Chapter Text
November
Ray thinks he might be coming down with a cold. When he woke up today his throat felt scratchy and there is a constant itch in his nose that makes him rub at it every few moments. He has a wedding in three days and he really hopes that he is over it by then because he doesn’t want to freak the bride or the groom out with a snot covered face.
He doesn’t get sick that often, really. It’s just that this winter has been cold, and his heating blew a few days ago and it took his landlord two days to actually end up getting it fixed and Ray had to sit with a coat on and sleep with three blankets the whole time. Taking showers was the worst, really. He probably shouldn’t have even bothered. If he has a cold because his landlord is an asshole who just can’t be bothered to actually fix anything in the apartment, Ray’s going to be pissed.
He still has a fuse box issue, probably some wiring that’s fucked up in the bathroom or something, meaning the electricity will randomly go off every couple of months and he will have to flip every switch up except for the bathroom and wait for it to just fix itself. He is worried in a vague way that a cable issue in the bathroom where he regularly gets wet might prove to be a problem but he isn’t worried enough to actually care.
All this to say, he has a slight bit of a headache and the music in the bar is way too loud, throbbing underneath his skull and making his nose itch even worse. It’s just one band after the other, all these guys that Ray doesn’t really know but has been seeing around for years now, everyone trying to catch their big break, even though most of them are really mid in Ray’s opinion.
Still, he likes this. He likes the scene. He likes going to bars and listening to guys play music for no reason at all, even though they all have their day jobs and most of them know that this will always just be this, a little hobby, but they feel because they have to. Because it feels like they must.
Ray feels like that too sometimes. Like music is more to him than other people he knows. Like he couldn’t live without it, but he can’t really live with it either. He plays the guitar because he’s good at it and it’s easy but he wishes he didn’t because everytime he picks up a guitar he has these visions of being on a stage and playing for people, in a universe where he’s not a photographer that makes decent enough money with only a high school diploma under his belt, college education sacrificed for a year on the road with a band Ray truly believed would have made it.
Of course, they hadn’t. Most bands don’t. The ones that do are a rarity, though you wouldn’t think so, considering how everyone in the scene talks about them with stars in their eyes, all one day, that’s us. Ray never really had those big dreams but he believed too, when he was still young and starry eyed himself, a thrill shooting up his spine every time they got a gig like finally, they were going somewhere.
Now he doesn’t talk to any of those guys he spent a year in a tiny little van with, though he knows Miles has a wife and a kid now, Slate is down in Washington, some kind of journalist, and Tate’s dead. Ray wasn’t at the funeral because he only learned about it months after the event. There is a little shrine for him back in Bite, the tiny venue that Tate had to play at, and he had always charmed the people there too, making a name for himself with all the kids that came to watch their shows. It’s also where he got the drugs that ended up killing him in his system too, and Ray hasn’t been back at Bite for about seven years now because of that fact. He doesn’t blame the bar for his ex-friend’s descent into drug abuse, even though it’s what killed the band, even though it’s what drove a wedge so thick between them that if he were to see any of them today it might just end in a fist fight.
Ray doesn’t blame anyone for it, really. He doesn’t blame Tate. Tate was just a few years of Ray’s life but he was so much more than that for so many other people. He was his mom’s whole world for example, and then he ended up dying in some random bar bathroom all the way in Philly. Well, maybe Ray does blame Tate a little, just a tiny bit, because it’s easier to be angry at him than to be fucking sad, even though it’s been 6 fucking years.
At least the scene isn’t ruined for Ray, though some things in his life majorly changed with Tate’s loss. Ray didn’t touch drugs back then either, but now he doesn’t even drink, doesn’t smoke. Straight-edge people say. Ray isn’t, really. At least he doesn’t like to put that label on it because that label means something to people and it’s not like that for Ray at all. He just doesn’t want to be whatever Tate was. Whatever so many friends of his ended up being. Stars in their eyes and too much coke in their veins, destined for something great that ends up never being achieved.
Ray’s almost thirty now. Well, in 3 years at least. He has no qualms about how his life might just get better. He just doesn’t want to make it way worse either. Life already sucks with his shitty landlord and his tiny apartment that doesn’t get hot on a good day with the heating fixed anyway.
He is fine enough to be content, though. Sipping his coke and watching as the next band sets up on stage, younger than the rest, probably fresh out of high school and hell, maybe still in high school, the guitarist all but shaking with nerves as he cradles the neck of his guitar close to his chest.
“Ray Toro,” someone yells close to his ear, too loud for the now quieter bar, and Ray turns around with a grimace. “You here to catch our show?”
It’s Frank, who is one of those kids that Ray loves to watch but maybe despises too. Too many big dreams and too many potential so it actually feels like it might be plausible, which is worse than it never being a possibility.
“Hey, man,” Ray mumbles, as Frank catches him in a little side hug, all this nervous energy thrumming out of him. He’s been in the pit, Ray can tell, his whole body warm and sweat slick. “I didn’t even know you were playing today, to be honest.”
“I texted you about it, fucker,” Frank replies, grinning. He is always playing with his lip ring these days, ever since he actually got it. “You’ll stay for it? You don’t look too good, man.”
Ray shrugs. “I think I might be getting sick or something.” Saying it makes him rub at his nose again, trying to get rid of the itch by sniffing.
Frank takes a big step back. “Sorry. You know my immune system is shit,” he explains. “Don’t breathe towards me.”
Ray rolls his eyes, smiling. “What’s up with you? Did you end up getting fired?”
Frank works at Staples, which doesn’t fit his aesthetic at all, as he always points out. Ray keeps assuring him that it’s still punk rock to earn money so you’re not homeless. Frank’s one of those lucky people that gets along really well with their mom, so he could just still be living with his mom, saving up money, or at the very least, have a steady source of food, but he thinks it makes him a big man now, to have his own apartment.
Ray’s been working and renting his own apartment for about 8 years now, coming on 9, and he would always rather be back at his mom’s place, if his mom didn’t have to start hating him after too much prolonged contact, read: 3 days.
Ray loves his mom, really, and he knows his mom loves him. They just don’t have that much in common. He thinks it would be weird if it was the other way around anyway. His mom likes soap operas and going to church and making casseroles. Ray likes… Well. Not to mention he would feel about 60% more pathetic about his whole existence if he still lived with his mom at the big age of 27, especially because his brothers never had any problems just stepping out of the house at the age of 18 and finding boring office jobs and buying cars and saving up for houses.
Ray’s the only one with his room still unchanged back home, waiting for him. It does give him comfort but also it sucks that his mom believes he might need it.
“I did not get fired, come on. They love me at that place.” He grins real quick, before frowning with his brows furrowed. “But, man, shit’s been going down. Gerard and his mom had this huge fight, apparently, and Gerard stormed out and was whole on missing for about three days but then it turned out he was just staying at this hotel or something, watching TV the whole time. Mikey was freaking out so bad, we actually put together this whole search party.”
“How come I didn’t know about this?” Ray asks, cutting Frank up, heart thrumming. He would consider Mikey and Frank the closest friends he has. His only actual friends, really. He can’t believe he missed this whole chapter, that nobody called him.”
Frank’s mouth closes with a loud sound as his teeth clank together, this big guilty expression on his face, also looking a little like he just shit his pants. That’s when the first sound of the guitar fills the bar, the singer leaning in close to the mic to scream his lungs out, making Ray flinch.
“Fuck,” Frank yells. “Come outside with me?”
Ray nods, following Frank through the crowd of jumping bodies, feeling himself sweat just from watching them move.
Outside, Frank lights a cigarette, running a hand through his hair. “Those guys fucking suck anyway,” he explains, leaning against the wall. “Um. So. Gerard’s sleeping on our couch now, and it’s been rough. Fuck.” He looks all freaked out again. “Not rough. I mean. You know how Gerard is, I guess. Well, you don’t, but you know?”
Ray doesn’t know Gerard but he knows of him. He’s never met the guy because he doesn’t like going outside much, still lives with his mom, is some kind of artist that makes good enough money to be able to move out but he just refuses to for some reason.
Ray actually knows a little about the reason too. Mikey’s pretty tight lipped about his family, but back when Ray met him, Gerard was just moving back in, back from college with a whole baggage of problems. Ray doesn’t know the whole story, not really, but everybody who knows Mikey knows that his brother left for college with big dreams, ended up getting involved with a married guy and ruined his life over it, barely getting his diploma and then moved back into his mom’s basement to be a hermit forever.
“So, he’s okay?” Ray asks. He might not know Gerard but he loves Mikey, and he remembers the hollow shell Mikey was a few years ago, how he lost his job running around after Gerard and trying to pick up his mess, with his phone always in his hand and a crease of worry always between his eyebrows as he awaited a call that might say that his brother ended up finally killing himself.
As far as Ray knows, Gerard’s been better, though still weird and anti-social.
Frank nods, putting out his cigarette on the wall and leaving behind a black circle of ash on the white wall, covered in countless other black little circles. “He’s fine. It was just a thing.”
“You didn’t tell me,” Ray mumbles, not sure how to feel. At least it explains why he hasn’t heard from Mikey or Frank this whole week, hasn’t seen them around. He would think that they would have asked for help, even if maybe Frank is exaggerating how serious the whole thing was. Ray’s got his head on straight and he’s always prided himself on being reliable, like his mom used to say when he was the only kid in the house who helped her put away the dishes.
Frank rubs a hand down his face, sighing. “Look,” he starts, licking his lips. “This whole argument with Gerard’s mom, it was about him finally moving out, y’know? And Mikey ended up getting dragged into it. So, we don’t have the place for Gerard, not really. The guy can’t just move into our living room which is basically a corridor leading into the kitchen. So, y’know, Mikey was thinking, maybe you could take in Gerard, for a few months at least, until the guy gets back on his feet.”
Ray is pretty sure Gerard is going to be one of those people who’s always trying to get back on his feet but maybe that’s a mean assumption to have without ever knowing the guy.
“Really?”
“Yep. So, Mikey didn’t want to freak you out with this whole thing and give the wrong impression, y’know? Gerard’s a cool dude. You would like him. And he can pay rent, he’s got a good income, really. I wasn’t supposed to tell you about any of this. Mikey’s gonna ask you soon. Um. I just wasn’t thinking, I guess.”
Ray shakes his head. “I don’t know, man,” he mumbles, running a hand over his mouth.
Ray does have a spare room, with a mattress on the floor, the rest of the space filled with various junk. He’s not looking for a roommate, though. He likes having his space and he can afford it. When he first moved in, it had seemed too luxurious, a spare fucking bedroom, with his shit salary, but now he is in a place where he can appreciate the little things, be proud of himself for renting an apartment that has a room where he can put all his junk in.
He’s also not really sure that he wants to be dragged into Gerard’s life. He has nothing against the guy but he’s always sounded pretty unstable from everything he’s heard from people. Ray is reliable but that poses a problem too. He doesn’t like broken things. He’s always been a fixer. It’s probably why he ended up getting so close with Mikey, because he felt that he could help. It’s hard work, though, and not something he likes about himself anyway, the way he can’t just leave a thing well alone without doing something to help.
“Don’t let me ruin this for Mikey,” Frank begs. “Talk to him first, at least. Hear him out. Gerard’s a good fucking guy. He’s just been dealt a shitty hand, y’know?”
That is exactly the kind of thing Ray doesn’t need to hear.
Frank sighs. “I love you, man. I won’t lie to you. Gerard’s probably hard to live with. He’s moody and depressed half the time, and this entirely different thing the other times. But I fucking love that guy. I want him to… I don’t know. He needs some stability in his life. He’s good. You will like him, I swear.”
Ray admires the way Frank sounds sometimes, so much wiser than his age. Frank is the kind of guy that loves people freely and truly. He is the kind of guy that would sacrifice himself so his friends can get away in an action movie. It’s easy to get swept up in the way the guy normally is, all this little kid energy, jumping from one project to the other like he’s never gonna get old, but Ray is friends with Frank for this side of him. The other angle, when you shift the light, where you can almost see into Frank’s chest, his huge beating heart, his words so goddamn earnest because he believes in the shit he says, because he believes in people.
Still. “I don’t know about this, man.”
Frank shrugs. “Just. Hear Mikey out, y’know? Nobody’s expecting you to. I don’t know. Take care of Gerard, provide him stability, yadda yadda. Mikey’s already on top of that shit. He just doesn’t have a place for Gerard to sleep. If we figure that out, we’re lemon.”
“We’re lemon,” Ray repeats back to him.
“I know how you get. You would open up a vein for a stranger on the street. It’s not why Mikey thought of you, man. We don’t want that for you.” Frank keeps speaking about Gerard like the guy is Mikey's and his son or something. “And if you think it’s too much for you, it’s too much. Mikey just knows you wouldn’t be an asshole. Well, not as much as other people would be at least. Gerard’s fragile, man. He’s still convinced his whole life is ruined because of some mistakes he made years ago and Mikey’s worried someone might say the wrong thing and send him spiraling again. That’s all. You have the room and you’re the nicest guy we know.”
“My best two qualities,” Ray jokes. Frank giggles, some of the seriousness in the air breaking. “I’ll hear Mikey out. I’ll see. I’m not saying I’ll say yes but… I’ll think about it.”
Frank pats him on the shoulder twice. “Good man,” he says, like a 70 year old British grandpa. “Now let’s go back in because I can’t feel my fucking fingers anymore, dude.”
Ray sniffs. Through the conversation, he almost forgot about his cold but now it’s coming back to him, and he realizes he’s been shivering softly this whole time, the hairs on his arms stood up. Fuck. This probably won’t help whatever is wrong with him.
*
Ray doesn’t end up making the wedding, laid up sick in bed instead. His boss is a little pissed at him when he first tells him he might be getting sick but then he is the one to send Ray home, putting Pearl on the job instead, because Ray looks like he might keel over at any point. He feels it too.
He ends up with a fever, headache, nausea, the whole shebang, and Frank is too scared to even approach him but Mikey comes over with soup every evening for the three days it takes for Ray to finally be able to stand up without feeling like he’ll fall back down again. Mikey sucks in the kitchen, all limbs and no knowledge, and the guy can’t even tell sugar apart from salt, but Ray’s lucky because Frank is a good cook, because he has to cook for himself all the time, most food bothering his stomach unless specially made for his various allergies.
Ray also considers himself lucky that he has a job where he can just take a few days off for shit like this without being in trouble for it afterwards, though it’s all coming out of his paycheck. A guy has to be happy with the small things and not dream of bigger, better things, to keep his head on straight.
Mikey doesn’t mention the whole Gerard thing, not even once, though Ray can tell he’s getting less sleep, falling back into that shape of worry that Ray used to know him as once upon a time, a distracted haze over his eyes whenever he is far from home for long periods of time.
It makes him feel really guilty, knowing that he can help. Take this weight off of Mikey’s shoulders and carry it himself instead. He tries not to think like that because Frank’s right. Ray has a habit of doing too much, putting too much of himself into other people just to help, crossing too many lines of himself to make space for others.
Still, he feels it is natural to be concerned for a friend. He doesn’t want Mikey to fall too deep again, trying to save his brother’s life like Gerard is even asking to be saved in the first place. And it’s not like they are asking for an arm or a leg either. Just for his spare room and the guy’s going to pay rent anyway. Ray could use the spare money if his rent was suddenly halved, even though he can afford it like this. It’s always good to put more into his savings, so he’s not in an economic crisis each time his car breaks down or he has a cavity.
He thinks it over for days as he lays sick in bed, his mind half muddy from the fever. He imagines Gerard in his space, looking like any other depressed guy Ray knows from the scene, pissed off at the world just for being in it, taking it out on other people just because they can. It’s not a pretty picture.
He imagines waking up and realizing Gerard’s left, having to call Mikey, having to tell him his brothers’s doing a disappearing act again, and burn with guilt for not taking good enough care of the man, like it’s his job in the first place.
Then he imagines someone sitting on the couch in the living room, lost to the world, like a dog that’s been kicked a few too many times, and he makes the picture alive, gives the guy shining eyes, starry like Frank’s, gives him the same nose as Mikey, the same strong brow bone, and feels his heart clench. This is someone his friends love, that his friends care about. He thinks, if he were in the same place, if his brother was like this…
He thinks about Tate and his little brother who Ray saw a year after the funeral, coming out of Bite, a glaze in his eyes and a hurry to his movements, high off his face, following in his brother’s footsteps, and then he thinks about the look on the guy’s face when he saw Ray, freezing where he stood as a sudden clarity took over his face. Ray had realized only then that Tate’s family must be blaming them for the whole thing. Taking their precious little boy all over the country only to bring him back half finished, pieces scattered across state lines.
He had hurried off before the guy could cross the street and approach him. Ray didn’t even remember his name, but he bets he remembered Ray’s. Probably still does.
Gerard’s doing better, he thinks. For about two years now, Mikey has been generally worry free. They were out of the woods. Ray thinks maybe he can help it stay that way and it feels like he’s already made a decision.
As soon as he realizes that, it doesn’t seem as big anymore. It’s not like he is adopting a kid. He’s just getting a roommate who will help with the rent and the utilities, take care of himself, and with how much of a hermit Ray’s heard he is, maybe Ray won’t even see him that much.
Gerard’s not like this huge burden he has to shoulder. He is just a guy looking for a place to live in who can get a little depressed sometimes, but not like a big deal, not something that will impact Ray’s life. Gerard is Ray’s age and he’s been taking care of himself for this long. And apparently, he is a fun dude that likes comics and slashes movies. This doesn’t have to be a big deal like he makes it out to be.
On Tuesday, Ray meets Mikey for drinks at Telltale, and nurses a coke as Mikey gears himself up to speak. This is a quieter bar and they are in the corner booth where it feels private.
“So,” Mikey begins. “Frank told me that he already told you.”
Ray shakes his head. “Not really. He told me that you’re gonna speak to me.”
Mikey’s fingers are running up and down the bottle of his beer, fidgeting a little. He has his glasses all the way at the tip of his nose so he has to hold his head high and leant back to make eye contact. He never pushes them back, though. It’s a part of his style.
“Yeah. Gerard needs to find a place to stay but he can’t just stay with a stranger. He gets nervous, y’know?” Ray’s pretty sure that he is a stranger to Gerard too but maybe being Mikey’s friend knocks down that barrier. “I don’t want him to stay alone either. He’d just be more of an anti-social freak if he didn’t have to talk to anyone for days. Um. And I thought, you know, you have that spare room. Gerard’s not a bad roommate either. He is a little weird but he doesn’t drink, doesn’t do drugs, he smokes but he’ll do it out on the balcony. Um… He makes good money. He wouldn’t bother you or anything.”
“I don’t have a lot of space,” Ray replies. “And the room doesn’t have a bed, just a spare mattress on the floor. And I don’t know how many of the boxes I can clear out. But he’d pay less rent, y’know, since I’m occupying parts of the room.”
Mikey opens his mouth, then closes it. His eyebrows climb up his forehead. “That’s fine,” he mumbles, looking a little surprised. “You’re saying yes? I didn’t even sell you on him yet.”
Ray shrugs. “I thought about it and it makes sense. And Frank said it’s only going to be for a while anyway. Until Gerard finds a better option. I mean, I wouldn’t mind it being longer either. It would help my finances.”
Mikey narrows his eyes and frowns at him. “You don’t wanna meet him first? Get to know each other a little.”
“I feel like I know enough about him. Plus, he’s your brother. How bad can he be?”
“Pretty bad. He’s a creep. Um. And he doesn’t wash very often, unless he has to leave the house.”
Ray grimaces. “Why do I feel like you’re trying to put me off?”
Mikey sighs, crossing his arms. “I’m not. I just… I don’t want you to say yes because you think you have to. It’s not like that.”
“I’m not, Mikey,” he replies. “And if he turns out to be the roommate from hell, I’ll let you know and we’ll figure something else out. Right?”
Mikey’s looking off to the side, teeth biting down on his bottom lip and pulling the skin. He looks too worried all of a sudden. “Right.”
“Okay, then.” Ray opens his arms to the side a little. “Problem solved.”
“I know I’m fucking dumb,” Mikey mumbles, still staring off to the side, gaze scanning over the other people.
“You’re not dumb,” Ray assures. “I mean, he’s your brother. You’re allowed to worry.”
“It’s not that,” Mikey bites out, finally turning to look at him. He puts both palms on the table and leans back, taking a deep sigh. “You’re gonna think I’m stupid when you meet Gerard. I know I worry too much. Everybody tells me all the time. Everybody’s always saying, like, Gerard’s fine, Gerard’s fine, you have to relax, but… Gerard’s not the problem, y’know? I am.”
“I… Uh, I don’t know about this,” Ray replies. Mikey looks like he has so much to say but doesn’t really know how to say it, tongue running around inside his mouth, brows furrowed.
“I guess when he was… Y’know, fucked up? It left an impact on me. He’s over it, mostly. I guess. I guess I’m not, y’know?”
“Okay,” Ray says, urging him on.
Mikey looks at him straight in the eyes, determined. “I’m gonna tell you this, okay? I mean, Frank already knows but I didn’t tell you because I don’t know. I don’t really know how to talk about it. It’s not even like a big deal or anything. It’s just whatever. It’s like… Nothing. But it…”
“I don’t think it’s nothing,” Ray replies. He leans forward on the table and pats one of Mikey’s hands, gentle. “If it bothers you this much. You can tell me, man. If you want to.”
Mikey shrugs, a little unsure thing. “So. When I was 12, my dad died and it fucked my mom up. I love my mom. She… She did her best. But she was like… Not really taking care of us, I guess. And I was just so pissed off all the time. I started ditching school to go hang out with fucking high schoolers who were all too old to be hanging out with a 12 year old, but um, I guess I was just trying to fuck my life up, y’know? Because everything already felt so fucked up.”
“I didn’t make it easy for Gerard is all I’m saying. I was drinking. I was… My mom was using Xanax… She was in therapy or some shit. And she wasn’t really paying attention, y’know? She didn’t even hide them or anything and she forgot to take them all the time and I…” He rubs a hand over his face, knocking his glasses. “I started taking them instead. I wasn’t even looking to get high. That’s the worst part, man. I was just doing it to fuck up their lives. I wanted my mom to suffer. I don’t know. I don’t know what was wrong with me.”
“Mikey,” Ray mumbles, grasping his hand this time, but Mikey pulls it away to put it on his face instead, rubbing at his eyes.
“It wasn’t a big deal or anything. I was fine. Just fucking teenager bullshit. But Gerard had to take care of me, y’know? He packed me lunch and he made me dinner and he washed our laundry even though he put the detergent in the wrong place for a whole month, and one time he shrinked all our fucking t-shirts. But yeah, he stepped up. When I ditched school, they would call my mom, y’know? And my mom would fucking call Gerard. He was a sophomore and he was a loser but he had these good things too. His art teacher loved him and they were gonna put on this little exhibition, um, he was in theater, they were doing like Mamma Mia or something and Gerard was gonna get a part for sure. It was a sure thing, man. But my mom would call Gerard and Gerard would just jump the fence and come find me and take me back to school and it became such a thing that he had to drop all the extracurriculars, and just watch me all the time.”
Mikey looks like it’s getting easier to speak now, mumbling and rushing through some parts, and Ray doesn’t want to interrupt even though all he wants to do is pull Mikey into a hug and cradle him. He can tell where this story is going too, and it makes his stomach churn, his heart clenching inside his chest.
“CPS came after a while, because we were both missing so much fucking school, and our school shirts were all pink because Gerard didn’t know he had to separate the whites, and I guess that freaked him out super bad. He was convinced that we were gonna end up in foster care or something and we would be separated, y’know? He got different. He would stand over me and watch me do my homework to make sure I did it right and he would iron all my shirts, even my underwear, and then my mom stopped getting out of bed altogether and Gerard was just like this… Blur. Constantly running around the house trying to get everything perfect, y’know?”
Mikey stops speaking. Ray waits for him to continue but at least a few minutes pass in just silence, Mikey staring down at the table, his hands trembling.
Ray’s never heard anything about this before. Not even a peep. The picture he has of Gerard in his mind is shifting, changing, and it makes him uncomfortable to think of the things he had just assumed. About Mikey and Gerard, but about Gerard especially. He doesn’t really know what he thought but he had assumed that Gerard was like anyone else he knows, too unhappy with their life but too lazy to do anything about it.
He’s been dealt a pretty shitty hand, Frank’s voice echoes inside his head. He can’t help but agree. Gerard and Mikey both, somehow overcoming this whole issue and Ray didn’t even know anything about it. God, and he thought his mom sucked when he was a teenager.
Mikey takes a swig of beer and grimaces. “Ugh, it’s warm,” he says. “Um.”
The bar is getting busier now, people moving around, the music picking up on both volume and speed. Ray wants to take Mikey home and make him some coffee, just sit next to him until that haunted look leaves his eyes.
“You didn’t have to tell me this,” he says. “Mikey, I’m sorry that happened to you--”
“It didn’t happen to me. I made it happen to us. I ruined his life, Ray.”
“No,” Ray says, shaking his head. “That’s not true.”
Mikey scoffs, looking angry now, scowling at Ray. “It’s fucking true. We would have been fine. Gerard was fine. Fuck. You don’t even know the worst part.”
Ray closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Mikey…”
“Things just got worse, man. Gerard told me that if I want to get wasted, fucking fine, he would help, if I want to get high, fucking fine, but I can’t ditch school anymore and I have to do it at home so CPS doesn’t find out, doesn’t come knocking again. I don’t even know how he got the booze. I don’t even know how he was managing the money, with my mom not working, but he got me whatever I wanted. He was just really scared I guess, that something would go wrong, so we would go down to the basement together and I would take the pills and get drunk enough to piss myself and he would just watch me. The whole night, just watch me. Then in the morning he would get up and make me breakfast and make sure my tie was on straight and walk me to school.”
Ray puts his elbows on the table and buries his face in his hands, just breathing.
“Then my mom kicked us out because she couldn’t bear to look at us or something. She was so fucking mad… And then we went to my grandma’s and then it was over, I guess. We lived with her for a year. She… She was old, and she didn’t really know how to take care of two teenagers but she made it work. It felt too easy, for a while, like why didn’t we just do this in the first place, right? But it still wasn’t easy for Gerard, I guess. He couldn’t shake it off, y’know? That fear. He didn’t really know what he was supposed to do now.”
Mikey sighs, takes off his glasses to rub at his eyes and doesn’t put them back on again.
“When he got to college, he went no contact. I didn’t even think. I thought good, y’know? He’s washing his hands clean off us. He was always the… The better one, man. He was always better than me. That’s what I thought. Then my grandma passed and he didn’t even come to the funeral and that hurt but I was happy for him, y’know? I thought he must finally be getting it right, now that he doesn’t have to deal with me anymore. You know?”
Ray’s coke is all flat now and too sugary, the ice melted, but he takes a sip anyway because his throat is parched.
“Then mom gets a call one day, and Gerard’s in the hospital, and apparently he tried to kill himself, and then that was that, y’know. He came back.”
It feels like the story ends there but Ray can’t be sure, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“I didn’t want to tell you this,” Mikey mumbles, putting his glasses back on. His eyes are red and shiny. He looks so tired all of a sudden. “It doesn’t even matter. I just wanted to explain, y’know. He took care of me. He didn’t have to. He was just a kid.”
You were a kid too, Ray wants to say but his mouth won’t work.
“That’s what it’s all about, y’know? I’m paying a debt.”
“Okay,” Ray replies. “Thank you for telling me.”
Mikey shrugs. “I wasn’t going to tell you, if you said no. I don’t want you to feel guilty or responsible or anything.”
“I don’t,” Ray replies. “I’m sorry that happened but I’m not saying yes because I feel responsible, okay?”
“Okay,” Mikey says. “I want you to meet him, okay? Before he moves in. For his sake more than yours, really.”
“We can do that.” Ray pushes the glass around on the table. “I’ve heard so much about him that I’m really fucking curious.”
Mikey rolls his eyes. “He’s just a huge nerd, nothing much about it.” The air is slowly clearing, but Ray’s stomach still churns, his mind running Mikey’s story through it, analyzing, calculating, and he can’t believe he didn’t even know.
“So…”
“So,” Mikey repeats back. “I just wanted to tell you. So now you know.”
“Yeah.”
A beat. “Do you wanna meet him now, actually? We can go back to my place.”
Ray feels himself sweat instantly. He doesn’t know how he is supposed to put a face to the story so suddenly, after hearing all those things about Gerard for years, and now, finally hearing this, like peeling back the curtain to see how the show runs backstage.
“Sure,” he replies. “I forgot how much this place sucked anyway.”
Mikey laughs. “It’s not that bad,” he says. “All the customers are just pretentious assholes.”
“Customers make the bar.”
“True,” Mikey replies, taking his phone out of his skinny jean pockets. He scans the messages, brows furrowed. “Okay, let’s go.”
It’s really fucking cold outside and Ray already regrets not bringing his scarf but Mikey lives pretty close anyway.
“I’ll just call him to let him know, okay? Otherwise he might freak.”
“Sure, man,” Ray replies, easy. He can’t help but think that Gerard better not expect Ray to call and let him know each time he is having someone over, though. Fuck. He doesn’t know how being roommates is really supposed to work.
“Hey,” Mikey mumbles into the phone. Ray can barely hear a tinny voice coming out through the speakers, impossible to make out the words but he can hear the guy talk for a while. Mikey’s smiling and nodding along like Gerard can see him. “Fucking wicked, man,” he replies in the end, and then clears his throat. “Listen, I’m bringing Ray over to meet you.”
There is a silence over the line but Mikey doesn’t look that bothered.
A reply. “Put on a clean t-shirt,” Mikey says. “See you soon.”
He hangs up and looks at Ray. “He’s a little nervous but he is always a little nervous, so it’s whatever.”
“Alright.” Ray kicks over a rock, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “I’m excited to meet him.”
It makes Mikey smile even bigger, looking a little pleased. “Fuck yes,” he replies. “You’re gonna love him, man, trust me.”
Ray trusts Mikey to the end of the world.
When Ray walks into Frank and Mikey’s corridor shaped living room, he doesn’t know what to expect. It’s not the guy standing up in the middle of the living room with huge eyes, staring at him, though.
It makes him freeze for a second as Mikey just walks forward to throw himself down on the couch.
“Hey,” he greets, taking a step forward.
Gerard looks like Mikey if someone took Mikey and stretched him out and gave him huge eyes. He has black hair, a little bit dyed teal at the roots, and he is wearing this blouse it looks like, black with little flowers on it, flowy sleeves that get wider towards his wrists.
He is standing eerily still, like he is a startled animal that is about to pounce any second now, and Ray feels ridiculous. He reminds Ray of Tim Burton characters, with a vibe to him that makes Ray think it’s intended.
“Hey,” Gerard replies, voice soft. “Nice to meet you.”
Suddenly, he springs into action, closing the distance between them and putting his arm out for a handshake. Ray didn’t know how to picture Gerard before but now that he is seeing the man, the image fits into all the things he’s heard.
He shakes Gerard’s hand. “Nice to meet you too, man.”
Mikey turns around on the couch to look at them, grinning. “Two of my favorite people finally meeting,” he says. “Fucking wicked.”
Ray drops Gerard’s hand and shifts from one foot to the other. “Mikey talked to me about you moving in. Um.”
Gerard smirks, eyes shining. “Did you say yes?” At Ray’s nod, he giggles. “Oh, man, you’re gonna regret it.”
Ray doesn’t know how to reply to that, really.
“He’s joking,” Mikey explains, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, Gee.”
Gerard giggles some more, moving towards the couch. “Come sit, Ray,” he says, collapsing into the armchair and pulling his legs up to his chest. He is staring at Ray the whole time, unblinking. “Mikey told me you’re a photographer.”
“Yep. Pays the bills.”
“Ugh, bills,” Gerard groans, like a cartoon character. “What do you take photographs of, Ray?”
Ray doesn’t know why Gerard keeps saying his name. “Weddings. Birthday parties. Um, any boring event you can think of really.”
Gerard’s face falls a little. “Lame,” he comments.
Ray bites the inside of his cheek and shrugs. Maybe it’s good that he’s meeting Gerard now after all because he doesn’t know how he would deal with this if confronted with it after Gerard had moved in. Gerard has this particular way to him that Ray can’t really figure out but it makes him feel uneasy. The only word that comes to his mind is off-putting but he feels mean thinking that way.
“Tell him about the concerts,” Mikey prompts, making Ray feel like this is a playdate or something.
“Yes, Ray, tell me about the concerts!” Gerard says in a weird voice.
Ray can’t tell if Gerard is trying to make fun of him. If he didn’t know any better he might think that Gerard’s just high or drunk. “I take pictures at concerts, sometimes. Nothing huge, just local gigs. It doesn’t pay as well as my job but it’s cool.”
Gerard nods solemnly. “Fuck yes, man. That’s really fucking cool, I hope you know that.”
“Thanks,” Ray replies.
Gerard shifts forward so he is sitting on his knees instead, hands planted on his thighs where his jeans are ripped, showing a gratuitous amount of pale flesh. “So, I was thinking that I could move in by December. This place is killing me, man. Nobody wants to see their little brother every night before bed and every morning when they wake up.”
“That works for me,” Ray replies, shrugging.
Mikey scoffs at Gerard’s words. “I hope you know Ray’s not going to let you leave your mugs to collect mold like I do, fucker.”
Gerard shrugs. “I know how to do the dishes, asshole,” he replies. “Did your dishes for a year.”
Ray feels himself tense but Mikey and Gerard don’t look too bothered.
“Yeah, well, you sucked at it, so,” Mikey replies.
“Yeah, well,” Gerard mocks in a nasally voice. “Ugh. You see what I have to deal with, Ray?”
Ray chuckles. For all intents and purposes, Gerard seems fine, if a little weird. Vampiresque, he thinks, but fine.
“I don’t have too much space, though. I was using the spare room for storage.”
“That’s fine. I don’t have much stuff, anyway.” A beat as Gerard thinks. “Actually, I don’t know. I don’t know how much shit I have because it’s all so scattered around but it’s fine. My mom will let me leave my shit there. Probably.”
“Sorry she kicked you out, man,” Ray feels the need to say. “We’ve all been there.”
But Gerard frowns at him like Ray said something really weird, shoulders going up. “She didn’t kick me out,” he replies. “Did she tell you she kicked me out?”
He asks as if Ray’s in regular contact with his mom.
“She did kick you out, Gee,” Mikey butts in. His eyes are closed like he is trying to fall asleep. “For about 10 minutes, at least.”
Gerard waves a hand. “She told me I have to leave and I said are you kicking me out and she said if that’s what gets you out of the house, and so I left and then she freaked out.” Gerard’s impression of his mom sounds exactly like his impression of Mikey. “Ugh. I just know she’s going to kick me out again soon if I continue to stay with her because I piss her off too bad, and she’s already convinced that she’s the world’s worst mom ever,” Ray can’t help but agree with her even though he knows he shouldn’t think that way, “and so I decided to move out so she doesn’t have to worry herself to an early grave. You’ve been there?”
Before Ray can reply, Mikey cracks an eye open to look at him, grinning. “Our mom is the kind of woman who’s best in small doses.”
“Have you met her? She’s this 5 foot nothing weirdo with fried blonde hair,” Gerard says, grinning. “She’s so fucking cool, Ray.”
“I’ll take your word for it, man,” he replies, and then before he can stop himself, continues, “you’ve gotta stop doing that though. It’s freaking me out.”
Gerard furrows his brows. “What?”
“You keep repeating my name, dude. Like a vampire or something.”
Mikey cackles as Gerard blushes a little, rubbing his cheeks as if that will stop it. “Tell him why you do it, Gee,” Mikey chokes out, still giggling.
Gerard rolls his eyes. “I read that it puts people at ease, man,” he mumbles. “Did it not put you at ease?”
Ray can’t help but laugh too, half convinced that Gerard must be fucking with him. “No, dude,” he replies. “Quite the opposite.”
Gerard crosses his arms, blowing at a piece of hair on his face. “Well. And I was so sure it was working, Ray.” This time he grins as he says Ray’s name, waggling his eyebrows.
“No more believing everything you read on Facebook,” Mikey says.
“Read on Facebook that you’re a huge loser, how about that, Mikey,” Gerard retorts.
“We just established that everything on Facebook is a lie,” Ray can’t help himself from joining in.
Gerard looks over at him, eyes running up and down Ray’s body slowly, like he’s sizing him up. Ray tenses just a little. “Two on one,” Gerard drawls. “I don’t know how that’s fair.”
“I am only on the side of truth and justice.”
Gerard giggles, sitting up straighter, leaned back onto his haunches. “Like fucking Batman,” he replies. “Do you like comics, Ray?” Then his eyes widen, a delighted look on his face. “Oh, man, it’s stuck now. Fuck. At least you have a pretty name, right, Ray?”
Ray’s never heard anybody say that to him before, that’s for sure.
“His name is Raymond,” Mikey says, disbelieving.
“I liked Watchmen. I don’t know. I’m not that into comics, to be honest,” he replies to Gerard.
Gerard scrunches his face up, waving a hand. “Lame. Not Watchmen, I mean you.”
“Thanks,” Ray says dryly.
“Don’t get him talking about comics,” Mikey stage whispers. “He won’t shut up and then you will have to kick him out before he’s even moved in.”
Gerard raises his head, nose up high. “It would seem I am used to being kicked out.”
“Which probably says something about you as a person,” Mikey replies.
“Fucker, the first time mom kicked me out, was it your fault or mine?”
Mikey gets up, stretching. “Jury’s still out. I’m gonna order pizza. You’re staying, Ray? We can watch some movies, fuck around. Frank’s gonna be back soon.”
“Sure, I’ll stay,” Ray replies. “Nothing better to do.”
They watch him go to the kitchen, taking out his phone.
“Argh,” Gerard says, getting up to sit next to Ray on the couch instead. “Do you have siblings?”
“Two older brothers,” Ray replies. “Both more successful than me.”
Gerard chuckles. “At least Mikey doesn’t have to worry about that,” he says. “I used to be the coolest person he knew. Then he turned thirteen. Can you believe it?”
“I think you’re still the coolest person he knows, man. He’s mentioned you a lot.”
“You’ve known each other for a long time, right?”
“About five years now, yeah.”
Gerard throws an arm over the back of the couch and lays his face there, looking into Ray’s eyes, unblinking.
“And what are your intentions with my brother?” He asks.
Ray’s brain stutters.
“I’m making coffee!” Mikey yells from the kitchen.
Gerard quickly turns around to yell back. “I’ll kiss you when you come back!” He turns back to face Ray again, blinking at him.
“Um, I don’t know what you mean,” Ray says.
“I don’t know, man. Mikey wouldn’t tell me. Are you dating? Fucking? Secretly married?”
Ray blushes. “None of the above. We’re friends. And I’m straight.” He feels weird after he says it and maybe a little worried that Gerard might take offense too, as if it’s rude for Ray to mention being straight around gay people.
“Mikey’s ‘straight’ too.” Gerard makes air quotations around the word, rolling his eyes. “Seriously?”
“Yep.”
Gerard runs his eyes over him again, his eyebrows raised. “Huh!”
“Do I look gay or something?” Ray can’t help but ask.
“Do I look gay?” Gerard asks in turn, before waving a hand. “Don’t answer that.”
Ray laughs. “Hey, it’s working for you, so.”
“Thanks, honey,” Gerard replies. “I’ve been gay since I was like 6. It’s a hard to maintain lifestyle, I’ll tell you that. And I’m not even gay! Isn’t that crazy?”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Ray repeats.
Gerard giggles. “And it won’t bother you that I’m a fag? I might be a perv, Ray, you never know.”
Ray frowns. “Don’t say that,” he replies. “And no, it won’t bother me.”
Gerard blinks at him again. “Cool,” he murmurs. Then he shakes the thoughtful look off to smirk. “Hey, it’s not like I’ll be bringing guys back home, right? Hah!”
“You could if you wanted to. Um. It’d be your place too, y’know?”
“The joke is that I never leave the house,” Gerard replies. “But I can! If you want to bring someone over. Ugh. Did Mikey ever tell you about that time I scared off his girlfriend? I don’t even feel bad about it either. He was like fourteen and already way cooler than me, I couldn’t let him have a girlfriend too.”
“How’d you scare her away?” Ray asks, maybe a little too curious. He just can’t believe everyone was right about him liking Gerard. The guy is fucking weird, but also, weirdly easy to talk to.
“I had this taxidermy phase, so I had this little roadkill on the kitchen table, just cutting into it, y’know? They come in, she sees me, immediately breaks it off with little Mikey and goes back home.”
“Jesus,” Ray says. “Did you at least manage to reconstruct the roadkill?”
Gerard cackles. “No, man. It was all fucking torn apart. A lost cause, y’know? But it managed to stink the kitchen for days.”
“That’s disgusting,” Ray says as Mikey comes back, holding a tray with three mugs.
“You’ll have to get used to that with Gerard,” he says.
Gerard rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply. Mikey puts the tray down and starts handing them their mugs. “Batman for Mr. Toro,” he says, and Ray thanks him as he takes it.
“Superman for Mr. Way.” He puts a mug on the coffee table and hands the last mug to Gerard. “And the boob mug for Mr. Way!”
It is a mug shaped like one singular boob. “You’re too good to me, Mikey. Fuck, this is my first time touching tits, thank you so much for the opportunity,” Gerard says, craning his head up. Mikey leans down so Gerard can kiss him on the cheek with a loud smack.
When Gerard turns to look at him, Ray gets scared that Gerard might kiss him too. “Should we let him pick the movie, Ray?” Gerard asks.
“I think we can,” Ray replies. “Since he’s such a good host.”
“I’m the best host, fucker,” Mikey replies, already rummaging around for the remote. “Where is the remote?”
“Not up my ass,” Gerard retorts. He turns to wink at Ray. “Not this time, at least.”
Ray rolls his eyes. “That’s disgusting,” he repeats, making Gerard giggle.
“Found it!” Mikey exclaims after digging into the crevice of the armchair. “Ladies, I’m about to put you on to something incredible.”
“No,” Gerard groans, eyes wide. “He’s going to make us watch Jaws again!”
Ray laughs in spite of himself.