(no subject)
Title: Waiting for Something to Break
Fandom: MCR,
Pairing: Gen, Mikey and Gerard
Word Count: 1679
Rating/Warnings: Slavery, depression.
Summary: Mikey will put up with anything, as long as he can keep taking care of Gerard.
Written for hc_bingo, this fills the 'whipping/flogging' square. Follows So Long and Goodnight. You don't have to read that first, but the verse might make more sense if you do.
Berger Horizons was a cleaning company. They could clean anything. Pools, carpets, mouldy bathrooms. Houses, hospitals, schools. Whatever the job, they would get a team of voids together and send them out to get it done.
Right now, Mikey and Gerard had an assignment cleaning hotel rooms. It wasn’t too bad. Better than cleaning the public bathrooms at the mall.
Mikey and Gerard and a dozen other voids were transported to the hotel at seven am. They spent three hours cleaning the public areas; the lobby, the kitchen and dining area, the offices in the back. Checkout was at ten, and that was when they went up to clean the rooms. Mikey and Gerard were responsible for the rooms on the second floor of the east wing.
It was better than their last assignment, because it meant Mikey could keep an eye on Gerard. Gerard hadn’t been coping well. He’d never been all that good at doing what he was told. Not because he was deliberately uncooperative or defiant. He just tended to get distracted and forget what he was supposed to be doing, and he didn’t keep track of time very well. It hadn’t been an issue when they lived with Elena. She had been good to them, and Gerard hadn’t got lost in his thoughts quite so much. But she was dead, and Gerard missed her terribly. If Mikey came across Gerard halfway through a dozen different jobs, or looking out the window with the vacuum unplugged beside him, he would almost always turn to Mikey and offer some memory of their grandmother.
Things were better now that Mikey could be nearby to remind Gerard what he was supposed to be doing. For awhile, Gerard had been getting into less trouble, but now he was getting worse. If they weren’t working, he was sleeping, and he always looked tired. He had no appetite. He was always trying to hand his leftovers off to Mikey, and it wasn’t as though they got a lot to eat. And he tried to hide it, but Mikey could always tell when he’d been crying, and that had been happening a lot more too.
They had been cleaning the empty rooms for two hours, and Mikey went a second time to check on Gerard. He found him wiping down a mirror in one of the ensuites, but he’d forgotten to spray the glass cleaner first, so he was just smearing the marks around. Mikey sighed and grabbed the bottle, spraying the mirror and then putting it where Gerard could reach it easily.
He looked over the rest of the room, noting that only one of the beds had had its sheets changed, that the waste basket hadn’t been emptied and there was a jacket lying on a chair, which must have been left behind by one of the guests. Mikey changed the other bed as quickly as he could, emptied the waste basket and put the jacket aside to take to the concierge desk later. He checked on Gerard again. He’d finished cleaning the mirror, but instead of starting another job, he was looking at his reflection with a horrible scowl on his face. Mikey was tempted to say something, prompt Gerard to get back to work, but he could see his brother’s reddened eyes and decided against it.
It wasn’t going to be a good day, Mikey could tell already. It was Monday morning, and there had been a lot of checkouts. It would have been a busy day even if Gerard had been working harder. By each hotel room door, there was a pad which was supposed to be signed by the slave who had cleaned the room. Mikey grabbed it and forged Gerard’s signature with an ease born from years of practice. He hurried on to his next room and tried to push himself to go faster.
It was a big workload for two people to manage. With Gerard barely functioning, it was impossible to get everything finished, although Mikey tried. He pushed himself harder than ever. When it became obvious that they weren’t going to finish all the rooms, Mikey signed off a few more rooms as Gerard’s.
At two o’clock, new check-ins would start arriving. A little before then, the hotel kitchen would put out some lunch for the slaves. It was a first come first served type of thing, though, and Mikey knew the food would be long gone before he and Gerard got there. Mikey hadn’t eaten lunch in months.
At two o’clock, a hotel employee would come and check on Mikey and Gerard’s progress. Mikey counted up the rooms and made sure that Gerard was signed off on at least half of them. He couldn’t help his brother, he couldn’t make him better, but he could do this. He could make sure Gerard wasn’t the one blamed for not finishing this floor of the hotel.
The manager wasn’t pleased when he saw how much work was undone. He didn’t say anything to Mikey. He called a few more slaves to quickly finish the last few rooms, and Mikey received a heap of glares and pointed comments about having to pick up his slack.
Then it was off to do the hotel exterior, which took another couple of hours, and after that it was another clean of the public areas before they were transported back to Horizons.
Their bus pulled into the garage, and instead of being sent off to their quarters, the slaves were summoned to the little courtyard area. Mikey had known this moment was coming ever since he signed Gerard’s name on that first sheet, so he grabbed the slave next to him, a guy named Tim who he was sort of friendly with, and said, “Hold Gerard.”
“Huh?” Tim asked, but Mikey was already being summoned by the overseer, and everyone went quiet.
There was some bullshit about what Mikey’d done, insufficient work or something. Mikey didn’t listen. He was busy listening to a scuffle over where the rest of the slaves were huddled. He could hear Gerard trying to say something, but his voice was muffled. Mikey was very grateful he spoke to Tim.
He must have missed some cue, because the overseer barked an order then and two underlings stepped forward and grabbed Mikey. They pulled his shirt off and bound his hands to the post.
Mikey hadn’t been whipped before; it was something he’d managed to avoid. He’d seen it happen to other slaves, though. He didn’t want to make too much noise, to show how much it hurt, because he didn’t want to upset Gerard. Then the first blow landed and such thoughts were the furthest thing from his mind.
At first Mikey kept count, but he lost track somewhere around ten and it seemed to go on for so much longer than that. He thought he was making noise and fighting the bindings around his wrists, but he wasn’t even sure of that. It wasn’t just the pain, it was the way he couldn’t get enough air and the way he was trying to tense and move his body with the blows, but it just didn’t work because he didn’t know where or when they were going to fall.
It was over for several minutes before Mikey actually realised. His wrists were untied without him noticing, and then he was being moved. They took him into the little infirmary near the offices and began patching him up, because God forbid he not be fit for work tomorrow. Someone washed out the wounds and bandaged them up with no care for how much they hurt. Mikey didn’t bother to complain, because he knew no one would listen.
After that, Mikey was allowed to go back to the sleeping quarters. The other slaves had already been fed dinner, and Mikey had missed out. Gerard had saved him a roll, though. Gerard handed it over with trembling fingers, his eyes huge and glued to Mikey’s face. Mikey doubted that Gerard had had anything to eat himself, and he tried to get Gerard to eat or share the roll, but he refused.
Mikey’s didn’t feel much like eating, though, and halfway through the roll he began to feel queasy. He handed it over to Gerard, who insisted on saving it ‘for later’.
The sleeping quarters were nothing special. There were no beds. There were mattresses on the floor, foam mattresses covered by thin ancient sheets. There weren’t enough to go around, though, and they tended to get monopolized by the bigger, stronger slaves. Mikey and Gerard didn’t qualify.
Gerard had managed to secure a blanket, however, and he carefully wrapped it around Mikey. He laid down on the floor and pulled Mikey against him so that he was cushioned slightly against the hardness of the ground.
It was pretty early to be going to sleep. The other voids would all be up for at least another hour, talking and playing cards, but Mikey had no interest in talking to them; would rather stay with Gerard. And Gerard wasn’t eating or working right now, so of course he was planning to sleep. Mikey rested his head on Gerard’s shoulder, and Gerard smoothed Mikey’s hair down.
“I’m sorry, Mikey,” he said.
“Not your fault,” said Mikey. It had become a reflex, automatic.
“It is, though. It is my fault.”
“No.” Mikey didn’t feel up to arguing with Gerard right then. Usually he was better at it.
“I’m sorry. You’re my little brother. I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you.”
“You do take care of me, Gee.”
After that, Mikey started to doze. He could still hear the muffled noises in the room, but stopped worrying about what they meant. He could feel Gerard’s hand on his head and the warmth from where they were pressed together. He was nearly asleep when he heard Gerard speak again.
“I’m going to do better. I’m going to look out for you; it’s my job.”
Mikey had drifted off before he could reply.
Fandom: MCR,
Pairing: Gen, Mikey and Gerard
Word Count: 1679
Rating/Warnings: Slavery, depression.
Summary: Mikey will put up with anything, as long as he can keep taking care of Gerard.
Written for hc_bingo, this fills the 'whipping/flogging' square. Follows So Long and Goodnight. You don't have to read that first, but the verse might make more sense if you do.
Berger Horizons was a cleaning company. They could clean anything. Pools, carpets, mouldy bathrooms. Houses, hospitals, schools. Whatever the job, they would get a team of voids together and send them out to get it done.
Right now, Mikey and Gerard had an assignment cleaning hotel rooms. It wasn’t too bad. Better than cleaning the public bathrooms at the mall.
Mikey and Gerard and a dozen other voids were transported to the hotel at seven am. They spent three hours cleaning the public areas; the lobby, the kitchen and dining area, the offices in the back. Checkout was at ten, and that was when they went up to clean the rooms. Mikey and Gerard were responsible for the rooms on the second floor of the east wing.
It was better than their last assignment, because it meant Mikey could keep an eye on Gerard. Gerard hadn’t been coping well. He’d never been all that good at doing what he was told. Not because he was deliberately uncooperative or defiant. He just tended to get distracted and forget what he was supposed to be doing, and he didn’t keep track of time very well. It hadn’t been an issue when they lived with Elena. She had been good to them, and Gerard hadn’t got lost in his thoughts quite so much. But she was dead, and Gerard missed her terribly. If Mikey came across Gerard halfway through a dozen different jobs, or looking out the window with the vacuum unplugged beside him, he would almost always turn to Mikey and offer some memory of their grandmother.
Things were better now that Mikey could be nearby to remind Gerard what he was supposed to be doing. For awhile, Gerard had been getting into less trouble, but now he was getting worse. If they weren’t working, he was sleeping, and he always looked tired. He had no appetite. He was always trying to hand his leftovers off to Mikey, and it wasn’t as though they got a lot to eat. And he tried to hide it, but Mikey could always tell when he’d been crying, and that had been happening a lot more too.
They had been cleaning the empty rooms for two hours, and Mikey went a second time to check on Gerard. He found him wiping down a mirror in one of the ensuites, but he’d forgotten to spray the glass cleaner first, so he was just smearing the marks around. Mikey sighed and grabbed the bottle, spraying the mirror and then putting it where Gerard could reach it easily.
He looked over the rest of the room, noting that only one of the beds had had its sheets changed, that the waste basket hadn’t been emptied and there was a jacket lying on a chair, which must have been left behind by one of the guests. Mikey changed the other bed as quickly as he could, emptied the waste basket and put the jacket aside to take to the concierge desk later. He checked on Gerard again. He’d finished cleaning the mirror, but instead of starting another job, he was looking at his reflection with a horrible scowl on his face. Mikey was tempted to say something, prompt Gerard to get back to work, but he could see his brother’s reddened eyes and decided against it.
It wasn’t going to be a good day, Mikey could tell already. It was Monday morning, and there had been a lot of checkouts. It would have been a busy day even if Gerard had been working harder. By each hotel room door, there was a pad which was supposed to be signed by the slave who had cleaned the room. Mikey grabbed it and forged Gerard’s signature with an ease born from years of practice. He hurried on to his next room and tried to push himself to go faster.
It was a big workload for two people to manage. With Gerard barely functioning, it was impossible to get everything finished, although Mikey tried. He pushed himself harder than ever. When it became obvious that they weren’t going to finish all the rooms, Mikey signed off a few more rooms as Gerard’s.
At two o’clock, new check-ins would start arriving. A little before then, the hotel kitchen would put out some lunch for the slaves. It was a first come first served type of thing, though, and Mikey knew the food would be long gone before he and Gerard got there. Mikey hadn’t eaten lunch in months.
At two o’clock, a hotel employee would come and check on Mikey and Gerard’s progress. Mikey counted up the rooms and made sure that Gerard was signed off on at least half of them. He couldn’t help his brother, he couldn’t make him better, but he could do this. He could make sure Gerard wasn’t the one blamed for not finishing this floor of the hotel.
The manager wasn’t pleased when he saw how much work was undone. He didn’t say anything to Mikey. He called a few more slaves to quickly finish the last few rooms, and Mikey received a heap of glares and pointed comments about having to pick up his slack.
Then it was off to do the hotel exterior, which took another couple of hours, and after that it was another clean of the public areas before they were transported back to Horizons.
Their bus pulled into the garage, and instead of being sent off to their quarters, the slaves were summoned to the little courtyard area. Mikey had known this moment was coming ever since he signed Gerard’s name on that first sheet, so he grabbed the slave next to him, a guy named Tim who he was sort of friendly with, and said, “Hold Gerard.”
“Huh?” Tim asked, but Mikey was already being summoned by the overseer, and everyone went quiet.
There was some bullshit about what Mikey’d done, insufficient work or something. Mikey didn’t listen. He was busy listening to a scuffle over where the rest of the slaves were huddled. He could hear Gerard trying to say something, but his voice was muffled. Mikey was very grateful he spoke to Tim.
He must have missed some cue, because the overseer barked an order then and two underlings stepped forward and grabbed Mikey. They pulled his shirt off and bound his hands to the post.
Mikey hadn’t been whipped before; it was something he’d managed to avoid. He’d seen it happen to other slaves, though. He didn’t want to make too much noise, to show how much it hurt, because he didn’t want to upset Gerard. Then the first blow landed and such thoughts were the furthest thing from his mind.
At first Mikey kept count, but he lost track somewhere around ten and it seemed to go on for so much longer than that. He thought he was making noise and fighting the bindings around his wrists, but he wasn’t even sure of that. It wasn’t just the pain, it was the way he couldn’t get enough air and the way he was trying to tense and move his body with the blows, but it just didn’t work because he didn’t know where or when they were going to fall.
It was over for several minutes before Mikey actually realised. His wrists were untied without him noticing, and then he was being moved. They took him into the little infirmary near the offices and began patching him up, because God forbid he not be fit for work tomorrow. Someone washed out the wounds and bandaged them up with no care for how much they hurt. Mikey didn’t bother to complain, because he knew no one would listen.
After that, Mikey was allowed to go back to the sleeping quarters. The other slaves had already been fed dinner, and Mikey had missed out. Gerard had saved him a roll, though. Gerard handed it over with trembling fingers, his eyes huge and glued to Mikey’s face. Mikey doubted that Gerard had had anything to eat himself, and he tried to get Gerard to eat or share the roll, but he refused.
Mikey’s didn’t feel much like eating, though, and halfway through the roll he began to feel queasy. He handed it over to Gerard, who insisted on saving it ‘for later’.
The sleeping quarters were nothing special. There were no beds. There were mattresses on the floor, foam mattresses covered by thin ancient sheets. There weren’t enough to go around, though, and they tended to get monopolized by the bigger, stronger slaves. Mikey and Gerard didn’t qualify.
Gerard had managed to secure a blanket, however, and he carefully wrapped it around Mikey. He laid down on the floor and pulled Mikey against him so that he was cushioned slightly against the hardness of the ground.
It was pretty early to be going to sleep. The other voids would all be up for at least another hour, talking and playing cards, but Mikey had no interest in talking to them; would rather stay with Gerard. And Gerard wasn’t eating or working right now, so of course he was planning to sleep. Mikey rested his head on Gerard’s shoulder, and Gerard smoothed Mikey’s hair down.
“I’m sorry, Mikey,” he said.
“Not your fault,” said Mikey. It had become a reflex, automatic.
“It is, though. It is my fault.”
“No.” Mikey didn’t feel up to arguing with Gerard right then. Usually he was better at it.
“I’m sorry. You’re my little brother. I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you.”
“You do take care of me, Gee.”
After that, Mikey started to doze. He could still hear the muffled noises in the room, but stopped worrying about what they meant. He could feel Gerard’s hand on his head and the warmth from where they were pressed together. He was nearly asleep when he heard Gerard speak again.
“I’m going to do better. I’m going to look out for you; it’s my job.”
Mikey had drifted off before he could reply.