Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
A/N: This is pretty much just a warm up drabble to check if I can still write? So sorry if it sucks. And hi again! :)
Brother.
It happened on the fifth week of December, 2015.
Gerard had been halfway across the country, in the middle of a show. The sound of his own voice had been broken through by the panicked voice of one of his techs, Megan.
“You have to get backstage now!”, she half screamed into his ear piece.
Uttering some lame excuse about needing some water, Gerard froze in the middle of a song and dashed off to the side of the stage. Feeling terribly annoyed by the interruption, he walked into the backstage area folding his arms.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking around at his various crew members.
They were all sitting around in one place or another, and they each looked up at him upon his entrance with a distraught expression. But still for a while, no one said anything. After quite a few seconds had passed, a very unsettled feeling began to wash over him.
One of the girls from wardrobe flat out burst into tears and ran out of the room.
Ohh-kay.
“What’s wrong?” Gerard repeated the question, but more sternly this time. He could hear the band outside continuing to play various instrumental covers, trying to keep the audience amused. They were probably just as confused as he was, and he was anxious to return to them. Showmanship was always very important to Gerard, after all.
But finally, their drum tech, Robert stood from the chair he had been sitting on. Robert was a thin, blonde boy they had hired from a friend. Probably only about 19 -- just a kid who needed a job. Since Gerard had come to know him though, he was always very eager. He wasn’t even really a fan of Gerard’s old work with My Chemical Romance, his style had been more in the indie genre. But none the less he had been a hard worker and a sweet companion.
He walked up to Gerard then, really seeming to dread whatever it was he was about to do.
When he finally did speak, his voice was quiet. But Gerard was able to hear him all the same.
“We got a call from a hospital back home,” he said, his blue irises darting around, meeting everything but Gerard’s eyes, “Bandit had been swimming in the pool earlier this afternoon, and well...she’s drowned. So, um, we should probably turn back.”
Gerard had heard him, and opened his mouth to reply several times, but no words would seem to emerge. While he had vocally active for the entire day really, his voice suddenly seemed stuck in his throat.
It had been caught up in a tornado of emotion that had formed an expanded into a titan of twisters within the time frame of one, short sentence.
After a minute, Gerard gave up on trying to speak and just walked away, going into his dressing room and slamming the door behind him.
No one in the backstage area moved for quite some time after either, bar someone chiming in that they should probably tell the band to stop bothering to play. Then an hour passed and people finally began to move about, hurriedly trying to pack away all they needed to go back into the bus. It wasn’t until then they heard a scream come from Gerard’s dressing room.
They tried to go into it to check if he was okay, but the door had been locked.
Gerard emerged not too long after, and from his puffy eyes, it seemed like the scream might not have been anything more than a scream of frustration. Still, he spoke to no one as he began loading his own things onto the tour bus, his hands shaking and his breathing rapid. Several people offered to help him put away his stuff, but he shook his head no. No one wanted to press him any further about it.
Mikey, Lindsey, and his mother had all been waiting for him at his house when he arrived. There was no point meeting at the hospital anymore. She was already long gone.
He had barely walked through the door when he collided with Lindsey, who collapsed into his arms sobbing hysterically. He began to openly sob with her.
Mikey came into the room, but refrained from approaching Gerard, seeing that perhaps he and Lindsey needed a moment alone.
Mikey himself had cried outright when he had first heard the news. He wept not only for Bandit, who he had felt he had had a hand in raising himself, but for everything.
Because he knew without a doubt, Bandit’s death was the end of everything. The end of Gerard’s career, the end of Lindsey’s career, the end of the era of happiness they had struggled through so much to earn. It was the end of his brother. And he knew it immediately.
So he supposes now that it’s no surprise, really.
Mikey stands over Gerard’s bed, his face impassive.
His brother doesn’t have a face, because its been shattered into chunks of flesh, bone, and blood, all over the pillows. At Mikey’s feet, there’s a small handgun. Mikey had actually bought him this gun one Christmas. Gerard never thought he would need one, but Mikey wanted him to have it for self-defence.
Some good that did, right?
Mikey kneels downs and picks it up, not caring about the fingerprints he gets on it. He walks around the mattress and comes to sit on the other side of the queen sized mattress, the side thats been empty since Lindsey has flown away to her mother’s, wanting a weeks vacation away from their home. Their home that had been a constant reminder of the happiness that once filled their lives. Gerard had been vauge when Mikey asked why he didn’t go with her. Mikey thinks he can guess.
Gerard had seen himself as nothing but a failure ever since it happened. Mikey had pushed for him to see his therapist again, but he would rarely ever even come out of his room. If Mikey or anyone wanted to see him, they would have to pretty much walk in the house themselves and break down the door.
Lindsey, on the other hand, had been glued to her canvas and likewise ignored any attempts at contact from the outside.
Even Frank and Ray had tried to help. Ray attempted to inspire Gerard by having him listen to new music he had been working on, and would frequently ask for Gerard’s input although Mikey knew Ray didn’t particularly need it or was interested. It was just a way to get Gerard to talk or at least think about anything else.
Frank would come over and just try to force Gerard to eat. Which was a valid concern, considering Gerard and Lindsey both became about the size of stick figures in the past few months.
While Mikey had kept them stocked up with mostly untouched groceries, Frank still brought over piles of Gerard’s favorite foods, some of which you could only get by traveling certain places. Foods from restaurants and shops that Gerard would insist on getting whenever they were on tour in specific towns. Mikey was rather surprised that Frank remembered as many of them as he did, considering that Frank never really kept in touch after the break up.
Mikey guesses he had just been angry, but that probably all went out the window after hearing about Bandit. Frank had been one of the first people to call when the news broke out. He was one of the last to leave the funeral, where he embraced Gerard tightly for a good five minutes.
“Please dude,” Mikey had heard Frank plead the last time he was over, “I’m fucking begging you, and you know how much I hate fucking begging.”
Mikey had been cleaning the bathroom at the moment, so he didn’t see a reaction, but he didn’t hear one either. Shortly after though, he heard Frank leave without another word spoken.
And where had Mikey fit into all this?
He spent every day at their house, practically abandoning his own personal life. Truthfully, half the time he didn’t even remember that he had one. Everything became about Gerard and Lindsey, and making sure they were both still alive.
In all truth and honesty, he had always cared about one more than the other, but he felt bad for Lindsey too. He couldn’t really imagine what had been going through her head, only that it was probably...no, surely a hundred times more terrible than the sadness that Mikey had been overwhelmed in since she died. And that was quite the feat.
He wasn’t sure what he expected.
A recovery?
No, Bandit was literally all of Gerard’s hopes and dreams embodied in a tiny, but gorgeous little girl. With her gone, Gerard likely was never going to see much of a point to anything anymore.
He only could fight off the reporters and supply Gerard with as much things and companionship as he could afford.
In the past month, Gerard had actually begun to talk more. Mikey admits to himself that maybe he did feel some hope that things were going to turn out okay.
Maybe things would turn around after all.
Lindsey even seemed a little brighter. She began to cook more, although Gerard never really regained his appetite. But Mikey would eat whatever it was she baked or made, and he would leave a plate or bowl of it in Gerard’s studio, where Gerard had finally begun to spend more of his time in. Gerard had always loved Lindsey’s cooking, and Mikey hoped he would give into temptation eventually.
Towards the end of that month, Mikey thought that maybe it was okay to back away for a little while. To return to his own home, his own lover, and let Gerard and Lindsey rebuild their lives bit by bit together.
Of course, he had to be wrong.
It felt like every time he dared to hope, at any point of his life, he was always fucking wrong.
Mikey grabs Gerard’s cold hand and caresses it with his fingers, a motion he and Gerard had always exchanged when trying to comfort the other.
There is no suicide note, but Mikey figures that no one would really be very confused or unsure as to why this happened.
Mikey understands, but he still hates it. He hates the way things have turned out. How things never seemed to work out for either of them. It seems like whenever Gerard finally seems to get even a small bit of the happiness he so strongly deserves, it either gets abruptly yanked away from him shortly after, or something would happen in Mikey’s life that screws him up, and vice versa.
But that was the story of the Way brothers’ life.
They spent it going back and forth, pulling each other out of various states of depression.
Even as small children, Mikey never learned to walk until Gerard began to run, and it was only then that Mikey got on his feet -- because he had to follow his brother.
He would always follow his brother.
And even now, Mikey puts the gun in his own mouth and squeezes Gerard’s hand as he squeezes the trigger.
His last thought is that he hopes they play Brother at their funeral.
END.
Brother.
It happened on the fifth week of December, 2015.
Gerard had been halfway across the country, in the middle of a show. The sound of his own voice had been broken through by the panicked voice of one of his techs, Megan.
“You have to get backstage now!”, she half screamed into his ear piece.
Uttering some lame excuse about needing some water, Gerard froze in the middle of a song and dashed off to the side of the stage. Feeling terribly annoyed by the interruption, he walked into the backstage area folding his arms.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking around at his various crew members.
They were all sitting around in one place or another, and they each looked up at him upon his entrance with a distraught expression. But still for a while, no one said anything. After quite a few seconds had passed, a very unsettled feeling began to wash over him.
One of the girls from wardrobe flat out burst into tears and ran out of the room.
Ohh-kay.
“What’s wrong?” Gerard repeated the question, but more sternly this time. He could hear the band outside continuing to play various instrumental covers, trying to keep the audience amused. They were probably just as confused as he was, and he was anxious to return to them. Showmanship was always very important to Gerard, after all.
But finally, their drum tech, Robert stood from the chair he had been sitting on. Robert was a thin, blonde boy they had hired from a friend. Probably only about 19 -- just a kid who needed a job. Since Gerard had come to know him though, he was always very eager. He wasn’t even really a fan of Gerard’s old work with My Chemical Romance, his style had been more in the indie genre. But none the less he had been a hard worker and a sweet companion.
He walked up to Gerard then, really seeming to dread whatever it was he was about to do.
When he finally did speak, his voice was quiet. But Gerard was able to hear him all the same.
“We got a call from a hospital back home,” he said, his blue irises darting around, meeting everything but Gerard’s eyes, “Bandit had been swimming in the pool earlier this afternoon, and well...she’s drowned. So, um, we should probably turn back.”
Gerard had heard him, and opened his mouth to reply several times, but no words would seem to emerge. While he had vocally active for the entire day really, his voice suddenly seemed stuck in his throat.
It had been caught up in a tornado of emotion that had formed an expanded into a titan of twisters within the time frame of one, short sentence.
After a minute, Gerard gave up on trying to speak and just walked away, going into his dressing room and slamming the door behind him.
No one in the backstage area moved for quite some time after either, bar someone chiming in that they should probably tell the band to stop bothering to play. Then an hour passed and people finally began to move about, hurriedly trying to pack away all they needed to go back into the bus. It wasn’t until then they heard a scream come from Gerard’s dressing room.
They tried to go into it to check if he was okay, but the door had been locked.
Gerard emerged not too long after, and from his puffy eyes, it seemed like the scream might not have been anything more than a scream of frustration. Still, he spoke to no one as he began loading his own things onto the tour bus, his hands shaking and his breathing rapid. Several people offered to help him put away his stuff, but he shook his head no. No one wanted to press him any further about it.
Mikey, Lindsey, and his mother had all been waiting for him at his house when he arrived. There was no point meeting at the hospital anymore. She was already long gone.
He had barely walked through the door when he collided with Lindsey, who collapsed into his arms sobbing hysterically. He began to openly sob with her.
Mikey came into the room, but refrained from approaching Gerard, seeing that perhaps he and Lindsey needed a moment alone.
Mikey himself had cried outright when he had first heard the news. He wept not only for Bandit, who he had felt he had had a hand in raising himself, but for everything.
Because he knew without a doubt, Bandit’s death was the end of everything. The end of Gerard’s career, the end of Lindsey’s career, the end of the era of happiness they had struggled through so much to earn. It was the end of his brother. And he knew it immediately.
So he supposes now that it’s no surprise, really.
Mikey stands over Gerard’s bed, his face impassive.
His brother doesn’t have a face, because its been shattered into chunks of flesh, bone, and blood, all over the pillows. At Mikey’s feet, there’s a small handgun. Mikey had actually bought him this gun one Christmas. Gerard never thought he would need one, but Mikey wanted him to have it for self-defence.
Some good that did, right?
Mikey kneels downs and picks it up, not caring about the fingerprints he gets on it. He walks around the mattress and comes to sit on the other side of the queen sized mattress, the side thats been empty since Lindsey has flown away to her mother’s, wanting a weeks vacation away from their home. Their home that had been a constant reminder of the happiness that once filled their lives. Gerard had been vauge when Mikey asked why he didn’t go with her. Mikey thinks he can guess.
Gerard had seen himself as nothing but a failure ever since it happened. Mikey had pushed for him to see his therapist again, but he would rarely ever even come out of his room. If Mikey or anyone wanted to see him, they would have to pretty much walk in the house themselves and break down the door.
Lindsey, on the other hand, had been glued to her canvas and likewise ignored any attempts at contact from the outside.
Even Frank and Ray had tried to help. Ray attempted to inspire Gerard by having him listen to new music he had been working on, and would frequently ask for Gerard’s input although Mikey knew Ray didn’t particularly need it or was interested. It was just a way to get Gerard to talk or at least think about anything else.
Frank would come over and just try to force Gerard to eat. Which was a valid concern, considering Gerard and Lindsey both became about the size of stick figures in the past few months.
While Mikey had kept them stocked up with mostly untouched groceries, Frank still brought over piles of Gerard’s favorite foods, some of which you could only get by traveling certain places. Foods from restaurants and shops that Gerard would insist on getting whenever they were on tour in specific towns. Mikey was rather surprised that Frank remembered as many of them as he did, considering that Frank never really kept in touch after the break up.
Mikey guesses he had just been angry, but that probably all went out the window after hearing about Bandit. Frank had been one of the first people to call when the news broke out. He was one of the last to leave the funeral, where he embraced Gerard tightly for a good five minutes.
“Please dude,” Mikey had heard Frank plead the last time he was over, “I’m fucking begging you, and you know how much I hate fucking begging.”
Mikey had been cleaning the bathroom at the moment, so he didn’t see a reaction, but he didn’t hear one either. Shortly after though, he heard Frank leave without another word spoken.
And where had Mikey fit into all this?
He spent every day at their house, practically abandoning his own personal life. Truthfully, half the time he didn’t even remember that he had one. Everything became about Gerard and Lindsey, and making sure they were both still alive.
In all truth and honesty, he had always cared about one more than the other, but he felt bad for Lindsey too. He couldn’t really imagine what had been going through her head, only that it was probably...no, surely a hundred times more terrible than the sadness that Mikey had been overwhelmed in since she died. And that was quite the feat.
He wasn’t sure what he expected.
A recovery?
No, Bandit was literally all of Gerard’s hopes and dreams embodied in a tiny, but gorgeous little girl. With her gone, Gerard likely was never going to see much of a point to anything anymore.
He only could fight off the reporters and supply Gerard with as much things and companionship as he could afford.
In the past month, Gerard had actually begun to talk more. Mikey admits to himself that maybe he did feel some hope that things were going to turn out okay.
Maybe things would turn around after all.
Lindsey even seemed a little brighter. She began to cook more, although Gerard never really regained his appetite. But Mikey would eat whatever it was she baked or made, and he would leave a plate or bowl of it in Gerard’s studio, where Gerard had finally begun to spend more of his time in. Gerard had always loved Lindsey’s cooking, and Mikey hoped he would give into temptation eventually.
Towards the end of that month, Mikey thought that maybe it was okay to back away for a little while. To return to his own home, his own lover, and let Gerard and Lindsey rebuild their lives bit by bit together.
Of course, he had to be wrong.
It felt like every time he dared to hope, at any point of his life, he was always fucking wrong.
Mikey grabs Gerard’s cold hand and caresses it with his fingers, a motion he and Gerard had always exchanged when trying to comfort the other.
There is no suicide note, but Mikey figures that no one would really be very confused or unsure as to why this happened.
Mikey understands, but he still hates it. He hates the way things have turned out. How things never seemed to work out for either of them. It seems like whenever Gerard finally seems to get even a small bit of the happiness he so strongly deserves, it either gets abruptly yanked away from him shortly after, or something would happen in Mikey’s life that screws him up, and vice versa.
But that was the story of the Way brothers’ life.
They spent it going back and forth, pulling each other out of various states of depression.
Even as small children, Mikey never learned to walk until Gerard began to run, and it was only then that Mikey got on his feet -- because he had to follow his brother.
He would always follow his brother.
And even now, Mikey puts the gun in his own mouth and squeezes Gerard’s hand as he squeezes the trigger.
His last thought is that he hopes they play Brother at their funeral.
END.
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