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Chapter Seven – Remembering and Making Good Times



Frank’s POV




“Remember when that jock tried to make our experiment blow up?” I ask, my smirk evident in my jovial voice. Even after the atrocities of the day, I can’t help but enjoy reminiscing with an old friend; a friend that I’m surprised can remember me at all, much more surprised by the fact that we appear to already be back on old terms. But I’m so glad that he can and we are. He was the one person who even bothered with being nice to me back in high school; the one person back in that hellhole that I’d actually call a friend. I thought I’d lost all of that when he dropped out, but tonight I’m regaining it. And I absolutely love it, this feeling of being useful; of being helpful; of being liked; of having a list of friends that is longer than my boss and my Jack-Russell. Yeah, Gerard can be a dick, as is evident from tonight, but that’s just a part of who he is and besides, he never means to hurt anyone.

His eyes twinkle with the stardust of laughter and he lets out a tiny snicker. It’s nice seeing him relax, seeing him just be a normal nineteen-year-old after the way he looked when he saw Mikey in my bed. He’d looked so devastated, like seeing his little brother like that just snatched away all of his hope; all of his happiness; all of his piece of mind in the fact that he’s good enough to look after Mikey.

He’d looked like that then, but I think that he’s felt like it for a long time. Too long. He may believe that Mikey’s the weak one and that he’s the one who needs help. He may be right. But that doesn’t meant that he isn’t weak and in need of help, too. Apart from I don’t think that either of the Ways are weak; for Gerard to look after a troubled kid like Mikey he must have a hell of a lot of inner strength, especially when it so obviously kills him to see that kid hurt. Kills him like it kills me. As for Mikey; he may well be weak, but only because of what life and society have done to him, I think that if Gerard and I can take that all away from him then we’ll uncover one of the strongest and most wonderful people ever to grace the surface of the Earth. That’s if he lets us help him.

Because we can only do so much; the rest he has to do to himself. We can give him the superglue, but he has to find the pieces.

“You mean Johnny Beck? The one with a different slut every week?”

“Every day.”

We both burst out into silent giggles, remembering to keep the sound down for Mikey’s sake. Not that the poor kid would wake up if a stampede were to rush through my shabby apartment; not if how utterly exhausted and drained (in every possible way) he looked as I held him is any sort of indicator. It was like all of the life had been smashed out of his doleful, yet hauntingly enchanting, eyes; kind of like when you smash your favourite Christmas decoration. Sad to look at because of how broken it is, but still undeniably beautiful and full of hope because of what it used to be and may be once more with a little fixing from the right pair of careful hands.

“Like we needed help exploding shit.”

He laughs and, no matter how hollow the laugh is and how low it is through being weighed down by all of the responsibilities that he has forced upon himself, I grin cheerily back. A genuine grin because our talk of long forgotten, yet entirely unforgettable, memories has blatantly given him the relief that he needs and has made me think of some of the funnest events of my life; events that made me feel like I belong. Because I do. I belong with Gerard and Mikey and Mr Casey and Misfit; because my friends make up who I am and I couldn’t be happier with that. Sure, I haven’t exactly known Mikey for long and this is the first time I’ve spoken to Gerard in years, but I can just tell that they’re going to be the best friends I’ve always wanted; I can feel it in my soul. Just like I can still feel the heat of the flaming splint that bit a chunk out of my favourite Misfits hoodie all of those years ago.

At the memory I erupt into fresh giggles, causing Gerard to smirk at me in a kind of cute way, and then join in with my laughter. In my effort to keep the noise of good memories down, I kick out. Causing a very disgruntles Misfit to bark up at me because I’ve cost her the warmth of my left leg. She re-curls around my other leg, her teeth tugging at my frayed jeans as though she expects an apology. She’s always like this and I wouldn’t have her any other way; I swear to God that she’s just like a little person, a little person with a big (if a little lazy) personality.

“I’m sorry, Misfit.” I coo down to her, my fingers scratching the weak spot behind her ears making her look up at me with a look that says all is forgiven.

“Misfit?” Gerard chortles searchingly, taking a sip from the black coffee that he’s been nursing for the past hour or so. He places it down on the short living room table, the lukewarm contents sloshing around the chipped mug like all of the night’s emotions are swirling around in his eyes in a whirlpool of disbelief, hate, love, worry and a million other emotions that can’t quite be named or categorised.

“Yeah, she’s my baby girl, aren’t you, Misfit?” My adoring hands rub her jowls like the hands of an over-eager aunt on the face of her middle-aged nephew who still appears to her as a toddler. “Yes you are. You’re Daddy’s little sexy beast.”

“Did you just call your dog a ‘sexy beast’?” He chuckles in the most heart-capturing way imaginable, his eyes lighting up like a beacon of hope to lost travellers at my affection for my beloved baby. We may have been through hell tonight; in fact I can’t even begin to picture how hard this must be for Gerard, but at least we have each other; the two of us united in happy memories and our lust to help a certain shy, adorable teenager in every possible way.

“Yeppers! And that’s because she is; I speak but the truth.”

“I’m sure that there’s some sort of law against that. It’s kinda like incest apart from with animals.”

I snort out my bottled up amusement in an ugly guffaw that completely collapses Gerard into giggles. Giggles that I can imagine coming out of the sweet, innocent mouth of his little brother; not from a grown, a little-less-than-innocent nineteen-year-old with dyed black hair that contrasts stunningly with his porcelain skin and a Black Flag t-shirt on underneath his faux-leather jacket. But they still sound kind of cute. Not kind of; very.

“You have a nice laugh.” I mumble quickly before my mind has the chance to censor the words that my too-honest heart is pushing out of my mouth. I can feel the blush climbing from my chest, snaking up my throat and igniting my cheeks like a wildfire.

Gerard stops and smiles at me in response to my awkward-silence-causing statement.

“Thanks.”

He scratches the back of his neck, filling the absence of laughter with a slight smirk, blush and gasps as he tries to get over his giggle fit. Great. Now he must think that I’m some sort of weirdo. Which I am, but still; he doesn’t have to know that. I’ve managed to ruin his easiness with me, his respite from being an over-stressed guardian of a lost kid, his first chance to be himself instead of the strong person that he thinks Mikey needs him to be. But I know, just from tonight, that Mikey doesn’t need nor want Gerard to be some sort of shape-shifting superhero that can be everyone and do everything without faltering; he just wants his big brother. I want to help Mikey and to do that I have to help Gerard realise what Mikey needs; a best friend and big brother, not two people that are only alive because of the gaps that they left behind. Gaps that can’t be filled because that would mean losing the precious people who once filled them. Because without the gaps how is he supposed to know that they were ever there to fill them at all?

I may not have known Mikey for all that long, but it’s like I can read him. Read him like his big brother should be able to but can’t because his mind is cluttered with God-knows-what. It’s not that he’s the sort of person who wears every problem he has like a victory badge, far from it, it’s just something seemed to click and I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of how he works; of how he feels; of how much both of the Way brothers need help to be just that. Brothers.

“So…” Gerard’s suddenly nervous voice stretches out into the silence like the fingers of a lost child reaching out for a familiar hand to guide them through the darkness of life and yanks me violently from my thoughts; forcing my hazel eyes to give him the entirety of my loose attention. “How’s life treating you? Got anyone?”

I look down, as though Misfit (who is asleep on top of my feet and snoring like a Granddad after Christmas dinner) can give me something to say that will rekindle our conversation.

“Naw, haven’t found Mister Right yet. And I guess I’m not really searching; you always find what you’re looking for when you look away.” I simper happily. Apparently Misfit can tell me good things to say because she is so awesome that she’s actually psychic. I don’t worry about Gerard freaking out over the whole ‘Mister Right’ thing, I trust him not to be a dick about it; besides, I heard a rumour that he’s bi, anyway. “How about you?”

He looks almost wistful for a second, before shaking the glazed-over ice-rink forming on his eyes away.

“Same. No guy. No gal.” He lets out a breathy laugh. A laugh unlike the comfortable, cheery bursts of entertainment that were dancing from his lips earlier. No. He sounds almost shy, not as shy as Mikey, but still somewhat distant and unwilling to share.

“What’s up?”

“Just thinking.”

“About?” I won’t relent, I want to know what’s preying on my friend’s mind so that I can assist him with it.

“The past.” He sighs restlessly and leans back onto the threadbare couch, running a hand through his semi-greasy river of molten charcoal. On anyone else his hair might look scruffy. It does on him, but in a way that suits him; makes him look like some sort of artwork, an artwork that has been drawn from real life but had extra bits added in order to make it even more perfect. “You know that I used to like you, right?”

“Yeah. We were friends; of course we liked each other.”

“No, not like that. As in, you-were-my-first-crush like.” He flinches away from me as though he expects rejection, a rejection that I’d never give him.

Really? I was his first crush? Me; weird, freaky, outcast Frank could have had perfect, funny, good-looking Gerard?

I don’t quite know what to think. I’m surprised; surprised like a tramp finding a winning lottery ticket. I’m happy; happy like someone who’s narrowly survived a car crash. I’m amused; amused like a guy who’s bought his girlfriend the only flowers in the shop, flowers that he thought she’d hate, only to find that they’re her absolute favourites. I’m emboldened; emboldened like a scrawny nerd who’s just taken his first swing with a baseball bat and scored a flawless homerun. I’m cocky; cocky like the emperor in his new clothes. I’m confused; confused like a librarian in a cyber café in the respect that I get it, but don’t quite understand the relevance.

“Your first crush, huh?” I smirk cheekily at him, only serving to deepen both of our blushes.

“And only.”

My body, mind and heart all agree that there’s only one way to respond to that.

And Gerard seems to be thinking the exact same thing.

We slowly lean towards each other, until we’re nose to nose. I devour his eyes, taking in how much they’re like Mikey’s; just without the innocence and shyness, but twice as beautiful. Especially as they’re full of love. Love for me. Something I’ve only ever seen in the eyes of my mom and even then, that doesn’t compare to the type and strength of love in his perfect ovals of passion. We smirk at one another, as though agreeing to some unspoken statement and go in.

His lips are surprisingly soft on my chapped, dry ones and I can’t help but feel a little embarrassed; I want my lips to be like his so that he can feel the wonderful cushions of care that I am, not some scratchy blanket trying to cover him in my adoration. I feel his warm tongue slide into my mouth like my favourite CD into my stereo and I do the same to him, apart from I’m sure that I’m a lot sloppier. His arms sling around my waist, causing me to gasp at the halfway unexpected contact but I melt into it, liking the way that his hands fit around my hip bones like the missing pieces of a puzzle. My arms just hang limply by my side, too overwhelmed to really do anything.

Until I realise that he’s pinning me to the sofa, at which point my arms go over the neck that is leaning over me. I open my eyes to see that his are shut; lost to the sea of bliss that I am drowning in. No, not drowning. Immersed in; like an angel is immersed in light or a demon is immersed in fire. Both seem to fit this situation.

But then we are ripped apart as a horrific sound rips through the apartment. Not just any horrific sound; a petrified scream. A petrified scream that’s coming from my bedroom.

Mikey!



A/N: Thank you sooooo much for reading! Sorry if this is kind of rushed, it’s just… I don’t know really. Sorry if it sucks like I think it does. Please tell me what was good and what to improve/how to improve it. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope that you liked it! Please, PLEASE review and thanks again! :)