ruin the mystery. The truth had never really mattered when they’d been having so much fun speculating. Then they had been too worried about what they might find. Now, it just felt rude.
“Someone out there spreading lies about you on the internet?” Kira jokes. “Don’t worry, I don’t believe everything I see online.”
It takes a few seconds before Gerry laughs at that. Kira nudges him.
“If there’s something you think I need to know, you can tell me,” they say. “Otherwise, I don’t care.”
“You’re getting very good at avoiding asking questions,” Gerry notes. He says it like it should mean something. It doesn’t.
“Yeah, I’m sure parents will be really disappointed in me,” Kira says. “Questioning everything’s, like, the first thing you learn about being Jewish. But that doesn’t mean I have to know everything. If you don’t want me to ask, why would I want to pry? Everyone’s got stuff they don’t want to share. I mean, I still haven’t told Mae about being—well, you know.”
“Yeah,” Gerry says.
“Yeah,” Kira says. “So you’re the only one who really knows that happened. I mean, my parents were there, and they made me go to therapy about it. And Basil kind of knows, but none of them really get it. But you do.”
“I do,” Gerry agrees. He smiles. “Sometimes I think it’s all I understand.”
This was getting too serious. Kira doesn’t want to talk about trauma now, and they didn’t think Gerry did, either. They were at a wedding. They should be having fun. Kira nudges him again.
“Dance with me later,” they say. “You’re the only one here with balance worse than mine. I need that kind of boost in confidence.”
“So rude!” Gerry snorts. “You really going to speak that way to a cancer survivor?”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Kira shoots back. He laughs.
Anyways, it’s a nice wedding. Kira tears up a little at the vows, and then they dance with Mae, Basil, and Gerry, in that order. Before they know it, they’re walking back to their hotel, enjoying the cool night air. Kira knows Mae’s not cold, but they offer their jacket anyways, then immediately beg for it back once they feel the breeze. Mae rolls her eyes, unsurprised and amused.
“It’s the thought that counts,” Mae tells Kira.
“The action would have counted more,” they reply, sulking. Mae laughs and pats them on the shoulder. Kira takes her hand. Their’s now.
“Hey,” Gerry says suddenly. “You want to see something cool?”
“Always,” Kira says. Gerry shifts his cane to the crook of his arm and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket. “Wait, are you seriously smoking?”
Gerry puts a finger to his lips, mouth curling into a smile. He pulls out a lighter and touches the flame to the end of one of his cigarettes. Instead of smoke, Kira sees light, and it smells like love. The embers that come out sparkle like stars as they slowly float up into the sky. Kira watches as they form a new constellation in the form of a spiral.
“Woah,” Basil breathes. “How’d you do that?”
“Wasn’t me,” Gerry grins, face aglow with stars. “Just means there’s something out there that cares about me getting lung cancer just as much as you.”
There are stars getting caught in his hair, and it makes Gerry look like a galaxy. Kira can see the reflections of them in his eyes, small flecks of brilliant gold surrounded by pools of silver. It’s strange and beautiful and it doesn’t end. Basil tries to catch a star in xir hands, but it slips through. Somehow, Kira’s not surprised. Some things just aren’t meant to be touched by humans after all, no matter how close to Gerry they stay.
This isn’t a miracle. Gerry had said that there was a price to power, but they’re not sure if it matters. This may not be a miracle, but it is a gift, and Kira thinks they’ll remember the brightness of this night for as long as they live. It feels safe. It feels good. It feels like a reminder of a promise.
Because Kira can’t believe the world is anything but good if Gerry Delano and all of his magic exist within it.