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Gerard sees Mikey's scars.
The bruises, the burns, the slashes all over his body.
He has no idea why he likes it. Why he lets people use him like that. He acts like he doesn’t see the little bruised needle marks on the inside of his arms, he just wonders what they’re from. He runs through all the possible injectable drugs he knows of as he opens the door to a dumpy apartment.
"Fuck, Fuck- Fuck!" He heard a drawn out whine and several thuds from the back of the apartment just as he walked in. He did nothing but sigh and walk across the small living room. Gerard slinked out the sliding glass door onto the dimly lit moss green porch, where he lit up a cigarette, sat down in a plastic chair, and put his head in his hands. After the third cigarette, the loud noises resided and he heard shuffling and the click of their front door. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a shady figure descend down the stairs. He just sighed. It's not like it was different from any other day.
___
"Come on, Gee..." Mikey mumbled face first into Gerard's chest after flopping down on him.
"No Mikey. You're drunk off your ass. Get the hell off me." Gerard said nonchalantly and shoved him to the other end of the couch.
"Well then just let me suck you off or somethin'." He slurred, crawling towards his brother, imitating an animal. To Gerard, an animal that needs to be shot between the eyes and forgotten.
"I fucking said 'no'." The older snapped, pushing the drunken teenager off the couch this time and onto the floor.
"Gee..." He groaned, writing on the beige carpet and pouting like a four year old.
"Don't call me that."
Mikey looked up at him through half-lidded eyes and ran a hand through his greasy hair, then trailing it down his chest.
"You should really, like, jerk yourself off. Or I could do it for you." Mikey threw the strung-together words at his brother before he had a chance to get up.
"Gee.." Mikey mumbled reaching down to grab himself through tight leather. He started to reach into his pants moaning his brother's name when Gerard ran to the bathroom to vomit.
___
This time it was a woman.
It was pretty unusual to see is brother with a chick, Gerard always just assumed he was gay. Maybe she was his dealer. She reeked of weed and looked like she crawled out of a beer-filled post concert dumpster. Yeah, probably the dea-
"Hey." The woman piped up, jarring the older man out of his thoughts. "Can I bum one?"
Gerard reached in his pocket to toss her the pack, observing that she took more than one when he wasn't looking. They had tried to make small talk, but failed to get past exchanging names.
"You my brother's dealer or something?" Gerard asked, cutting through the stale smoke and silence.
"Nah, that's McCrackhead. You met him before?" Alicia said.
"McCrackhead?" Gerard raised an eyebrow.
"Bert." She laughed, tossing her head back and making smoke rings, eventually babbling on about herself and Mikey- how long they had been together and whatnot.
"You know he's pretty gay, right?" The dark haired man scoffed while lighting another cigarette.
"Not really. Just a bit of a slut. Weird thing is, he always comes back." She says proudly through a ring.
Gerard merely put out the cigarette and went inside. That was only a little unexpected.
_____
This was the third night in a row Alicia was staying over, and around midnight Gerard got up to make himself a sandwich. There weren't any thuds or moans or hisses, so that slightly worried him. Then again, his seventeen year old bespectacled brother was apparently a drug addicted man-slut. He should expect worse from now on.
"Hey Gerard! Is Mikey in there with--" a pause. "Holy shit!" Alicia yelped as he threw open a door. Gerard stopped and listened to the worried chants of his brother's name.
This, he know was going to happen.
He put down the knife and bread to walk calmly to the bathroom. He could already hear Alicia start to cry, still calling his name. He walked in to see Mikey slumped against the bathroom wall, a syringe laying by him. By this time, his girlfriend called 911.
"Please, this guy here, I think he's dead! Please- do something! send an ambulance!" She wailed into her cell phone, holding Mikey's hand.
Gerard picks up his brother's limp, scar-covered wrist and holds it between two fingers to check his pulse. Alicia looks up at him with wide, teary eyes and Gerard drops the wrist.
"Make it a hearse." He mutters, going out of the bathroom for a smoke. He still hears the echoes of Alicia's wails as he clicks the door shut. He lights up another smoke.