Archive of Our Own

There’s something magical about this time of year.

And yeah, maybe it’s cliche or stereotypical for him to think like that but as Mikey finds himself stopping in front of the town square’s looming Christmas tree, he decides that he doesn’t care. Let people think he’s childish or naive.

There is absolutely something magical about looking up into those millions of multi-colored blinking lights. The tree is almost as round as it is tall, and it looms up to nearly the same height as the courthouse to its left. But the branches are sturdy and full, easily holding the weight of the oversized glass ornaments that’ve been placed there.

He’d watched the lighting ceremony, along with the rest of the town. It was a pretty good turn out actually, close to a hundred or so people all crowded together and smiling as the sheriff plugged the lights in. 

The wind is bitter and Mikey shivers inside his heavy leather jacket. It’s calling for rain later, that deep soaking kind that seems to get into your very bones. But he doesn’t mind.

Christmas in this small town means rain, not snow, and he’s grown to love the soft patter of rain on his roof as he falls asleep on Christmas night. Finds himself comforted by the schweech sound of cars passing by the street as he wraps presents. 

It’s only a little after 6pm and he told Gee he wouldn’t be home until later, so Mikey has enough time to stand and stare at the town’s tree. He wonders if everyone else gets the same warm, almost sticky feeling through them as they stand in front of this tree. It’s not a bad feeling, quite the opposite really.

It feels like holidays and home, of spending Christmas day inside with his brother, listening to those old-timey Christmas songs. It reminds him of dinner Christmas night, of laughing and eating while Gerard sits beside him at the table.

They’ve celebrated the holidays together for as long as Mikey can remember. There used to be a spot at the table for his grandmother, the only family that he has besides his brother. She raised the two of them, made sure they grew up smart and sensible about the world around them. His grandmother made sure they grew up loved, happy.

And they did.

Mikey misses her, misses the warmth of her hugs. Those special ones that were reserved for whenever he was sad. But he’s not sad now, not from thinking about her.

His grandmother lived a long time, longer than his parents anyway, and she passed away peacefully. She knew it was coming and made sure to not keep anything from him and Gee.

They got the house and the small amount of savings she’d hidden away for them. 

And yeah, he misses her with a deep ache in his chest, but she’s not really gone. Not completely.

Mikey can look up at this Christmas tree and see her. 

Can see her smile as he and Gee decided to sing a song they’d made up for her one year.

Mikey can’t remember what the words were and Gerard refuses to ever admit that he’d been a part of it, but their grandma loved it. She’d always talk about her favorite Christmas memories as she helped the two of them set up the tree at the beginning of the season.

Christmas always makes Mikey feel closer to her. It’s like she’s still here, celebrating with them.

An icy drop of rain falls on Mikey’s nose and he scrunches his face up at the sensation. Glancing up, he can see nothing but dark, grey clouds overhead. They’re not menacing, just that soft grey sky that always makes him think of Christmas time. 

The few people milling about on the sidewalk around him begin bustling inside to escape the oncoming rain. Mikey doesn’t understand that, their desire to immediately head indoors at the tiniest drop of water from the sky.
These people live here, they should be used to the rain by now.

Even so, Mikey casts one last long look up at the tree, attempting to memorize it before it’s taken down a few days after Christmas. As if he won’t be staring at it again tomorrow on his way home.

People in this town already think he and his brother are weird. Their grandma was actually accused of being a witch once, like in front of a court and everything. But obviously, since it’s the 21st century and all, the accusation hadn’t gone very far.

And hey, maybe she was. 

As Mikey begins to walk easily down the barren, pale sidewalk towards home, he thinks about the most mundane of things.

Of his hopes that Gee will actually go to bed at a decent hour so that Mikey doesn’t have to stay up until 4am just to wrap the rest of his presents for him. He would just lock the door to his room and do it during the daytime, but Gerard is one of those people who can’t stand not knowing. He’s a present shaker and a tape peeler.

Mikey’s taken to taping the ever-loving hell out of all of his brother’s presents so that if Gerard peeks, he’ll know.

Even so, he hides all of the good gifts, the important ones, under his bed. He keeps fake porn under there just to keep Gerard from snooping.

Mikey rounds the street corner and his little house on the end of the street comes into view. It’s nothing really fancy to look at, just your typical two story brick house. But it’s old. 

Almost as old as the town if Mikey’s honest. There’s even one of those old little lift things made for sending food up to the master bedrooms. It doesn’t work anymore though, so he and Gerard just use it to hide the dust bunnies.

The house has four large bedrooms, with tall floor to ceiling windows along the walls. Each one has a decently sized fireplace too and there’s a bathroom on each floor. Mikey kept the upstairs bedroom, the one facing the garden in the backyard rather than the street, that was his and Gee’s before his brother became old enough for his own room. It’s a bit quieter on that side of the house, away from the traffic and the light from the street lamps. 

Mikey can stare out his window for hours, getting lost in the rolling woods beyond their yard. He once tried to count all of the trees that lined the old, wooden fence that surrounded their property. But he’d lost count after 40 and given up.

There’s a lot more than that though.

Mikey speeds up his pace as he longs for the warmth of his fireplace. He’s cold, like always honestly. Something about poor circulation and a high metabolism. But it doesn’t bother him. It just means he gets to cozy up next to the fire and read a paperback book like he’s in some old Christmas movie.

He just doesn’t have anyone to cozy up with.

Yeah, sure, he and Gee sometimes sit in front of the fire in the living room together, listening to music or just talking.

But it’s not the same.

He doesn’t dwell on that much. On the little bite of loneliness in his heart every time he thinks of those love letters Gerard sends religiously to his boyfriend. 

Frank moved away for college after high school. But Gerard stayed, for Mikey.

He feels guilty for keeping them apart, for being the reason that Gee can’t be with Frank during the holidays. Because Mikey can’t be left alone here.

Shaking his head to get rid of such unpleasant thoughts, Mikey smiles outwardly as he gets closer to his house. He can see the smoke rising from the chimney, mixing with the grey clouds above. He can almost smell the pot of coffee Gerard is sure to already have on. 

It’s almost completely dark now, the sunset hidden behind the rain clouds that are quickly gathering. The raindrops are falling more steadily now, splattering against the sidewalk and sending a chill through him.

He can see the lights on downstairs, where Gee is probably curled up on their couch drawing next to the tree.

Walking through the front door leads to a familiar burst of warmth deep inside of him. He’s instantly hit with the smell of coffee mixing pleasantly with a scented candle. Mikey discards his jacket and bag on the kitchen counter, reaching over to fill a mug with the fragrant coffee. He hopes it’ll warm him up, seeing as he’s all but shaking from the beginnings of the cold rain. 

Gee is exactly where Mikey expected to find him, burrowed over his sketchbook and barely looking up as he enters the room. There’s a mug of coffee sitting on the armrest, Gerard’s body twisted around it with his sketchbook in his lap. All Mikey can really make out as he comes around the couch and lifts Gerard’s legs to plop down beside him, is a mess of blues and browns streaked across the paper. It’s not a letter to Frank then, which Mikey half expected it to be.

Gerard always seems to be writing those, telling Frank about everything he’s missing back home, every boring piece of small town gossip that can possibly be shared. Mikey assumes Frank enjoys hearing those things, seeing as he always sends letters at least as long as Gee’s, sometimes longer.

It’s been over six months since they’ve seen each other. Sometimes when his brother doesn’t think he can see him, Gerard gets this deeply sad look in his eyes. Mikey can tell he’s thinking of Frank in those moments, missing the guy that he once told Mikey that he’d like to marry one day. 

He wonders if things would have been different. If he was capable of living life without pills and doctors visits. Without panic attacks that somehow broke through the medicine and left him in such a state that Gerard wouldn’t leave him alone for days. He’s better now, honestly he really is. 

Mikey can make it through a stressful day at work, at a stranger yelling at him on the street. But sometimes it just sneaks up on him at the most random of times and he’s left curled up in the corner of his room gasping for breath.

But it can be- and has been- worse.
He wonders if he’ll be able to convince Gerard to move closer to Frank this year.

Mikey can’t deny he’s been thinking about talking to his brother about that, about going their separate ways. They’re both adults, both of them have jobs and things. They can manage on their own.

Or- well, Mikey can manage on his own. Gerard won’t be alone, he’ll have Frank.

But that’s okay. It’s not like Mikey wants to condemn Gerard to spending the rest of his life in a tiny town of less than 3 thousand people just because of him. His brother deserves more than that. 

He deserves a lot more than what Mikey’s forced him to settle for.

“How was work?” Gerard asks conversationally, peeking over the top of his sketchbook as he considers Mikey. 

“Boring. Just the usual pre-holiday rush.”

Gerard humms, something that could either be an agreement or just an accidental sound. 

“What’s on your mind?” his brother presses, leaning forward to set the sketchbook on the coffee table.

The fire is warm in front of them, burning strong and chasing away the chill that’s settled in the air along with the rain. Their tree off to the side glows in the firelight, the multi-colored strands of light making the room appear in a soft rainbow of color. 

If Mikey were asked if there was one spot he felt the most relaxed, the most free from his anxiety and everything else, it’d be right here. With a warm coffee in his hands and the tree. With his brother next to him, caring enough to see the slight difference in his train of thought.

“Nothing,” he says despite all of that. 

He’s fine, really. Just thinking a bit much for his own good. But it’s nothing he can’t handle, nothing he needs to get Gee involved in.

“You’ve been staring at me for like 15 minuets dude. Like I’m just gonna disappear or something,” Gee counters smoothly, though his words come out more caring than accusing.

So Mikey sighs and takes a drink of his coffee, if only to give himself a moment longer to think of a response that won’t make Gerard needlessly worry.

“Just tired,” Gerard shoots him a disbelieving look before he can even finish that thought. “No really, Gee. It's just been a long day and I was lost in thought, I guess.”

Gerard squints at him a moment longer but then he just shrugs and curls himself around his own coffee yet again.

“I went shopping today,” Gerard says offhandedly, clearly giving Mikey a chance to change the subject.

Mikey’s eternally grateful for the chance to talk about something other than himself. 

“What’d you buy?”
After that, they fall into easy conversation. Gerard tells him about the wonderful present he found for one of the friends that he still keeps in contact with from high school. And then, to absolutely no one’s surprise, he begins to go into detail about the gift he’s making for Frank too.

It’s gonna be an impressive piece, just from what Gee’s told him about it. Mikey can’t help but smile as Gerard goes on about the shading he’s gonna use for the skin tone. And how he’s actually hoarded pictures of Frank to make sure he gets the details perfect for this portrait of him. As if Gerard doesn’t have him memorized down to the smallest of tattoos he has.

“So,” Gerard says at last, shooting a glance at their tree. 

He looks at it wonder, just like Mikey does. It’s something they share in common, one of many things that make them as close as they are. Christmas is always something special that they share, something that makes them both feel like little kids again.

“So,” Gee says again, turning back to face him. “You got your shopping done?”

Nevermind the fact that Mikey only has one person to buy for, he nods anyway. 

“Yep. And no you can’t have any hints.”

Gerard pouts at that, his bottom lip sticking out so much that Mikey’s pretty sure it’s gonna fall off.

“You’re mean,” Gerard whines, throwing his head back dramatically against the couch. “I’ll tell you yours?” he offers slyly, as if he’s already convinced Mikey to spill.

“Nope.”

Mikey has to suppress a chuckle at the way Gerard somehow manages to pout even more. He swears that he’s the older one in moments like this.

“God you’re mean,” he says, smiling proudly to ensure Mikey knows he really doesn’t mean it. 

He can’t even joke the same way anymore. It’s not like Mikey meant to make Gerard change the littlest things about their interactions. And yeah, sure they still banter and everything, but Gerard is always super careful to make sure Mikey knows he’s not serious. 

Mikey kinda hates how careful he is of him sometimes.

“What d' ya want for dinner?” Gerard pipes up sometime later, his eyebrows raising as he less than subtly reminds Mikey that it’s his turn to cook.
After that… smoothless, transition, Mikey’s mostly able to forget about those small worries in the back of his mind. He just focuses on cooking dinner and humming along to the soft Christmas music playing gently in the living room.

__________________________________________________

“Excuse me?”

Mikey turns around, his arms full of the milk his manager asked him to get from the back cooler, and tries to see who’s calling him. There’s a customer standing in front of him and he begins preparing himself for whatever bullshit he’s about to go through.

Though, they don’t look like a typical problematic customer so he tries to make his smile look at least somewhat sincere. It’s hard with the weight of three gallons of milk barely held in his arms but he’s pretty sure he manages.

“Hi,” the person says a little too enthusiastically. “ I was told that this was the best place for coffee here?”

Oddly enough, their voice doesn’t sound berating or condescending and so Mikey allows himself to actually try to have a conversation with this person. Well, as much as he can anyway.
He gives them a quick look, taking in what he can of their appearance. They’re tall, taller than him easily, with long, dark curly hair that reaches down to their shoulders. The person’s dressed warmly, maybe a bit too warmly with no less than three layers that Mikey can tell. They’ve got good, waterproof boots on too. 

Their smile is soft, yet bright. It pulls Mikey in, fills him with that same sense of warmth that Christmas lights do. Instantly he feels his face heating up.

By some miracle, he manages to say a single word.

“Yeah,” he says quietly- and rather lamely if he’s honest- all his pretend confidence gone now that he’s slowly becoming aware of just how attractive this person is. 

He can't help but notice how they’re built strongly, arms visibly toned even through the layers they’re in. They’re the type of person that Mikey could be crushed by if they squeezed him too tightly. But exactly the kind of person who would give the greatest hugs though, the ones where he would be wrapped so tightly in their strong arms that nothing else would matter. 

God. He’s so fucking gay it’s not even funny.

“I’m Ray,” the stranger says in that same, almost too kind to be real voice.

They extend their hand out to him and Mikey, because he’s a fucking idiot, lets go of of the milk he has cradled against his chest to shake their hand.

Milk crashes to the floor around him, every single one bursting as it hits the hard tile of the coffee shop floor. Mikey feels all of the blood drain from his face as he and the unfairly attractive stranger get soaked in milk.

It’s over in a second and Mikey’s just standing there, feeling like he’s about to pass out as Ray blinks at him in surprise. Their hand is still out stretched towards him and their softly tanned hands are covered in milk. People at the tables gasp and someone starts chuckling before the person they’re with slaps their arm to get them to stop. He can hear one of his coworkers actually laughing at him and Mikey wonders if it’s possible to spontaneously combust from pure embarrassment.

Ray blinks at him again, eyes impossibly wide as neither of them move for a never ending moment. Mikey can hear his co-worker Jeremy laughing behind the counter as their manager orders him to grab the mop. But Mikey can’t move. He feels stuck in place.

At last, Ray seems to get over their shock. Their hand falls to their side and their mouth finally closes. But they still look blank, like they’re trying to process what just happened and Mikey feels his heart speed up even more if possible.

Fuck.

Mikey doesn't know what to do.

He can feel that hot, burning anxiety bubbling up in his chest. It steals the air from his lungs like a blow to his chest, making him want to drop to the floor. He can’t though, his knees are locked in place despite how weak they feel.

His heart is beating loudly in his ears and he’s just waiting on Ray to say something, to laugh at him or call him a weirdo. 

But before any of that can happen, his manager, Jason, is swooping in with the mop bucket in hand. He ushers Mikey off to the side and tells him to go ahead and go home, since he’s still absolutely soaked in milk, as he cleans up the mess. It’s only a half hour earlier than he was supposed to get off, so Mikey can’t really bring himself to care about the lack of hours he’ll get.

He gets caught up in his own head, barely paying attention as he manages to find something warm to change into in the back room. There’s not many clothes but he does borrow an old hoodie to replace his soaked shirt. His pants however, are a lost cause. None of the extra pants even come close to fitting him. 

By the time he’s walking out the front door, his soaking shirt balled up in a plastic bag and then shoved into his backpack, Mikey’s almost forgotten about the cute stranger. 

Almost.

Actually, that’s a lie. They’re all he can think about. And he’s fucking mortified.

He fucking spilled milk all over them. Like- what kind of person does that?

As he pulls his jacket a little tighter around his borrowed hoodie, Mikey hopes distantly that Ray managed to find some warm clothes before going back out in this weather. The rain is coming down much harder than yesterday, turning the already saturated ground into even more of a muddy mess. He shivers despite himself and suppresses a cough into the crook of his elbow. 

It’s nearly dark, the rain making it appear later than it really is. The temperature is a lot colder than it was yesterday too, and Mikey briefly wonders if it is going to snow for Christmas for once.

Right now though, the cold is miserable as it eats through his layers and makes goosebumps rise along his arms. He shivers again and wonders if he should just give in and call Gee to come and pick him up. He always offers to give him a ride anyway.

“Hey!”

Mikey wonders if Gerard would mind that he got half-frozen milk all over the seats of his Trans-Am. 

Probably.

He loves that car almost as much as he loves Mikey. Maybe even more. It was their grandma’s after all. He’d gotten it after she died. It’s the one thing he takes almost meticulous care of. Not even his paints and things get the kind of care that car does.

“Hey!”

This time, the calling out makes Mikey curious enough to turn around to see who the hell is yelling down the street for someone instead of just saying the person’s name that they want to get the attention of. He spots someone just a few feet away, on the sidewalk just outside the coffee shop, waving their hand enthusiastically the moment Mikey looks over. He glances over his shoulder in an attempt to spot anyone else that they might be waving to.

But there’s no one there; the street's nearly empty because of the rain. Shivering involuntarily, he looks back to the person in confusion. They motion him over and he can’t really think of a reason not to go and see what they want. It’s not like this town has a high murder rate or anything. What’s the worst that could happen? Naturally Mikey’s mind runs down the list of other crimes that this person could probably commit that aren't murder. Kidnapping is high on that list. So is them wanting to like- force themself onto him. 

But, he’s already walking forward and the chances are really slim that he’s gonna die brutally by this random stranger. Hopefully.

He wraps his arms around himself as the wind picks up again. When he gets up to where the stranger is standing, Mikey forgets about how his teeth are chattering the second he takes in the all-too familiar head of curls.

It’s Ray. The beautiful stranger he just spilled milk all over.

The chances of him getting murdered probably just skyrocketed.

 Now that he’s looking, they actually don’t really have that much milk on them, just a little splatter on their pants legs. It looks like most of the mess must have gotten on him and on their outstretched hand. Which does actually reduce some of the guilt he’s feeling at the whole situation.

“Hi,” Ray says warmly, pulling Mikey under the small awning that the coffee shop has by his arm.

He does his best to not flinch at the contact, is so unused to people touching him that his mind instantly goes into panic mode. Only Gerard can actually physically touch him but only if Mikey initiates it first. Being touched out of nowhere like that spooks him for some reason, though he’s not really sure why. Mostly it’s his arms that are the worst place, bring the most blind panic to him whenever someone accidentally grabs him there. And he knows the reason for that, but he forces himself to not think about that here. 

Too busy trying to keep his body from visibly shaking to form a real response, Mikey just makes what he hopes is an affirmative hum in return to whatever it was that Ray said. It’s frightening honestly, that this person would still want to talk to him after everything. What reason could they possibly have for wanting to call Mikey over and get him out of the rain?

It’s not like he’s helping his case by being even more of a weirdo who flinches when people grab him.

“So I never actually caught your name,” Ray ventures, turning to face Mikey in the small space of shelter that they have against the rain.

They’re close, maybe only a foot between them, and Mikey swears he can feel the body heat radiating off of Ray. He can almost smell their cologne, or maybe the shower gel they yse. It’s a faint, yet almost spiced scent. Does Ray wear Old Spice or something?

And yep, apparently Mikey is into people who smell like grandpas because he most definitely wants to shove his face into Ray’s shirt right now. Which is probably a really weird thing to think and want, but he decides that he could honestly care less right now.

What’s so new about all of this though, is that Ray is voluntarily speaking to Mikey. They’re the one who called him over and are even asking his name. It’s like they actually want to get to know him or something.

Mikey’s brain short circuits a bit at that. Why would Ray- a person who he literally just spilled fucking milk on- want to know his name?

He takes a deep breath, increasingly aware of how long he’s gone without answering Ray. This is the normal social interaction thing to do, offer your name when someone asks. Toddlers have mastered the concept. 

And this is one word he’s actually able to say. Most of the time anyway. His therapist calls it progress but as he struggles to get the simplest fucking word out right now, he can’t help but feel like there’s no progress at all. He’s still basically fucking mute. 

“Mi-Mikey,” He manages at last, cursing himself mentally for how unsure he sounded while giving his own fucking name.

However, Ray literally beams at him, like knowing his name is the greatest thing in the world. It makes no sense to Mikey, why they seem so thrilled just to know his name. He ends up making the mistake of glancing up into Ray’s eyes and then all at once he's too caught up in their eyes to focus on how weird this conversation must be for them. Because Ray’s eyes are a soft brown, almost like hot chocolate that’s made with milk -rather than that nasty water based shit some people drink. Ray’s eyes feel like coming home, like a good book and that first sip of coffee after a long day. Their eyes are endlessly deep, deep enough for Mikey to get lost in. And he is getting lost as he allows himself to be pulled under without any fight. Even with the logical part of him screaming that he needs to get a hold of himself before he makes a scene.

But he can see the barely concealed emotions swimming around in Ray’s eyes. There’s happiness, a soft sort of joy that Mikey can only associate with the look that little kids get when they see a Christmas tree for the first time. 

Someone looking at him like this, with so much emotion in their eyes and such a soft smile sneaking it’s way across their face, is most definitely a new thing to him. People aren’t just excited to talk to him. That’s not a thing that happens. Other than like- Gee, he has a total of 0 friends. 

Nobody wants to talk to the dude who doesn’t talk.

It’s not that he can’t- obviously. His vocal cords are fine; he just can’t ever work up the strength to actually speak to people he doesn’t know. Gerard and his grandma are like the only people he’s been able to talk to and now that she’s gone, the only person who’s heard him say more than two words in a whole 24 hour period is his brother. Sometimes even that is pushing it though.

“So, Mikey,” Ray says his name like he’s sounding it out, feeling out each individual letter like it’s important. Like he’s important. “What’re you doin’ walking home in the rain?”

Mikey doesn’t answer, he is completely unsure as to how in the hell he’s gonna be able to explain to this stranger -without words- that he’s basically selectively mute.

“Shit. God that sounded so stalkerish. Please don’t think I’m gonna like- kidnap you or anything,” Ray rambles for a bit before laughing a little at themself. Then they sober again, the earnest expression returning as they start again. “Okay- okay- let me try again. I’m Ray and you’re like really cute and I was wondering if you’d let me walk you home.”

Mikey takes a too sharp breath, feeling the instant ache in his chest from straining his lungs too much. He begins to cough again, doubling over as he fights to catch his breath. While he’s cursing his shitty fucking lungs, Ray’s hand actually comes up and rests on his back. They rub pressing, yet gentle, circles in his back, managing to coax his lungs into working properly again. He’s too caught up in trying to breathe to panic over the touch. But it’s comforting and gentle, something that he doesn’t find himself wanting to flinch away from. 

When he manages to straighten back up a few long minutes later, despite feeling more than a little winded still, Ray is giving him a very concerned stare. Like they’re actually worried over him. 

“Dude are you all right?” 

Mikey just nods, hoping that Ray doesn’t think he’s rude for not answering. He wishes that he could, but just managing to tell them his name had left an icy ache in his gut. Besides, even though the coughing has subsided, he’s still struggling to get his breath back. He’s blaming it on all those colds he used to get as a kid. He was sick constantly when he was small and even though he’s mostly gotten past that, his lungs still sometimes decide to pitch a fit whenever they’re feeling particularly petty.

“Are you sure?” 

He nods again and, in a moment of pure bravery, motions for Ray to lead the way. After a rather adorable confused tilt of their head, Ray connects their hands. Mikey very carefully doesn’t react to the warm pressure against his hand. His mind is torn between wanting to jerk his hand away from the foreign touch, and wishing to hold onto Ray like they’re a life raft and he’s on a sinking ship.

“You don’t talk much,” they observe offhandedly as the two of them begin walking again.

It doesn’t sound accusing and Mikey just shrugs, unsure what he would say, even if he could answer. 

“I like your voice though,” Ray tells him softly, before tensing up as they realize what they’ve said. “God I totally sound like a crazy person.”

Ray laughs, like actually laughs, and Mikey swears that the rain gets a little less cold, that the wind blows a little less. Because Ray’s laugh is soft, impossibly sweet and something that he already wishes he could hear again.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m really bad at talking to guys I think are cute.”

This is the second time Ray’s called him cute- not that Mikey is counting- but it still makes him smile, a real one that just feels natural. It’s strange but he’s realizing that he actually doesn’t mind Ray’s hand in his, doesn’t mind the gentle pressure of their fingers intertwined. There’s calluses on their fingers that he can feel, possibly from an instrument.

Mikey doesn’t know what to do with that information so he just pushes it to the side for later. He’s got to focus on walking, on getting home and not letting himself and Ray get lost.

“So, how long have you worked at the coffee place?” Ray asks curiously as they turn down the next block.

The walk to his house is about half an hour long, if he doesn’t stop along the way. So he should have expected small talk. But it catches him off guard anyway.

He wants to answer, knows that he can, but his mind freezes stubbornly before he can even try and say anything. Ray turns to him after the prolonged silence, confusion in his eyes as Mikey can’t help but blush and stare down at his Doc Martens. He needs to answer Ray, before they think he’s rude or an asshole. But he just can’t.

Oh god… he can feel his chest seizing up and, yep he’s about to have a full on panic attack right here. 

There goes the only person who’s ever actually tried to talk to him.

“Mikey? Are you alright?” 

He manages a nod to dispel Ray’s obvious worry as he blinks away the hot tears he can feel building in his eyes.

“Can I ask you something?”

Despite the fact that Ray’s asked him a bunch of questions already, Mikey nods without looking up. He doesn’t think he’d be able to right now.  Not with the pounding of his heart in his head and the way the ground seems to be swaying slightly underneath his feet.

“Are you like… god I don’t want this to come out the wrong way.” Ray stops and Mikey can’t help but look up. He watches their hand as they file anxiously through their hair, displacing the curls in a way that makes them fall in soft, loose strands around their fingers. “Are you not answering on purpose? Like if I’m overstepping and you’re not into dudes, please just tell me. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.”

Mikey can only stand there with his mouth open, shocked that Ray is actually nervous. He can see it how their- his hands anxiously clench and unclench at his side now as he awaits Mikey’s answer. How Ray’s almost afraid to look at him for fear of rejection or some shit.

And it just doesn't process because Ray is like the kindest person Mikey’s ever met!

No one- and he literally means no one- has ever tried to talk to him before. He’s got a reputation for being the mute kid, the weirdo who lives in the old witch’s house. No one talks to him. 

Ever.

And now this insanely nice, sweet person has started talking to him, even offered to walk him home, and Mikey’s already managed to fuck it up.

Ray thinks that he’s not interested, that he’s just being quiet because he’s not into dudes. 

Which is completely false because Mikey’s never been straight a day in his life.

“I- I-”

Internally, Mikey curses. He knows that he won’t be able to get the words out, despite the apology right on his tongue. Even trying the stupid sounding out method his therapist tried to teach him doesn’t help. It never worked before, so why would it work now? 

And unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work now either.

“Or ,” Ray continues softly, something very close to hope in his voice. But it’s guarded, like he’s trying to not give himself the chance to have that hope crushed. “Or are you like… uh I dunno the right term but like- not able to answer me?”

Mikey nods like a crazy person, finding himself staring right back into Ray’s eyes again. There’s visible relief and hope pouring off of him now, as if he was just waiting on Mikey to reject him. He feels like an asshole for ever making Ray think that he didn’t want to talk to him and he prays desperately that he’s not already fucked this up too much to salvage.

“Okay. Good to know. I know a little sign language, if that’d help at all? I’m not the best but I can carry a conversation decently well.”

God. Mikey swears that Ray cannot get any better. 

No one but Gee and his grandma even got close to caring enough to learn sign language for him. So he doesn’t use it often, only really has to use it around his brother when things are really bad, when he’s basically shutting down. But it’s useful for doctors and hospitals. For his therapist. 

Mikey nods encouragingly to Ray yet again and tries to keep the dumb grin from finding its way onto his lips.

Ray smiles in affirmation and instead of connecting their hands again, just motions for Mikey to continue walking. As they walk down the mainly deserted sidewalk, Ray clumsily asks him things in sign language. He’s not the best but honestly, Mikey doesn’t care.

Ray’s trying. He trying and no one’s even asked him to do so. 

“So, how long have you worked at the coffee shop?” Ray signs to him slowly, carefully making each of the gestures.

The rain has lightened a bit, letting them walk leisurely down the sidewalks. There’s the air of Christmas again, of the soft glow of far off lights on the houses down the road. In the way the lights shine onto the wet pavement, the smell of rain lingering in the air.

“Since I graduated high school. So four years,” Mikey tells him, making sure to go a bit slowly so Ray can follow along.

“Have you lived here a long time?” 

Mikey nods, though he doesn’t answer right away. They’ve all but stumbled into the town square and he’s found himself stopping in front of the tree.

It’s just as pretty as last night, the lights glowing faintly through the rain falling down around them. He remembers being 8, all short and chubby as he stood here in the square and sang Christmas carols with his class. His grandma had stood in front of the crowd, smiling and cheering him on with Gee right by her side. Gerard had smiled so wide that Mikey had been certain that his face had simply frozen that way. The songs they sang still ring softly in his mind, the sound of the music teacher’s piano echoing through the deserted town square like the ghost of Christmas past. But it doesn’t feel haunting. It’s happy, it’s one of the many reasons he loves this time of year.

He’s not sure how long he stands here, just staring up at the lights and thinking, remembering.

There’s lights everywhere, in every store and along the light posts that line the sidewalks. He can see wreaths on nearly every door, candles in the windows. It’s amazing how alive this sleepy, rainy little town becomes during the holidays.

Ray’s voice filters over the soft patter of rain surrounding him and when Mikey looks over, he’s signing his words as he speaks.

“Do you wanna get out of the rain for a bit?”

Mikey lets Ray drag him into a quiet, family owned diner that’s a mere block away from the town square. He can’t see the tree’s lights from the table by the window they’re sitting in, but that’s alright. The restaurant has garland and lights of its own lining the window panes, with quiet Christmas music filling the air. 

The rain runs down the window gently and Mikey finds himself lost staring outside. He’d texted Gee that he’d be late, earning a very enthusiastic response after he told him he was hanging out with a friend. This sort of thing is rare for him, so really, he understands Gerard’s excited reaction. He feels a bit excited himself actually.

The anxiety he was experiencing earlier is a bit better now, since he’s inside and everything is bathed in the soft light of the overhead lamp. With the little mason jar filled with white Christmas lights and garland carefully placed in the center of the table. With Ray smiling to himself every time Mikey chances a glance over. Everything feels alright. Maybe he hasn’t actually fucked this up that much yet, maybe he has a chance of getting a real friend out of this.

The waitress comes up while Mikey is still looking out the window. So, in his distraction, he ends up signing the beginning of his order to her. He stops himself about half way through, finally noticing the blank, judgemental look plastered across her face. Deflating, Mikey points to the drink menu shakily and she heads off with an annoyed huff.

“Well that was rude,” Ray remarks with a shake of his head, still signing as he speaks.

Which is different. No one else Mikey knows does that. Not even the doctors.

His hearing is fine so why would Ray try signing what he’s saying out loud?

Is he making fun of him?

Did Mikey read this all wrong and Ray’s just being a dick while he’s too naive to realize what’s going on?

“You alright?” he asks for what is probably the 8th time today, tilting his head a bit like he’s actually concerned about him.

“Yeah,” Mikey answers, his motions much more smooth than Ray’s from years of practice. 

Where did Ray learn to sign, he wonders. It’s not exactly a common thing; it’s not taught in schools or anything.

So why would Ray be willing to talk to him in a language that barely anyone knows, with only the barest of explanations as to why Mikey has to communicate this way.

“I’m good,” He tells Ray, just for emphasis because he can see the obvious way he’s still watching him like he’s about to break. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Mikey forces himself to look away from Ray’s hands and to actually look at him. He needs to not fuck this up. On the off chance Ray actually does want to hang out with him after this.

“How come you sign when you say stuff out loud? I’m not deaf.”

He hopes Ray doesn’t take this the wrong way. He doesn’t want to sound ungrateful for how kind he’s being but it’s just weird to see someone signing what they’re saying. As if Mikey can’t understand him.

Ray’s not the one with the communication failure, that’s Mikey.

After Mikey finishes, Ray is silent for a long time, long enough for him to begin worrying. Then Ray sighs sharply and leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. He continues to sign while he speaks, though it’s a bit more flustered and unsure than before.

“I learned how to sign when I was in college. I was studying to become a special ed teacher and sign language was a class that I chose to take, to help with non-verbal kids ya know?” Mikey nods. Because he does know. “That ended up not working out, being a teacher I mean. My mom got sick and I took a year off and just- never went back. But I remembered from that class that with a lot of kids, signing what you’re speaking makes them feel more comfortable signing what they’re speaking. If that makes sense at all.”

“Yeah. I- I see what you mean now.”

Ray smiles, something he does so often but still manages to feel like the first time Mikey’s seen his face light up like this. As if everything he’s ever wanted is right in front of him and there’s no where else he’d rather be. It’s overwhelming but in a good way. In a way that Mikey can’t really describe. 

“I didn’t want you to feel weird or anything by us talking like this so I thought that me signing along to what I’m saying would help. But I can stop if you want me to. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.”

The waitress returns before Mikey can even figure out how he feels about what Ray’s just said. She asks Ray for his food order first and doesn’t even look at Mikey as he points to what he wants. He sits there for a good 10 seconds with his finger over the cheeseburger before he realizes that she’s not going to look up from her notebook. The anxiety begins to form again instantly and for a second Mikey wonders if I’d just be easier to get up and leave.

He’s used to stuff like this, either people completely ignoring him like this waitress or treating him like a child by speaking loudly in a baby voice. He’s not dumb and he’s not deaf. 

He’s just got a debilitating anxiety disorder on top of a bunch of other things, and because of that he goes mute around almost everyone. And he may not actually be dumb. 

But he feels like he is.

I mean what 22 year old can’t order a fucking burger from a girl he went to high school with?

“What would you like to order?” the waitress says again, slow and strained as if she’s getting annoyed with him.

God, Mikey wishes the stupid red leather seats would just swallow him whole, suffocate him on the way down so that he doesn’t have to be in this situation a moment longer. And even though Mikey feels like he’s about to implode, the waitress still hasn’t even looked up from her notepad.

“He’s pointing to what he wants. If you’d do your job and actually look at him you’d be able to see that.”

She huffs but Mikey can’t even lift his head away from where he’s staring at the menu to see what’s going on. There’s the sound of her scribbling pen before the menu is literally pulled out of his hands. The waitress stalks off and Mikey sinks down in his seat a little further, burying his head in his arms in an attempt to get himself back under control. Tears prick his eyes again and he wishes with everything in him that he’d just declined Ray’s invitation and gone home like normal. He and Gee could already be on the couch, binging Christmas movies and eating dinner together.

“Hey,” a warm hand rests on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Mikey shakes his head, too worked up to do much else. He feels like he’s about to physically vibrate out of his seat from the anxiety and there’s that deep ache in his chest that he knows so well. Tonight is going to be one of his bad ones, he can already tell.

“Mikey?” Ray’s voice comes again, still impossibly gentle as his hand rests on Mikey’s shoulder.

It’s too much, too much noise with the now jarring music playing over the speakers. Too many people talking around him, with too-loud rain just outside. He needs to go home.

He needs Gerard and he needs to get away from Ray before he loses it completely and has a fit right here in this stupid restaurant.

Standing abruptly, Mikey manages a half-assed apology with shaking hands before he’s all but sprinting out of the restaurant. He makes it home in record time, falling into Gerard’s arms like his strings have been cut the moment he opens the door.

__________________________________________________________

Gerard answers the door in his pajamas, three day old stubble covering his chin and his hair very likely sticking straight up. 

He’d been in the middle of getting ready for a shower when the doorbell had rung. As much as he’d been longing for a warm, relaxing shower, he still went downstairs to see who the hell it was.

Besides, if the person kept knocking they might wake up Mikey and that’s the absolute last thing he wants to happen. The kid only just got to sleep. The past three days have been rough and Gerard knows that Mikey needs his rest now that the worst is over.

The person at the door is unfamiliar. They’ve got long, curly hair that’s plastered down from the rain and a heavy, dark brown rain coat that reaches their knees. But their smile is kind, if a little frayed around the edges.

“How can I help you?” Gerard asks, putting on his best adult voice to try and avoid sounding grumpy over his delayed bath.

He’d had his favorite lotion and body wash already set out and waiting. Lavender has always calmed him, helped with anxious nerves whenever he was particularly stressed. And he’s also fairly certain that Mikey likes the smell of lavender too, he always seems to relax just a little more whenever Gerard wears it. Or even a candle works too sometimes. 

The stranger’s face falls for some reason and Gerard can see a bit more of their obvious worry hidden in the bags under their eyes. But then they shake their head and reach their hand out for him to shake. He shakes their hand, absently noticing just how large their hands are.

“So uh, sorry to barge up on Christmas Eve,” the person begins hurriedly, as if they’ve practiced what they’re going to say. Gerard wonders if that’s true. Why would they practice this conversation though? “But I’m Ray.”

Oh.

Instantly Gerard knows who this is. One of the few actual words he was able to get out of Mikey over the past few days was one name. Ray.

He’d relayed to Gerard what had happened in broken, sporadic signs mixed with a few muffled words that next morning. From what he’d been able to gather, Ray had been nice to him and offered to take him to dinner and walk him home. Something happened though and it led to Mikey shutting down.

Which, it probably was the accumulation of a bunch of things over the course of a week or so. Gerard should have pressed a little harder earlier this week when he noticed something on Mikey’s mind the other night. But these things happen sometimes, as terrifying as they are in the moment, and Gerard reminds himself that Mikey’s alright now.

“He told you about me?” Ray questions disheartedly, as if Mikey would have told him bad things about him. 

“Yeah. He said how nice you were to him, how you talked to him even though you didn’t have to. And there was something about signing in there but I couldn’t really make out what he was saying ‘cause his face was like embedded into my shoulder he was hugging me so hard.”

“He spoke?” Ray asks in quiet confusion.

“Mikey can talk. It’s just he struggles when it’s around other people. I’m really the only person he uses his voice with. Most’a the time he signs on the off chance someone knows it and can understand him.” Ray nods and Gerard feels a burst of pride at how he seems to be absorbing this information carefully. As if he needs to memorize all of this. Like he genuinely cares about what Gerard is telling him “But yeah,” he continues, “ he told me about you and then how something happened that lead to…”

Gerard waves his hand in an all inclusive gesture. He’s not about to try and explain exactly what happened that night. It’s not the worst it’s been but Gerard still wishes that Mikey hadn’t had to fight through it like that. He swears his heart breaks every time he has to watch Mikey struggle through a panic attack, every time he just disappears into his own head for a little while because it gets to be too much.

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah,” Gerard says more as a sigh than anything else, trying to let out some of the anxious energy surrounding him. “You wanna come in for a bit before you freeze to death in this rain?”

Ray smiles and nods so Gerard swings the door wide and ushers him inside. They end up in the living room, warming up by the fire. Ray sheds his large outer coat but keeps most of his layers on, despite the near smoldering heat of the room. Mikey gets cold easily and Gerard is still paranoid he’s gonna have another bout of flu like he did when he was 4. 

Gerard squints and tries to see how many layers the dude has on. It’s gotta be like 5. 

Come on, even he doesn’t wear that many.

This guy is clearly new to town, not used to the cold and the rain. Which makes him wonder how Ray managed to find their house. Or Mikey for that matter. The kid’s not exactly the talk of the town.

“Your tree is so pretty.”

Feeling a genuine smile light up his face, Gerard goes over to stand beside the tree with Ray. He takes  a moment to look at each of their homemade ornaments in turn. There’s a few that are older than he is, made by his mother when she was a child. His grandmother kept them and always liked to hang at least one on the tree each year.

Alongside the overly-sequenced hand drawn angel his mother made, there’s a ton of things that he and Mikey made. A little round wreath with the picture of him as an infant, held in his mother’s arms sits on a branch towards the front of the tree. The gingerbread man that has a photo of him as a toddler with Mikey in his lap tapped to the middle is off on one of the right side branches. That was the last year he’d celebrated the holidays with his parents, not that he remembers it. He’d only been three, not exactly old enough to remember that sort of thing. 

As the two of them had gotten older, their ornaments had shifted to handmade reindeer constructed from clothespins and snowmen made from cotton balls. There is a picture of the three of them though, he, Mikey, and their grandmother. It was taken the year before Mikey started high school, just a year before life really began to get hard for them.

Now, please don’t think that Gerard would ever wish to change a thing about his brother.

He loves him endlessly, would do literally anything for him. He just wishes sometimes that there was a way to make him happy again, really truly happy like he was when this picture was taken.

“Is that Mikey?” Ray asks in a whisper, his hand reaching out to carefully brush against the photo frame.

“Yeah. He was about 13 when that was taken. 8th grade.”

“He looks so adorable…” Ray says in a hushed whisper, like he’s talking to himself rather than to Gerard, his voice soft and barely there. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like that. And I’ve been coming into the coffee shop for over a month now.”

Gerard gets that familiar sadness pooling in his chest at Ray’s words. He knows Mikey’s trying his best, and he’s honestly so fucking proud of him for how hard he’s working and how far he’s come. But he knows that Mikey’s still not happy. Not completely anyway. The medicine helps yeah, but it’s not a sure-fire thing. He’s gonna take a while to find a rhythm that’s normal again.

Ray begins again, his voice slowly filling into the easy quiet that surrounds the two of them. It builds with each word he whispers, his voice growing in strength as he begins talking to Gerard rather than just himself. 

“You know I fell for him the moment I saw him. He was just quietly sweeping up after the lunch rush and I’d only just finished my unpacking for the day. Mikey looked like an honest to god angel that day, with the autumn sun shining through the windows and making him look like he was glowing. And I could see the band tee he had on underneath his work shirt, how his eyes would shine whenever the sunlight hit them.”

Gerard looks over to Ray as he pauses. He’s clearly lost in remembering. And he can see it now, written all over his face. He can see exactly how much Ray cares for his brother.

“But he never noticed me you know?” Ray begins again, as if he only just remembered he was telling Gerard something. “I thought that maybe he was just busy so I left him alone. But I dunno. I went into the shop once a week, just to get some stronger coffee than I could make at home. But I never saw him talking to anyone. Not customers, not his boss, just… just no one. And it broke my heart ya know. Seeing him so alone. So, even though I didn’t even know his name, I worked up the courage to say hi to him the other day. I had it all planned out. Say hello, see if I can get him to smile, try and be his friend because he looked like he needed one.”

“He does,” Gerard whispers into the silence surrounding them. He’s often wished Mikey had someone to talk to, someone closer to his age. But there were bigger priorities and Gerard had let encouraging Mikey to make friends fall onto the back burner.

“I wanna be here for him,” Ray says suddenly, like he’s only just remembered he’s been meaning to say it. “Like as a friend. I- I care about him a lot but it’s… I see that he’s not ready for that yet. But I wanna be there for him so that stuff like what happened the other day doesn’t happen again. I don’t want to see him that scared ever again.”

There’s a fierce determination burning in Ray’s eyes, like he’s ready to take on every single challenge to make sure that Mikey never has an anxiety attack again. 

“He needs someone like that. I just hope that his panic attack at the restaurant didn’t get even more people talking.”

“People talk about him?”

Gerard sighs because he hadn’t even realized he’d said that aloud.

“Yeah, they see a quiet, anxious kid who can’t communicate like they can and they judge him. It’s harsh but there’s not much I can do about them.”

Ray huffs, genuinely surprising Gerard. When he pulls his eyes away from the one glowing blue light he’s been staring at this whole time, Ray’s face is set hard. He’s scowling, his lips pressed very firmly together and his hands clenched by his thighs. 

“Why would they do that?” Ray demands angrily, turning in a whirl to face him.

“Because they don’t get it.  He’s different and they don’t want to try and understand why. They just see a kid who tried to kill himself in 9th grade and instantly avoid him like he’s the fucking plague. It’s not fucking fair it’s not justified on any fucking level. But that’s what they do. Because they’re scared and they don’t know what to do about it. They’re scared and they’re cruel.”

Ray blinks at him slowly and Gerard suddenly wishes he hadn’t said all of that. Mikey’s understandably wary of even talking about what happened, that it happened at all. They’re trying to move on, even all these years later, and Gerard can’t help but feel as if he’s betrayed his brother’s trust by just blurting it out like that.

But what he said was the truth. Mikey had a Freshman year from absolute hell and it got to be too much. He’s always had the beginnings of depression and anxiety, while never as severe as it is now, from the time he was small. 

Ray’s face morphs from shocked, to downright pissed, to shocked again. Finally his face just falls and there’s nothing but a heartbreaking sort of sadness in his eyes. He glances desperately over to that picture of Mikey again, and Gerard knows he’s staring into those bright blue eyes his brother has and asking himself if anyone could have noticed before hand. He knows that’s what Ray is thinking because he’s done the same thing, gone through old  pictures and stared at them for hours to find any hint that Mikey was as depressed as he was. But either he hid it well or it was just one of those things that happened too quickly. It was only a year, only one lousy year of school that was enough to break down that happy glint in 13-year old Mikey’s eyes.

“He… he tried to kill himself?” he asks, his voice sharp but low. 

The words are whispered, like he’s afraid of saying them aloud. Gerard can’t answer over the lump in his throat but he manages to nod. You think he’d be better at having this conversation, he’s done it plenty of enough times now. But he’s not. It never gets any easier. And he kinda never wants it to. 

The hurt is proof that Mikey’s still here, that he did get a second chance despite everything.

“But he’s better now? The other day didn’t-”

“No,” Gerard is quick to assure him. “No he didn’t relapse or anything. He’s okay, just worn out from everything that happened. Mikey had been bottling up his anxiety for a few days by the time everything happened the other day and so it just sorta boiled over.”

Ray nods quietly, never looking away from that picture.

“I’d like to get to know him. Like I said, just as friends. I care too much about him to let him stay so alone. If you’ll let me.”

“That’s fine with me,” Gerard tells him honestly, a bit surprised that Ray thought to ask him like this. As if he knows how protective he is over Mikey, that he does his best to keep his brother away from people who would be cruel to him. “ I think he’d really like to have you around too. But if you hurt him at all, in any way, I have a dark, abandoned forest on the edge of my property and I’m not afraid to bury a body out there.”

Ray agrees quickly, visibly paling at Gerard’s sudden change in tone. But it’s necessary. He’s only met Ray less than an hour ago. Trusting Mikey’s happiness to someone he barely knows is dangerous, borderline stupid.

But he can remember the way Mikey had said Ray’s name, as if he was calling out to a long lost friend. 

“I’m gonna fix some dinner. Wanna stick around?” he adds, just to break the tension.

__________________________________________________________

Mikey damn near falls down the steps when he hears Ray’s voice coming from the living room. Pausing on the steps, he listens for the voices to come again. It’s Ray and Gerard as far as he can tell. They’re talking softly, probably to let him sleep, and he takes just a moment longer to build his courage enough to finish coming downstairs.

He finds them sitting on the couch like old friends, each with a mug in their hands and a blanket shared over their laps. Mikey thinks they look like old wives gossiping about their husbands, especially with the mugs.

They both look up as he comes into the room and he can feel the self consciousness surface. He hates being stared at, it makes his skin feel like it’s about to peel off, but he forces himself to remember that this is just Gee and Ray. His brother would never, ever judge him and tells him so as often as he can. And Ray just didn't come across as the judgemental type from what he saw the other day when they’d met.

“Evening Mikes,” Gerard says with a relieved smile, opening his arms knowingly.

Mikey crosses the room with his head down but relaxes instantly once he’s beside his brother on the couch. The blanket Gerard had on gets wrapped around his shoulders and Mikey lets his eyes slip shut. He’s not tired but just resting here is nice. 

The fireplace crackles in the background, it’s heat warming the slight chill Mikey feels. He can feel Gerard’s chest move with each breath he takes, can hear his heart beating steadily. 

Truthfully, despite how nice this moment it, his head’s still a bit off. Major panic attacks like the one he had the other day usually leave him shaky and raw for a few days. That’s how he feels now but it always passes with a little time and then he’ll be alright again. Little soft moments like this are what helps that. More than the pills and the inevitable conversation he’s going to have to have with his therapist about this week. Being safe with his brother and just getting held, it just helps so much more.

“How’d you sleep?” Gee asks gently, one of his hands carding through Mikey’s hair comfortingly.

Mikey sighs but shifts enough to get his hands out from underneath the blanket.

“Good,” he signs, flashing a guilty glance over to Ray. “How come he’s here?”

It’s bound to be a rude thing to ask but Gerard just laughs a little. 

“I was worried about you,” Ray answers, still signing his words as he speaks. “So I might’a bugged your boss into telling me where you live.”

“You’re such a stalker.”

Ray bursts into laughter, his eyes crinkling up and his smile growing impossibly big. A little flash of warmth shoots through Mikey, just at the thought that he’d managed to make such a happy sound come from Ray.

“I think Gee would kill me if I was actually stalking you though.”

“Very true,” his brother says with a serious nod. “You’d die.”

“So… you just wanted to check up on me?”

Mikey can’t understand why Ray would still want to talk to him after the other day. His social skills are quite literally non-existent and Ray saw that first hand. So why the hell is he sitting here on his couch with Gerard like they’ve known each other for years?

“I invited him for dinner after he knocked on the door to see if you were alright.”

“And I said yes,” Ray chimes in with a soft smile, clearly waiting on Mikey’s reaction. “Is that alright?”

The way he says it, as if Mikey’s just gonna tell him no and send him out into the rain and the cold. It honestly, genuinely breaks his heart.

“Yes. Please stay.”

Ray blinks at him with wide eyes and he can feel Gerard’s chuckle as he laughs a little. Did he really sound that desperate to spend more time with him?

It takes a second for Mikey to realize he’d said that aloud. Shame crashes down over him and he curls a little more into his brother’s side.

“I told you,” Ray says gently, his voice a little closer than it was a second ago. “I really like hearing your voice Mikey.”

Gerard chuckles again but neither of them force Mikey to actually come up with a response, which he’s extremely grateful for. 

After a while, Mikey finds himself drifting off. He must still be tired from the two long nights he had where he was simply panicking too much to get any real rest. Gerard is warm though and the soft rhythm of his and Ray’s conversation lulls Mikey into a pleasant doze. He never falls asleep completely but he can only just make out what they’re talking about.

“He looks so… happy when he’s sleeping,” Ray observes sometime later, his voice just a barely there whisper.

“Yeah,” he hears Gee say just as softly while he plays with Mikey’s hair still. “He deserves it more often than he gets it.”

“Sleep?”

“Being happy.”

“Gerard,” Ray says, almost like he’s scolding him. “Please don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty or anything about what happened the other day.”

There’s a long pause, long enough for Mikey to nearly drift off completely. But then Gee’s voice comes again, so quiet and sad that he can’t help but listen.

“I’m guilty for a lot of things. I- I told you earlier, I should have seen all of this coming. But I didn’t and I just… I worry that I’m missing something big again.”

Mikey’s being pulled under now but it’s impossible for him to ignore the sharp stab of guilt that shoots through his chest. 

Of course he’s seen how tired and stressed Gerard has been over the years. How his eyes sometimes hold the sort of sadness and pain that you would only think to see in people who’ve been to war. People who’ve seen too much. Lost too many people.

And he knows it’s his fault. His fault for the frown lines and the grey hairs.

Gerard’s only 25. He shouldn’t be going grey. 

But he is and it’s because of Mikey.

He falls asleep shortly after this thought, hoping that when he wakes up everything will be just a little bit better. That he and his brother can have Christmas dinner with Ray. That his little corner of the world will be just a tiny bit less dark than it was just last week.

_____________________________________________________

~1 Year Later~

Mikey sprints down the steps, taking them two at a time as he holds his arms close to his chest. The black and orange cat in his arms doesn’t squirm or even scratch him as he stumbles and has to desperately grasp the handrail to keep from tumbling down the remaining steps. He regains his balance and hops down the last few steps before coming to a somewhat unsteady stop at the bottom of the stairwell.

The doorbell rings again and Mikey curses before resuming his mad sprint towards the entryway. He can hear Gerard mumbling and groggily trying to make his way down the steps as well. But it’s 6am so there’s no way in hell his brother is awake enough to traverse the stairwell any faster than at a snail's pace.

Mikey rounds the corner of the living room and crosses it in three long strides. He makes it to the entryway and flings the door open just as the person waiting rings the bell again. His cat jumps from his arms and lazily meows at him before retreating back towards where he came from.

The moment Frank sees him his face lights up and Mikey’s quickly being pulled into a crushing hug that he swears breaks a couple of his ribs in the process. 

The air is bitter and cold, the rain falling hard in thick drops all around Frank as the two of them stand there hugging for who knows how long. It’s not until Mikey starts to shiver that he pulls himself out of Frank’s iron grip and mentally checks to see if his ribs are really broken or not.

And yeah, he’s fine. Probably.

“Come in you dumbass,” Mikey says with a smirk, pulling him inside by the collar of his jacket. “Your fucking immune system is worse than mine.”

Frank laughs deeply and jabs a finger into Mikey’s ribs as payback, but he does close the door behind himself. 

“You’re the one who said 6am and then wasn’t fuckin’ there to answer the door when I got here,” Frank bites back, earning a half-hearted shove from Mikey in return.

About this time, Gerard finally makes it to the living room, his stumbling, trudging steps audible through the early morning quiet of the rest of the house. Mikey curses and turns back to Frank.

His hair’s a mess from the rain and wind, and he’s still in his fucking pajamas of all things.

“I told you to dress nice!” Mikey whisper/yells, desperately trying to smooth out at least some of the wrinkles in Frank’s largely oversized Iron Maiden shirt.

“This is nice! I was just on a plane for 14 hours and anything more than this shit was entirely too much fuckin’ effort.”

Mikey huffs and gives up on the shirt, instead moving to attempt to smooth down some of Frank’s hair. But it’s useless, the long, black strands just refuse to stay down.

“Who’s at the door Mikes? ‘N why ‘re you runnin’ so early?”

Gerard comes around the corner, somehow looking even worse than Frank. His hair is plastered down on one side and there’s dried drool on the corner of his mouth. He looks like he just woke from the dead. And that’s when Mikey gives up on trying to make his brother’s boyfriend look presentable. There’s clearly no point.

But Gerard just stops frozen in his place, his eyes going so wide that Mikey thinks for a moment they’re about to pop out of his skull. His hands fly to his mouth and there’s visible tears in his eyes as Frank chuckles beside Mikey.

“Hey Gee. Merry Christmas.”

All Mikey sees is a blur as Gerard literally tackles Frank to the floor. He’s instantly wrapped around Frank like a fucking sloth, laughing and cursing at him through tears.

A warm hand wraps around Mikey’s waist and he leans into Ray’s side as he comes up to him. He feels Ray’s deep, contented sigh as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of Mikey’s head.

“God I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you,” Gerard tells Frank, serious even as his face is literally squished into his boyfriend's chest from how hard he’s hugging him.

“They seem happy.”

Mikey chuckles at Ray’s comment but he can’t help but agree. The smile on Gerard’s face, as the two of them make no move to get up off of the floor, makes all the trouble of flying Frank home on Christmas day entirely worth it.

“C’mon, it’s still early and you were up late,” Ray says, gently guiding him back towards the living room.

They curl up on the couch while Frank throws a fit in the kitchen over how few cooking supplies Mikey and Gerard have. As Mikey sips on his hot chocolate that Ray so kindly got up and made for him, he laughs at Frank’s frustrated rant in the other room.

"How the fuck do you not have any spatulas?!"

Mikey laughs aloud, long enough for his cheeks to begin hurting from how hard he’s smiling. But he can feel Ray laughing against him too, also finding Frank’s - only half serious- temper tantrum immense hilarious.

"Fucking culinary majors," Ray says with a snort, reaching up to set Mikey’s now empty cup one the table for him.

"I dunno what Gee even sees in him honestly," Mikey tells him with a very serious nod of his head.

It’s all just joking though, his brother and Frank are one of the most genuinely in love couple he’s ever met. They actually care about each other but they can also give each other hell like Frank is doing to Gee without worrying that the other is going to take it seriously. He’s never seen Gerard this happy before, never had a Christmas filled with this many people that Mikey could call his friends. 

Frank has quickly become one of his best friends, after Mikey actually allowed himself to try and spend time with him. They have a lot more in common than he’d originally thought and Mikey wishes he’d given Frank a chance a little earlier. 

And then there’s Ray. Mikey’s brain just sorta short circuits when he thinks of Ray. Of how much he cares about him, how big of a difference meeting him made in his life.

Mikey could fall asleep like this, all warm and sleepy, pressed so close to Ray. As they settle into a sleepy silence, Mikey listens to Ray's breathing as it evens out and he falls asleep. His arms are a pleasant, heavy weight around Mikey's chest, his breath just barely hitting his ear.

Looking over to their Christmas tree, Mikey's eyes instantly find the newest ornament.

It's already his favorite and he hasn't been able to stop staring at it since they hung it on the tree last week. The ornament is a rather large, plastic snow globe with a small place in the middle that can hold pictures.

When Frank was in for summer break, all four of them had gotten together and taken a picture in front of the house. Ray was beside him that day, his arm around his waist and a smile on both of their faces. Gerard had been on the other side of Mikey, Frank beside him.

That had been so nice, almost perfect, and he can't help but smile as he remembers. Ray had kissed him for the first time right after that picture had been taken.

They've officially been dating for 5 months now and Mikey can genuinely say that meeting Ray that day last year has changed his life. He'd like to think it's been for the better too.

And yeah, the reason he was up so late last night and slept in was because he'd had a rough day that'd lead to a nasty panic attack in the bathroom.

But Ray had sat there on the floor with him at 3am and held him until he could breathe again.

He hadn't been alone and he's, for once, not guilty for asking for help. He needed it, needed Ray right then. It's in moments like that, that he can see just how much Ray really loves him.

He never thought he'd make it to this point, never thought he'd have something like what he has now. Someone who cares enough about him to sit with him like that, to fall asleep with him on the couch.

Mikey drifts off to sleep in Ray's arms, warm and safe. And for the first time in a long time, he’s really, truly happy.