Chapter Text
“Ray… you’re….crushing me….” Gerard grunted out, as Ray relaxed his grip around Gerard. Ray’s curls always got in Gerard’s face when they hugged and he would usually put a hand on the center of your back, which was the real trademark of a Ray hug. The two were roughly the same size, if Gerard wasn’t any bigger, but Ray still picked him up in a bear hug every time. Ray was just like that. After the first couple of times Mikey brought him home, Ray always gave Gerard a hug, always saying he looked like he could use one. While Gerard was never partial to hugs, it’s how Ray shows he cares, and today was one of those days where Gerard definitely needed one.
It felt odd to Gerard to stand halfway through the door. He’d never been to this place before, sure, but it was his brother and his partner’s home. It shouldn’t feel frightening or foreign, yet still, he felt his heart beating in his ears. Gerard stepped further in through the front door, closing it behind him and resting his bag against it. His younger brother Mikey stood there awkwardly, as he usually did. Mikey’s shirt hung off his body, not because he bought it big, but usually because Ray stretched them out a bit. This time, it was the same Smashing Pumpkins shirt Mikey got interrogated in by the FBI when they were younger, but the shirt had clearly been well-loved since. Not only was his stature shifty and odd, but he inherited their father’s discomfort with emotions. Mikey tried his best, but it was clear he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Nobody really knew what to say, not when your brother you haven’t talked to in years asks to come stay with you in a different country, not when it’s been too long to really recognize each other, and certainly not when your brother’s partner since high school died less than two weeks ago.
Mikey settled to go in for a hug too, and Gerard was reminded of what it feels like to be hugged by a skeleton. Not that Mikey was that thin, but his joints stuck out in odd places, and he always gave stiff hugs like it was just outside his comfort zone. Gerard felt himself stiff in the hug too, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the pain or the pure distance he and his brother had been at for years. “I’m sorry abo-”
“Michael,” Ray scolded, and Gerard reflexively cringed at hearing Mikey’s full name. Out of everything to be worried about in the whole world, Gerard was uncomfortable hearing his brother’s first name. He wanted to laugh at himself, but he found he couldn’t manage to.
“It’s okay,” Gerard released Mikey and picked up his bag again. “It’s not like I haven’t heard it a million times in the last few weeks.”
Ray reached for Gerard’s bag, but he refused, holding the bag a bit closer to himself. Gerard had never been like this, and it made the years of separation all the more uncanny to Mikey. He’d been the most confident person Mikey had ever known, always strutting around with shitty box-dye black hair and eyeliner caked over the last layer he never washed off, but he rocked the shit out of it. He laughed as loud as he wanted, sung at open mics, and was always showing off the new drawings of bugs he’d been studying. This was nothing like the man he saw before him today. His boyfriend had been his rock, the one who kept Gerard stable and out of bed. Bert had given Gerard a reason to get out and live life, and just like that, Bert was dead.
Gerard itched at his leg, pointing to a nearby seat at the kitchen table. The cottage Mikey and Ray shared was small, and opened immediately to the kitchen which connected to the living room with a small half-height wall between. It was mostly brick on the inside, which meshed well with Ray’s Metallica merch and Mikey’s comic books strewn across couch-side tables and bookshelves. Ray nodded in permission, pulling out the chair for Gerard to sit. He thanked Ray, propping his leg at a certain angle and putting his bag down as he sat in the ancient wooden chair. It was the kind of chair Gerard doubted would hold if he sat, but somehow, they always did.
Mikey and Ray sat too, and the three of them sat in silence for a moment or two. Gerard sat somewhat slumped, bags under his eyes deeper than they’d ever been before, and Mikey was there for the worst of Gerard’s insomnia, so that’s saying a lot. He looked tired. Drained. Empty, and it was painfully obvious to the other two. Deep down, Gerard knew that he was still a person without his partner… and yet, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d been hollowed out, like a strong breeze would make his bones sing.
“How’s your leg feeling?” Ray broke the silence, clearing his throat before speaking. He was always brave enough to break an awkward silence, and Gerard admired that about him.
“Well, it’s just a gash really, nothing’s broken, so that’s good at least.” Gerard pried his overgrown brown hair out of his face, letting his hand rest on his forehead. Jetlag defeats even the strongest. “Hurts like hell, but at least I know it’ll heal correctly.”
“So you were in the car with him?” Mikey asked, a look of concern and surprise flashing across what’s typically the best poker face you’d ever see. Literally. Do not try playing poker with Mikey. As insane as it sounds, Gerard felt a bit of surprise when he realized Mikey was worried. Of course he would. Why wouldn’t he care? Was Gerard really that depressed, that he couldn’t even believe his brother wouldn’t care about the accident? Jesus.
Gerard opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, rubbing one of his eyes and sighing. “I think we should just let him rest, Mikes, he clearly isn’t up for questions right now.” Thank you to Ray for always saving the day. Standing up, Ray offered his arm to help Gerard up, to which he refused. Ray’s ‘SL’ tattoo stared Gerard in the face, which only made the holes in his heart more obvious, and Gerard couldn’t bear to approach the idea of remembering much of anything about Bert besides his death. It was all too much. The lights were too bright in the cabin, and Gerard just excused himself, making his way to the room that wasn’t Mikey’s and wasn’t the bathroom. Shutting the door behind himself, Gerard let himself slump against it, groaning at the strain on his leg. He practically crawled to the bed, wasting no time wrapping himself in the covers, shoes and all.
“I’m really worried about him.” Mikey confessed to Ray, who had seated himself back at the table. “I mean- I didn’t hear from him for years. I didn’t even think he had this address, let alone would pay for the cost to send a letter all the way here. Why didn’t he just email me?”
“Well with the concussion, I doubt he was really able to stare at a computer screen for very long. He was never really one for technology, anyway, so email is out. Besides,” Ray reached across to touch Mikey’s arm. “I think you should be glad he trusted you enough to come to you with this. I’m sure your parents weren’t of much comfort to him….”
“I’m not even sure if my parents are alive, dude.” Mikey scoffed, and Ray rolled his eyes.
“Don’t you ‘dude’ me, dude. We’re basically married.”
“Yeah, basically.” Mikey grumbled. Gay marriage not being legal was always a touchy subject for him. Back when they lived in America, Mikey was practically at rallies, marches and protests every other day. He fought fiercely, even coming home with tear gas flooding his eyes on more than one occasion, but nothing seemed to change. After his parents denounced Mikey’s plan to fight for him and Ray to get married, they left the country, and shortly after that, Gerard disappeared from their lives too. To this day, Mikey had no clue why.
“C’mon, he’ll be fine. He’s with us now,” Ray squeezed Mikey’s arm. “He’s safe.”
Gerard practically slept for three days straight.
Opening his eyes, he discovered that his shoes had been taken off, placed neatly by the side of the bed. His body had been strewn in a weird position, and the dried tears on his cheeks told him he’d had another nightmare. He’d been having those a lot again, those freezing cold nights creeping into his dreams and glossing them over into hell he could barely remember. Gerard still felt partially paralyzed, but he could move enough to sit up a bit and scratch his chin. “Fuck, I gotta shave.” He groaned, and let himself fall back against the mattress. There he remained for at least a half hour, turning to stare at the bleak sky clouded to a haze out the bricked-in window.
Of course, that’s when Ray walked in unannounced, carrying a plate of what smelled like pancakes. Stomach growling like a cat about to get it’s nails cut, Gerard rolled over to face Ray, eyeing the plate in his hands.
“Oh! Finally,” Ray walked over to the bedside, sitting down in the gap between Gerard’s legs and upper-body. He held the plate out to Gerard, who gratefully accepted. “You’re awake. Thank god. Mikey was worried sick, he thought you were in a coma.”
Gerard wolfed the pancakes down, not bothering with the fork Ray provided. He ate the pancakes with his hands- no syrup, just how he liked it. “Yeah, sounds like Mikey. He hides being a hypochondriac pretty well.”
“You’re telling me? When I fell skating on our first date, he tried to call an ambulance,” Ray snickered, and added, “I fuckin’ scraped my knee! That’s it!” Ray burst into a full-on laugh, and Gerard felt the skin on his cheeks crinkle slightly as something close to a smile spread across his face.
“Yeah, and when he brought you home, he was freaking out asking Ma about first aid.” Gerard took another large bite of the pancake, feeling his chest vibrate as if he had a laugh in him, but it never came.
“Speaking of,” Ray reached over to grab a bite of a pancake, which Gerard found himself glaring at Ray’s hand, but he offered the food nonetheless. As hungry as he was, Gerard still had manners. “How is your mom? I mean- do you two still talk?”
“No. We don’t talk.”
“Oh. Same reason she and Mikey don’t talk?”
“Surprisingly, no.” Gerard sat up in full- or at least, the best he could, propping himself up against the headboard. “She actually became cool with the gay thing after Mikey left. ‘Didn’t want to lose another son’ she said.” He shook his head, taking another bite of pancake. He spoke with his mouth full, adding, “Just wait until she hears how I feel about gender. And Burt.”
“Wait, she still doesn’t know about him? Haven’t you guys been dating for like-” Ray paused, his heart sinking. “I mean, weren’t you guys dating for, like, ten years?”
“Thirteen. We started dating when I was 15. And no, I don’t know how she never noticed.”
“I mean, you used to show up so covered in hickeys, you looked like a bruised-up overripe banana. Seriously, how did she not put it together?”
“Couldn’t tell ‘ya.” Gerard finished off the pancakes, placing the plate on the bedside table nearby. “Fuck, I really should do something today. What time is it?”
“It’s six o’clock, so whatever big plans you had will have to wait. Me and Mikey are out working in the garden if you’d like to join.”
Gerard gave Ray a drained look, the look of a man who could find no reason to get out of bed. “Do I have to?” He sounded just like a teenager being told to take out the trash.
Ray ruffled Gerard’s hair, which honestly could’ve counted as smoothing it seeing as his hair was in complete disarray, and Gerard gently batted his hand away. Ray and Gerard used to play-fight all the time, but it was clear Gerard didn’t have it in him today.
“No, you don’t have to. But you’re more than welcome to if you get bored.” Standing up, Ray moved to the bedside table, where he’d taken the liberty of unpacking some of Gerard’s things. He’d hoped making the room feel more homey would help, but Gerard had been asleep far too long to even notice. He picked up Gerard’s sketchbook, bringing it over and handing it to him. “Y’know, there are a lot of cool bugs out there. There’s a patch of woods not too far into our backyard. You should check it out.” Ray stood again, adjusting his Foo Fighters shirt that had seen better days. “Mikey swears he saw a fairy out there once too. Don’t tell him I told you that though.”
Grabbing the plate from the bedside table, Ray mocked a little curtsey, leaving the door open as he left. An open bedroom door: The ultimate way to force a depressed person to get up. He’d have to get up to close it eventually, but for now, Gerard studied the sketchbook in his hands. He’d bound it himself in leather, a loose string wrapping the book closed. Gerard knew he’d find himself studying insects once again, but he didn’t have the strength in him today. Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow, he’d check out what insects Ireland has.