Zero Percent - Part Two
"Mikey, what the fuck?" Gerard is pissed, the ground around him littered with cigarette butts, his face thunderous. “Where were you?"
"Just took a little longer. Why didn't you go in?" Mikey shrugs and plucks the cigarette from between Gerard’s lips, taking a drag himself. Neither of them have a watch and Mikey doesn't have a sense of time at all. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’s late.
"Mikey," Gerard huffs, raking a hand through his hair. Mikey hates it when Gerard’s like this. He's twenty; he doesn't need a fucking babysitter.
A heartbeat later Mikey feels bad for thinking that. Gerard is only trying to keep him, keep them, safe.
"Sorry," he holds the cigarette out to Gerard with an apologetic smile. For a second Gerard looks like he's going to stay mad, but then his shoulders sag and he takes the cigarette with a sigh.
"You okay?" he mumbles around it, looking Mikey over like he's checking for injuries.
"Yeah. Ran into Frank. Forgot about the time." If he's not honest Gerard is going to assume that he met with a dealer or some bullshit.
"Frank? Dude's everywhere lately," Gerard says, sounding the slightest bit grumpy. He drops the cigarette to the ground and juts his chin in direction of the store. "C'mon, I think they got some new stuff in and Bob’s working."
Bob's a really cool guy who’s in a few afternoons a week. He never gives them shit about reading in the store and not buying anything.
"Cool,” Mikey reaches out and takes Gerard’s hand, tugging him along into the store.
~
"Why would you think that all remakes of horror movies are bad? You gotta give some of them a chance!" Ray huffs and puts a bowl of water down in front of Zero before taking a seat across from Frank, trying to stare him down.
Frank raises an eyebrow and shoves another forkful of lasagna into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully and taking his time.
"Because I'm a man of class," Frank finally points out, waving his fork around and getting tiny splatters of tomato sauce all over the table.
"Classics don't always equal class," Ray huffs.
Frank licks his fork and shakes his head. "Totally. I don't believe in remakes."
"You have no idea what you're missing out on," Ray throws his hands up in exasperation.
"I can live without knowing." Frank finishes his food with a happy sigh, scrapping the last bits of cheese and sauce from the plate.
"Whatever. I'm gonna bring you some DVDs and then you need to watch them. You can't form a valid opinion without at least knowing what you're talking about," Ray decides, petting Zero when the dog keeps rubbing against his leg.
"Sure. If you buy me a portable DVD player." Frank puts his fork down on the plate with a clatter that's feels too loud. He can tell exactly when Ray realizes his mistake because his eyes widen and he looks incredibly guilty.
"Sorry. That. . . that was stupid." Ray mumbles, scratching his shoulder.
If this was a normal social situation Ray would invite Frank to his place now to watch some movies, but that’s not going to happen. Because Frank isn't one of Ray’s acquaintances that might turn into a friend. Frank is just a homeless guy slash charity case.
"Yeah, it was."
Ray shifts and purses his lips, tucking strands of hair behind his ears. He looks so deeply uncomfortable that Frank starts to feel bad.
"Sorry," Frank mutters, knuckling at his eyes tiredly. "Sometimes it's just." He shrugs, not knowing what to say. Because it fucking sucks all the time and sometimes he gets so tired. He doesn't want to freeze and wonder where his next meal is going to come from. Doesn't want to sleep outside in alleys that reek. Doesn't want people to look at him like he's scum.
All Frank wants is to shower and sleep in a bed and have as much to eat as he wants. Even if it was just for one night, it'd give him hope.
"It's okay. Really, I'm sorry," Ray says again.
"I still say remakes are not worth it." Frank kicks Ray under the table and grins. Ray rolls his eyes and kicks Frank back.
"Dorothy said you should stop by the kitchen before you leave, she's got tea for you."
Hot tea is awesome, because Frank's throat is killing and it's cold outside, but Frank can't work up any kind of enthusiasm. As if he needed another reminder tonight.
"Cool, thanks." Frank drums his fingers against the tabletop. He's itching for a cigarette, but he's trying to smoke as little as possible, making the pack Mikey gave him last as long as he can.
Ray's looking like he bit into a slice of lemon again and Frank knows it's his fault. He's got a talent to make situations uncomfortable.
"Diamond Dogs or Ziggy Stardust?" Frank asks. He's annoyed, but he doesn't want Ray to go away. He spends so much time on his own that sometimes all Frank wants is to talk to another human being. Just to make sure that he still exists and hasn’t faded away.
Ray's eyes widen before he splutters. "You can't compare the two! It's, like, entirely different levels."
Frank leans back in his chair and listens to Ray, pretending that he’s normal, having a normal conversation with his friend in a coffeeshop.
~
As soon as he gets into the car Mikey knows that it’s going to be a bad night. The john has the kind of look Mikey’s come to associate with hard earned money. He isn’t nervous or fidgety like the first timers, or the ones pretending they’re straight. He’s cool and collected and that’s always dangerous.
Sitting in the passenger seat Mikey swallows against the rising anxiety. He wishes he’d listened to Gerard and not done his last line so early. Being high would have helped so much.
The radio isn’t turned on and the silence is suffocating just like the smell of leather, stale smoke and the guys nauseating aftershave. The car fits the guy perfectly. He’s on the pudgy side, hair slicked back and heavy gold chains around his neck.
Mikey half-closes his eyes and watches the lights of the city fly by, mentally repeating that this is going to be over soon and they'll be set for the night. He can get Gerard food and cigarettes while Gerard gets him coke.
By the time the car slows to a halt Mikey is marginally calmer, but it feels more like the calm before a storm.
"Out," the man snaps and Mikey undoes the seatbelt with shaky fingers. His palms are damp. After the stuffiness of the car the cold air outside is a relief. Mikey knows the motel they've stopped at, though it isn't one of his regular places.
Mikey follows the man inside and stands quietly behind him as he gets them a room; the guy at the reception desk doesn't look at them twice. They walk over to the elevator in silence and when the door closes with a rattling sound Mikey exhales sharply. All he needs to do is stay calm.
It'll be over soon.
~
It's not like Frank is expecting Mikey to show up again, so when he looks up and down the street, scanning the crowd it doesn't mean that he's keeping an eye out. Nope. He’s just got nothing better to do, so that's what he does. People watching.
The weather is lousy, cold and damp, creeping under protective layers of clothes. Mikey and Gerard are probably cozy and warm in a hotel room somewhere. Not that Frank's bitter.
Sighing he wraps the blanket tighter around himself and curls up, Zero a tiny ball of warmth in his lap. His throat itches and his nose feels blocked. The next few days are going to be rotten, more so than usual.
Frank closes his eyes for a few minutes, dozing while the noise of the crowd washes over him. When someone clears their throat Frank's eyes fly open in panic. If it's the cops he'll have to grab Zero and run. Fuck, he really can't use this right now. His lungs are going to explode if he has to run.
Peering up carefully it takes Frank a few seconds to realize that it’s Mikey standing in front of him, wearing the same clothes as always, but he's hunched into himself, shoulders almost up to his ears. One side of his face is bruised and his lips swollen.
"Hey," he doesn't meet Frank's eyes as he speaks. "I'm. Just. Can I stay here for a bit?"
It's the oddest kind of request, but Frank nods before he even thinks about it and detangles himself from the blanket.
Mikey sits down gingerly, moving in a way that tells Frank that more bruises are hidden underneath his clothes. He drapes the blanket over them, a smile crossing his face when Zero immediately squirms into Mikey's lap and licks his hand. There's a flicker of emotion on Mikey's face as he pets Zero.
Frank manages to stay silent for about thirty seconds before he bursts out "Had a rough night?"
Mikey shrugs, clearly not willing to talk about it. "We needed the money," is all he says, all he needs to say.
"Shit, man," Frank shakes his head. In comparison his life doesn’t look quite so bad.
Mikey shrugs again, like it's no big deal. To him it probably isn't. Frank feels stupidly sheltered all of a sudden.
Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth Frank reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and gets the battered pack of cigarettes out, holding it out for Mikey with a wry smile. "Want one?"
Mikey cracks a smile and takes the pack from Frank. "Thanks," he mutters, putting a cigarette between his lips.
He lights it and takes a long drag, exhaling with a sigh of satisfaction, head falling back against the brick wall. Frank watches him from behind his greasy fringe, noting the stark contrast of pale skin and purple bruises. He doesn't want to indulge in that train of thought. Wondering how Mikey got marked is a road that leads to dark places.
"You into music?" Frank asks as the silence drags out. It's a good conversation starter and he's got opinions about music, okay?
"Yes," Mikey replies.
"What do you like to listen to then?" Frank prompts and leans back as well, pulling his knees up to his chest and curling into the blanket.
"Hm." Mikey takes another drag. "Lots of stuff. I really like the Smashing Pumpkins."
"The Pumpkins are awesome," Frank agrees, slightly relieved. It would've been such a bummer if it turned out that Mikey had completely shit taste in music.
"You ever seen them live?" Mikey asks, cracking his eyes open and looking over at Frank, who shakes his head. "I was at the Madison Square Garden show. It was fucking unreal." Mikey smiles at the memory. "My brother got us the tickets."
"Woah, I'm belatedly jealous." It’s weird to talk about this, reminding Frank that for both, Mikey and he, there had been a life before the street. To Frank that life is a distant memory, a dream with the colors fading along the edges.
"It was cool," Mikey says again, sucking on the cigarette. He's fidgeting, a little more restless than before and squinting in the light. The bruises on his face must be hurting.
"I really wanted to go but my mom wouldn't let me," Frank explains, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie. Even two years later it still hurts to think about her, hurts to know that she's not here anymore to sit him down and make him a cup of cocoa, promising that everything is going to be all right, that they'll work it out.
"My mom didn't know we were going, she would've never let me. But Gerard was in college already, so we just said I was going to spend the weekend with him. Which I did."
Frank laughs. "So you were actually telling the truth, just without the details."
"Yep," A grin flashes across Mikey's face and Frank's throat tightens. He wishes he'd known Mikey back then. He would've liked to see that mischievous smile without the constant wariness.
Mikey takes a last drag of his cigarette before he stubs it out on the ground next to him and huddles closer to Frank, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders.
"Tired?" Frank asks, deeply sympathetic. He doesn’t know when he last got a good night's sleep. Months ago, probably.
"Not really." Mikey shakes his head. This close up Frank can see that the skin around his nose is an angry red.
"Just sayin’, it might be boring for you to sit here. Nothing much happens all day," Frank points out and almost bites down on his tongue. He doesn't want Mikey to leave, but at the same time he feels like there are more exciting places to be for him.
"Not looking for excitement," Mikey mutters, something unspoken in the way his body tenses. "Just needed a break."
Frank nods, not even trying to make sense of it. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, Zero asleep between them, half sprawled out in Frank's lap with his head resting on Mikey's thigh. Frank hopes that he's warm enough under the blanket.
Next to him Mikey sniffles more frequently and Frank is about to ask if he's coming down with a cold when he notices the red smears under Mikey's nose.
"Dude," Frank sits up a little straighter and Mikey snaps from whatever trance he was in.
"What?"
"You. . . you've got. Uh. Your nose," Frank stutters, flapping his hands under the blanket.
"What?" Mikey reaches up and gingerly touches his nose. His fingers come away red. He looks at them for a few seconds before shrugging and tugging the sleeve of his hoodie down over his hand and holding it against his nose.
"That happen often?" Frank asks because fucking hell, he's not as nonchalant as Mikey, who's got a fucking nosebleed and acts all casual about it. What if it's because the bruises burst something inside Mikey's skull?
"Kinda, yeah."
As much as he likes talking to Mikey, sometimes Frank wants to bash his head against a wall. It's like trying to teach a kitten to speak.
"The cold?" Frank prods further. It's freezing and his nose is fucking hurting.
"The coke," Mikey nods.
Oh.
Oh. It takes a few seconds for Frank's brain to catch up. He feels like a fish, starring with his mouth open, before he pulls himself out of it. Obviously it's not a big deal for Mikey, so why would Frank make a big deal out of it?
Gingerly Frank sits back against the wall and scratches behind Zero's ears. Next to him Mikey is breathing through his mouth and Frank listens to the rhythm of it for a few minutes before he turns.
"Lemme have a look."
Mikey allows him to pull his hand away from his nose, the material of his black hoodie shining wet in places. There's blood smeared around Mikey's nose, but it looks mostly dry. Frank carefully prods the sides of Mikey's nose, though he doesn't know why that is going to help.
"I think you're okay," he finally says, just because there's no more blood coming out of Mikey's nose right at this moment. "Really gotta clean up though."
Mikey wrinkles his nose, reminding Frank of a grouchy kitten.
"C'mon there's a public restroom just down the road."
Mikey looks incredibly put upon but eventually gets up with a sigh. It startles Zero awake, who looks around in confusion before he huffs and curls up against Frank's stomach.
Frank watches Mikey walking down the street, shoulders pulled up and going in zig zag lines to avoid any kind of close proximity to other people. When he eventually disappears in the crowd Frank sags back against the wall, rubbing his eyes. All of this is really fucking confusing, but he enjoys Mikey's company enough that he's willing to stick around for a while longer and see where this goes.
~
Gerard isn't freaking out. Totally not. Mikey is old enough to look after himself.
But it's getting late and as much as their days are without schedule, their nights aren't.
Mikey was upset when he left. Not that he said so, Mikey would never do that, but Gerard has always been able to read his brother like an open book.
Tilting his head back Gerard finishes his coffee and throws the empty paper cup away. Squaring his shoulders he turns and walks down the street. Mikey wasn't at Starbucks or the record store, so there's only one place left for Gerard to check.
The streets aren't crowded this time of the day, the rush hour traffic long gone. The few people passing Gerard are hurrying home, eager to escape the cold and be with their families and loved ones, catch their favorite show on TV. It's a feeling Gerard doesn't really know anymore. His steps are slow as he walks without destination, nobody waiting for him.
Gerard's fingers curl in the pockets of his leather jacket. He desperately needs a pair of gloves, but there are always more important things they have to buy.
A little further up the road Gerard spots two people sitting on the ground, huddled underneath a grey blanket that might've been blue some time ago. Gerard's steps speed up and as he draws closer it becomes clear that one of the two is definitely Mikey. He's still bruised and looks miserable, but he's less fidgety, looking up at the sky through heavily-lidded eyes.
All Gerard can see of Frank is a mop of black hair, his head resting on Mikey's shoulder. The last few steps Gerard slows down until he's standing in front of them. Mikey doesn't move, eyes glassy. He's good at tuning out the world.
"Mikey." Gerard nudges Mikey's foot with his own. Before his brother can react a lump starts moving under the blanket and a tiny dog emerges, straightens up to his full height - which isn't very impressive - and barks at Gerard. He looks about as menacing as a mouse.
"Zero, c'mere," Mikey mumbles, snapped from his trance. The dog looks from Gerard to Mikey and back, growling at Gerard again to make his point before he trots over to Mikey's side and flops down.
"Made a new friend?" Gerard tries to keep the bite out of his voice. He's not jealous or anything because Mikey spent his day with Frank, cuddling.
Mikey is about to shrug but remembers Frank sleeping on his shoulder and stops. His dismissiveness makes Gerard's blood boil, even though the rational part of his brain reminds him that Mikey's often like that, especially after coming down.
"It's late," he snaps, lips twisting. "We need to go." He wishes he could give Mikey a break to recover, but it's Monday and Mondays are always fucking slow. Gerard is never going to make enough for coke, food, and a motel room on his own.
"Okay." Mikey pets Zero before he shifts and nudges Frank with his shoulder. Frank groans and burrows his face in Mikey's neck, sending a hot flash of anger down Gerard's spine.
"Frank, c'mon," Mikey mumbles, trying to dislodge Frank from his side. Eventually Frank blinks and sits up a little. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights at first and Gerard can tell the exact moment he realizes where he is by the way his shoulders drop.
"Fuck, sorry. Didn't mean to fall asleep." Frank scrubs at his eyes and coughs. He's still pressed to Mikey's side.
"It's cool." Mikey pats Frank's shoulder.
"We need to go." Gerard is getting impatient. For the first time since he woke up Frank looks up at him.
"Oh. Hi." Surprise turns into a smile that Gerard doesn't return.
"Gotta go." Mikey scratches Zero's head again before he squirms out from under the blanket and wraps it back around Frank.
Once he's on his feet it takes all of Gerard's self-discipline not to grab Mikey's hand.
"Um. Sure. I'll . . . see you around?" Frank sounds hopeful and it annoys Gerard.
“Yeah.” Mikey’s reply comes slowly and Gerard knows it’s not only because he’s considering the best way to phrase his answer, but also working up the courage to say the words.
“I’ll come by tomorrow if I can.”
Frank’s smile is so wide it should make the corners of his mouth crack. Gerard feels like he’s going to throw up.
~
It’s an easy night because Gerard makes sure to send the easy customers Mikey’s way.
Mikey isn’t feeling too grateful because it means that Gerard has to deal with the assholes.
His brother has been in a mood all day and all Mikey wants is some weed to come down and a bed to curl up in.
Mikey has no idea what time it is when Gerard shuffles over and suggests they call it a night. It’s still pitch-black and definitely a lot earlier than usual, when they stay until the bitter end, trying to make a few more bucks off the really desperate.
But Mikey trusts Gerard to have made sure they have enough money, so he pushes away from the wall.
“Motel?”
“Yes.” Gerard scratches his head. He really needs a shower. “The one near Dunkin Donuts tonight.”
If they’re going to the really cheap place with only one bathroom per floor and sheets with holes in them they haven’t made much money.
They walk in silence, Mikey enjoying the crisp air against his skin and opening his mouth to see if he can taste it. Walking through the deserted streets feels intimate, like he and Gerard are the only people left in the world.
Mikey would’ve liked to walk for much longer, but they’re at the motel a few minutes later. He lets Gerard check them in and follows him up the creaking stairs to the second floor. It’s quiet, so not a lot of rooms are booked or everyone is asleep already.
Stumbling into the room Mikey makes a beeline for the bed but Gerard catches him around the waist and holds him back.
“Gee.” Mikey mumbles, taking another staggering step forward, trying to pull his brother along.
“Love you, Mikey.” Gerard buries his face in Mikey’s neck and speaks the words against his skin like a secret.
“Love you too, Gee. Really wanna lie down now though. You got something?” The bruises on his body are throbbing and Mikey’s lips feel hot and swollen.
Gerard sighs and his arms tighten around Mikey for a second. “Shower first?”
Mikey grumbles, but Gerard is right. He isn’t going to want to do anything but melt into the mattress after smoking up.
“Fine.” He leans back against Gerard for a second before they both stumble towards the door. They never shower alone in places like this. The bathroom doors don’t lock properly and the stalls are too open for comfort.
As they walk to the bathroom Gerard keeps peering around nervously and it makes Mikey paranoid, his steps speeding up. An ugly door with peeling, white paint says “bathroom”. It squeaks horribly when they open it. Mikey holds his breath for a few seconds, only exhaling once Gerard has checked all the stalls.
Mikey walks to the stall furthest away from the door. The tiled floor is wet and dirty and the shower head rusty, pipes rattling when Gerard turns on the water so it warms up while they undress. There is nowhere to put their clothes, so they hang them over the thin wall separating the second and third stall.
It’s fucking cold in the room and goosebumps rise on Mikey’s skin. Gerard’s hand is like a block of ice on his back as he steers him into the shower. The tiles beneath his feet are slippery and damp.
The first contact with the hot spray feels like heaven. Mikey hums and shuffles forward, wishing he could submerge his entire body in that warmth, flush the cold and hurt out of his system.
Mikey reaches back with his hand and it only takes a second before Gerard is plastered against his back, skin warming quickly in the shower.
For a while they stand and let the water wash over them. It doesn’t take the bruises away or fill out the places where skin is pulled too taut over bones, but it washes some of the stink of other people down the drain. Mikey wishes they had shower gel, something that smells clean and fresh. Maybe he can talk Gerard into buying a travel-sized bottle tomorrow.
Against his back Gerard is still tense, arms locked around Mikey’s waist like he’s afraid Mikey’s going to disappear down the drain.
“Hey.” Mikey squirms and turns, studying Gerard from up-close. “What’s up?”
Sometimes Gerard will get weird, but usually not this weird. Not without a reason.
“Nothing.” Gerard mumbles, not meeting Mikey’s eyes. He’s always been a rotten liar.
“What?” Mikey asks again, hands framing Gerard’s face and forcing him to look up. “No secrets, remember?”
Gerard sighs. His eyes flutter closed when Mikey’s fingers scratch his scalp.
“Why’d you go stay with Frank?”
“Because you were annoying,” Mikey huffs, fingers digging in a little more.
“Sorry. You shoulda said.” That tone is the reason Mikey didn’t. Gerard’s sad and disappointed voice is one of the worst things in the world.
“It’s fine. Frank is nice, I wanted to go see him anyway.”
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because Gerard frowns and presses closer, pushing Mikey back against the wall. The tiles are cold against his back.
“What’s it about this Frank guy anyway?”
Mikey shrugs because what the hell is Gerard’s problem? “He’s nice. And Zero’s nice too.” Mikey feels comfortable talking to Frank and sometimes he needs time away from Gerard’s and his routine, passing the time until it is time for work.
“Right.” Gerard’s voice is as tense as his body and Mikey sighs.
“Gee.” Mikey presses his palms a little more firmly against Gerard’s cheeks and leans in for a close-lipped kiss. Gerard stands stock-still for a few seconds, fingers digging into Mikey’s hips, before he gives in with a sigh.
“I don’t trust him.”
Yes, definitely one of the Gerard things Mikey doesn’t understand.
“Why?”
“Dunno,” Gerard shrugs, forehead leaned against Mikey’s, tips of their noses touching as Mikey turns his head ever-so-slightly.
“If he wanted to kill me and dump my body in the river he would’ve done that already,” Mikey points out, wincing when Gerard’s fingers dig in so much it hurts.
“Don’t even fucking say shit like that.”
“Sorry.” Sometimes Gerard gets sensitive like that. Mikey runs his fingers through the tangled mess of Gerard’s red hair, trying to separate some of the strands while Gerard stands there, eyes closed, just breathing. In and out, in and out. It’s so calm a pattern that it gives away the effort behind it.
“He’s not gonna hurt me,” Mikey says eventually, holding his hands under the slowly cooling spray of water so the few strands of red hair wound between his fingers get washed away.
“You don’t know that.” Gerard blinks his eyes open, lashes stuck together. He’s still frowning and gently prods at Mikey’s swollen lip.
“You’re just jealous.” Mikey knows he’s right when Gerard doesn’t reply and leans in, kissing the bruise on Mikey’s collarbone. Gerard’s finger trails down over Mikey’s chest as he inspects the angry marks.
“You know you don’t have to, right?” Mikey asks, looking down as he watches, wet hair hanging in his face. “I’ll always love you best.”
Gerard looks up at that and for the first time since this afternoon he smiles.
“Promise?”
Mikey leans down for another kiss. “Promise.”
How Gerard can even consider Mikey leaving him for someone else is beyond him. Mikey nearly chokes on some water as he snorts. Sometimes his brother’s got the strangest ideas.
~
Frank hasn’t seen Mikey in three days. Not that he actually believed him when he said he’d come by again. If Frank’s learnt one thing it’s that hope is motherfucking stupid. Besides, he doesn’t have time to worry about Mikey.
He’s only got one can of food left for Zero, his throat is raw, his chest hurts and he can’t take a deep breath without coughing. He’s constantly cold and really, Mikey is the last thing on his mind.
“You all right?”
Frank blinks blearily at Ray. He completely zoned out on Ray’s explanation of his cell phone’s stupid battery bug.
“Sure,” he mutters, looking down miserably at the chicken burger on his plate. He used to be vegetarian, but these days Frank can’t be picky. The thought of food scraping down his throat makes Frank shudder. “Just tired.”
“Did you . . . oh.” Ray stops himself and judging by the sheepish look he remembered halfway through what he was thinking that Frank is homeless and doesn’t do all the things Ray and his perfectly normal friends do.
“I should get going.” There’s no reason to, it’s not like Frank has anywhere to be, but being here makes him even more miserable. Zero looks up blearily at Frank and sighs, sounding incredibly put upon as he stumbles to his feet.
“Right.” Ray looks slightly confused, but Frank’s eyes are burning and standing is kind of hard. He’s going to be extra nice tomorrow or something.
“See ya,” he waves before tugging on Zero’s leash and dragging his feet, swallowing hard. His alley seems too far away from here. He might as well be walking to the end of the world.
It’s so cold outside that breathing hurts. Frank huddles into his jacket, pulls his ratty scarf up over his nose. It makes breathing really gross because Frank doesn’t like to have his germ-infested breath reflected back on his face, but it’s better than suffocating on air. Though the irony would almost make it worth it. Frank’d probably make the front page of the newspaper. ‘Homeless scum died because of cold air. One rat less in the city.’ It’d be kind of awesome, but nobody would look after Zero and that? That would suck.
Frank let’s go of the bleak death scenarios running through his mind, because thinking about not a single person in the entire world missing him hurts, and picks up Zero, who’s getting slower and slower and making little, disgruntled dog noises.
“Princess,” Frank mutters, but smiles into his scarf when Zero licks his jacket and curls up against his shoulder like a baby. His dog? Is spoilt. Frank wouldn’t have it any other way.
He trudges on, keeping his eyes down on the sidewalk. There’s a sharpness in the air that promises snow. Frank tries not to worry about it. He can deal with the situation once it actually snows, try and find a dry spot to stay. Winter fucking sucks. Not that there is ever a good time to be homeless, but summer is definitely preferable. Only sometimes the heat makes Frank really fucking sick if he doesn’t get enough food or runs to the public restroom all the time to refill his water bottle. Still, so much better than this winter bullshit.
When he finally reaches his corner Frank is ready to collapse. His heart’s beating too fast and he’s got trouble catching his breath. Zero is a dead weight in his arms.
“C’mon, gotta take the last few steps on your own,” Frank mutters and lets the dog down, but keeps a tight hold on his leash. He’s managed to walk all the way, but all of a sudden his knees feel weak and he stumbles towards the alley where his things are stored, barely able to pull the blanket out from behind the dumpster before sinking down on the cold ground and curling up, breathing hard. Zero noses his way under the blanket and Frank makes sure they’re both covered before his eyes fall closed. He’s resting them, just for a second. Falling asleep here would be fucking stupid.
Really.fucking.stupid.
A kick to his side jolts Frank awake. His brain is still foggy with sleep and at first he isn’t even able to open his eyes because his eyelids are too heavy. Slowly his brain registers a low whining sound and voices. Frank feels sick with the urgency to wake up. His body is too fucking slow, even the movement of eyelids fluttering sluggish.
The adrenaline finally kick-starts Frank’s body and he looks up, blinking against the last remains of sleep. There’re three guys standing over him, all of them looking young enough for Frank to assume that they shouldn’t be out anymore. They’re sneering and one of them laughs before he pulls his leg back. It is then that Frank realizes with horror that Zero’s standing in front of him, teeth bared and growling. Before Frank can do anything the guy kicks Zero’s side and sends the tiny dog flying against the wall with a heart-breaking wail.
The guys laugh and Frank sees red. He’s on his feet before he knows it, stumbling over the blanket.
“Look who’s finally decided to wake up. Fuckin’ lazy asshole.”
Frank doesn’t know which of them says it. He doesn’t care. They can say whatever they want about him, but hurting his dog? Is not on.
Frank punches one of the guys square in the face before they even realize what is going on.
One against three, it’s fucking hopeless, but for now Frank’s got the advantage of the surprise moment.
“Motherfucker!”
One of them pounces on Frank before he can throw a second punch, almost sending them both toppling to the ground. The second guy steps up in front of Frank and punches him in the stomach. Fuck. Frank thinks he’s going to throw up.
“Fuckin’ faggot’s got the nerve to touch us. You should crawl back into the hole you came from!”
Frank struggles and tries to squirm out of the guy’s hold. It was so unbelievably stupid to start something instead of running away, but anger still runs hot through Frank’s veins. Anger and shame he’d never admit to.
The guys’ jeering turns into static noise in Frank’s ears as his eyes dart around, seek Zero’s form, and a way of escape. He can’t take the three of them and he doesn’t want to end up dead in an alley. He might be scum, but even he deserves better than that.
A fist hits Frank hard in the jaw and his head twists to the side with a strangled sound of pain. His headache amplifies to brain-splitting levels.
Frank’s been in enough pits and bar fights in his time to know how to stand his ground, but he’s sick and there are three of them. As soon as he gets a moment to catch his breath he slams his foot down on the guy’s toes as hard as he can, making him yelp. He loosens his grip for a second and Frank takes his chances and pushes away with all his might. He nearly falls but the adrenaline keeps him going, scrambling to pick up Zero and get the hell out of here.
He can hear the guys yelling, their sneakers squeaking on the concrete, but Frank’s got a lifetime of running and hiding on them. The air burns in his lungs. Frank doesn’t slow down, just keeps going. Zero is terrifyingly still in his arms.
Frank turns corners randomly. He’s got no idea where he is, but it doesn’t matter. He only slows down when he’s absolutely certain that no one is following him anymore. Frank’s breathing is ragged and as soon as he stops his body begins to tremble, knees weak and almost giving out. It doesn’t matter.
“Zero, hey, hey buddy,” Frank crouches down and puts Zero carefully in his lap, stroking his side. He’s breathing and looking at Frank, eyes bright and alert. When he moves he whines a little, but overall he seems to be fine. Frank exhales shakily and falls back onto his ass, curling over his dog protectively.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Zero’s fur. He wishes he could take him to the vet to make sure that he’s okay. Maybe he can look at the library’s computer when the mobile vet is going to be in town. If Frank gives them big enough eyes they’ll treat Zero for free.
“We’re okay,” Frank mumbles again, but he doesn’t know for whose benefit. Zero licks his neck and Frank holds him as close as he dares.
~
The past few days are a blur of pain, smoke and the dusty smell of motel sheets. Mikey’s bruises hurt more on the second day than on the first and Gerard had snuck him a constant supply of weed, only giving out the coke before work. Mikey had slept a lot more than usual, even napped in the corner of a Starbucks booth while Gerard drew on napkins. He had wanted to go see Frank, but his limbs were filled with lead and the thought of walking too exhausting.
And now Frank’s gone. Mikey stares at the ground, but Frank doesn’t magically appear. He doesn’t sit a few meters away either. He’s gone. Mikey swallows against the lump in his throat. He doesn’t know why he’s disappointed. Not like it matters, right? Friends come and go, and he hasn’t known Frank for very long.
Mikey curls his fingers into the pockets of his coat and turns to walk away, sighing. He blames feeling queasy on not having eaten enough.
For a while Mikey wanders around, trying to pass the time and not think of anything in particular. It doesn’t work. Whenever a dog barks he hopes it’s Zero. He glances into every alley he passes in hopes of finding Frank. It’s ridiculous and Mikey’s frustrated with himself.
This is why you don’t get attached. Attachment equals doom. He can never mention this to Gerard or he’ll go into full big brother mode, giving Mikey the entire ‘I told you so’ speech, complete with sad headshake. If Mikey has to sit through one more of Gerard’s big brother speeches he’s going to knock himself unconscious.
Mikey shakes his head and goes to buy himself a venti Latte at Starbucks instead. Wandering the cold streets with a hot drink in hand is so much nicer.
Mikey’s close to the comic book store, when he sees a dog in front of a supermarket, starring forlornly at the sliding doors. Mikey bites down on the straw of his drink and squints. It looks like Zero, but that doesn’t mean anything. A lot of dogs look alike.
When the dog spots him he starts wagging his tail excitedly and strains against the leash keeping him chained to the wall. The closer Mikey gets the faster the tail-wagging gets. There’s no way it’s not Zero.
“Hey you.” Mikey crouches down and holds out his hand, grinning when Zero licks it. He pets the dog’s head and takes a sip of coffee. Every now and then luck’s on his side.
Mikey finishes his coffee and puts the cup down. Zero immediately takes it upon himself to inspect it closely.
“Coffee’s amazing, but I think you’re too tiny to have any,” Mikey mumbles, shifting a little when his knees start to hurt. Kneeling he can do, but crouching his body isn’t happy about.
“Fucker, get away from my. . . oh. Hi Mikey.”
Mikey looks up and finds Frank standing in front of him with a somewhat sheepish expression.
He’s carrying a plastic bag with two cans of dog food.
“Hey.”
“Sorry, I’m just.” Frank groans and knuckles at his eyes. He looks even more tired than usual and his voice is rough around the edges. “Some stupid fuckers tried to hurt him yesterday and I’m just,” he shrugs again, giving up on finishing the sentence, and picks Zero up, holding him protectively.
“Assholes,” Mikey agrees, standing up as well. At least now he knows why Frank wasn’t at his usual spot. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Frank seems a little absent, but then he gives Mikey a smile that’s only slightly frayed around the edges. “Haven’t seen you in a while, you feeling better?”
Mikey nods, reaching up to probe at the skin around his eye. It still feels tender, but he knows that the bruise is fading.
“Good. That’s…good,” Frank nods, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Yeah,” Mikey nods and there’s a beat of awkward silence before Mikey exhales. “Wanna hang out? I got a few hours.”
~
As fucking miserable as Frank is, he’s still happy to see Mikey. Even if Mikey doesn’t talk much, curling up under the blanket Frank picked up earlier, once he’d worked up the nerve to return to his usual spot, is nice. It’s good to have someone there with him, enabling Frank to let his guard down a little.
Before he knows it he’s leaning against Mikey’s side and his eyes are sliding shut, mouth slightly open because he can’t breathe through his nose.
“Sorry. ‘m tired,” Frank mumbles. It hurts to talk and he swallows hard. It’s like forcing razor blades down his throat.
“That’s all right.” Mikey’s got Zero in his lap. By the looks of it, the dog is half-asleep as well.
“You seem tired, just get some sleep. I don’t mind.”
“’m kinda a bad host,” Frank jokes, unable to work up the energy for a smile.
“You are, but it’s okay. Never expected you to have manners.” Mikey pokes Frank’s knee teasingly and doesn’t pull his hand away. The contact is nice.
“Not like you’re a lady anyway,” Frank mumbles around a yawn.
“True.” Mikey squeezes Frank’s knee. “Sleep.”
“Yes, sir.” Frank’s already drifting off, curling into Mikey’s side like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
~
Frank is fast asleep and Mikey’s worried. Gerard and him get colds frequently, but they are annoying more than anything else. It’s kind of difficult to deliver requested services when you can’t fucking breathe.
Frank has more than a simple cold. Every breath he takes rattles painfully in his chest and he’s radiating heat through the layers of clothes he’s bundled up in. His forehead is clammy against Mikey’s neck.
Mikey keeps petting Zero, who’s fast asleep in his lap, thinking about what to do. Making a decision is easier than expected and once Mikey’s got a plan of action it’s a little easier to breathe.
~
The room is too small to pace, but Gerard attempts it anyway. He can’t calm down, not when Mikey’s not back. He’d been shifty about where he was going, only said that he’d meet Gerard here again. It fucking worries Gerard. A lot. Because Mikey could be doing God knows what, God knows where. Gerard hopes he isn’t stupid enough to buy from a shady dealer.
Gerard sits down on the bed, contemplates cracking the window open to have a smoke, but dismisses the idea because they’ve only got half a pack left.
When the door opens Gerard almost falls over his feet in his haste to get up.
“Where the fuck-“ he deflates a little, “were you?” It’s a void question now that the door is fully open and Gerard can see that Mikey’s not alone. He’s carrying that scruffy bundle of a dog he’s so fond of, and pulls Frank into the room after him.
“Mikey,” Gerard hisses, glancing from Frank to Mikey and back. Admittedly, Frank looks bad, even paler than when Gerard had last seen him, eyes glassy and skin clammy.
“He’s sick,” Mikey explains and lets Zero down, who promptly goes to sniff out every corner of the room. “He needs to stay, it’s cold outside.”
Frank looks uncomfortable and shifts from one foot to the other. “Sorry, don’t mean to be any trouble. But Mikey said. . .” he trails off. His voice sounds rough and fine, Gerard does feel kind of bad for the guy. Mikey stands there with his lips pressed together and Gerard knows to pick his battles. This is not worth it. If he sends Frank away Mikey is going to throw a fit of epic proportions. A Mikey-fit, which is so much worse than the tantrum of a normal person, because Mikey is the master of judgmental silence.
“Sure. You…uh…wanna shower?” Okay, that might not have been the most tactful thing to say, but Gerard didn’t mean it like that and hurries to add “might warm you up a little.”
Frank still unsure, looks at Mikey who gives a small nod.
“Uh. Sure. Thanks.”
They’re silent as Frank walks over to the bathroom, and even after the door clicks shut neither of them speaks at first. The tension is broken by Gerard’s shoulders slumping as he sighs audibly. Mikey is never going to talk if he doesn’t start, so there is no point in dragging it out.
“Why’d you bring him here?”
“Because he’s sick,” Mikey repeats, sitting down on the edge of the bed and leaning forward to untie his heavy boots. “It’s fucking cold outside.”
Okay. Gerard can see the reasoning behind it, understand it, feel sorry for Frank even, but having him here remains an invasion of privacy. Him and his dog, who’s sniffing Gerard’s socks and looking up at him.
“Don’t fucking judge me, we didn’t have time for the laundromat.” Great, now Gerard is reasoning with a dog. Clearly he’s losing it. To be honest, he’s surprised that he’s held onto sanity this long. The dog keeps looking up at him for a few more seconds (full of judgment, Gerard is sure) before he trots over to Mikey.
There are a million questions Gerard wants to ask. What’s going to happen tomorrow? Is Mikey going to bring Frank along all the time now? How does he know that Frank’s not just using him? What if Frank gets super sick and collapses? Are they responsible for him?
In the end Gerard doesn’t ask any of them. Instead he watches as Mikey picks Zero up and sets him down at the end of the bed, explaining in a low voice that he can sleep on the bed as long as he behaves. There’s something there, a part of Mikey that Gerard hasn’t seen in so long that suddenly he’s willing to put up with everything and everyone, as long as Mikey keeps smiling like that.
~
Mikey’s brother hates him. Which is fine, if Frank were in his position he wouldn’t want his brother to hang out with someone like himself either. In the order of the world prostitutes are still above hobos.
He’s also certain that they’re going to send him away once he emerges from the bathroom. It was a nice gesture on Mikey’s part, but Gerard won’t let him stay. It’s fine though, he’s not getting his hopes up and can enjoy the shower. Because damn, it’s amazing.
The tiles in the bathroom are dirty and the shower head rusty and old, but the water is hot and that’s more than Frank’s had in months. He used to be able to shower at the shelter, back when he didn’t have Zero, but the water there was only lukewarm. Now the sink in the McDonald’s bathroom has to do.
Frank groans and let’s his head fall forward, eyes closed. He wishes this shower could go on forever. The water is washing all the grime and sweat away and warming him up in a way that nothing has in ages. No matter where he is, even at the soup kitchen, it feels like there’s a coldness left in his bones that doesn’t go away. The water warms him through and through until his skin is glowing pink underneath his tattoos.
Eventually Frank forces himself to turn off the water. He doesn’t want to hog the shower or give Gerard even more reason to hate him by appearing greedy. Besides, he’s starting to feel a little light-headed.
Grabbing one of the towels Frank dries off and rubs his hair as dry as it’ll get before he sits down on the dirty bathroom floor when his knees wobble too much. Going out with wet hair is going to make this damn cold worse (and Frank is still firmly telling himself that it’s just a cold, nothing more) but if he wears his hat maybe he can prevent the worst.
Putting his clothes back on is a tedious and slow task, Frank’s body protesting movement, and against freshly washed skin his clothes feel stiff and scratchy. He only puts one of his hoodies on, not wanting to bundle up completely yet, before he pushes to his feet and shuffles out of the room.
Mikey is sitting on one of the beds, patting Zero and Gerard is rummaging through a backpack. Both look up when Frank comes out of the bathroom. Frank wishes he could sink into the ground.
“Uh. Thanks. That was. Really cool.” Frank’s sure that at one point in his life he was a lot more eloquent then this. “I guess I’d better,” he trails off and gestures towards the door.
“What?” Mikey blinks at him. “You wanna get something to drink? Or to eat? They don’t have room service here.”
Frank isn’t sure who’s more confused.
“No, I meant I’m gonna go. I don’t want to. . . make you uncomfortable.” His eyes flicker to Gerard before he looks down at his shoes.
There’s silence in the room for a few seconds before Gerard clears his throat. “No, hey, Frank, you should totally stay.”
Frank worries his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes darting back and forth between the brothers. He hates taking charity from others, but Mikey’s really nice and his brother seems all right. It’s warm in here and the bed is singing a siren song that Frank’s body is unable to resist.
“’kay. Cool. I mean, thanks. That’s…really great.” Fuck, he’s babbling like some idiot. “I’ll, uh.” Frank looks helplessly between the beds. He wants to lie down, he feels like he’s going to cry if he can’t lie down within the next twenty seconds, but taking one of the beds seems rude.
“Mikey and I can share a bed, then you can have this one.” Gerard says, unexpectedly coming to Frank’s rescue. It takes all of Frank’s willpower not to faceplant into bed as Gerard gets up. He exhales slowly through his nose and shuffles to the side of the bed, pushing the covers back before he crawls in, unable to hold back a sigh of relief.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, eyelids feeling heavy already. He hopes his gratitude comes across.
“Get some sleep.”
Frank only hums in response to Mikey and curls up with another sigh. This is what heaven must feel like. The mattress is soft and the covers around him warm and fluffy and Frank feels like he’s floating. He can’t remember the last time he slept in a bed, so he’s going to enjoy every fucking nanosecond of this.
~
The mattress is lumpy and Mikey shifts uncomfortably, trying to find a position where no spring is digging into his side. He grumbles and cracks one eye open when it becomes clear that he isn’t going back to sleep. He and Gerard had curled up in bed once Frank had gone to sleep and Mikey’d smoked a joint by the window. He’d felt calm enough to sleep then, listening to Gerard humming a song he didn’t recognize under his breath.
It feels like he’s barely slept five minutes, eyelids sticky as he blinks. Gerard’s back is turned to him and there are hushed sounds Mikey’s sleepy mind eventually identifies as voices.
“You haven’t seen the new Dawn of the Dead?”
Mikey turns his head a little and smiles into the pillow. Gerard sounds so appalled.
It’s nice that Gerard and Frank are talking. Mikey was worried that Gerard was going to be all hostile and jealous, making the entire day terribly awkward. Mikey hums and scoots closer to Gerard, curling into his brother’s warmth. He still feels calm and sleepy, luxuriating in the feeling.
For a while Mikey lies there with his eyes closed, letting the conversation wash over him. When Gerard shifts and gets up he grumbles and opens his eyes just enough to see what is going on.
“Where’re you goin?” Mikey’s voice is scratchy and he coughs, swallowing against the dryness in his throat.
“Frank’s never seen the new Dawn of the Dead.” Gerard’s eyes are wide, like he’s the bearer of terrible news.
“Hm. Sucks,” Mikey mumbles, knuckling at his eyes.
“So I said we’d watch it on Pay-per-view.”
Mikey blinks owlishly at that, but Gerard is already fiddling with the TV. Paying for movies is a luxury they don’t indulge in. When Mikey glances over to the other bed it’s not difficult to see why Gerard’s suddenly willing to spend money on a movie.
Frank is curled up in a blanket nest, eyes shiny with what Mikey guesses is a mixture of fever and excitement, hair all over the place and skin flushed. Denying him anything right now seems impossible.
“How’re you feeling?” Mikey asks, coughing again because his throat is always dry after sleeping.
“Good.” Frank’s voice is nasal and it’s obvious he’s running a fever, but he appears content enough that Mikey leaves it be.
“So. Dawn of the Dead?”
“Yeah. Ray told me about it and Gerard said I should really see it,” Frank says. It looks like he’s trying to flail but is stuck inside his blanket nest.
“Remake?”
“Yeah. I saw the original, like, ages ago,” Frank wrinkles his nose. “I’m curious about this one.”
“It’s. . . good. I mean, you shouldn’t compare it to the original. Comparing stuff never works out,” Mikey says with a shrug. He hasn’t seen a movie in ages and Dawn of the Dead is entertaining enough.
“You should totally talk to Ray. He’s got opinions and stuff.” Frank’s voice goes all strained at the end and he barely finished the sentence before he sneezes twice in rapid succession. Mikey makes a mental note that they have to buy some meds for him when they check out later.
“Kay, I think this should work.” The mattress dips with Gerard’s weight as he settles back in and looks at the TV, bottom lip caught between his teeth. When the movie starts up he lets it go and makes a small sound of triumph.
Mikey bites down on a smile and sits up a little more so he can see. Gerard and him used to watch horror movies all the time back at home and later in Gerard’s crappy apartment, so it’s not like Mikey has to actively pay attention to what’s happening on screen. It’s good background noise, combined with Gerard’s commentary and Frank’s giggles. More often than not Frank ends up coughing though. It sounds painful and Mikey turns so his head is resting on Gerard’s shoulder.
“’m gonna go to the pharmacy once we’re outa here, yeah?”
Gerard tries to look down at Mikey, eyes almost crossing, before he glances over at Frank and nods quickly. “Yeah. I’ll give you the money and take him to get some food.”
Mikey leans up and presses a kiss to the corner of Gerard’s lips, not only as a thank you but because his big brother is the best and sometimes Mikey’s chest aches because he loves him so much.
When he pulls back Mikey catches Frank looking at them. His eyes are wide and mouth hanging slightly open and when his eyes meet Mikey’s he looks away quickly and slides further down until he almost disappears under the covers.
Oh. Right. Not everyone is comfortable with GerardandMikey being, well, GerardandMikey. Mikey frowns and wraps his arm around Gerard’s middle, staying pressed to his side. He likes Frank and it’d suck if he turned out to be one of the assholes who’s got a problem with them.
Gerard’s hand rests on the small of Mikey’s back and he rubs circles, probably noticing that Mikey’s gone tense all of a sudden.
“You okay?” he mumbles, lips moving against Mikey’s forehead.
Mikey nods and closes his eyes, focusing on Gerard’s breathing and his warmth, the way his palm is slightly sweaty when he pushes his hand up under Mikey’s shirt.
When Gerard and Frank start talking again Mikey relaxes a little bit more, watching Frank over Gerard’s shoulder. He’s tone hasn’t changed, the only notable difference him glancing over at them more frequently. Try as he might, Mikey can’t find anything but curiosity in his face.
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