Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > What Goes Around
Gerard woke and, okay, although it was fucking cold, he felt pretty good. Not an excited anticipation or a bouncy positivity, just that feeling when you think everything’s fine, in the end. No matter what happens, it’s okay. He told Frank he sleeps with other people for money, and he didn’t care.
For now at least, Gerard’s brain supplied unhelpfully. He shivered and got up, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He padded around the flat in bare feet, tidying up for a bit before going to check his mailbox downstairs. He had a couple of pizza flyers and companies trying to sell him mountain bikes. He shoved them into the bin and scratched his head. He was about to go back upstairs when a small envelope his mailbox caught his eye instead. He hardly ever got anything handwritten.
He picked it up and looked at the address. It was indeed addressed to him, and his apartment. He frowned at the scrawled handwriting and not-so-carefully prised the envelope open.
Dear Gerard,
My friend showed me this website where you could search for anyone in America and I got bored and searched your name. This address was the only result that actually fit you (well, of what I can remember of you). I didn’t think you were aged 65-69 or had changed your middle name (though I could only see the first letter of everyone’s middle name so I’m not so sure about that one). There were quite a few Gerard Ways. I’m not sure why I’m writing this, because there’s the slimmest tinyest chance that it’ll even be you. Even if it is you, I’m not sure what I’d want to say to you in a letter (it could be anyone reading this after all). I’d probably say I hate you for leaving and for doing what you did to Mom and Dad. But I’d say I miss you and I want you to come home more than anything. Some people aren’t even sure if you’re alive anymore. The police told me a week after you’d gone that usually if missing people aren’t found within three days, it’s most likely that they’re dead. I miss you a lot.
(This was probably a huge waste of time. Ignore this if you’re not my brother.)
Love
Mikey
Gerard felt his heart freeze up, his blood run thick and icy underneath his clammy skin. This couldn’t be happening. Mikey couldn’t find him. Not now. Not ever. Fuck. Fuck.
He stared at the letter and felt tears well up in his eyes and felt that urge that he felt all those years ago, just to run away and leave everything behind again. Leave the club and Charlie and Frank and Mikey and run away to Texas. Join a farm or something. Become a nameless face again. He crumbled the letter up in his fist and used the back of his hand to wipe away his tears as he bolted upstairs.
*
He got changed that evening at the strip club with even less enthusiasm that normal, trying not to cry as he dusted shimmer across his face. His corset was laced tightly, which he found helpful as it would make it painful to cry. Charlie offered him more pills, which he took gratefully, downing as many as he could and washing them away with vodka.
He stumbled out to the familiar faces and leers and did the steps he had had memorised from the first day he started. He did his best to look alluring and sexy, running his hands through his hair and biting his lip, urging people to slip money into his stockings. He moved his hips to the rhythm of the music, his chest thumping with the heavy bass line. The men shouted obscene things that him, chanting disgusting songs and ignoring the no-touching rule as they tried to grope him while putting bills into his stockings.
When his shift was over, he stumbled backstage and started to count the money that he’d made. Any money now was just extra, to buy food and maybe get some new clothes, as he’d already made enough to pay all the major bills. He sighed and leant against the wall, taking deep breaths. A cigarette. A cigarette would calm him.
He stepped outside to the alley and lit up a cigarette, gripping it with shaking hands. He slid down the wall and buried his head on his knees and began to sob, even though it was painful with his corset still on and digging into his ribs. He could feel his tears dampening his knees as they soaked through his stockings.
“Charlie said you came - oh, Gerard.” Frank stopped suddenly. Gerard hadn’t heard him open the door to the alley and he must have come to visit him as a surprise. Frank crouched down next to him.
“Are you - did someone do - was it that guy again?” Frank asked. Gerard gulped down some air and looked up to shake his head.
“No, I’m - I’m just being - give me a minute and I’ll be fine.” Gerard said, taking deep, shuddering breaths. He wiped at his eyes and ignored the thick trails of makes smeared across his cheeks. He tried to calm himself and gripped onto the bricks in the wall to stand up.
“Sorry.” He apologised, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand clumsily.
“Are you okay?” Frank asked slowly, helping him steady himself.
“Yeah. Just. Um. One of those days.” Gerard said. Frank nodded unsurely.
“D’y’wanna- we just finished a gig and I was wondering if you wanted to come for some drinks with my friends, but we could always-”
“That sounds great. I’ll just get changed and...yeah, I need to get changed.” Gerard smiled weakly. Frank gave him a smile in reply and followed him inside the club.
*
Frank introduced him to all his friends and bandmates in a bar which was a ten minute walk from the club. Gerard had changed into a pair of tight, dark grey jeans and a baggy Smiths t shirt and had completely wiped all the make up off his face. Frank’s friends were pretty cool, and he recognised a few of them from when they found him in the alley, though they didn’t really mention it. Frank bought him a beer and took him to talk to some of his friends. Gerard mainly stood there and laughed at other people’s jokes, because he still felt a bit uneasy about the letter he received from Mikey earlier.
One of Frank’s friends, a man with big hair named Ray who had seen him in the alley, began to talk to him about bands, and he was interesting and earnest. He was good conversation, and halfway through Frank joined in as well. Frank touched his hip lightly while they chatted, and it felt warm and comforting.
They left the bar at two, and Gerard stumbled back with Frank, not quite sure where he was going.
“So, do you still want to come and see us play tomorrow?” Frank asked as they wandered beneath flickering street lights.
“Yeah - The Underworld, right? I’ll try and come by as soon as I’m done working.” Gerard said. Frank beamed at him brightly.
“You’re going to love it.” Frank stated confidently, dragging Gerard down a side street.
“I bet I will.” Gerard said, trying to take in the street. He had no idea where they were. “Where are we going?”
“My apartment.” Frank answered, stopping in front of a large building. “Unless you want’a walk back by yourself.”
“I’m alright.” Gerard replied, following Frank into the building and waiting for the elevator.
“Floor six. I could walk. But I don’t want to.” Frank shrugged, pressing a button in the elevator.
“My elevator doesn’t work, but I’m only on the first floor, so I don’t really have an excuse except for the fact that I’m lazy and out of shape.” Gerard smirked.
“Lazy you may be, out of shape you are not.” Frank said sagely, getting out of the elevator and unlocking his front door.
“That’s very nice of you. You have very nice arms.” Gerard said. Frank laughed.
“Easy there, Romeo.” He snorted, grabbing a blanket from the sofa. “My room’s just down the hall and first door on the left.”
“I’ll take the sofa, it’s fine.” Gerard said, reaching to take the blanket. Frank tugged it out of his reach.
“No, I insist. Sleep in my bed. I really don’t care.” Frank shrugged, toeing off his shoes.
“If your bed’s a double, we can just share it.” Gerard suggested. Frank considered it.
“You wouldn’t find it weird sharing with me?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. Gerard stared at him.
“You wouldn’t find it weird sharing with me?” He replied, deadpan. Frank grinned.
“Okay then, but if drool on me, you’re out on your ass.”
*
For now at least, Gerard’s brain supplied unhelpfully. He shivered and got up, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He padded around the flat in bare feet, tidying up for a bit before going to check his mailbox downstairs. He had a couple of pizza flyers and companies trying to sell him mountain bikes. He shoved them into the bin and scratched his head. He was about to go back upstairs when a small envelope his mailbox caught his eye instead. He hardly ever got anything handwritten.
He picked it up and looked at the address. It was indeed addressed to him, and his apartment. He frowned at the scrawled handwriting and not-so-carefully prised the envelope open.
Dear Gerard,
My friend showed me this website where you could search for anyone in America and I got bored and searched your name. This address was the only result that actually fit you (well, of what I can remember of you). I didn’t think you were aged 65-69 or had changed your middle name (though I could only see the first letter of everyone’s middle name so I’m not so sure about that one). There were quite a few Gerard Ways. I’m not sure why I’m writing this, because there’s the slimmest tinyest chance that it’ll even be you. Even if it is you, I’m not sure what I’d want to say to you in a letter (it could be anyone reading this after all). I’d probably say I hate you for leaving and for doing what you did to Mom and Dad. But I’d say I miss you and I want you to come home more than anything. Some people aren’t even sure if you’re alive anymore. The police told me a week after you’d gone that usually if missing people aren’t found within three days, it’s most likely that they’re dead. I miss you a lot.
(This was probably a huge waste of time. Ignore this if you’re not my brother.)
Love
Mikey
Gerard felt his heart freeze up, his blood run thick and icy underneath his clammy skin. This couldn’t be happening. Mikey couldn’t find him. Not now. Not ever. Fuck. Fuck.
He stared at the letter and felt tears well up in his eyes and felt that urge that he felt all those years ago, just to run away and leave everything behind again. Leave the club and Charlie and Frank and Mikey and run away to Texas. Join a farm or something. Become a nameless face again. He crumbled the letter up in his fist and used the back of his hand to wipe away his tears as he bolted upstairs.
*
He got changed that evening at the strip club with even less enthusiasm that normal, trying not to cry as he dusted shimmer across his face. His corset was laced tightly, which he found helpful as it would make it painful to cry. Charlie offered him more pills, which he took gratefully, downing as many as he could and washing them away with vodka.
He stumbled out to the familiar faces and leers and did the steps he had had memorised from the first day he started. He did his best to look alluring and sexy, running his hands through his hair and biting his lip, urging people to slip money into his stockings. He moved his hips to the rhythm of the music, his chest thumping with the heavy bass line. The men shouted obscene things that him, chanting disgusting songs and ignoring the no-touching rule as they tried to grope him while putting bills into his stockings.
When his shift was over, he stumbled backstage and started to count the money that he’d made. Any money now was just extra, to buy food and maybe get some new clothes, as he’d already made enough to pay all the major bills. He sighed and leant against the wall, taking deep breaths. A cigarette. A cigarette would calm him.
He stepped outside to the alley and lit up a cigarette, gripping it with shaking hands. He slid down the wall and buried his head on his knees and began to sob, even though it was painful with his corset still on and digging into his ribs. He could feel his tears dampening his knees as they soaked through his stockings.
“Charlie said you came - oh, Gerard.” Frank stopped suddenly. Gerard hadn’t heard him open the door to the alley and he must have come to visit him as a surprise. Frank crouched down next to him.
“Are you - did someone do - was it that guy again?” Frank asked. Gerard gulped down some air and looked up to shake his head.
“No, I’m - I’m just being - give me a minute and I’ll be fine.” Gerard said, taking deep, shuddering breaths. He wiped at his eyes and ignored the thick trails of makes smeared across his cheeks. He tried to calm himself and gripped onto the bricks in the wall to stand up.
“Sorry.” He apologised, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand clumsily.
“Are you okay?” Frank asked slowly, helping him steady himself.
“Yeah. Just. Um. One of those days.” Gerard said. Frank nodded unsurely.
“D’y’wanna- we just finished a gig and I was wondering if you wanted to come for some drinks with my friends, but we could always-”
“That sounds great. I’ll just get changed and...yeah, I need to get changed.” Gerard smiled weakly. Frank gave him a smile in reply and followed him inside the club.
*
Frank introduced him to all his friends and bandmates in a bar which was a ten minute walk from the club. Gerard had changed into a pair of tight, dark grey jeans and a baggy Smiths t shirt and had completely wiped all the make up off his face. Frank’s friends were pretty cool, and he recognised a few of them from when they found him in the alley, though they didn’t really mention it. Frank bought him a beer and took him to talk to some of his friends. Gerard mainly stood there and laughed at other people’s jokes, because he still felt a bit uneasy about the letter he received from Mikey earlier.
One of Frank’s friends, a man with big hair named Ray who had seen him in the alley, began to talk to him about bands, and he was interesting and earnest. He was good conversation, and halfway through Frank joined in as well. Frank touched his hip lightly while they chatted, and it felt warm and comforting.
They left the bar at two, and Gerard stumbled back with Frank, not quite sure where he was going.
“So, do you still want to come and see us play tomorrow?” Frank asked as they wandered beneath flickering street lights.
“Yeah - The Underworld, right? I’ll try and come by as soon as I’m done working.” Gerard said. Frank beamed at him brightly.
“You’re going to love it.” Frank stated confidently, dragging Gerard down a side street.
“I bet I will.” Gerard said, trying to take in the street. He had no idea where they were. “Where are we going?”
“My apartment.” Frank answered, stopping in front of a large building. “Unless you want’a walk back by yourself.”
“I’m alright.” Gerard replied, following Frank into the building and waiting for the elevator.
“Floor six. I could walk. But I don’t want to.” Frank shrugged, pressing a button in the elevator.
“My elevator doesn’t work, but I’m only on the first floor, so I don’t really have an excuse except for the fact that I’m lazy and out of shape.” Gerard smirked.
“Lazy you may be, out of shape you are not.” Frank said sagely, getting out of the elevator and unlocking his front door.
“That’s very nice of you. You have very nice arms.” Gerard said. Frank laughed.
“Easy there, Romeo.” He snorted, grabbing a blanket from the sofa. “My room’s just down the hall and first door on the left.”
“I’ll take the sofa, it’s fine.” Gerard said, reaching to take the blanket. Frank tugged it out of his reach.
“No, I insist. Sleep in my bed. I really don’t care.” Frank shrugged, toeing off his shoes.
“If your bed’s a double, we can just share it.” Gerard suggested. Frank considered it.
“You wouldn’t find it weird sharing with me?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. Gerard stared at him.
“You wouldn’t find it weird sharing with me?” He replied, deadpan. Frank grinned.
“Okay then, but if drool on me, you’re out on your ass.”
*
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