Chapter Text
In the basement of the Way brother’s parents’ house, My Chem had been bouncing ideas off one another for the next album. Even during their current tour for their last album, their passion to make new music didn’t stop.
Three Cheers had soared into popularity. None of them were quite used to the attention, especially Gerard. When Frank would cast him a glance in interviews, his hands were always shaky, he’d trip over his words, and he’d avoid looking directly at the camera.
Tickets to their concerts sold out within minutes. New venues and dates had to be added, eating up whatever free time they’d had left.
Deep into the night, Ray, Bob, and Mikey filtered out by themselves, red-eyed and drowsy, collecting their beer bottles before filing up the stairs.
Frank stayed where he was, deciding to keep an eye on Gerard, who’d passed out on the fold-out sofa bed. His messy black hair hid his face, one of his hands dangling limply off the edge, close to the empty bottle of whiskey he’d started and finished on his own. Having never seen Gerard drink, Frank had been confused to watch him swiftly nurse a full bottle he’d bought cheap from the nearest liquor store by himself.
The past few weeks had been busy. Schedules packed, piling on the pressure for the band, which had led to Gerard hugging some sort of drink close to his chest every other day. Frank had noticed.
Ever since The Used had opened for them at a concert, the lead singer, Bert, had been draped all over Gerard at every opportunity. At first, his presence had been intruding, but everyone had gotten used to Bert’s face popping up everywhere. Over the past couple of months, he’d found some way to wriggle into their space or join them backstage.
His and Gerard’s get-togethers had started off loud and public, but now whenever they met up, it was always alone. No one else was invited.
Some nights, Gerard wouldn’t return. Whether that was home, their hotel room, or the tour bus. Usually, Frank and Gerard would share hotel rooms and bunks. It wasn’t uncommon for them to be found sleeping together in the mornings or to crawl into each other’s bunks late at night. Frank had gotten so used to snuggling up to Gerard to sleep that he really noticed when Gerard wasn’t there.
Unanswered phone calls, several worried texts would bombard Gerard’s phone, from any one of the band members. Even if he’d never reply, he’d always come back.
Slumped in an old armchair, Frank was about to drift off when a noise startled him awake. He lifted his head up, glancing in Gerard’s general direction, his vision hazy. Gerard sat up, rubbing his eyes, staring blankly at the sheets.
“Gee?” Frank called.
In response, Gerard hummed, lazily dipping down for the bottle of whiskey.
“It’s empty,” he said, noting Gerard’s disappointment as he examined the empty bottle, raising it to his mouth to tip the very last drops onto his tongue.
He discarded it on the mattress. “Wha’s goin’ on?” he asked, in the quietest voice Frank had ever heard. He almost didn’t hear.
“You passed out about half an hour ago.” Frank stood to fetch the bottle, and Gerard flinched back a little. That may have made a dent in Frank’s expression, causing him to feel slightly unwanted.
“Time?” Gerard checked his wrist for a non-existent watch he didn’t own.
Frank had to walk over to the small lamp switched on in the corner to check his own watch. “Quarter to eleven,” he announced, snatching a blanket off the back of the chair to wrap around his shoulders. The basement was freezing.
“‘M fuckin’ late,” Gerard
Trying to stifle a few rough coughs, Gerard dragged himself off the sofa bed to dig his flip phone out of a shoe. “I have—” a gross, wet-sounding cough— “I have to go. Fuckin’ forgot, c’ya believe that? Fuck me, fucking hell,” he slurred, raking his fingers through his knotted hair.
“Where you goin’?” Taking Gerard’s place on the sofa bed, Frank curled up, incredibly ready for a heavy night’s rest. The sheets smelled like Gerard, he noticed. Books and a trace of the fancy cologne he’d saved up to buy. “Are you gonna be coming back tonight?”
“I don’t know.” He gave a half shrug.
“It’s late, y’know. What’s so important that you have to go now? Come back to bed,” he added hopefully, offering a smile when Gerard cast him a glance.
For a moment, it seemed he might give in, swaying toward the bed, longing to fall asleep in Frank’s arms. But he stopped and shook his head. “I just gotta… I, yeah, I promised I’d meet with him tonight.”
“Who, Bert?”
Again, he shrugged. In days-old clothes, he looked dishevelled, and made no effort to aid his appearance, merely hooked his blue and grey striped scarf around his neck.
“D’you mind if I crash here, then? I can’t be fucked going home.” Not that Frank used his apartment much. It was storage space more than anything.
“No, ‘course. Stay as long as y’want.” With that, he exited, giving Frank a small wave before he shut the basement door. Frank called after him to say goodbye, but he doubted he’d heard.
Sighing, he rolled over, bunching the blanket up under his chin. As if he was still here, it smelled just like him.
*
Hours later, a loud noise woke him up. Wide-eyed, he sat up, staring through the pitch-black. The lamp had been switched off, so he reached instead for the nightlight on the cabinet beside the bed.
Flat on his back, Gerard lay on the floor, his shirt having ridden up, his belt unbuckled, letting his jeans slip down his hips.
“The fuck’re you doing?” Frank croaked out, squinting in the dim. “Did you fall, are you okay? What time is it?”
“‘M fine,” he replied in an airy tone. He scratched absently at his stomach, drawing Frank’s attention to how prominent his ribs had become. “I did a lil’ fall, but s’because the room keeps moving like—” he mimed side-to-side with his hand— “s’not my fault.”
“Get over here, c’mon.” He patted the empty space next to him. The sofa bed looked huge with only one person on it. “C’ya do that, huh?”
He could, Gerard decided, practically crawling over and onto the bed, knocking over empty soda cans and stacks of CDs on the way. As soon as Gerard lay down, he draped an arm over Frank’s waist, shuffling in close enough to nuzzle his nose in Frank’s hair.
It was distracting, having Gerard’s breath fan the back of his neck, so he turned over to lie face to face. Now, his breath fanned against his lips. Gerard’s eyes were already closed.
“Gee,” Frank spoke up.
“Hmm?”
“Your breath reeks of booze.”
He made a disgruntled noise. “So does yours.”
“I bet it’s not half as bad.”
“How would you know?” He ducked his head to bury it in the crook of Frank’s neck instead, tightening his hold on his waist, no space between them at all.
Frank swallowed, and he didn’t doubt it was audible. “So,” he continued, “what did you guys get up to?”
No reply.
He pulled back a bit to get a look at Gerard’s face, resting a hand on his cheek, his thumb along the bone. Regardless of all the things he’d witnessed him do on stage, he maintained his look of innocence. He hadn’t quite grown into his face or figure, his features soft, giving his hips a slight curve to them.
The dark rings around his eyes were persistent, his lips chapped and sore from being bitten. Something other than nerves from their sudden popularity was eating away at him.
Worry took permanent residence at the back of Frank’s mind.
*
In the morning, Frank expected Gerard to be wrapped around him still, as he had the vivid memory of Gerard’s legs intertwined with his before he’d fallen asleep.
However, Frank woke up alone. He groaned, rolling over for another half hour of sleep, before trudging upstairs.
Greeted by the sight of Mikey making pancakes as he trudged into the kitchen. The smell brought him to life a little bit more.
“These for me?” he asked, only teasing.
“Get a plate,” Mikey replied, flipping a pancake over. Even though they smelled good, visually, they weren’t so pleasing. Half of it had stuck to the pan.
Frank sat at the breakfast bar. “D’you know where Gerard is?”
“I’m not his keeper.”
“You’re his brother.”
“Not the same thing,” he pointed out. “You two are the ones dating, I thought you’d know.”
“We’re not dating.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Another pancake, another fail at presentation. “He’s probably upstairs.”
Their parents weren’t home. If they were, none of them would have left the basement. Purely because none of them were on great terms with the Ways. For no reason in particular, the conversation would dwindle out quickly, and they’d share an awkward silence, daring the other to be the first to leave the room.
Mikey had managed to fill five plates before the pancake mix ran out.
“Who’re the other two plates for?” Frank asked.
“Bob and Ray stayed here ‘cause they didn’t want to drive home last night since it was pretty late. Especially after we’d been drinking,” he explained, sliding a plate along the counter for Frank. “Actually, can you go wake them up? I’m not having them complain these are cold.”
“Sure,” he agreed, heading for the stairs.
On his way down, Gerard brushed past, apologising when their elbows knocked together.
"It's okay," he trailed off, Gerard already scurrying off in to the kitchen.
Once he was in the bedroom - Ray on the bed, Bob on the floor - Frank kept silent, until he banged on the door really loudly, startling them both. "Time to wake up." He smirked, receiving death glares and daggers from the two, now annoyed, boys.
"What gave you the right to do that?" Bob remarked, running his hands down his face, getting up off of the bed.
"Yeah..." Ray mumbled in agreement.
Frank just shrugged, the smirk still present, "oh, no one. I thought it'd be funny."
They all wandered in to the kitchen, finding Gerard seated at the breakfast bar, head in his hands, sunglasses on. In their opinion, it wasn't even bright. The sun wasn't even coming through the blinds. "Hey." Ray smiled, jumping on a seat at the far end. Mikey shoved a plate his way, getting a wide grin in return. "Awesome." He stated, beginning to dig in his pancakes already.
"Since when did Micheal Way cook?" Bob scoffed, sitting down next to Ray after taking a plate of his own.
"Since he had nothing to do this morning." Mikey retorted, handing Frank a second plate, which he placed in front of Gerard before going back to his own.
The black haired boy shook his head, nudging them away with his fingers. "N-no, I can't." He said, tripping over his words.
Frank had noticed that too. He had started stuttering a few months ago. At first, he thought nothing of it, it was probably because he was tired. Then, he began to stumbled over his words more and more often, until it kind of became natural. The others might not have noticed these small changes in Gerard's behaviour. Perhaps it didn't matter. But Frank did notice.
Mikey frowned, switching the cooker off. "Why not?"
"I-I feel sick." He coughed, putting a hand to his mouth, though nothing stirred.
"Do you want to go back to bed, Gee?" Frank questioned, getting a small nod in response. "Alright." He smiled sadly, making his way down to the basement, Gerard following closely behind him.
Gerard dodged Frank a little, making his way over to his bed. Frank outstretched his hand to switch the light on, but Gerard shook his head vigorously, earning an 'okay' paired with an unsure nod.
"Are you okay Gee?" Frank asked, watching Gerard as he took off the sunglasses and lied down slowly, almost immediately closing his red-ringed eyes. He didn't seem to hear Frank's question, so he tried again, "are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Gerard coughed, wrapping his arms around himself as if he were protecting himself from something.
He sighed, running his hands down his face. "Are you sure? I can get you some water? You gotta stay hydrated, you know?" He added, thinking back to the last time he saw Gerard drink something that wasn't alcohol. It was a long time ago, surely that couldn't have been doing him any favours.
Again, the boy shook his head, bringing his knees closer to his chest, starting to drift off to sleep.
-
Ray and Bob had gone back to their own homes, leaving Frank and Mikey to themselves. The sun had set hours ago, stars appearing in the sky in it's wake. It was now nearing midnight. Gerard hadn't moved, although, Frank could only assume that because it was deadly silent down in the basement. Neither had seen him all day either. So they came to the conclusion that he was just extremely tired. Although, Frank supposed even he couldn't sleep through the whole day having slept the whole of last night too.
Maybe Frank was just overthinking things like he usually did. Perhaps it was all in his mind, taunting him with exaggerated situations.
Mikey entered the kitchen, stretching as he stepped over the threshold. "I'm going to bed." He yawned, looking at Frank through half lidded eyes. "The couch is all yours, if you want."
"Why can't I stay where Bob did?"
"You can... But... I don't know. I can't think of a reason why not. I'm too tired. You're welcome to sleep wherever the hell you want." Mikey shrugged, running his fingers through his hair as he trudged back up to his bedroom. The door clicked as he shut it quietly behind him.
The lights were off, the windows were shut and Frank felt quite lonely sitting in the dark. He knew there were people near him, but he couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness away. It bothered him.
Clearing his throat, he decided on checking on Gerard, who hadn't eaten or drank all day. He as beginning to grow worried. However, normally, when he attempted to get Gerard to do something, he got a 'no', shake of the head, or he would ignore him and run some place else. It was getting rather annoying, if Frank had to be perfectly honest.
Knocking gently on the door, Frank pushed it open, peering around the wood in to the dark room. "Gee?" He called out. As soon as he walked in, the smell of smoke hit him, causing him to cough and grimace, wafting the air away. He wondered how the boy could even stand the scent, it was disgusting. A bad habit too. When he went further in, smoke wasn't the only smell he could sense. There was one in particular, one that was illegal and incredibly stupid to take. "Gerard!" Frank hissed, stomping over to the black haired boy, who was sat in the corner, flinching noticeably when he got too close. "Are you insane? You can't take that!" He snatched the cigarette out of Gerard's nicotine stained, slender fingers.
"I-I'm sorry. Pl-please don't..." He stuttered, shielding his face with his hands, backing in the the corner.
Did he think Frank was going to hit him? Eyebrows furrowed, Frank knelt down in front of Gerard, hesitantly placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Gerard was shaking under his touch, a small cough escaping his lips.
After a couple of minutes, he sighed, standing up, crushing the cigarette in the ash tray. Glancing around the room, he spotted another two empty bottles by the bed, a packet of cigarettes on the mattress and a lighter on the pillow. "Gerard..." Frank mumbled, pity banging at the door to his mind. "You can't go on like this. How are you supposed to live like this?"
Removing his hands from in front of his face, Gerard gazed up at Frank with sad eyes, "I-I'll get better... I-I-I promise..." Brushing his jet black hair behind his ears, he arose unsteadily to his feet and stumbled over to the bed, collapsing sideways on it - not caring that he accidentally landed on the cigarettes.
Frank stared at him, frowning, "I hope so."