FicWad

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, don't own the basic plot and quotes you recognise from Californication.

WARNINGS: This story is based on the television series "Californication", if you didn't like it or were offended by it, please do not read. I have changed a lot of the plot to suit my own wicked ways but it still includes a lot of swearing, alcohol and drug use, sex in every shape and form and some volgarity. Please do not read if this offends.

Chapter Fifteen - But I think I've finally realised that ... I've lost. (Part One)

Frank woke up with a groan of discomfort, because after all, he felt like a fucking train had smashed into him over and over a-fucking-gain.

He didn't open his eyes, he didn't want to. It seemed that even his fucking eyelashes hurt that morning. Instead he merely rolled around clutching at his sheets as though hoping they would transfer some magical healing powers all through his body and make him well again.

They didn't. His slow writhing was only causing his bruised and battered body even more pain. He had definitely outdone himself this time; he was officially fucked!

Moaning loudly, he did his best to move his weak arms just enough to push the sheets that covered his upper body as low as he could. He felt cold, yet strangely clammy and the sheets only made him feel smothered and restrained. When he had managed to shimmy them off him completely, there was a moment of relief before the cool morning breeze flew in through his constantly open window and nipped lightly at his bare chest and legs.

Instantly, he froze. There wasn't much he could remember from the night before just yet, but he was positive that when he had collapsed onto his bed and fallen asleep, he had felt warmer. He had stripped himself of his jacket and shoes, but he didn't remember removing his pants or his shirt. Why was he in his boxers?

He let out another loud moan as he prayed to god that he didn't go home with anyone last night. The last thing he needed was to run for his life as some husband or boyfriend caught him in bed with their girl. He hadn't had to do that in a long time and he was certain that this time, he wouldn't be able to go anywhere; he would merely play dead and hope for the best.

Then, another thought hit him. He was in pain because he had gotten into a fight at that bar with his band. Then he had left because he was upset. Why was he upset? That was when he remembered the bathroom. The guy that found him in the bathroom, the abuse that followed there.

Another reason for his lack of clothing suddenly came to mind. What if he had gone home with that guy from the bar? Would he be that stupid? Did he even have to ask himself if he would be that stupid? Of course he was that fucking stupid! Hadn't he let that guy fuck him without even putting up a fight? When had he become so pathetic?

Frank writhed around on top of his now extremely uncomfortable sheets in discomfort. His paranoid thinking was doing nothing to relieve the pain that was now becoming almost unbearable as he was slowly coming to and realising just how disappointingly sober he was.

He continued to whine and complain until he suddenly felt a pressure on the bed right next to him. Instantly he stopped moving, the pain momentarily forgotten about as he felt a warm and surprisingly gentle hand brush away his unkempt fringe from his sticky forehead. He still didn't dare open his eyes, what if it was that jerk from the bar? What if he had to deal with the nightmare of the night before in his very house?

Not having the physical or mental strength to coax his eyes open and look his unwanted guest in the eyes, he instead reached out a shaky hand and slowly traced the fingers that were on his forehead to a slender wrist and smooth skin, to a bony elbow and a small bicep. His heart thundered in his chest as he feared what he would see when he finally opened his eyes.

Just like in the bar the night before, would he come back to reality and suddenly realise that he wasn't safely at home in bed with a friend but lying in some graffitied bathroom with his pants down around his ankles?

His hand kept wondering as whoever it was sitting with him let him continue his blind exploration. Frank was at a shoulder now, a recently shaved neck, a chin -

"Why don't you just open your eyes and see who it is you lazy fuck," the voice said. There was a hint of amusement behind the words and whilst they sounded slightly agitated, the hand continued to sooth Frank's discomfort with surprising affection.

At the sound of the intruder’s voice, Frank finally just let his eyelids flutter open and allowed his aching head to adjust to the light that was flooding his room. When he could finally focus, he caught site of the person whose face and voice he recognised, but whose tender touch had become something completely foreign as of late.

Gerard just sighed as he moved his hand away from Frank's forehead and looked away sheepishly.

"Um ... want me to close the curtains?" Gerard asked, rubbing a hand through his disheveled hair as he pointed towards the offending window.

Frank took a moment to let his brain catch up with what he was actually seeing. He wasn't in some random’s house; he was in his own house, in his own bed. He also wasn't waking up next to some stranger or, worse still, that guy from the bar. No, he was waking up with a friend, with someone who had seen him this unwell before, with someone that actually cared about him.

Gerard.

He nodded slowly, noting how his head felt like it was simply going to roll off his shoulders. Gerard slowly got up from the bed and disappeared from Frank's line of vision for a moment or two until the room was thrown into a blissful darkness and that pressure was returned by Frank's side once more as Gerard returned.

"So ... to what do I owe this great pleasure?" Frank said slowly, his voice croaky from lack of use whilst he has over slept and no doubt from the slight melt down he had had the night before.

"I ... well I was worried about you Frank. Last night, you scared the shit out of me," Gerard confessed rather easily. It appeared that he didn't quite mind opening up when the matter was so serious. Frank hated serious matters and he hated that he was the one lying there so unwell. He hated this shit.

"Yeah well, I was tired and cranky. I'm better now," he said, wondering whether to wriggle away from Gerard's hand or not. In the end he decided he liked it gently soothing his forehead far too much. "How'd you get in here anyway?"

"I went after you last night after you left. Like I said, you scared the shit out of me. I came here first and waited for like an hour, when you didn't show I drove around looking for you. When I still didn't see you anywhere I came back here one last time and your door was wide open," Gerard explained.

To Frank's great disappointment Gerard removed his hand from his forehead and placed it by his side instead. Perhaps he thought Frank was going to snap at him, or perhaps he just didn't feel the need to paw at him anymore. Either way, Frank kind of wished they could have the contact for a little while longer.

"I came in here and found you passed out on the bad," Gerard continued. "You were kind of still tossing and turning and w-well you were pulling at your clothes and stuff and - hope you don't mind but I sort of took them off for you ... j-just so you could be more comfortable."

Gerard cringed as he said the words, almost as though he wished he hadn't of admitted them or perhaps not removed the clothes all together. Frank didn't throw any sexual comment at him though, he was glad that it was Gerard who had removed his clothes. And he was right, it had made for a much more comfortable sleep, he hated clothing and he hated sheets when he slept. It was nothing sexual, it was just common courtesy.

"Frank ... who the fuck did this to you?" Gerard finished, his hand returning to Franks face so that he could gently brush against the top half of Franks eye, where he knew the deep cut and no doubt nasty bruise he had obtained from the night before resided.

"Skippy. You know, the bush Kangaroo from Australia? Yeah well, nobody ever told me he was a boxing kangaroo," Frank muttered, the hint of a smile on his face.

Gerard wasn't amused.

"Come on Frank, this is fucking serious, you didn't seem at all right last night. So if you're not going to answer that then tell me, where's your car? Who'd you go out with? Was the fight serious?" he asked, stopping the hand at Frank’s forehead; he was pissed now.

Back in the days of their relationship, Gerard would have killed to be able to take care of a vulnerable and crying Frank. As messed up as it sounded, everybody who was in a relationship loved to be able to take care of the person that they're with, or be taken care of by the one they're with. It's odd, but that's just how it is. Gerard didn't like seeing Frank hurt, but he liked to be there to take care of him. Always had, even when they had first got together in a band and Frank had always been sick with whatever contagious virus was being passed on from trailer to trailer.

Gerard clearly didn't appreciate that Frank still wasn't letting him in, so he took a deep breath and decided to cut him some slack.

"My car's probably still at the bar ... least I hope it is," he began, praying to god his car was still there. "And I went out with the guys from Pledge. The fight was over who should play pool or not and no, it wasn't serious, we ended up even playing a game with the same guys that may have single handedly broken my entire rib cage."

Frank squirmed around in discomfort once more as a pain shot it's way up his side. He was positive there were a few broken or fractured ribs, the pain was so severe.

"And?" Gerard asked, raising an eyebrow at Frank after his rather brief explanation of his night.

"And what?"

"Come on Frank ... what else happened? I know you and when it rains it fucking pores, so tell me what else happened. I highly doubt that a fucking bar fight over pool and a simple argument with me is enough to make the mighty Frank cry," Gerard continued to push, desperate for answers.

Frank inwardly cursed. Gerard truly did know him too fucking well; they had spent way too much time together. Gerard knew that Frank very rarely cried. Hell, even when Don died he only shed a few tears. Last night had been different, it was the first time he had actually really cried since he was ten and woke up to find that his bike was stolen and his Mum refused to buy him another one.

There was nothing he could tell Gerard to get him out of this situation, he wanted answers and he would get answers if he kept pushing. What was Frank going to tell him?

Finally deciding that a change of topic was in order, Frank glanced around the room and realised that something was not right.

"Wait ... If you're here then who's taking care of Jack?" he asked, hastily noting that Lindsey was still away, Jess was elsewhere and Jack was not old enough to be at home alone.

It didn't go unnoticed by Gerard that Frank had changed the subject but as it seemed such an important question, he decided to answer. Frank knew they would eventually come back to it, but at least it gave him more time to think of a decent enough lie.

"I had to bring him here with me. When you took off I woke him up and he helped me look for you. He slept on your lounge and now he's watching cartoons on your T.V. ... hope you don't mind," Gerard added as an afterthought as Frank merely rolled his eyes at him. Of course he didn't mind.

Still, one thing was definitely troubling him. Last night, he had been wasted, crying and a complete and utter mess of blood and bruises. Not to mention the fact that he was that out of it that he couldn't even undress himself and put himself to bed properly. Suddenly he felt quite pissed off that Gerard had bought Jack around, there was no way in hell Frank wanted the kid to see him when he was as bad as he had been the night before.

"Did he see me?" Frank said loudly before he could stop himself.

Gerard's face scrunched up into confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Did he see me," Frank repeated, a little more aggravated this time. Whatever alcohol had still been in his system when he had awakened was completely worn off now, he had a hang over from hell and his body ached all over. "You know, stumbling around and shit."

"Pretty sure he's seen you drunk before Frank," Gerard stated simply with a small smirk.

"No, I mean, did he see me ... crying."

Frank said the word as though it was some horrible disease that you could catch and die from just by saying its name out loud. Gerard just rolled his eyes before realising how serious Frank was about the question. He knew how important it was that Frank kept up his tough guy routine.

"No, he didn't see you. He heard you when you were at the front door though, he was really worried about you to ... Frank, what happened?" Gerard pushed one more time.

Groaning in frustration, Frank somehow found the strength to sit himself up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. His head pounded a heavy beat against his skull and he realised just how much his ribs ached. One eye felt strange as it had clearly gotten a fair beating during the fight and his ass was another story altogether. Sometimes he wondered why the hell he ever decided to swing both ways, it was certainly a feeling you just never got used.

He let out a sharp intake of breath as a pain shot up his side and Gerard's face instantly lined with concern as he instinctively shot a hand out to grip at his arm as he struggled to his feet.

"Why don't you stay lying down? You don't have to get up," Gerard suggested, as he continued to help Frank steady himself. He whined in annoyance and shook Gerard's hand off his arm.

"I'm not fucking dying Gerard. I drank too much, I got into a fight, this is my fault, got it! I need a fucking coffee anyway," Frank shot back; glad to see a look of anger flash across Gerard's face. He had had enough of pity for one morning.

Gerard crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at Frank in disbelief. Frank merely turned away from him and made his way to the kitchen.

"Just tell me what happened so I can stop worrying, even though I'm not even sure why I bothered considering you're such an ungrateful asshole!" Gerard shouted after him as they both stormed off into the kitchen.

When they both entered the other room, fuming to themselves, Jack sat forward in Frank's lounge and eyed them both in concern. A pang of guilt ran through Frank, he didn't want to fight in front of him, not after the kid had been so worried about his well-being, but the urge to argue with Gerard was stronger. After all, arguing was what they did best.

"I already told you what happened! I got into a fight with a guy at the bar, I got far to drunk and it just caused me to over act, that's all," Frank explained, wanting to spin it all around and tell Gerard it was his fault for shouting at him about Jess but knowing that it was the last thing he wanted Jack to here.

"And that's why you came stumbling up to my door at three in the morning? Why didn't you just go home? Clearly you wanted me for something Frank otherwise you wouldn't have been there. You wouldn't have fucking cried!" Gerard continued to argue back, waving his hands around to exaggerate every word.

Frank just glared at Gerard and shook his head. What did it matter why he was crying, why was Gerard pushing this? He hated his concern, even though Frank tried to convince himself that it was better then Gerard still hating him over Jess. Why couldn't he just get it right?

He finally took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn't going to argue anymore, nor was he going to keep up this conversation. Gerard didn't need to know every little detail about his life anymore. He was hung-over, saw and fucking tired, he just wanted to be alone.

"Why were you so sad Frankie?"

Jack's hesitant voice broke their staring contest as they both turned to face the small boy. The T.V. remote was in his hands and he picked at the buttons nervously as though afraid that they would both turn their anger onto him next. His concerned eyes peered out through his long, black fringe as he slunk back into the chair as though hoping they would both forget he had ever spoken at all.

Frank dropped his arms back to his side and tried his hardest to hold back his annoyance. He couldn't fight with Jack, this wasn't fair.

Gerard raised his eyebrow smugly at Frank when their eyes locked once again. Jack was on his side, he wanted answers as well. Gerard knew he had won.

When Frank's brain began to work again, he almost kicked himself in the fucking balls. After all, what was he doing? Gerard wasn't over reacting, he must have been a real mess the night before, even Jack could tell just how serious this all was. It made Frank remember what it was like to have a family and people who worried about your safety. It was actually kind of nice.

Perhaps Gerard's brain had finally started working again to, because he sighed heavily and seemed to calm himself down. Frank wasn't ready to tell him, he had to accept that, it wasn't fair that he was pushing him. Whatever was going through his head, Frank was glad when he merely backed away and made his way over to the still silent Jack.

Frank shuffled around uncomfortably as Gerard picked up his son and started walking towards the door. He didn't want them to leave, even though he really didn't want the company that morning either. Why did Gerard always have to decide he wanted to stay at the most inappropriate times?

But, Frank knew that Gerard didn't really want to stay. Sure, he was concerned, they were friends, but the argument of the night before came rushing back to him and Frank suddenly felt quite bitter. Gerard had never intended to stay, he had his real family to go back to. The one with Jack, Lindsey and Jess. Frank was never a part of that equation.

"Try and get some sleep hey Frank, maybe stay in doors tonight," Gerard suggested, turning around right before he exited the house.

His tone was filled with anger as he made his demands but his face was still showing traces of that underlining concern.

For a moment Frank had a vision of a much similar situation back when they had first formed My Chemical Romance. Frank had been extremely ill, like he was quite often back then, and he refused to rest because he wanted to take the stage. Gerard had argued and argued to the point where his voice was barely audible, but Frank still refused to put Pansy in her case and rest.

Gerard's dark hair had fallen about his face as he growled in frustration at how stubborn Frank was. They had taken the stage that night and Frank barely made it to the end before he passed and when he came to, Gerard was there by his side with not so much as a trace of an "I told you so." There was only concern and love.

The only difference between that past Gerard and the present one in front of him was a small look-a-like in his arms. Would he eventually just crash like he did back then and wake up to find Gerard still by his side, despite all the hostilities?

At Franks silence, Gerard let out one last sigh before he shook his head and turned away. Jack had his arms wrapped around his father’s neck and his head rested on his strong and safe shoulder. When Gerard began walking away Jack looked up and released one hand from his dad's shirt just so he could wave Frank sadly goodbye.

He was a fucking asshole. He couldn't do anything right.

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The moment Gerard had gone; Frank moped around the house feeling sorry for himself for as long as he could before finally just wearing himself out and crashing on the lounge.

He wasn't sure how long he slept for, but when he woke up, his hangover was merely another unpleasant memory. However, with his brain now working again and his head not beating him into disorientation, he was suddenly aware of how much his whole body ached.

Somehow he managed to get his sorry ass up off the lounge and to his bathroom. His first stop was the mirror and he giggled slightly at what he saw. He suddenly understood why Gerard had been so worried, his face was a mess. One eye was so badly bruised and swollen that for a second Frank was positive he had make-up on. There was no way it could be that bad, he barely remembered it hurting when he got hit there.

There was a small cut on his forehead that was surrounded by dried up blood and his lip was just the same. It hurt to smile, he noted. The worst part of it all though, was the obvious bite marks on his neck. He was positive that Gerard would have seen them and he wondered why he hadn’t asked about them during their argument. Perhaps he had wanted to hear it straight from Frank?

It was strange, but he was almost proud of his injuries, he couldn't help it. It gave him some comfort that whilst he let his guard down in the bathroom, he at least put up a good fight when they had been wrestling for the pool table.

Stripping off his boxers, he caught a glimpse of the rest of his body before deciding it was best that he showered and stopped looking at his injuries as it wasn't going to make them any better. His right side was covered in bruises, his upper thigh had a deep gash in it (even though he had no fucking idea where he had gotten that from) and his hip bones were bruised and tender to touch.

He figured the cut was from a broken piece of glass or something he had brushed up against during the bar fight, the hips had to be from when he was shoved rather unceremoniously up against the bathroom sink. He fucking hated being short.

When he had showered and changed into a clean pair of boxers and an old 'Misfits' t-shirt, he finally felt human again. His hair was clean, his whole body was clean. Sure, he was bruised and injured beyond belief but he had time to study every injury in the shower and he now knew that even though he felt like shit, he would live to see another day.

Still, he hated that he felt better. There was no more feeling sorry for himself, there was no more shuffling around the house and moving sluggishly, his energy was back, he felt like himself again. Yet, there was nothing to do and no one to spend his energy on.

Gerard and Jack had gone home. He was positive that he still wouldn't be allowed around there. Just because he had had a melt down didn't change the facts of what he had done. He knew the whole Jess thing was going to come back to bust his balls and sure enough they were violently crushed.

But, at least it was out in the open now, how much worse could it get? And whilst it wasn't ideal that he was violated and assaulted in the bathroom of some seedy bar, at least it helped him crash and burn enough to have Gerard momentarily forget about Jess and remember just how much he actually still did care for Frank.

It was wrong to think that, but he had to look on the brightside. He just had to. It was the only way he didn't linger too long on the events of the night before.

"Don't you ever fucking lock your door?" a voice called out from down Frank's hallway, interrupting his thoughts.

Instantly he was on his feet and ready to defend himself if need be, but his visitor wasn't anyone who posed as a threat. In fact, he was positive that if Mikey Way tried to break into anyone's house they wouldn't have to worry. No one would see him as a threat.

"Don't you ever fucking knock?" Frank shot back, not quite ready to welcome the youngest Way with open arms just yet. He had a feeling he knew why he was there.

"Holly donkey dick! Iero, what the hell happened to your face?" Mikey shouted, staring at him with his mouth hanging wide open and his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah right Mikes, as if you don't already know," he said, rolling his eyes.

"What? Why would I already know? You weren't like this when I saw you yesterday. Wait ... Gerard didn't do this did he?"

Mikey stared in wide-eyed shock for a moment or two before thinking over what he had just said and bursting out into laughter. Frank simply crossed his arms across his chest and clicked his tongue at the younger Way. He was laughing because everyone knew that Gerard would never, ever, be able to beat up anyone that bad. But still, the fact that Frank had been beaten up was no laughing matter.

"Sorry man ... it's just, wow! Could you imagine ... Anyway, what happened?" Mikey asked again, his laughter dying down when he realised it wasn't being returned.

"Oh come on, you're seriously telling me that Gerard didn't send you around here to check up on me or get out of me what happened?" Frank said, snickering slightly in disbelief.

"Er - nope, he really didn't. He called me last night to tell me about Jess - which, holly fuck Iero, may I add - and then that was the last I heard from him," Mikey explained with a shrug.

Frank studied him closely, but couldn't flaw his explanation. If he was lying, then he had been taking lessons because Mikey Way had never been that good. He was the worst liar in the world!

"You got any beer?" Mikey asked, after looking around rather awkwardly whilst Frank studied him closely.

He pointed to the fridge and Mikey comically side-stepped him as though he was insane and proceeded to the kitchen.

"Soooooooooo ... do I really have to ask again?" Mikey shouted from the kitchen as Frank heard his fridge door open and the gentle chiming of beer bottles being knocked against each other.

"It's nothing. Just got into a fight with some guys at a bar over a stupid pool table," Frank explained, flopping down onto his lounge and sticking his feet up onto the coffee table.

He started slightly when his ass collided with something solid and dug his hand underneath him to discover the remote. Glad for a distraction, he turned the T.V. on and was met with SpongeBob Squarepants' annoyingly contagious laugh. He had almost forgotten that Jack had been there that morning.

"SpongeBob? You're kidding right. How hard did they hit you?" Mikey joked, collapsing onto the lounge beside him and passing over a beer.

"Jack was watching it this morning," he explained, cracking open his beer and sipping from it eagerly.

"What was he doing here? I thought Gerard had banned you from seeing him after the whole Jess thing," Mikey said, clearly trying to fill himself in on what the latest in Gerard and Frank's fucked up relationship was.

Thankfully, Mikey's phone rang at that very second and so Frank was spared having to explain himself to Gerard’s inquisitive younger brother.

"Speak of the devil." Mikey waved his phone in front of Frank to show that it was indeed Gerard that was calling.

"Put it on speaker," Frank instructed.

Mikey looked deep in thought for a moment or two as though wondering if he should betray his brother like that. But apparently he couldn't think of a good enough reason to not do as Frank asked, either that or he felt he owed him because he pressed the green button on his phone and then another before Gerard's weary voice bellowed out around Frank's lounge room.

Instantly he muted the television so he could hear what was going to be said as Mikey just eyed him suspiciously.

"Hey bro, what's happening?" Mikey asked, trying to sound as normal as possible. Frank just rolled his eyes, Mikey had a way of sounding like he was up to no good. He wasn't good at these types of games.

"Nothing," Gerard replied bluntly, sounding frustrated and worn out. "I meant to call you earlier but I feel asleep. Anyway, can you do me a favour?"

"Er - sure, what is it?" Mikey asked, eyeing Frank warily as though suspecting he knew something about this rather strange phone call.

"Can you go around to Frank's and make sure he's okay for me?" Gerard's voice said.

Mikey's eyebrows disappeared into his fringe as he looked at Frank in surprise. After all, moments ago Frank had asked if Gerard had sent Mikey around to check up on him. He was positive that if Gerard hadn't of fallen asleep that he would have gotten to his brother a lot sooner. Frank still knew him to well. Still, he had to admit it was nice not to be completely forgotten about.

"Um, sure," Mikey said in a strangled sort of voice.

Frank slapped his forehead; the kid was such a bad fucking liar!

"You're not busy or anything are you?" Gerard asked, sounding slightly suspicious. It was clear he picked up on his brother’s hesitance.

"No! Of course not. Just ... you know, chillin’. Um - why am I checking up on him exactly?" Mikey questioned, covering himself as well as Mikey Way, the world's worst liar, could.

Gerard sighed heavily into the phone.

"He got into a fight last night, or so he says. He came around to my place at three in the morning and well ... he fucking cried, like I mean really cried," Gerard explained, Mikey's eyebrows shot up even higher as he stared at Frank suspiciously. "You know what he's like Mikes, he didn't even cry when his dog died and we all know how much he loved that thing. J-just, make sure he's alright and, try and find out what happened to him. I know he wouldn't cry over a stupid fight and well, I don't think it had anything to do with our fight ..."

Mikey rolled his eyes as Gerard continued to rant, Frank felt guilty as fuck and sipped at his beer, just for the distraction. He could still feel Mikey's curious eyes burning a hole into the side of his head.

"Yeah sure, you got it bro. Don't worry, I'm on my way over there now," Mikey explained, still staring at Frank as he let slip a great lie with the most confidence he had ever displayed. If Frank hadn't of been so worried about what would be said next, he would have been quite proud.

"Thanks man, I'll talk to you soon, have to call up the fucking lady that's supposed to fit our suits," Gerard explained with another sigh. Mikey just snickered as he said goodbye and hung up the phone.

The moment the phone went dead, the room was thrown into an uncomfortable silence as Frank tried his best to focus on the paused image of SpongeBob on the screen rather then at the smirking Mikey by his side who was still staring intently at him.

"So ..." he began, picking up his beer and sipping at it smugly. "Crying, huh?"

Frank just stayed silent as he prayed to god that aliens could somehow just beam him up out of his chair and take him away from this inevitable conversation.

"Want to tell me what really happened?" Mikey asked, sounding strangely comical.

He tried his best to ignore him, he really did, but Mikey was different from Gerard. Mikey Way was Frank's best friend, no doubt about it. He didn't live close to his parents, he didn't have Gerard, he couldn't talk to Jack about grown up things and his new band just wouldn't understand. The only person that Frank could ever tell everything to was Mikey. Fact of the matter was, he didn't mind telling Mikey, because if he had to tell anyone (and he would, otherwise it would drive him crazy), then it would have to, without a doubt, be Mikey.

Mikey smiled and raised an eyebrow. It wasn't in a smug or demeaning manner; it was merely him silently urging Frank on. Because, he knew what Frank was thinking, he knew that Frank would tell him. Probably the only thing going through Mikey's head was what he could get Gerard to do for the information he was about to receive.

"Me and Gee had a fight ... I didn't take it to well," Frank explained, unpausing SpongeBob for the distraction.

Apart of him already knew that Mikey’s calm, comical manner would get everything out of him eventually, but that didn't stop him from making him have to work for his answers.

"I know all about that, but dude, you two fight all the fucking time. Granted this thing with Jess - once again, we have got to come back to that - is huge, I still think you guys have had bigger fights. Plus, you know that he could never keep Jack from you, that kid would fucking run away from home and catch a bus here just to see you," Mikey continued to push with much more calm then Gerard had possessed earlier.

It was true, Frank knew it was true, but hearing it from Mikey lifted a giant weight from his shoulders and it felt as though, for this first time in a long time, that he was able to breathe again.

"So I don't get it. Explain to me why the toughest five foot something-a-rather guy I know would cry over a well over done argument?" Mikey asked, raising a hand to symbolize 'wait' as he finished his beer and went to the fridge to get another. "Something tells me this is going to need a lot of booze."

Frank almost laughed at that. Mikey had been the first to quit drinking after Gerard many years ago. And, he had been the first to break and take it up again. But he wasn't like his brother; he knew how to control himself. He drank on special occasions only and never so much that he passed out or forgot his actions. Frank admired him for that, always had, always would.

"I just ... I got beaten up ... in the bathroom," Frank continued once Mikey had handed them both their second beer. He hadn't eaten all day and he still wasn't completely sure how sober he was from his binge drinking earlier that morning. The beer was going straight to his head; at least he liked to think that was his reason for opening up to Mikey.

"Let me guess, you made some wise ass comment about his dick," Mikey joked, but there was no laughter, he didn't want to put Frank off.

"Something like that. Look Mikes, j-just don't tell Gee about this. I know you probably will but, think before you do, because I don't need a lecture from him nor do I want one, got it?" Frank said, making sure that Mikey understood that this wasn't something he wanted bought up again after he had explained himself.

"Yeah, I get it Frank. But you know, he's only worried about you," Mikey explained, sticking up for his brother the best he could.

"I know man, b-but, I just don't need it."

"Right ... Seriously though Frank, this is killing me man. Fucking tell me already. The guy beat you up - SO? No offense but if you cried over that then I think there's something seriously wrong with your hormones."

Mikey never took his eyes off Frank as he sipped at his beer and continued to stare in amazement as though he was watching some fascinating drama. The poor guy really did need to get out of his house more.

Frank let out a heavy sigh, lowered his beer from his lips and finally spoke.

"I fucked some guy in the bathroom at the bar," he began.

"Woah! Same guy that beat you up? How does that work?" Mikey pressed, unable to help himself.

"Yeah, same guy. I - It just wasn't what I expected, that's all ... I mean, I didn't really want to," Frank explained, doubting Mikey would understand. They all considered him to be some sex crazed lunatic and who could blame them really. Did he deserve what he got last night? Maybe, but it still didn't feel right.

"So you screwed someone you didn't want to. Who cares," Mikey said casually, it was clear he was only trying to help, unfortunately though, he just didn't get it. "You know how many girls I used to screw at those eyeball record parties we went to! I really didn't want to; I had never been like that before. It was the alcohol that did it."

Frank laughed lightly and hoped that Mikey would drop the whole conversation now. Unfortunately though, he was never that lucky.

"Still ... you've fucked a lot of people Iero. Guys and girls, you can't tell me you cried simply because this time you didn't want to," Mikey continued to push, eyeing Frank in confusion. He was slow on the uptake sometimes; Frank was hoping he could figure it out on his own.

Taking a deep breath, Frank had one last sip of his beer before laying his empty bottle onto the table in front of him and staring at Mikey intently.

"Well ... It was kind of the other way around Mikes," he explained, noting the extremely puzzled look on Mikey’s face. You had to give everything to him straight, other wise he just didn't bother trying to work you out.

"I don't get it," Mikey said, scrunching up his face as he desperately tried to understand.

"Someone fucked me in the bathroom," he explained again, saying the correct words this time. "A-and I didn't really want to."

His heart sped up as he noticed Mikey turn away and stare at the laughing SpongeBob on the screen as though hoping he would further decipher Frank’s words for him.

"Oh ... right ... I think I get it now," Mikey said, turning his gaze to his beer instead.

Frank wasn't sure if he really did get it and was just too unsure of what to say to continue the conversation, or whether he didn't get it and was just pretending to understand. Either way, Frank suddenly realised what he had said and could only imagine how bad it would sound to Gerard coming from Mikey later on. Instantly he changed his mind about Mikey telling his brother.

"Don't tell Gerard," he begged hastily, not looking forward to the conversation that would follow if Gerard were to know.

"Oh, no, no, of course not," Mikey hurriedly shot back, but he still seemed slightly confused as he returned his gaze to Frank. "I don't get it though ... t-that's what made you cry?"

Frank clicked his tongue loudly at the younger Way and felt like tossing his empty beer bottle at him in frustration.

"Yes Mikey! I think we've established that I cried!" he shouted, turning back to the T.V. for the distraction once again.

"Yeah I know, sorry," Mikey said, forcing an apologetic smile. "I-It's just ... well. If you cried, it must have been pretty bad. Like, how do you mean that you didn't really want to? D-did you say that to him? I mean ... are you alright? D-did you report him or anything?"

At Mikey's words, Frank felt that horrible familiar lump form in his throat and his eyes almost tear up in frustration. What the fuck did it matter? What's done is done, who really cared if some guy fucked another guy one drunken night? Nobody, that's who! Yet, Mikey's nervous concern and sudden hesitance had Frank feeling slightly defeated. What did you call what had happened to him in the bathroom? Did it even have a name? Didn't people who fucked anything that moved deserve shit like that?

He wasn't a victim here, he deserved what he got. How many unwilling people had he fucked before?

"Look Mikes, lets just drop it okay, it doesn't matter, what's done is done. I fucking deserved it anyway, I'm an ass-hole," he said loudly, his temper rising as his mind wondered around to dangerous thoughts.

There was immediate silence as Mikey apparently didn't know what else to say. Frank cursed himself over and over again. Why did he have to cry? It only made the whole situation seem far worse then he now pictured it to be. After all, he cried! Even Frank couldn't believe that he had cried. Had it really been that bad? He couldn't even remember.

He could picture the dirty bathroom. The graffitied walls and pee-stained floors certainly didn't add to the ambiance. Then there was that feeling in his stomach that just wouldn't go away. That sickly feeling that made him realise that he would much rather be eaten alive by thousands of hungry spiders then have that guy fuck him in that place, especially when he was feeling that low.

"You're not an ass-hole Frank," Mikey said, still watching the T.V. rather then Frank himself. "A-and you didn't deserve it ... no one deserves shit like that."

Mikey's voice was barely a whisper as he spoke and he picked at the sticker on his beer absent mindedly as he no doubt found the whole topic of conversation rather awkward. Frank wondered what was going through his head. Did he think less of Frank? Would he tell Gerard the story like Frank had or would he change it, make it more vulgar, make it more severe?

"I don't want my life to be like this Mikey," Frank found himself saying before he could stop his mouth from moving. "But I'm afraid that without Gerard, it will be. And ... he told me about Lindsey ... I wont deny it Mikes, I fought as hard as I could to get him back. But I think I've finally realised that ... I've lost."

Frank half hoped that the subtle change of topic would serve as a nice end to the one they had been having previously. But as Mikey turned to look at him with sadness in his eyes, Frank couldn't help but feel he was merely adding to the pity that his friend already felt for him. That wasn't what he wanted!

Still, he suddenly felt strangely lost. He didn't care about the night before; he didn't care about Jess and his stupid fight with Gerard. All he cared about was the fact that nothing had changed! He still didn't have Gerard and he now knew that he was fighting a losing battle. He was never going to win.

"Fuck Mikes," he continued when all these new revelations came rushing into his head. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now?"

It was a moment or two before Frank realised that his eyes were watering up again. The only reason he noticed was because they had finally contained too much and they overflowed and a stray tear rolled down his check. He wiped it away quickly hoping Mikey wouldn't notice. But as he abandoned his beer and hurriedly glanced up, Frank knew that he had seen.

Nevertheless, he continued to ignore Mikey stare at the T.V. as though nothing had ever happened.

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AN: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I don't even know how you knew it was updated because Ficwad stuffed me around and well, I didn't think it had posted at all. LOL! Hopefully it will work better this time. I do appologise for not writing individual coments to your reviews, believe me, I want to. Ficwad just seriously hates me and it NEVER works. Anyway, only part one for now because I'm away all this weekend and figured one part was better then nothing. Hope it keeps you going, love you all for the support xxxx (times a billion)