FicWad

Its based on the video for I'm Not Okay, but I added in Gerard's alcohol problem as I know it was bad from a young age. I know Frank is younger than Mikey but it flowed better this way. Mikey is in the year below, by the way. Enjoy. I'm sorry for the title, I know its used a lot but its the name of the video so... :3

1 Mikey’s POV

“Mikey!”

My brothers over enthusiastic and therefore insufferable voice wakes me.
“Get the fuck out of bed!” He repeats louder. I sigh, sitting up. I am a light sleeper, and Gerard knew that. Why does he need to shout? I see him, standing in the corner of my room. Even without my glasses I can tell he already has his uniform on. He must have a hangover... how did he manage that? He slept in it, I decide. “The sleeping beauty awakens!” He cheerfully announces, spinning on his heel as he practically dances out my room. I roll my eyes to myself before fumbling for my glasses and sliding them onto my face. Not school. Anything but school. I loathe it. A free opportunity for everyone to remind me just how shit I’m doing in life. I glance mournfully at myself in the wardrobe mirror. That’s me. That’s Mikey Way. Skinny, nerdy, stereotypical. Just another person to bully.

I pull on my uniform. The ironed trousers, the crisp white shirt, the straight navy blazer... I sighed to myself. I hastily put on the tie. I look fucking stupid. Sliding quickly over to my desk, I pocket my school survival essentials. Phone in my blazer pocket, walkman and headphones in my ears and money, in case Gerard drinks, forgets my existence and I have to get the bus. It’s happened four times before, I’m not being unprepared again. I also grab my school bag and slide it over my shoulder. The familiar weight of books and stationary makes my shoulder yearn for a bass guitar instead. I glance at my bass in the corner of my room, but as tempting as it is to skip school and play, Gerard wouldn’t forgive me. Then he’d drink, remember he hates me... I don’t want to go down that road again. As I descend the stairs, I see my brother shovelling cornflakes into his mouth. He is bright eyed, hair freshly straightened, uniform just washed. Geez, you can’t tell he spent all of last night on the bathroom floor after drinking seven cans of beer to himself. I notice my mother is trying to talk to me. I slide my headphones out of my ears, pausing Smashing Pumpkins as I listen to her. She smiles understandingly.

“I said, do you want breakfast?” I don’t know why she still asks. I don’t bother with breakfast. There is no point in eating food in the morning. I’m not hungry, I never am. I shake my head and ignore her crestfallen look.
“You’re getting too thin Mikey. Have some cornflakes, like Gerard.” I hastily plug myself back in and pretend I didn’t hear. I do not want to get in another argument about the way I live my life, especially not with Gerard. I notice my brother has stopped shovelling and instead was staring intently at me. I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to just flip him off. I turn away and slide on some black converse. I don’t care about the school uniform rules. Getting suspended is a bonus in my books. I see Gerard put his bowl in the sink, and then sliding on his own shoes.

“Let’s go!” Not even Smashing Pumpkins can drown him out. His enthusiasm is nearly frightening. If I didn’t know he hated drugs, I’d have guessed he was high. He doesn’t enjoy school either, people fuck with him too. But every morning he is eager. Gerard casually tosses my lunch to me and I place it in my bag. As long as they don’t see me throw it away later, I can keep telling them that I am okay. I promised I’d eat it every day, but having an alcoholic for a brother teaches you that promises mean fuck all. I wander to Gerard’s car and slide into the back seat.

His car is old, it doesn’t work half the time and is missing an indicator. This doesn’t stop Gerard at all. I reckon I could sue the guy who gave him a license if I wanted to, as Gerard has absolutely no idea how to drive on a road. Every single time he is stopped, he can easily talk his way out of it. He once nearly killed the both of us, after a month of having a license, by spinning to avoid an oncoming car. As in, it was driving at us because he was going the wrong way. But, he said he swerved to avoid a rabbit and everyone believed him. Even the driver who nearly crashed into us ‘definitely recalled seeing a rabbit’, and it was deemed an accident. Still couldn’t afford a new car though. Therefore Gerard the rabbit saviour still drives in the consequences of his heroic actions.
“You got your inhaler?” Gerard calls to me. I look up and realise he has already gotten in the car. I nod, and he turns the key in the ignition. I have no idea if I have it. I might do, depends if it’s in my bag. I don’t care particularity. Not that I hardly ever use it, quite the opposite. I hate using it. I’d rather struggle than have to go diving into my pocket every day to breathe properly. If my body wants me to not be able to breathe properly, I’m not going to go against it.

All the way to school I stare out the window. Talking is overrated, and I don’t want to distract Gerard from the road. Doing so would probably be literally fatal. He used to try to talk to me, but I don’t bother to respond. If he wants to talk to me so much, we have every single evening. That is, of course, if he isn’t talking to his cheap alcohol first. Which every single night he is. Gerard parks down the road from school. We have to walk up, but it stops all the graffiti as most of the kids can’t be asked to walk down the road. Lazy fuckers. Can’t even be bothered to ruin someone’s life properly. I slide my headphones out my ears and wistfully pause Smashing Pumpkins. I shove it into my bag and jam my hands back into my pockets. I don’t want to be here. I know I don’t help myself, but I don’t care. I don’t care about fucking anything. I just do not want to be here.

“Gerard!” We both turn at the same time. A guy runs towards us, grinning manically. His hair is dyed black, like Gerard’s. His tie is askew and his bag hanging open in dejectedness. It’s Frankie, one of my brother’s mates. I shake my head in disbelief, turning back to the pavement. My brother actually has friends here. Lucky. Then again, Frankie is weird. Well, not weird. That’s the wrong word. Maybe he is just a bit headstrong for me. Gerard stops walking, laughing cheerfully as Frank greets him. Every morning, Gerard will round up his few friends to defend themselves. I knew all of them closely, but I wouldn’t call them friends. They are my older brother’s mates, not mine. Gerard and Frank break into a run towards the gates as another two guys raises their hands in greeting. Each well built, undoubtedly strong. One with frizzy brown hair was smiling calmly at the site of the two smaller guys. I knew that was Ray. The other blonde, his head shaven and his lip pierced. The chanting at lunch at least taught me that he was Bob. No wonder the jocks think they are all gay. They stick together constantly. You push one, they all push back. Figuratively. Well, I wouldn’t know. I’d rather stick to my walkman. More reliable than people any day. I walk briskly to catch up, watching my brother excitedly talk to his friends about a comic he just drew. I lie to myself that I hate my brother, but I know I never could. Most likely because I see him drunk every day, I try to choose the right option to dislike him. But I need him. He is my rock, and amongst this sea of bastards I need him badly. As I reach their group, Ray and Bob both acknowledge me. I nod to them, mainly because I am far too shy to speak to them.
“You okay to get to class from here Mikey?” Gerard questions, eyeing me with concern. He knows how unpredictable I am in school, even if I try to convince him it isn’t me, it’s the world around me that is unpredictable.

No, I’m not okay. I need him to walk me there, to defend me from the hundreds of people that will shove me into the lockers, steal my glasses, push me to the ground, crush my inhaler. People who will scrawl in and tear my books, snap my walkman in two, steal my phone and keys, make rumours about who I am. Create lies about me. I need him there.
“Sure.” I say quietly, walking away from him and his friends.