Chapter Text
Newark, New Jersey, 2007.
God, everything was so dry during the summer. It was only 82 but could’ve been mistaken for 104 by the amount of sweat dripping down your face.
Heart beating in your ears, it was all just chores your mother made you do while you were home. Something about getting rid of old shit or whatever.
The area was still basically the same as it had always been.
It was the last summer before having to go out and live like a ‘real’ adult. You’d been pretty likable your entire life, it even struck you into a couple of indie films.
A performer, that’s what made sense as a title. Likable, a treat, charming. That big break always felt like it could’ve been around the corner. Just one good film. One that showed you, raw and in your passion.
Even if it may have been a dead end, a small bit of hope lingered in your mind, day after day. Just the thought of being able to be known for your arts, it was enough to keep pushing.
Then again, there was no way to know if it was truly going to happen.
Day after day, it always felt like you were in your brother’s shadow. He’d been playing all these big shows, going on tours, people knew him. Ray Toro. Lead Guitarist.
My Chemical Romance would’ve been nothing without him.
There you were, jealous of your own brothers’ success.
Jealous? Envious was a better word for it.
You continued to think about your life, as anyone would. Carrying boxes in and out of the garage.
A screeching noise came from the driveway, causing you to pull out your earbuds to investigate. And there it was, a shitty van, your shitty van? Your baby?
Through the window you spotted some vague silhouettes. One of your father, driving said van, Ray, and a random gaggle of guys in the backseat.
Due to context clues, you figured it was the assholes that make up My Chemical Romance.
Emo music was obnoxious, you definitely leaned more towards the grunge rock of the era.
Maybe that was partially from your resentment, but it just wasn’t something you wanted to associate with.
With a small sigh, you shoved the earbuds back into your ears. The cords fell down and into the pocket holding your iPod.
Then, for a minute, you paused. Watching your dad park the car, a hint of annoyance splayed across your face. They’d be here. All of them. At least for a day or two.
God fucking damnit.
They were loud, too loud for people who’d been flying all day. You’d think they’d had enough of each other after touring maybe?
Nope.
The sounds of guys talking was audible from the van as the engine went quiet. You shrugged and continued with your chores, moving boxes out.
Taking to Ray was maybe the last thing on your bucket list for the day.
Actually, talking to any of them was the last thing on the list. They were all so fucking annoying, loud, obnoxious, whatever adjective you wanted to use.
“Y/N!”
You groaned under your breath, it was that voice, Ray’s voice. A breath came and went and you stood up straight after putting a box down. A fake smile slapped across your face, you turned around to face the group of guys. They all looked exhausted.
“Hey, man. How’s touring been? Met some cool people?”
The questions spilled out before you could even catch the words. Something inside your brain wanted to pry as much as it wanted to crawl away.
“Aw, It’s been fucking sick. All the screaming, noises, singing, it’s been awesome.”
Ray came over as he spoke, opening his arms slightly for a hug. You didn’t reject, even as much as you wanted to. He was still your big brother.
Your voice came in small chuckles as you hugged him back, “Sorry for the sweat. I’ve been out here in the sun for about two hours,”
“No big deal, you should’ve seen Gee after Pro-Rev. He was practically drowning.”
Then, as quickly as you two came together, you pulled back. Ray wiped his, then dampened arms, onto the sides of his shirt. The rest of the band spoke their hellos to your mother whilst being ushered inside for something to eat.
“Pro-Rev? Is that some new emo term?” You questioned Ray, head cocking slightly to the side.
“Projekt Revolution? The Linkin Park tour?”
“Oh, my bad. I didn’t know where you guys were playing.”
“I sent you a text about it a while back.”
“Oh. I— Sorry. Haven’t really been looking at my phone.”
“Mhm.”
“…”
“Well, i’m going to unpack all my shit. You have fun out here doing mom’s bidding.”
“Thanks, Ray.”
Shit.
—-
You’d gotten lost in some angsty feelings. Lukewarm water sprayed down your body. A body not fully accepted among yourself. The shower was obviously out of hot water as everything became cold.
Those assholes.
For the moment, you ended up accepting the cooling water. It was vastly different to the warm sweat soaking in your hair.
Every small bit of space in the tiled area that could hold something, did. Clutter was spread about. Most of it was half empty or just crash that you hadn’t quite gotten around to tossing.
It had originally been a shared bathroom but being the last sibling to move out made it a singleton. A little lonely.
Maybe that’s the resentment.
You heard Ray walking down the hall, showing his friends each room of his childhood home. Bathroom, bedrooms, random closet, etc. Did they always have to talk so loud?
It made no sense why they were there. All of them were from New Jersey for fucks sake. You practically mentally begged for them to just leave, bring quiet back.
Maybe then you’d finally get a moment to talk to Ray one on one.
A muffled sounding CD player sang out as soap suds weaved themselves into your hair from your fingers. The music still couldn’t overtake the laughing boys in the hallway.
Your ears only picked up on bits and pieces of audible words. Most of them were fuzzy, unintelligible. All just stupid shit.
You closed your eyes while the cold water pushed the white bubbles down your back and chest. It was the one moment you truly got to yourself, though.
Another round of soap came and went, just along your body the second time. It was littered with a few secret tattoos, small ‘circle’ scars, and random blemishes.
Humming quietly, Deftones blasted through the shitty player’s speaker. Then again, you had gotten it second hand from an ‘ex’. That’s what you called it, at least.
“I gotta take a piss, I’ll meet you guys in the kitchen in a minute.”
The two seconds you zoned out, turning off the shower, of course someone was trying to force their way in. You couldn’t really tell the voice through the door.
“I’m showering, asshole!”
Your music overpowered your voice. A mumble came from the other side as the handle kept jiggling back and forth.
Ray yelled someone incoherent but it definitely encouraged whoever was on the other side to keep trying.
“God fucking damnit—“ Your voice was quiet, grumbling. You wrapped a towel along your waist before pausing the CD player and unlocking the door. It proceeded to fly open and almost smack you, face first.
“Shit! Ah, sorry, man!” Frank, Frank Iero. That’s who’d been trying to force himself in.
“What the fuck are you doing? Oh yeah, let’s try and barge into the locked bathroom that has music playing.”
Frank was standoffish, he stood in the doorway. His gaze darted up and down your body quickly before making his way to focus on your face.
“Well, I didn’t mean to! Ray told me that it was just stuck.”
“God— Ray! Fuck off and get off my back for two seconds!”
Ray sounded back quickly, he wasn’t far, “You’ll be fine!” His tone was light, he obviously found it hilarious
It wasn’t fine, it was humiliating. You rolled your eyes, pushed past Frank. Watching him snicker, you kicked the back of one of his knees. Not super hard, but enough to knock the man off balance.
“What did I do?”
Frank’s voice began to lace itself with a hint of frustration. You ignored the question, it was an obvious answer.
As the door to your bedroom closed behind you, realization hit. All the clothes you’d brought in the room to change into post shower, were still in there.
You sighed but ignored it. There were like a million different clothing items lying about your cluttered bedroom.
Since school ended, you’ve been staying in your parents house. It fucking sucked sometimes. You were under their rules, again, for some reason? It was embarrassing being 24 years old and having a 2:30am curfew.
Then again, you had an apartment set up, all ready to be leased, across the state. Just, for now, this was the source of life.
The towel around your hips got quickly tossed across the room onto your bed frame as you found your way to a basket of clean clothes.
Jeans, boxers, T-shirt, socks. Perfect combo for bumming around.
Everything but the boxers and socks were a bit baggy, partially hiding the nervous body underneath. Normally, a lot more layers were involved. But it was just too fucking hot everywhere.
Making a mental note to come back for your items in the bathroom, you grabbed a small paper box from the nightstand drawer. It was full, surprisingly since you normally went through cigs like water in the desert.
“Stupid fucking emo people.”
Ironic coming from you. Literally the emotional boy of the family. With earbuds shoved into your ears, you laid upon your messied bed, grabbing at your camcorder.
Rolls and rolls of footage had been taken. Someone you knew had expressed interest in a raw, college perspective film. And that’s what was on it. Unedited, a real you.
Drunk, high, stupid.
—-
An hour or two later, you were sat in your bedroom. It wasn’t wrong, your phone was filled with notifications. All were unread.
The room was filled with the sour odor of cigarette smoke even as you tipped the ash out the window.
It was a bad habit, awful even. Most of your clothes reeked and small charred holes poked through a couple sweatshirts.
Your addiction was something that you kept from Ray and all of your family. Or at least, you downplayed everything if pried on the subject.
The late summer air was warm, comfortable enough to lean out a window dramatically. ipod dangerously balanced on the windowsill, earbuds coming up and out into your ears.
“Ray, which room?”
Footsteps came through the hallway, shuffling. It definitely wasn’t Ray, but it was only one of that Mötley Crew.
“That one right there. Just tell him we’re getting food. He’ll want something, he’s basically a human garbage disposal.”
Your brother’s voice sounded light, joking. He’d always been calling you that, everyone in the family did.
Garbage disposal.
“Why do I have to get your asshole brother?”
A sigh fell from your chapped lips as you forced the cheap cigarette in your hand against the brick. A clump of hot ash and flame hit your palm, forcing a wince. You bit your tongue, forcing back any noise.
The voice outside the door was confident, proud of nothing. His, almost nasally, inflection made it obvious who was outside.
That same humiliated feeling ran through your body.
Knocking came as the door creaked open, a short-ish man poking his head through. Frank’s eyes were like a dog’s, wary. He could almost see right through you.
“Hey, Y/N. Ray told me to come get you. He was wondering if you wanted some food.” He sounded closed off.
“Mhm. Yeah. Just give me a second, man.”
You shook out your hand outside the window. That was after you’d turned your body to face the other boy, studying him. His hair was so overgrown, different.
The burning sensation in the middle of your palm felt like it was eating you alive. Still, you attempted to just fight it off.
It was silent for a moment, too silent. Both of you just stared at each other. It was a bit awkward.
“Is that everything? Tell him i’ll be out in two seconds.”
Your tone was slightly rude. Partially from the dampening pain on your hand, partially from the pit in your stomach.
“You’re a dick for no reason, Jesus Christ. Whatever. I’ll talk to Ray.”
“Mhm hmm.”
The interaction was tense, uncomfortable. Frank took a minute, studying the clusterfuck you called a bedroom. His eyes stopping on the record and CD collection in the corner.
His eyes seemed to relax slightly, seeing everything you were into. Not saying that Frank wasn’t still annoyed at your actions, but he had some respect.
“You into The Grateful Dead?” His voice was still hesitant as he asked.
You’d pushed off the window sill and shoved your hands into your pants pockets, “Oh, yeah. One of my exes was really into it. H- They were a big fan of a lot of music.”
The sensation of the denim against the light burn on your balm forced you to bite back a few tears.
“Not over your ex, i’m guessing?” Frank paused, “You seem like the type.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just figured by the messy room and hidden cigarettes that you’re a fucking wreck.”
“Oh? And you’re saying i’m the dick for no reason?”
“You kicked me for just laughing at something funny.”
“Whatever. Get the fuck out of here, Iero.”
You snapped at Frank. Your ‘ex’ wasn’t even quite an ex. It wasn’t ever official, just a hidden mishmash of shit. But you never referred to them as an ex-girlfriend. Just ‘my ex’.
The other man left your room, hands running back through his overgrown hair. The ‘aura’ around him seemed loud, likable. No wonder Frank was so fucking pretentious.
A buzz came from your phone, causing you to pull the small thing from your pocket. Texts had flooded your inbox from all sorts of people.
Just, only the most recent one mattered.
Hey, Y/N. I loved the footage you submitted LOL! Wanna meet s0on? Txt me back! :)
-Stan Alt.
Your heart probably stopped. This was it. This would be where people learned your name. A quick agreement text was shot back before you shoved the device into your pocket.
As excited as you may have been, it stayed a secret from both Ray, and the rest of that stupid band. You’d found your way to the kitchen area, figuring out what to eat.
After you’d taken a seat, Frank just had to sit next to you. All of it just to piss you off and make you frustrated with him.
There you sat, in the group, knee to knee with one of the biggest pieces of shit you could think of.
Mikey and Gerard weren’t so bad. They just all had such a loud presence to them, it was annoying. All the loud noise was just awful to be around all the time.
Insufferable people.
—-
Conversation had long since dulled down after eating, you stood up. The exhaustion from the day prior had finally worn you down. Now, with the addition of a ton of shitty pizza, you forced yourself to go to bed.
You didn’t really wanna say goodnight but Ray’s voice ended up coming through once you were halfway down the hall.
“Goodnight, Y/N. I looooOooove you.”
Older brothers were so fucking embarrassing to have. You loved Ray, you’d do anything for him but sometimes he just needed to get off your ass.
“Mhm hmm. Love you too, Ray.”
You kept trudging down the hallway, steps slow and tired.
Eventually, you found yourself inside of that same, cramped bedroom. A few seconds after shutting the door you crawled onto and then proceeded to collapse onto your bed. Too hot for blankets.
For a quick moment, your gaze settled on the guitar in the corner of the room. Dust had collected on it, so much fucking dust.
The funny thing was, you were good, like really good. Ray had taught you just like how both of your older brothers taught him.
A thought of brushing your hands against the strings again passed through your head.
It was quickly abandoned due to the heaviness in your eyelids.
Sleep came quick, really quick. It usually did those days. You were always working, filming, or being useful to your parents. So, days were long and sleep was quick.
—-
There was only once you stirred.
1:45am. The door creaked open, your ears caught it your brain stayed very at peace. As quickly as it opened, the door shut again.
Your ears picked up on some faint goodnights and chuckles. Nothing out of the ordinary.
In your, basically sleeping, conscious state, you assumed it was nothing. With that, all rationality faded away. You’d assumed it was Ray checking on you before going to bed, as he did when you were both younger.
Sometimes, he’d come to lay with you for a minute. Play his guitar, talk low, just sit in the quiet with his little brother. So, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for another body to join you.
Instinctually, your body moved to lay against the person you thought was Ray. Basically sleeping, there wasn’t a good way to tell the difference.
Your floppy hands felt around for the warmth of the other body’s arm, gently feeling for the veins along his upper wrist.
It felt right.
That wasn’t Ray, was it though? The person was too small, skinnier. Then again, an unconscious person can’t usually tell.
It’s also not like whoever it was rejected it. He accepted it, let it happen.
But Frank would never let you live that gesture down.