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Mikey, E flat! E /flat/, not natural!" Mikey shot his head up at the sound of Ray's irritated voice. Frank was staring at him as well and Bob quickly glanced away when Mikey turned his head to look. Ray sighed.

"I guess we could break for a little." He said. "Let's be back in an hour? Mikey, you need to work on this piece. It's in B Flat Major, all the E's are flat."

Mikey nodded and then looked down as his bass, reading the sheet of music in front of him and fingering the notes silently. They were practicing a few pieces for their third and final album. There were about six tracks that didn't get put on "Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge" and they thought that as a final tribute to Gerard they would release these tracks on a third album with a few new songs. Frank would be doing the lead vocals for these tracks. It was late March and they had written most of the songs. Now they were just trying to solidify them before heading into the studio. They had met at Bob's house and had been practicing that day for about three hours.

Mikey watched Ray and Bob out of the corner of his eye as they left quickly. He noticed that Frank had remained in the room. He was slightly annoyed by this since he really wanted to go do a line or shoot up or /something/. He needed to take the edge off and he felt his resistance dwindling by the second.

It was to the point where Mikey rarely did anything to get high. It was to the point where he needed the drugs just to function. It took a lot of dope to get him high like he wanted to. He could feel the symptoms of withdrawal setting in and he knew that was the reason he was messing up the notes so badly. He hoped that Frank wouldn't stay to long. Mikey paused from his practicing and looked up at Frank.

"I don't mean to keep screwing up. I know it's E flat." he said plainly. Frank nodded but didn't speak. Mikey looked down at his bass again.

"Do you think Bob and Ray are terribly mad?" he asked, his voice quiet. Frank sat down next to Mikey.

"I don't think they're as much mad as they are worried." he said. Mikey grunted.

"Worried...why? They have nothing to worry about." Mikey said nervously, trying to downplay Frank's statement. Frank shook his head.

"Are you sure? I mean, not to be harsh, but look at you. You look sick all the time. You're skin is always pale, you have huge, and I mean huge, bags under your eyes. You don't seem to be with it. You space out, you disappear for a day or so and no one can get ahold of you..." Frank paused, looking at Mikey. "We just don't know."

"I'm fine."

Mikey knew this was a lie and he knew that Frank knew it was a lie. He had wanted to tell Frank so many times that he needed help. To tell him about the heroin and coke. All it would take was to roll up his sleeves and the truth would be apparent. He knew he could never do that. What would they say? He knew what they'd say. They'd say that he ended up just like his brother and that was something he couldn't deal with. Frank kept his gaze on Mikey and for some reason it made him feel incredibly guilty. Guilty and remorseful.

"I'm fine! I'm fucking fine!" Mikey yelled, throwing his bass down onto the ground and standing up. He needed something and soon.

"Just stop...I'm fine!"

Frank looked taken aback at the sudden outburst and it confirmed his suspicions that his friend was not okay. Mikey started to run from the room but he got dizzy, faltered, then fell against the wall. He knew this wasn't good. He was still standing but was leaning forward and gripping the wall for support.

He felt really hot and sick to his stomach. Before he could control it, he vomited. He slid the rest of the way to floor and curled up with his knees to his chin. He couldn't shake the sick feeling. He felt such disgust with himself at that moment that it was almost unbearable. It was then the first of the sobs came. They racked his whole body and he knew it must be hard for Frank to watch the scene. It was as if everything he had shoved down for the last few months came bubbling out. He knew he was not only crying for himself but for Gerard and the band. He was crying because he felt empty and alone. He felt a hand gingerly touch his shoulder and winced at the human contact.

"Mikey?" It was Frank. His voice seemed to be pleading and he thought he could hear the slightest twinge of fear in it. Mikey's response was a sob. Frank wrapped his arms around Mikey and could feel him shaking.

"Mikey...you're not fine." he whispered into his ear. "Please, let me help you." Mikey caught his breath and spoke.

"No." Frank remained where he was.

"Please." It was only one word but it hit Mikey really hard. He was still crying but for the moment it was just tears spilling over and running down his cheeks. He put his hand to the cuff of his button down shirt and slowly pulled it up past his elbow. The black shirt looked even blacker against his pale, bony arm and the angry crimson red track marks spoke louder than any words he could have said. He heard Frank suck in his breath.

"Oh my God." It was silent a moment and then Frank wrapped Mikey into an even tighter hug. Mikey went slack a little, relieved that Frank's immediate reaction wasn't anger. After a minute or so, Frank spoke again.

"We'll get you help. Oh God, Mikey. We should have known." Mikey shook his head.

"It's okay. I was good at hiding it." Mikey paused a moment. "Frank...I need something or I'm going to get sicker."

"I don't know..."

"I want help, I do but I...I don't know how to tell Bob and Ray. I just want to get through today and we can figure things out tomorrow."

Frank looked at Mikey, who was sweaty and shaking. He knew what the secret was now, so there was really no way for Mikey to hide anymore. He also knew that it must have taken a lot of guts to show him his arms and he didn't want to lose that trust.

He nodded, showing his approval for Mikey's request. Frank removed his arms from around Mikey and sat next to him as Mikey motioned for Frank to grab his messenger bag from where he had been standing. Frank did so and Miney reached into the bag removing a spoon, lighter, syringe and his drug of choice. Frank sat in front of him watching intently as Mikey went about filling his syringe. Mikey's hands were shaking as he posed the needle above a vein and felt the harsh sting of an old wound being reopened. Mikey leaned back against the wall, relief washing over him as the drug set in. He felt sluggish but the shaking had ceased and he looked over at Frank with glaed eyes. Frank sat silently, trembling at what he had just witnessed.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." Mikey whispered and they sat in the silence until Bob and Ray returned.