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It’s unnecessarily early on a Monday morning when Ray’s phone rings. Tonight is just starting to blend into tomorrow, the dusky sky a twilight blue as the sun threatens to breach the horizon. Most of Jersey is still asleep.
As Mikey’s name flashes across the caller ID, Ray knows it can’t mean anything good.
They’ve all barely been home for a week. This most recent run had been their most extensive yet. Touring was exhausting on the shortest of runs; these shows practically sucked the life out of their bones and wrung them dry. Mikey had been quiet since returning home, but Ray didn’t think anything of it. He figured he needed some time alone in the quiet to re-regulate himself. Frank was like that, too.
As Ray fumbles blindly to answer, he hates himself for not checking in sooner.
Mikey is breathing heavily on the other end of the line. He sounds like he’s crying, and there’s this god awful whirring noise in the background. “Ray Toro,” Mikey barks before Ray can even say hello. “Do not say a word to my brother.”
“Promise,” Ray says in what he hopes is a genuine tone. “What’s the matter, Mikey? Are you okay?”
Mikey sniffles. “Can I come…is there anyway…I—“
“Mikey, just tell me what you need, and it’s all yours.” Ray says. “Anything at all, Mikes. I’ve got you.”
“Can I come stay with you? I…just for a few days. I don’t want to be a bother or anything—“
“You’re not.” Ray interrupts. “No, you’re never a bother. Are you safe?”
A shaky inhale on the other end of the line tells Ray all he needs to know. The guitarist sighs. “I’m coming to get you.”
“Ray—“
“You will not win this argument,” Ray says, already climbing out of bed.
“I can come to you. I’ll catch the bus, or—“
“Or you’ll stay right there, and I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”
Mikey sighs, but reluctantly agrees. He feels like guilt is going to swallow him whole as he listens to Ray retrieve his car keys and step into his shoes. He convinces Ray it’s okay for him to hang up, and spends the next seventeen and a half minutes hating himself for calling in the first place.
He and his apartment are both still in disarray when Ray arrives. Mikey tries his best to get himself together quickly. It’s rude to make Ray wait in the car for an extended period of time, especially when Mikey knows the other man is worried about him.
Ray is about to say fuck it, head inside, and drag Mikey out of his apartment when he finally stumbles into the parking lot. He looks worse than Ray had been expecting, and he grimaces just at the sight of the bassist. Whether intentionally or not, Mikey isn’t carrying any clothing with him. All he has is a Ziploc bag with his toothbrush and toothpaste, and three stray pill bottles in his hoodie pocket.
Mikey climbs into Ray’s passenger seat without looking at Ray. He finds the floor mats more interesting, apparently. After soft calls of his name prove ineffective, Ray grabs Mikey’s chin and turns him until they’re face to face. “Are you on something?” Ray asks. His tone isn’t scrutinizing or critical, just curious and slightly concerned.
Mikey shakes his head. “No. I swear.”
Ray’s fingertips are calloused against the underside of Mikey’s jaw. “What do you need?” Ray asks quietly. It’s not often that he feels out of his depth, especially when it comes to his friends. He likes to think he knows them well. And he likes to think of himself as a secure, safe confidant, somebody who is able to take control of a chaotic situation and make it right. But he’s never been here with Mikey before. Frank has spent more nights on his couch than he can count, and he’s no stranger to picking Gerard up from the bar at two in the morning. He knows how to handle them.
Part of him doesn’t know how to handle Mikey.
Mikey keeps things bottled up inside most of the time. If it’s obvious that he’s struggling, then he is already past his breaking point. It doesn’t matter how many times his brother begs him to talk to somebody, either a therapist or one of his bandmates. He just won’t do it. He shoves everything down until it springs to the surface at unsuspecting moments and demands attention.
As he waits for him to formulate his response, Ray reminds himself that this is still the same Mikey. It’s still his friend, the one he’s known for years and shared countless memories with. That counts for something. Even when the situation feels unfamiliar, Ray knows Mikey. He doesn’t doubt that for a single second.
Mikey sniffles. “I’m not feeling very good.”
“Okay,” Ray says gently. He could’ve come to that conclusion himself, but he’s glad to hear Mikey’s voice. “Do you just…you just don’t want to be alone for a while?”
Mikey nods. “I think that’s probably a good idea.”
“Probably,” Ray agrees. “Come on, Mikes. Let’s get you home. You look like you haven’t slept in a hundred years.”
“Feels like I haven’t,” Mikey shrugs. Ray shifts into drive and peels away from the curb. “Not tired, though.”
“Yeah, you are,” Ray argues. “Your brain just hasn’t recognized that it’s safe to sleep yet. You’ll feel better when you’re back at mine.”
Mikey shakes his head, but doesn’t have it in him to go back and forth with Ray any longer. Ray always wins every argument…Mikey isn’t quite sure how he manages to pull it off every time. Maybe it’s because Ray is always right. Who’s to say?
They’re less than five minutes away when the silence in the car starts to feel like it is suffocating Mikey. He reaches for the radio and fumbles with the dial until the static clears. He’s landed on some sort of R&B channel, but it provides noise, so it’s good enough for him. Ray hums along softly to the melody as they traverse side streets at a speed much slower than Ray had driven on his way to Mikey.
Five minutes away from Ray’s house, Ray steals a glance towards Mikey, and hates what he sees. Even in the dark, Ray can tell that the bright patch on Mikey’s sweatpants is blood. He sighs. “Oh, Mikes…”
“Don’t,” Mikey hisses. “I…it’s fine,”
“Don’t freak out, you’re okay.” Ray says. “I’ll get you cleaned up. It’ll be okay.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“You do,” Ray insists. “And the sooner you realize that, the easier this is going to be.”
“I’m not here to bother you, I—“
“You called me in the middle of the night. You clearly need me.” Ray reasons. “And I’m going to be here for you, whether you want me to or not. You don’t get to tell me ‘no’ right now.”
Mikey sighs. He blinks rapidly, a futile attempt to dispel the tears that well up in his eyes. Ray always gets him like this. Mikey has never been good at acknowledging that he deserves anything “good” that this world may have to offer. And every time, without fail, on his best days and his worst, Ray shows him what good looks like. He tells Mikey he deserves the kindness and tender care Ray gives him, and he doesn’t get frustrated when Mikey disagrees.
Mikey is reluctant to get out of the car when they pull up to the curb outside Ray’s, but one look from the other man has him scrambling out of the passenger seat. Disappointment is the worst emotion he thinks he could make one of his friends feel. He doesn’t try to make their lives hard; he can’t help it. He feels like he was just wired incorrectly from birth. And poor people like Ray are always left to pick up the pieces and fix him when it goes poorly.
Ray never complains. He never makes Mikey feel bad for being out of sorts. Whether it is on the road or at home, Ray is always there. It was an intentional decision to make him Mikey’s first call. Hell, Ray is his only ever call. The other man is all he’ll ever need. If platonic soulmates are real, then Mikey has found his.
Mikey has barely dumped his minimal belongings onto Ray’s kitchen table before the guitarist’s hand is around his wrist and Mikey is being dragged towards the bathroom. He groans but doesn’t resist. Fighting Ray will get him nowhere. He’s tried before, and he has lost every time.
Ray hoists Mikey up onto the sink and tugs his sweatpants down to his knees. When Mikey looks down, he realizes that he hasn’t done a very good job cleaning up his earlier damage. Band-aids have slid off the cuts they were originally placed on, and blood smears through his leg hair. Ray sighs, and Mikey can tell he wants to say something but thinks better of it. It’s probably for the best. Ray can tell by the way that Mikey won’t look straight at him that one wrong move would send the other man crumbling.
Mikey hisses as Ray swipes a wet washcloth across his battered thighs. Ray murmurs apologies, intentionally avoiding eye contact as he washes away evidence of the kind of dayweekmonthlife Mikey is having.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Mikey says as Ray reaches for the First-Aid kit.
Ray squints at him. “I won’t make you,” he says. “But I’ll tell you that I’m worried.”
“I know you are.” Mikey sighs. Transparently, Ray has every reason to be worried. But Mikey knows he’ll never press for more information. He’ll share what he wants to (which, right now, is absolutely nothing) and Ray will listen and pretend that concern isn’t eating him alive. It’s good enough. It’s all Mikey has to offer.
“Next time, I’d really prefer you call me before you get to this point.” Ray says as he smooths a bandage coated in antiseptic across Mikey’s slashed thigh. “I can only help you so much when you’re already too far gone.”
“I’m always too far gone.” Mikey argues. “I live here permanently.”
“That’s just not true.” Ray clicks his tongue. “You just need to get better at asking for help. That’s okay; we all have our things. I sure as hell have mine…”
Mikey doesn’t say that Ray’s life is perfect. Logically, he knows that isn’t true. He also knows that comparing the two of them won’t do them any good. Instead, he repeats just as he had earlier, “Promise me you won’t tell Gee.”
“I won’t,” Ray says, helping Mikey down and pulling his pants back up over his handiwork. “I’m not in the business of getting you in trouble, Mikes. I just want to make sure you’re safe. That’s it.”
It’s this part that always makes Mikey feel so uncomfortable. Having somebody care for him, even in a platonic and innocent manner. Rationalizing that he deserves it. Stopping himself from fighting back as Ray leads him into his room and pulls back the covers. Swallowing down guilt as Ray tucks him in and volunteers selflessly to sleep on the couch in a tone of voice that Mikey can’t argue with.
Ray places an innocent kiss on Mikey’s forehead as he pulls the covers up to the other man’s chin. “You’re safe,” he reminds him. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. Do you need anything from me?”
Mikey sniffles, unaware that he’d started crying. “No,” he shakes his head. “I…I’m just really tired, Ray.”
Ray smiles at him in a way that says he knows Mikey isn’t talking in the physical sense. “I know you are,” he says sympathetically. “It’s okay. You can stay here as long as you need to. Whatever it’s going to take to keep you safe.”
“I’m scared,” Mikey says. His voice is quiet, almost inaudible within the room. Something inside of Ray feels like it breaks at the sound.
“You’re okay,” Ray says. He nudges Mikey’s side. “Come on, move over. I’m not going anywhere. It’s alright.”
The second Ray’s arms wrap around Mikey, he is breaking open like an unleashed dam. Ray shushes him softly and pulls him into his chest. Once it’s begun, Mikey can’t stop. Emotions come pouring out of him unrestrained. The tears are followed by words, horrible descriptions of pain that Ray wouldn’t wish on absolutely anybody. He listens, though. He listens, and he comforts his friend, and he tells him everything will be okay, even when he isn’t entirely sure of it himself. He learns more through Mikey’s ramblings than he had known about the other man’s struggles in the years of knowing him. It’s devastating, and Ray can’t help but feel a little hopeless.
Maybe he doesn’t know what to do. Maybe he’s out of his depth. Maybe he’s drowning. But he won’t tell Mikey any of that. Instead, he simply holds him close, makes promises he’ll do his best to keep, and dries his eyes until he falls asleep.
Ray promises to stay by his side all night, and he means it. As long as he’s here, in the comfort of Ray’s bed, nothing will hurt Mikey.