FicWad

Hey everyone! I got a ton of positive responses from that last chapter, and some very nice "suggestions" (threats) that I better keep my chapters long, so here I am with chapter three! I hope you enjoy. :)

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S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W

"Gerard?"

All eyes were on him. He could feel their curious stares, boring holes into him. He couldn't even think straight. He'd burned this one, he was sure of it. He'd burned it, lost it, something. This was the one, he'd been certain, had been destroyed.

"Gee, you okay?" A warm hand gently tugged his shoulder, jarring him to look up into the concerned hazel orbs that so nearly mirrored his own. Mikey. His stomach heaved, his throat closed. Shit.

Gerard jerked so violently away from Mikey, it was like he'd been burned by the gentle hand. He jumped back so suddenly he nearly tripped over his feet and fell into the coffee table and the crate of notebooks. Without meaning to, some kind of half-whine, snarl thing erupted from his throat as his brother touched him.

Mikey snatched his hand back, eyes wide, looking horrified. Gerard's stomach clenched, a memory of lying on his bedroom floor, five-year-old Mikey, with that same terrified horror in his eyes, once again afraid to touch him.

Gerard's heart was hammering. He hadn't done anything strenuous, but it felt like he'd run a marathon. He was sweating again, and it felt like he was on fucking fire. He panted, like he couldn't get enough air. Prickles, white hot, raced across his skin, and he trembled. He was having a panic attack.

"Gee, are you okay?" Mikey's voice sounded far away. Gerard felt like he was floating along the bottom of a pool and Mikey was standing above him, yelling at him through the water. He could barely even register what he was saying. His heart beat even faster. He gasped for breath, taking a few steps back, eyes darting left and right. Why was it so fucking hot?!

"Gerard!?" Mikey's voice was frantic, and Gerard could disconnectedly feel Mikey's hands clamping over his clammy upper arms, feel his brother shaking him, feel the warmth radiating off him. "Gerard!?"

He couldn't breathe. He was freezing. He could feel sweat sliding down the crevice of his back, sticking to his neck, feel the breath in his lungs as he struggled to catch it.

Then, suddenly, Mikey's arms wrapped around him. Warmth, real warmth, was spreading across his freezing, sweating chest, through his clothes. He was stumbling as Mikey half-carried him to the couch, and somehow, they both ended up sitting on it.

"Is he gonna be okay!?" Frankie's voice was bleeding panic, again from above the water in Gerard's dazed mind. He still couldn't breathe.

"Yeah, yeah," Mikey's voice, so far away, sounded unsure, "Just give me a minute with him."

If Gerard had been able to breathe, let alone think, he would've thought that was a strange request most days, but Ray and Frank did as asked. He didn't even notice them leave.

Suddenly, they were alone. His chest was tight, the world was spinning, he couldn't breathe, he was clammy and freezing. He felt like he was about to pass out. Then, a warm hand settled into the small of his back, and Mikey's arms were suddenly pulling the slightly shorter man into his arms.

Words and soothing sounds tumbled from Mikey's warm lips as he pressed them close to Gerard's ear, "Shhh...Gee, shhh...C'mon Gee...Shhhh... It's okay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for whatever I did. Calm down. Gee...Shhh..." Mikey's hand rubbed slow circles along Gerard's damp back. He wrapped his brother into his arms, Gerard practically curled into his lap, head resting in the crook of Mikey's shoulder and neck

Slowly, slowly, Gerard settled. His breathing evened out. He could get enough air. He felt sticky with cold sweat, but otherwise, he returned to normal. His pulse slowed again, his heart not aching and tight with panic. He shuddered more than once as he came down from the first panic attack he'd had in seven years. This had been one of the worst.

Mikey didn't move him, instead still holding Gerard tightly to his chest, one hand still rubbing slow semi-circles into his back, the other hand tangling into Gerard's hair again, alternately massaging his neck and shoulders, until Gerard was totally calm again.

Gerard came back to himself slowly, realizing what must've happened. Something close to shame and embarrassment burned a trail through his entrails as Mikey continued to cradle him. He couldn't bring himself to unbury his face from Mikey's warmth, and he couldn't bring his arms away from clinging tightly to Mikey's neck. He let out a half-shuddered sob. This was not what he'd fucking wanted. He bit back another sob.

"Shhhh..." Mikey soothed him again, actually rocking him a bit, pressing a kiss to Gerard's temple, "Shhh...It's okay Gee, I'm here for you."

That's the fucking problem, Gerard thought bitterly, bile rising in his throat. Why did it have to be that one fucking notebook? Why had he asked his mother to send them? He should've known it would just dredge all this back up. And he'd worked so hard to bury it all down.

All for fucking nothing, as Mikey's hands massaged him into something of a calm, comatose trance. Mikey used to do this for him all the time, back when he was drinking. Back in the early days of the band. Gerard had panic attacks all the time. So many he lost count. And Mikey was always the one to soothe him back into normalcy, whatever that was.

And now, with one fucking name scribbled on the cover of a notebook by a desperate and depraved seventeen-year-old boy named Gerard Way in a basement in the middle of Hell, somewhere in New Jersey, it was all broken. All the 'progress' he'd made was down the drain, just like fucking that. He knew it was. He could feel all those old feelings surfacing, just as bad as ever.

And all he really needed right now was a drink. And a smoke. And maybe some pills. Something. Anything. Take off the edge, make the feelings die a little into numbness. And he would definitely need Mikey to stop running concerned hands over his back, because he didn't deserve them. He didn't deserve Mikey's concern, especially not right now.

It took all his strength, literally every ounce of willpower and physical ability, for Gerard to gently shove Mikey's hands away. For him to disentangle himself from his worried baby brother. For him, tears streaming down his cheeks, to grab all the notebooks from the pile, and to stagger out of the studio.

Mikey tried to stop him, tried to pull Gerard back into his arms, but Gerard just shoved him off, pushed him away, and when Mikey wouldn't give up, finally turned to him and snarled in his coldest voice, "Leave me the fuck alone, Mikey. I don't fucking need you right now."

And he could see the shock and the pain in Mikey's eyes. Could see the tearing of his baby brother's heart. Could see the hurt in his eyes. And he felt his own heart grip tight in his chest, like it was in some kind of a torture device. It sent shockwaves of hot, stabbing pain throughout his chest cavity. He had to turn away from Mikey.

Mikey didn't try to follow him anymore, and Gerard said he was glad of that. Part of him was, because, really, Mikey didn't need this right now. Especially not now. He knew how weird and fucked up this situation had turned in barely half an hour. How weird this would seem to anyone except him. A package comes, and for some reason that throws him into some kind of panic attack, and then he flees the studio, distraught.

This was fucked up. This was weird. But not nearly as fucked up, weird, or even as sick, as Gerard knew he himself was.

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He remembered when they fourteen and seventeen.

Gerard could hear them, through the vent. He swore to god he wasn't listening. He wasn't. But Mikey's room shared a vent with his. And he could hear them. He pretended not to.

He was hunched over at his desk, shoulders bunched, scribbling furiously into one of his thousands of notebooks. Pencils scattered across his desk, piles of crumpled up paper littering his floor, and his desk lamp bulb was flickering.

"His name's Jack," Mikey had introduced the other boy, gesturing to him, eyes bright as he looked to Gerard, "I met him through the track team. He's my best friend at school."

Gerard couldn't put a finger on why this boy, Jack, made his blood curdle. But it did. He couldn't stand him. Couldn't stand the look of him. The vibe he was giving off.

Part of him was furious with himself, ranting that it wasn't his fucking place to decide who Mikey was friends with. Mikey had never really had any real friends, just Gerard. And he couldn't stop Mikey just because he was jealous. And besides, Jack was one of the popular kids. Jack was a track star. Jack was an older kid. A senior. Jack was a jock. And Jack wanted to be friends with Mikey. And what could Gerard do? Even he wasn't a senior yet. And he definitely wasn't cool.

He knew it was crazy. Some part of him knew it was jealousy. Mikey's best friend. It made his stomach curdle. But another part of him tried to argue he just wanted to protect Mikey. But he couldn't convince even himself of that one. Jack was a normal kid, like Mikey should've been. Like he should've been. But wasn't.

Donna and Donald Way were at work. Mikey was upstairs in his room, with his best friend Jack. They were giggling, laughing about something or another. Gerard could hear the Atari faintly in the background. His eyebrows furrowed as he ground his teeth, smashing his pencil to the blank page in front of him so hard it snapped. He bit his lip till he could feel blood beading up along his gum line.

Suddenly, he realized something was off. He couldn't hear giggles anymore. Couldn't hear anything. He froze, though, when he did hear something. A strangled whimper, echoing faintly down the vent. His blood froze over. He strained his ears. And what he heard next clawed his stomach.

"N-no, J-Jack, stop! Please, STOP!"

Mikey's voice, terrified, half-strangled, like he couldn't breathe.

Gerard could never remember running faster. Blasting out of his room, hurtling up the basement stairs, through the living room, his lungs burned, he smashed his way up the second stairs to the second floor, feet nearly tripping as he crashed down the hall, finally, as if time was in slow motion, he threw the door to Mikey's room open. His heart dropped.

Jack, the track star, the jock, the popular guy, was on top of Mikey. He had one hand clamped over Mikey's mouth, his body physically pinning Mikey to his bed. One knee was in Mikey's stomach, the other digging into his hip. He had one hand under Mikey's shirt, some green thing with white rabbits on it, which was riding up Mikey's slender white stomach.

It was Mikey's eyes though. Wide, terrified, literally, like he feared for his life. They bulged out of his skull, darting everywhere. They jerked towards Gerard as he threw the door open. Hazel locked onto hazel. Mikey's eyes begged him. Help.

Gerard didn't even pause.

He catapulted himself forward, throwing his body as hard as he could, smashing himself into Jack so hard that Jack flew back, off of Mikey and fell in a tangle of limbs with Gerard. Gerard's legs ended up splayed out over Mikey, but he quickly turned his head to the younger boy and screamed to him.

"RUN MIKEY!"

Mikey ran, nodding. He tumbled off his bed in a sobbing heap, his broken glasses dangling off his ears. Gerard suspected Jack had broken them.

Speaking of the boy, Gerard was thrown bodily back on the bed, the furious track star tackling him, fists flying. He smashed his fists into every inch of Gerard he could reach, pinning him with his knees. Gerard grunted, managing to angle his legs under him and using all the strength in his body, he threw him off onto the ground.

Jack shrieked in surprise and pain as he spilled across Mikey's hardwood floor. He didn't even have a second to recuperate though, because less than an instant later, he was followed to the ground by a furious big brother. Gerard was roaring now, hurling himself to the earth to land on top of the poor kid. He landed on him, knees smashing into his hips and groin. Jack arched in pain, crying out.

Gerard didn't stop. He curled his hands into fists, bringing them to Jack's face. He smashed him again and again, breaking the kid's nose, shattering his cheek. Any other day, the jock would've been able to easily throw Gerard off, weak as he was. But today, he'd fucked with the wrong little brother.

"Don't you EVER touch my brother!" Gerard screamed into his face, their noses barely millimeters apart, as he fisted a handful of Jack's blond hair in his hand, shaking his head savagely, "Do you hear me!? EVER!"

Jack didn't know how to react as Gerard continued to viciously pummel him, fists colliding everywhere. Chest, ribs, sternum, shoulders, face, neck, hips, pelvis, anywhere Gerard could land a hit. Gerard didn't even notice what he was doing to the other boy.

All he could see in his head was Mikey, pinned to his own bed, struggling. And those eyes. Those hazel eyes looking to Gerard, his big brother, his protector, begging, help.

Gerard grabbed Jack's head by his hair and smashed the back of his skull repeatedly into the wood, still shouting, and punching him with his other hand. The seventeen-year-old was out of his head with his rage.

"Gerard!"

The voice screamed, terrified, from the doorway. Gerard froze, fist hovering in the air as he twisted his body to look at Mikey. Mikey's cheek was bleeding, but he looked fine otherwise. His glasses were gone, and he was staring, sort of horrified at Gerard.

"Gee, stop," Mikey whimpered, taking several steps into the room, dropping to his knees beside his brother, reaching up a tentative hand to Gerard's face. Jack had managed to bruise him up fairly well, but all the blood splatter was Jack's. Mikey's eyes were terrified, "Please, Gee, stop."

Gerard's anger slowly simmered, down from the furious fire that had been scorching his belly, to a low, controlled burn. He glanced at Jack. His stomach heaved and he felt a wave of nausea. He'd decimated the other boy, and was struck suddenly by just how much he must look like his father right now. The thought made vomit burn his throat.

"I'm sorry," he muttered lamely to Jack, although he didn't mean it in the slightest, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

But he was saying it more to Mikey, who looked like he was about to cry. "Just let him go, Gee," Mikey whimpered, his hand ghosting over Gerard's arm, "Just, let him go."

Gerard nodded, backing up off Jack, staggering to his feet. Part of him wondered if Jack was even alive, but the older boy's shifting told him he was. He felt his blood boil a little hotter again. One beating wasn't punishment enough in Gerard's opinion, and this didn't mean that anything was forgiven.

"Get up," Gerard snarled harshly to him, "And get the fuck out of my house. If you tell anyone what happened, I'll fucking do worse next time."

Jack had enough good sense not to argue. He simply nodded, pushing himself to his feet. His face resembled raw, bloodied hamburger. He limped as hastily as he could to the door, banging his way down the stairs. Gerard signaled Mikey to stay, and he himself followed Jack down the stairs.

"One more thing," Gerard hissed as Jack made to leave, snatching the older boy back by his arm, twisting it painfully until he could glare up into the older boy's eyes. Gerard's eyes were murderous. "If you ever touch my brother again, I'll fucking kill you. I fucking will. You think because you're some jock I wouldn't kill you? I'll blow you away, do you understand me? Touch Mikey, and you're going to die. If anyone else touches Mikey, you die. You got it?"

Jack couldn't nod fast enough, eyes swollen nearly shut, but still terrified. Gerard's pale face was splattered with blood, his hair wild, sweaty and messy, stuck to his face at odd angles. His mouth was a furious slash against his face. He was serious.

Jack fled as fast as he could from the Way house, practically tripping over himself in his haste to race away as fast as he could. Gerard watched him leave with cold eyes. He knew he should feel terrible for what he'd just done to another person, but he couldn't find it in himself to feel anything besides savage righteousness.

From behind him, Mikey's voice called softly from the top of the stairs. "Gee?"

Gerard turned, looking up to Mikey. Mikey was clutching the banister, skinny as ever, wearing his back up pair of glasses. He pushed them further up his nose, taking a few steps down the stairs, repeating, "Gee?"

"Yeah Mikes?" Gerard muttered tiredly, walking forward to meet his baby brother on the stairs. He felt a weird twist in his stomach as he looked down at him. He felt the warmth pulse through him, the familiar love he felt for him.

"Can we, um, can we hang out or something?" Mikey asked, looking scared. He bit his lip, staring up at Gerard.

Gerard knew Mikey well enough to know what was going on behind those pretty hazel eyes. And he knew that it wasn't just some casual invitation to hang out. Mikey was still terrified, despite Gerard's rescue. He needed to be reassured.

"Sure," Gerard said, smiling a little at him, "Wanna go to the park?"

Mikey nodded mutely, not really smiling, but still giving Gerard a sweet look. He hesitantly held his arms out, and Gerard grinned wider, pulling him into a tight, rib-crunching hug. He could feel Mikey trembling a little, and he held on tighter until Mikey stopped shaking.

When they pulled apart, Mikey looked a little better, with color rapidly returning to his face. He giggled nervously, pointing up to Gerard's face. "You might wanna clean up a little before we go," He said softly, wiping some of the excess blood off Gerard's cheek with his thumb.

Gerard felt a pang of guilt for Mikey. It wasn't fucking fair that this was the life Mikey had to live. Let alone with their father, and then other people trying to hurt him too. It was enough to make Gerard's blood pound. He shook his head. There was a time and place for this. He couldn't help smiling down at Mikey as he nodded, agreeing.

The smile Mikey returned made Gerard's stomach clench, and sent a taut shudder across his abdomen. He bit his lip and forced himself to think about something else. He hated that feeling that Mikey could elicit, with just a grin. He knew it wasn't right. He knew he was sick. He knew.

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Mikey knew better than to be hurt, especially not by what Gerard said when he was in one of his moods, but he couldn't help it. The look in Gerard's eyes, it was one Mikey hadn't seen in so long, he'd almost forgotten it. And it scared him.

It was usually the look Gerard had in his eyes when he was drinking, when he was taking pills, even when he'd been doing cocaine. Mikey's stomach flip flopped, chest caving as he remembered those frantic, drug fueled nights where Gerard was literally out of control. The worry. The panic. The fear. The helplessness he'd felt.

But Gerard had cleaned up for good. Hadn't he? That look in his eyes, as he'd shoved Mikey away, eyes clouded with tears, as he'd practically shouted, "Leave me the fuck alone, Mikey. I don't fucking need you right now." And then he'd left, all those notebooks under his arm.

The notebooks. Mikey's brow furrowed, frowning. Those notebooks. He remembered, when they were kids, especially when they were teenagers, Gerard's near obsession with spiral notebooks. He'd had what seemed like thousands of them, stashed in his room. He'd scribble in them, every single day. For hours and hours. And it was the one thing he refused to share with Mikey. The only thing he'd forbidden Mikey from ever looking in.

And he never had. He knew most little brothers would've done it anyway, read what was in the notebooks, but the look in Gerard's eyes when he'd said to him, ordered him, practically begged him, "Don't look in these notebooks, Mikes. Please, don't ever read them." And that look, somehow, it always flashed behind his eyes as he'd snuck into Gerard's room to read them. And so he never did.

And those notebooks their mother had sent, he was sure they were some of the notebooks from back then. As far as he'd ever known, Gerard had burned most of them, but still, these looked like the ones. The few surviving tomes of Gerard Way's childhood.

He shook his head, and as he did, he noticed a flash of green in the corner of his eye. He frowned, leaning a little further off the couch in the recording booth where barely an hour ago, he'd sat with Gerard. He peered closer, and felt his heart jump into his throat. A notebook. Gerard had dropped one of the notebooks.

Don't read it. Don't touch it. Just pick it up and give it back to him. Don't read it Mikey.

He picked it up, cradling the worn paper and cardboard in his hands. This one didn't bear any writing on the front, but was still just as tattered. He warred with himself. He told himself he shouldn't open it, shouldn't read it. Gerard hadn't wanted him reading them then; he doubted much had changed.

He flipped it open. Fuck Gerard. He'd said he didn't need Mikey. Well then, Mikey didn't have to listen to him anymore then. What the fuck was he being all secretive for anyway? These things were old, ancient by modern standards, what could they possibly contain that still mattered?

He read.

sometimes i watch him. i know i shouldnt. i know its wrong. i cant help it. i tell myself over and over and over its wrong. i love him. i love him so fucking much. i dream about him. i dream about what it would feel like if i could wrap him in my arms and make love to him. i hate the dreams, but i cant control them. i dont know what to do anymore.

Mikey frowned, thumbing past a few pages that were filled with sketches. This, it sounded like, Gerard was...gay? Mikey had suspected once or twice that his brother might possibly have a bisexual tendency or two, but why did he think Mikey, or any of the guys, would honestly care? These had obviously been written by a teenaged Gerard anyway. Present day Gerard was happily married with a wife and daughter.

Did he think Mikey would somehow hate him if he thought he was gay? Mikey shook his head. He didn't think he could ever hate Gerard. Especially not over something so stupid. What his brother was didn't matter. He loved him regardless. He kept reading.

sometimes when dads hitting me i feel like i deserve it. i deserve this. he knows. hes always known. im a depraved faggot. hes the one whos trying to protect mikey not me

Mikey felt his blood chill. He froze. He stared at the page. How could Gerard ever think that he deserved the beatings? That their father could ever be 'right'? He read on.

i mean its like im a total freak. im sick. im totally sick. i dream about him. i think about him all the time. i try to stop but i cant. how can i be this fucked up!?!?!?!?!! WHATS WRONG WITH ME!?!?!?!!? i hate myself for this. how could i???? im supposed to protect him. thats all i live for but im so fucking afraid im gonna get so drunk and im gonna hurt him. i couldnt live with myself. i love you mikey. i love you so fucking much. i love you and i dont wanna hurt you. im sorry i love you like this mikey i cant stop.

Mikey was frozen in place. He felt like someone dumped ice all the way down his insides. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. The notebook dropped from his hands, and he didn't hear it hit the ground.

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"Gerard, it's me, Mikey. We need to talk. NOW. Meet me at the studio at eight tonight. You better fucking be there."

Gerard listened to the message twice, cradling the phone in his hands. He had to make up his mind.

He decided he'd go.

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Cliffhanger!!!! :D Thanks so much for reading and I hope this was long enough to satiate you guys out there. Pretty please rate and review, because the more you do, the faster I update. Thanks! :)