Zero Percent - Part Three
Once the movie finishes Frank falls asleep again, completely exhausted but happier than he’s been in a long time. He’s warm, the Ways are good company and Zero is curled up by his side, not showing any signs of injury after the incident with the douchebags. Today is definitely the least shitty day Frank’s had in over a year.
Still, when Gerard and Mikey get up Frank gets the kind of feeling he used to have as a kid on Sunday night. When you know that in a few hours it is going to be Monday and you’ll have to go back to school.
He curls up more, intent on making the most out of his last minutes here, watching Gerard rummaging through the backpack and handing something to Mikey’s. He’s got it hidden in the palm of his hand so Frank can’t see what it is, but Mikey’s retreat to the bathroom is hurried enough that he gets the picture. Frank pulls the blanket over his head before Gerard can see him watching. He feels like an intruder whenever he watches the brothers together because it feels like he’s looking in on something fragile and private.
After a few minutes the shower starts up in the bathroom and Frank can hear Zero snuffling around the room and Gerard moving around. His breathing is loud under the covers and it gets uncomfortably stuffy. Pushing them back Frank draws in a deep breath of cool air, which upsets his stupid fucking useless lungs.
Rolling to the side Frank closes his eyes as his body convulses with the force of the coughs. He’s glad he didn’t eat anything or else he’d be throwing up all over the bed. There’s a hand on his back and Frank flinches at first, tries to move away from it, until he remembers that most likely it’s Gerard and it’s okay. He’s safe. Gerard’s hand rubs calming circles on his back and Frank focuses on that. Eventually he can breathe again.
“Man, we really gotta get you some medication.” Gerard mumbles and helps Frank to lie back down, propped up by the lumpy pillow. Frank suddenly misses his mom. Well, he always misses her, but especially when he’s sick.
“I’m fine,” he mumbles, ignoring the way his voice cracks and betrays him. He doesn’t want to spell it out for Gerard that he doesn’t have the money for medication.
Zero’s wet nose presses against his elbow and Frank lifts his arm, smiling when Zero worms his way in until he’s pressed between Frank’s armpit and side. He looks up at Frank with earnest eyes before he sighs and pushes his nose into Frank’s armpit, making him giggle.
“Your dog is ridiculous.” Gerard looks fond as he says it and reaches over to pat Zero’s side before he gets up. “You nap some more, I’ll wake you up when we have to leave.”
“’kay.” Frank’s down with that plan. Every additional minute spent in bed is going to be a good minute.
It seems like only seconds have passed since Frank closed his eyes when someone touches his shoulder and he startles awake.
“Hey.” Mikey smiles down warily at Frank. He’s wearing a generous amount of eyeliner and for a few seconds Frank finds himself transfixed by the black setting off Mikey’s hazel eyes and sleepy eyelids.
“Time to go.”
Frank blinks rapidly and finally manages to tear his eyes away from Mikey’s, sitting up slowly and jostling Zero awake in the process. The dog looks around in confusion before he yawns widely and grumpily gets up.
“M’kay.” Frank tries to blink the confusion away, but he continues to feel woozy and like his head is full of cotton. Mikey turns away and packs his own belongings while Frank struggles back into his many layers and shoulders his backpack, trying not to acknowledge how his limbs protest each movement. He feels sore and standing alone is too much of a fucking effort.
“We ready?” Gerard asks, coming out of the bathroom and running a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. At the assertive silence he nods and takes the backpack from Mikey. “Okay, cool. I’m gonna go to the pharmacy and you guys get coffee or something. I’ll meet you at Starbucks.”
Frank wants to protest, but if he’s being honest, he doesn’t even have the strength for that. He’ll pay Gerard and Mikey back later, he’s going to find a way. Steal a few wallets or something. Because right now? Frank would sell his soul for a bottle of Tylenol.
Before he even has to consider the tedious task of leaning down (a movement bound to make his sinuses explode) Mikey grabs Zero’s leash from the floor and clips it to the band around Zero’s neck. With his free hand he reaches out and takes Frank’s hand, pulling him out of the room.
Frank willingly lets himself be guided, stumbling over his own feet a few times. The way to Starbucks is a blur and he barely manages to keep his eyes open. All he knows is that he’s shivering again, the cold hitting him hard after the warmth of the hotel room.
“You sit down, I’ll get the drink,” Mikey says and suddenly there is warmth again. Frank sinks down in a free seat with a sigh, not even caring if Mikey is going to leave him or not. He can just curl up here and sleep until they throw him out.
“Frank. Hey, Frankie, c’mon.”
Frank grumbles and swats at Mikey’s hand jostling his shoulder.
“C’mon, I got you tea, you gotta drink something.”
And oh, okay. That actually sounds great. Frank swallows against the dryness in his throat and forces his eyes open, wincing at the too harsh light inside the coffee shop intensifying his headache. There’s a huge, steaming mug in front of him on the table and Frank looks at it for a long while before he can talk himself into moving and taking it. The ceramic is hot against his fingers.
Frank takes a tiny sip. He can’t taste the tea at all, but it is warm and soothes his throat, so he keeps sipping, wishing the mug would magically refill itself.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed when there’s another presence, causing Frank to open his eyes and stop his rhythmic sipping. The tip of Gerard’s nose is red from the cold and he’s talking to Mikey in hushed tones as he sets out the contents of a white plastic bag on the table. Mikey and him then start opening all the boxes and bottles, read instructions and discuss how much of what Frank should take when.
It makes Frank’s head spin, so he closes his eyes again and sips the rest of his tea. It has gone lukewarm, which makes it much less amazing.
“Okay.” Gerard is speaking a little louder now, which Frank guesses is his cue to join in on the conversation. He swallows hard once more before he sits up a little straighter and tries to focus.
“I got general flu stuff, and cough syrup, and tissues and Strepsils for your throat. I didn’t know which kind you liked best, but I figure it’s cold outside anyway so I got the ones with the warming effect,” he explains, pointing out packets and bottles to Frank that all become a jumbled mess of colors as his vision swims. “We’re gonna start with these, and you can take the cough syrup up to five times a day. Another dose of these before we leave and then we’ll see how you feel when we’re done with work.”
All Frank can do is nod and take the pills Gerard hands him. His throat is so swollen that he barely manages to swallow them.
Frank leans back and curls up again, trying to listen to the hushed conversation of the brothers, but zoning out involuntarily and falling into a sort of half-sleep.
“’m just not gonna buy any cigarettes today. And we can cut back on food?”
“Can do without food. We still got enough for some weed at least?”
“Yeah, yeah. I put money for you aside already, don’t worry about it.”
Frank licks his cracked lips and turns his head to the side. “Imma pay you back,” he mumbles, feeling even more miserable now that it is back at the forefront of his mind what kind of trouble they are getting themselves in for him. Sure, they got more money than Frank does, a lot more money, but they’ve budgeted it and now there is a Frank-sized hole in their finances.
“We can talk about that later, Frank.” Why does Gerard sound so much like his mom? Frank huffs.
“We still got some time, so try and get some more sleep.”
Okay, Frank can totally do that. And then they’ll talk. After his nap.
~
Leaving Frank behind feels terrible. Mikey keeps glancing back to the alley they left him in as they walk down the street. They’d bundled up Frank as much as possible and decided that this would be the best place for him to stay because it is a fairly safe area, yet close to where they work. Zero had curled up in Frank’s lap immediately and Gerard had handed him the tall cup of tea he had bought while Mikey got Frank settled. For now it’s all they can do.
For a while they had considered getting a motel room right away and letting Frank stay there for the night, but truth is, they don’t have the cash for that many hours. Depending on what they make tonight, maybe they can stay at the motel until tomorrow late afternoon. It’s only a small consolation.
Mikey is freezing but he left his coat with Frank to keep him warmer and because fewer clothes always mean more johns. Besides, Frank is going to have to sit out in the cold for hours while Mikey is going to get breaks from it.
Hands in the pockets of his jeans and hoodie hanging unzipped, Mikey tries not to pace or bounce on the balls of his feet to keep a little warmer. Being jittery never looks good. His t-shirt has ridden up a little and a shiver wrecks Mikey’s body. He grabs the hem and pulls it down again, but the thin material barely wards off the cold.
“Mikey.” Gerard’s voice is low and he glances at a car that’s pulled to a halt in front of them. Mikey’s eyes dart to the car, a silver BMW, and he licks his lips, nods.
“I’m going to take that one.”
“You sure?”
Mikey nods again and pushes away from the wall and walks over to the car slowly. Customers like to get a good look at the goods.
The passenger window of the car opens and the driver leans over, a guy in his forties with slicked-back hair and large glasses. He looks shy and nervous, which is rarely a good sign. Mikey has encountered more than enough people like him. Shy on the outside and then they spend money on prostitutes to make their fantasies come true. Some of the stuff they want is plain weird, which Mikey can deal with, but most of them are simply not safe.
“How. . . how much for you and the redhead?” The man tilts his chin in Gerard’s direction. Mikey glances over his shoulder, Gerard’s cue to walk over. There are pros and cons to taking a client together. On the one hand it is safer, but on the other it feels like the last bit of privacy they’ve retained is being exposed.
“300 for an hour,” Mikey replies once Gerard is next to him, facing the man again. It’s better if he doesn’t look at his brother now. “More if you want extras.”
The john licks his lips, wipes his sweaty palms in his jeans. “What qualifies as extras?”
Gerard leans forward, underarms on the edge of the window, ass in the air. As if the john needs more convincing.
“How ‘bout you tell us what you want and we’ll tell you what it’ll cost you?” The smile on Gerard’s face is fake, the one he uses on customers all the time. They want Gerard because he can be charming but has attitude. They want Mikey because he’s awkward and boyish.
“What if I want you to fuck him?” The man looks between Gerard and Mikey with barely concealed excitement.
Gerard’s eyes flicker sideways, but he doesn’t look at Mikey. “You only wanna watch?” The blunt question startles the john and Mikey bites down on a grin. Not a wise move, provoking guys like him.
“I. . . yes. No. I mean.” The man is squirming in his seat, making all of Mikey’s alarm bells ring.
“I don’t want to fuck you.”
Gerard nods, like he’s making a casual business deal, taking the inventory. “Want to get fucked?”
“No!” The man spits, rage flashing across his face at the suggestion alone.
“Right,” Gerard shrugs, but Mikey can see the way he grinds his teeth. “Wanna touch?”
The john considers and nods. It’s the worst possible combination of things he could want and they both know it. But if he’s willing to pay the ridiculous amount of money they are going to charge him? They’ll do it. The money will get them food, supply Mikey with drugs, Frank with medication and get them a motel room.
Gerard is tense, but he’s still smiling, keeping on a pleasant face. “500. If you want to do more than just touch, 600.”
Mikey holds his breath, certain that the guy is going to yell at them before speeding away.
For a long moment there is silence, then the john nods slowly. “Better be worth it,” he mutters, motioning for them to get into the car.
Gerard’s smile widens. “You bet we are.”
~
Mikey is leaning against Gerard’s side in the backseat of the car, eyes half-closed. The radio is on at a low volume, failing to cut through the tense silence.
“Okay if I drop you off here?” It’s clear that the john wants to get rid off them as quickly as possible now that they’re done.
“Sure,” Gerard mumbles, squeezing Mikey’s hand. Mikey’s got no idea where they are, but they can back to where they need to be one way or another, it doesn’t matter. The car pulls to a halt and Mikey and Gerard get out, neither of them saying a word. The car speeds off as soon as Mikey pushes the door closed behind him.
For a few seconds they both stand there, inhaling and exhaling shakily. Gerard’s hold on Mikey’s hand is painfully tight.
“Hey,” Mikey mumbles, stepping forward so he is chest-to-chest with Gerard and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips. “We’re okay.”
Things could’ve gone far worse with the john. He only wanted to see them fuck, getting himself off while muttering insults. If Mikey were to guess he’d say the dude hates himself for being gay.
Once he’d gotten off his insults had grown more vicious, accompanied by kicks and punches as he dragged them off the bed.
Mikey’s had to do worse things, but it’s easier to deal with bruises and aching limbs than with the hot burn of shame. Taking a client with Gerard always makes Mikey feel more vulnerable, amplifying the queasy feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t pretend that it was just the two of them with the constant background noise of grunts and hateful words that Mikey knows are not true, but which hurt all the same.
“We are. We got a fuckload of money,” Gerard points out, his smile shaky around the edges as he rubs his thumb over the thin skin under Mikey’s eye, wiping away smudged eyeliner. The guy gave them 550 bucks, which is less than the 600 they agreed on, but still enough to buy everything they need. It’s early and they could easily add another 100 with alley blowjobs, but Mikey is restless already, wanting to get back to Frank. Temperatures have dropped even more and Mikey’s starting to shake from the cold.
“You get food and stuff and I’ll get Frank?”
“Meet at the motel,” Gerard nods and kisses Mikey again, possessive and deep like he wants to reassure him. It helps, at least a little.
~
Something is beginning to scratch at the edges of Frank’s consciousness and he groans, curls more into himself. Being asleep is great because he doesn’t feel cold or miserable, and he desperately wants to drop back into that comforting warmth. Waking up a little makes him shiver and attempt to burrow more into his ratty blanket.
“Frank.” Someone is shaking his shoulder. “Frank.” That someone is really fucking persistent and Frank would totally tell them to fuck off if his throat didn’t hurt so much. “Frank.” Now that someone is cupping his cheek with cold fingers.
“Gngh.” Frank forces his eyes open, blinking against the darkness and the splitting headache descending down on him like a screeching eagle. He inhales shakily and squeezes his eyes shut until the pain settles a little and he doesn’t feel like he has to throw up anymore.
“Let’s get you into bed.”
Mikey arranges the blanket around Frank’s shoulders like a cape and helps him up.
“You done already?” Frank mumbles, leaning heavily against Mikey and pulling the blanket around himself. His teeth are chattering and he’s shaking so badly that it feels like his body is falling apart. He’ll be like Sally in Nightmare before Christmas and Mikey and Gerard will have to sew him back together.
Frank giggles at the thought and stumbles over his own feet. Mikey’s arm around his waist is like a safety belt.
“Zero, c’mon. Good boy.”
Frank pries his eyes open again and squints at the ground. “We can’t forget Zero,” he agrees, attempting to bend down and pick up the dog. The pain in his head explodes and he vomits before he even comprehends what is happening.
It feels like his throat is being torn into fleshy pieces and his stomach muscles contract and spasm. It seems like an eternity of pain passes before he can breathe again. If Mikey weren’t steading him, Frank’s sure he would be falling to the ground.
Mikey isn’t saying stupid shit like ‘It’s okay’ or ‘Breathe’, but waits until Frank is done before pushing him forward.
“I’ve got Zero, don’t worry.”
Frank nods and closes his eyes, blindly stumbling along. He doesn’t care where Mikey takes him. All he knows is that it’s taking too long and Frank needs to sit down now.
“Frank, no.” Mikey keeps his arm firmly around Frank’s waist and holds him up. Mikey is fucking mean.
“You’re fucking mean,” Frank mumbles and keeps stumbling on.
“They’re gonna give us shit if we go in like this, so I need you to be coherent for thirty seconds, just till we make it to the elevator.” Mikey’s fingers are poking Frank’s side. Frank grumbles and tries to squirm away.
“Frank, c’mon. There’s a shower and a bed waiting for you. All you gotta do is stop pretending you’re a bag of flour.”
“Bed.” Frank smiles at the thought. Maybe the bed is going to feel like a cloud again. He’d like that.
Frank opens his eyes, sways a little on his feet before he straightens his back and walks into the motel. He makes a beeline for the elevator, not noticing anything else around him. He’s sweating despite the cold and walking upright is an effort Frank knows he won’t be able to keep up for long.
Once he reaches the elevator he paws at the buttons, eyes unfocused. Fuck, he’s so tired and the room is spinning. Not that it would matter if he puked on the carpet; it’s so ugly nobody would notice.
“Hey, hey let me do that.”
Gerard is there all of a sudden and reaches around Frank to press the elevator button.
Frank’s got no idea where he came from, but wiggles his fingers in a wave.
“Hi. Mikey says there’ll be a cloud.”
“Hey Frankie.” Gerard rubs the small of Frank’s back, which feels kind of nice but would feel even nicer if Frank wasn’t wearing all those layers. Before he can start unbuttoning the coat Mikey gave him the elevator door opens with a shrill ding and Frank groans, closing his eyes against the bright light.
“Almost there.” Gerard’s hand presses against his back and Frank shuffles forward into the elevator, keeping his eyes firmly closed. His stomach lurches when the elevator starts moving and Frank swallows against the taste of bile.
Zero whines and Frank instinctively turns toward the sound, opening his eyes despite the pain exploding behind his eyeballs at the light. “He doesn’t like elevators,” he mumbles and reaches out a shaky hand to scratch behind Zero’s ears. The dog squirms in Mikey’s arms.
Oh.
Frank turns and squints at the buttons before he starts pressing the one to make the elevator go down to the ground floor again.
“Frank? Frank. What’re you doing?” Gerard takes a hold of his hand and Frank struggles for a few seconds before he looks up at Gerard.
“I forgot to get food for Zero.” Frank is the worst human being alive. He never forgets to get food for Zero. Never. How could he have been so careless? For a second he feels like crying.
Wrenching his hand away from Gerard’s Frank turns again, swaying on his feet, and reaches for Zero, taking him from Mikey and holding him close, nose burrowed in Zero’s stiff fur.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Frank mumbles, swaying when the elevator comes to a halt. “I’m sorry. I’ll get you food now. I promise. I won’t ever forget again. I’m sorry.” It’s all Frank can think about and he wants to punch himself in the face. Zero is his best friend and Frank forgot.
Sniffling he holds the squirming bundle of dog even closer, rooted to the spot.
“Frank. Frankie. Hey, it’s okay. Frank.”
Gerard is repeating his name and Frank’s got the feeling he’s been talked to for a while already. Eyes hot with unshed tears he looks up at Gerard standing in front of him, smiling gently and reaching out, putting his hands on Frank’s upper arms.
“It’s okay, Frankie. We got food for Zero, all right? You still had some and Mikey packed it, remember?”
Frank doesn’t, but he nods shakily and presses a kiss to the top of Zero’s head.
Gerard steps half behind Frank and pushes him gently forward. Mikey is standing between the elevator doors to hold them open and Gerard steers Frank past him and down the corridor.
“You hear that? You’ll get food in a minute,” Frank mumbles to Zero as he let’s himself be led to the room. Zero’s calmed down and whines softly before licking Frank’s chin. Frank giggles and burrows his face in the dog’s fur again. He’ll buy more food tomorrow - steal food if he has to - but for today there still is something for Zero. His dog not going hungry is the most important thing.
Gerard unlocks a door and Frank shuffles inside without so much as looking around, making a straight line for the bed. He sits down and sighs heavily, sinking into himself. He’s so exhausted he’s shaking.
Zero squirms to be let down and Frank leans forward with a groan and sets the dog down on the floor. Zero sets off immediately, sniffing at the carpet and exploring the room.
“Where’s. . . do you have my things?” Frank isn’t even sure that he has things. He doesn’t own anything besides Zero, but he thinks he had a few little things. Maybe. All he needs is a can of food for Zero anyway.
“Don’t worry, Mikey’s going to feed Zero.” Gerard is there again, kneeling in front of Frank and untying the dirty laces of his sneakers. “Let’s get you into bed. It’s time for your meds too.”
“Oh. Yeah. I like those,” Frank says, wiggling his toes once his shoes are off. He’s still shaking, part exhaustion and part being cold. He protests weakly when Gerard unbuttons Mikey’s coat and pushes it off Frank’s shoulders, but in the end he closes his eyes and let’s himself be undressed like a puppet.
There’s the sound of a can opening and the smell of dog food, which makes Frank’s already queasy stomach churn. The sounds of Zero gulping down his food are reassuring though and Frank scoots back when Gerard tells him to and gets under the blankets.
He sinks down with a sigh, too tired to keep upright, or awake.
“Don’t fall asleep just yet.” There’s a hand in his neck, making him move his head up and Frank grumbles.
“You can sleep in a minute, Frankie, I promise. Just take your meds and drink some water first, okay? You’ll feel better when you wake up then.”
Frank obediently opens his mouth and swallows the pills down with some trouble, coughing slightly.
“That’s a good boy.” Someone is caressing his cheek and Frank leans into it with a weak sniffle. He wants his mom.
“Does your throat still hurt?”
Frank makes a nonsensical noise, which is apparently taken as agreement because a second later there’s a Strepsil in his mouth. A slightly chemical strawberry taste fills his mouth and Frank sucks on the lozenge. His throat is starting to feel wonderfully numb.
When the Strepsil is thin enough Frank bites down on it, chews, swallows. He doesn’t want to fall asleep with a lozenge in his mouth, that’s just calling for a patch of drool. His tongue glides over his teeth to get rid of the sticky residue and then he rubs his cheek against the pillow with a small sigh.
Sleep time.
~
Frank’s asleep and Mikey wishes Gerard would unmute the TV to drown out the noises Frank makes, taking rattling breaths and snuffling every now and then. Zero isn’t much better, curled up next to Frank and snoring at a volume that should be impossible to achieve for a tiny dog.
The TV is as shitty as the room, color balance completely off, but Mikey blankly watches anyway without taking anything in.
Gerard is curled up next to him on the bed and if Mikey didn’t know his brother inside out he’d think he was asleep. Gerard’s breathing is a tad too shallow and he’s lying too still. When Gerard’s asleep he constantly moves and twitches. It used to drive Mikey crazy when they were kids. Now he loves it because it’s a reminder that his brother is still here and relatively well, considering the circumstances.
“Whadup?” Mikey bumps his foot against Gerard’s without taking his eyes off the screen.
“Hm.” Gerard hums in reply and pushes closer to Mikey, nose pressing against Mikey’s shoulder. “Hungry.” As if on command Gerard’s stomach rumbles loudly.
Mikey frowns and shifts to his side, poking at his brother’s stomach. He isn’t hungry, never really is. The next hit is always more important than the next meal.
“When’d you eat last?”
Gerard pulls one shoulder up in an awkward shrug and nuzzles at Mikey’s shoulder.
“Depends. I mean, technically cum’s got protein and shit too, right?”
Mikey exhales slowly and closes his eyes, trying to breathe through the wave of guilt. It’s his fault they have no food because he was the one to bring Frank along. And he should have noticed that Gerard wasn’t eating, should’ve taken care of him. But he’s failed, like always. He’s fucking useless.
“Sorry, Gee,” Mikey mumbles, rubbing Gerard’s stomach. “I’ll. . . I’ll get you something to eat.”
“Gonna order me room service?” Gerard asks, lips moving against Mikey’s skin.
“Yeah,” Mikey nods, keeping his eyes closed. Maybe they’ll be in a better place when he opens them again. “I’d order you coffee and pancakes.”
“Pancakes, huh?” Gerard’s lips curve into a smile.
“Gotta start with dessert, otherwise it’s no fun,” Mikey points out, because duh, that should be obvious. “And then I’d order you steak as main course. Well-done.”
“Fries on the side?”
“Fries on the side,” Mikey agrees. His brother’s got weird tastes that he’s more than willing to indulge.
“Then we need a starter to finish.”
“Do we?” Mikey wrinkles his nose. “You don’t like soup. Bread and cheese?”
“I love cheese.” Gerard sighs dreamily and his stomach rumbles again. Mikey catches his bottom lip between his teeth and drums his fingers against Gerard’s hipbone. They can’t leave Frank alone, so he’ll have to go on his own. Mikey slowly pries his eyes open and stares at the water stain on the ceiling while working up the motivation to get up.
“Be back in a bit,” he mutters once he’s sat up, pointedly ignoring the look Gerard gives him.
“Where you going?” Gerard doesn’t like leaving Mikey out of sight, but it’s not like Mikey’s got the kind of money that enable him to go on an epic bender. It’s not like Mikey’s got money to buy a sandwich.
“Just gotta check something.” Mikey swings his legs over the side of the bed and puts his boots back on, back turned to Gerard. The laces keep slipping from his fingers even as he tries to concentrate on coordinating his fingers, and in the end he gives up with a frustrated sigh and stuffs them up the side of the boots.
“Mikey.” Gerard’s using his big brother voice, the one that’s apparently an innate skill. Back in the day he only used to bring it out when Mikey attempted to read comics with peanut butter-sticky fingers.
“I’ll be fine,” Mikey snaps. He loves Gerard, but his overprotectiveness gets annoying. Mikey’s not some kind of stupid child. “Trust me, okay?” he adds, voice gone back to his usual monotone when Gerard doesn’t reply. He can feel his brother’s eyes burning a hole into the back of his neck and projecting guilty thoughts into his mind.
“You won’t be long?”
“I won’t be long,” Mikey agrees and puts on Gerard’s hoodie.
“Don’t worry.”
Gerard studies Mikey’s face before he nods jerkily and leans forward for a quick kiss. “I trust you.”
Instead of a reply Mikey leans in for a longer kiss, a reassurance he can’t find the words for.
“Just make sure he doesn’t die in his sleep,” Mikey says, nodding towards Frank while he zips up the hoodie and pulls the hood up over his head. Zero is awake and watching him, head tilted to the side like he’s asking what the fuck Mikey thinks he’s doing.
“Wanna go for a walk?” Mikey looks around for the leash and as soon as he picks it up Zero jumps down from the bed, wagging his tail excitedly.
Putting a leash on an overly excited dog is tricky, but eventually Mikey manages.
“Not taking a key.”
Gerard makes a noise that Mikey takes as acknowledgement. As soon as he opens the door Zero runs out, almost toppling Mikey over. “Dude,” he mumbles and pulls the door closed behind them, tightening his hold on the leash and pulling Zero in the direction of the elevator.
The heating in the motel isn’t very good, yet stepping outside feels like an icy fist punching Mikey in the face. He tries to breathe more shallowly when the cold air hurts his lungs and huddles into the hoodie.
“You don’t come with a built in navigation system, do you?” Mikey asks Zero, who ignores him in favor of sniffing the ground.
Mikey vaguely knows whereabouts the soup kitchen is and starts to walk in the general direction, hoping that this won’t end in an hour long search. Gerard is going to freak if he isn’t back soon.
Zero trots along next to him, stopping every few feet to sniff on walls, lampposts or dumpsters. When they pass a bus stop the dog seems to find the answer to all his prayers and strains against the leash until Mikey stops.
“What?”
Zero sniffs at the bus stop sign before he raises one of his back legs and pees against the metal pole.
One of the women sitting on the bench and waiting for the bus clears her throat and glares at Mikey. Mikey stares back blankly until she looks away, muttering something under her breath.
When Zero’s done he shakes himself and looks up at Mikey.
“Good boy,” Mikey says, a little louder than necessary, and walks on. If dogs were rock stars, Zero would be their king.
“Guess that was almost like throwing a TV out of a hotel room, yeah? Since you can’t really throw a TV and all,” Mikey muses. He hopes Frank’ll let him take the dog for walks more often.
The city changes the closer they get to the soup kitchen, as if the buildings and streets have soaked up the troubles of the inhabitants of this part of town. The buildings are shabbier, the streets dirtier, the noises harsher.
Mikey knows the corner store, he and Gerard buy their cigarettes there sometimes. He also knows that there is a really shitty motel two blocks away and Frank’s alley is to the right. But Mikey’s got no idea where the soup kitchen is supposed to be.
He doesn’t necessarily want to ask anyone, wary of people, but there’s a girl leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette with a defiant look. She’s got the unhealthy look of someone who’s grown a lot in a short amount of time, her shabby clothes hanging from her thin frame.
“Hey, sorry.”
She looks up at Mikey and her eyes widen for a second before she adapts a defensive stance. She’ll have to learn not to let people see her surprise.
“What?”
“You know where the soup kitchen is?”
The girl looks Mikey up and down before she shrugs. “Up that street, first left and then right.”
Mikey nods his thanks and tugs on Zero’s leash, snorting when the dog whines. “It’s not far anymore.” He always suspected that Frank is spoiling Zero.
He’s almost starting to think that the girl sent him in the wrong direction, because there doesn’t seem to be anything in the street Mikey ends up in, but then he hears voices around the corner. A few people are huddled together outside a door, smoking. Squaring his shoulders Mikey walks past them and pushes open the door, pretending that he knows what he’s doing.
Inside it’s stuffy and Mikey takes a second to reveal in the warmth. The smell of food is wafting through the air, overpowering the stink of people. Mikey’s stomach remains impassive.
The tables in the room are full with people enjoying what is most likely their only meal of the day. There are only a few people in the queue but the lady handing out plates of food looks kind of pissed. A guy wearing an apron and an Iron Maiden shirt is stacking dirty dishes in a basket and Mikey walks over on a whim. Somebody wearing a band shirt and sporting hair like that can’t be a bad person.
“Hi.” Mikey isn’t good at this kind of stuff, but he keeps thinking about Gerard and feeling guilty, which is enough to keep him going.
“Hey,” the guy glances over and smiles, putting another plate away before he straightens up.
“Can I help you?”
He’s got a friendly face and a surprisingly high voice for a guy of his build and Mikey thinks he’s got a good chance with him. But then the guy’s face suddenly falls and closes off as he looks down.
Shit. Mikey should’ve left Zero outside.
“That your dog?”
Zero is already sniffling at the guy’s shoes before whining and pushing his nose against his shin.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” Mikey tugs on the leash and tries to get Zero away from the man. “He isn’t usually like this.” Which is a blatant lie, but it sounds like the thing to say.
“Is he yours?” The man repeats and there’s an edge to his voice that makes Mikey pull his shoulders up uncomfortably.
“Kinda, yeah.” What the fuck does it matter to the guy?
Mikey is starting to think he should’ve gone for the dragon lady instead.
“No he’s not.” The guy is straightening up even more and it’s intimidating. “Where’s Frank?”
And oh. Now it makes sense.
“Frank’s sick,” Mikey replies, starring at the guy and trying not to blink. “We’re looking after him.”
The guy looks skeptical but a little bit of tension drains from his shoulders.
“You’re Ray?”
“I. . . yeah.” That seems to do the trick because the guy’s voice goes soft again. “Frankie okay?”
“Kinda,” Mikey shrugs. He’s not one to tell lies only to make people feel better. Except for when it’s Gerard, but Gerard’s not people, so. “Can you give me food? For Frank and my brother?”
“Does this look like a take away restaurant?” Ray retorts, but a second later he looks like he’s about to apologize.
“Not like I could bring them here,” Mikey points out and sniffs, wrinkling his nose. It’s starting to itch.
“Please?” Mikey hates asking for things, but Gerard and Frank really, really need food.
“I. Fine. I’ll see what I can do.” Ray tucks a strand of curly hair behind his ear before lifting up the basket full of dirty dishes. “Wait here.”
Mikey nods and briefly considers sitting down, but there are too many people squished together on the benches. Instead he picks Zero up and walks over to wait close by the door, leaning against the wall. Zero is wagging his tail and squirming in Mikey’s arms, apparently excited to be here. Or just excited about all the different smells, who knows.
It feels like ages until Ray comes back, but he’s carrying a plastic bag, which makes Mikey hope it was worth the wait.
“Here. I put some plastic forks in as well, figured you’d need them.” Ray doesn’t say it in a mean way but Mikey still wants to punch him. He hates people acting charitable.
“Thanks.” Mikey bends down to put Zero back on the ground, sniffing again. A drop of blood lands on the floor and Mikey notices the gross, wet feeling that always comes with a nosebleed. Fuck. His timing couldn’t be any worse. Straightening up he pulls the sleeve of the hoodie over his fingers, mentally apologizing to Gerard, and wipes his nose. He can’t see anything on the black material, but he can feel the blood smudged on his skin.
He’s about to ask Ray for a napkin but stops with his mouth half-open. Ray is looking positively livid, for reasons Mikey can’t figure out.
“Here.” He thrusts the bag at Mikey, who has to scramble to take it and not let it fall to the floor. “Make sure Frank eats. And don’t come back here.”
Ray turns and walks away before Mikey’s able to form a coherent reply. “What the fuck?” he mutters, shifting his grip so he’s holding the bag and Zero’s leash properly and pressing his other hand back to his nose. Now he’ll need extra money to do laundry. As much as he loves drawing it, Gerard is squeamish about actual blood on his clothes.
“C’mon, let’s go.” Mikey mumbles, quickly pressing his lips together when he feels a droplet of blood on his upper lip. It’s not that he minds blood in general, like every other person he’s licked drops of blood from his fingers after a papercut and stuff, but blood from a nosebleed is fucking gross, coming from a place full of snot.
Mikey shoulders the door open and keeps his head down while walking, steps speeding up as the hoodie grows damp against his fingers.
~
It’s not that Gerard doesn’t trust Mikey. No, he’d trust Mikey with his life. But the problem is that Gerard doesn’t trust Mikey with Mikey’s life. Because Mikey is bad at looking after himself and he’s an addict. It’s the worst possible combination.
But Gerard is good at looking after Mikey and watching out for him. He’s learnt to ration Mikey’s doses to make sure he’s got enough but not too much. Gerard knows all about being an addict, which makes him worry. Worry that Mikey is craving more, because you’re always craving more, and that he’s gone to get more on his own. Gerard’s got a good dealer, has made sure that Mikey doesn’t know him. Brian is a nice guy and the stuff he sells is good quality, but in the end they all are who they are. Brian wouldn’t think twice about selling Mikey as much as he wants and can afford.
Gerard would like to think that Mikey won’t betray him like that, that he’d tell Gerard if he needed more, but he’s rational enough to know that Mikey wouldn’t. He also knows that it’s not because Mikey doesn’t love him, but that it’s addiction driving him.
Biting his bottom lip Gerard picks at a hangnail, trying to keep himself busy and refrain from checking the time on the TV again. The minutes have been crawling by.
On the other bed Frank stirs and one of his hands pushes out from under the blanket, searching the mattress. “’ro?”
Gerard jumps at the opportunity to occupy himself and slides down from the bed, knee-walking over to Frank’s bed. “Hey.” After a moment of brief hesitation he reaches out and takes Frank’s hand. Frank’s eyes are still closed and it looks like he’s got trouble breathing.
Frank’s eyelids flutter, but he only squints at Gerard for a second before closing them again, tongue darting out to lick over cracked lips. “Zero?”
“Mikey’s taken him for a walk.” Gerard explains, catching himself talking extra slow. It seems like Frank’s brain isn’t taking in things at normal speed and he doesn’t want him to panic.
“’kay.”
Frank’s voice is completely wrecked.
“Here, drink something.” Gerard takes the bottle of water from the nightstand and opens it, then awkwardly helps Frank to raise his head and take a few sips.
“It’s not time for your medication yet.”
Frank only hums in reply and sinks back down, sniffing in a truly disgusting way.
“Thanks.”
“Sure. Lemme know if you want more water.” Gerard screws the lid back onto the bottle, knowing that otherwise Mikey or him are going to inevitably push it over.
“No. I mean. For everything.” Frank’s speaking slowly, like his tongue is too heavy, and Gerard has to listen really closely to understand him.
“Oh. Sure. That’s okay,” he shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mikey likes you.”
Frank turns his face into the pillow and coughs, then forces his eyes open. It looks like a lot of effort.
“Mikey’s really awesome,” he mumbles, looking up directly at Gerard. “Why don’t you like me?”
“I. . . what?” Gerard frowns. Frank opens his mouth to presumably repeat his question. He looks completely exhausted. Mikey is going to kill Gerard if he comes back and finds Frank passed out from talking too much.
“No, I mean, why’d you think I don’t like you?” Not that Gerard is exceptionally fond of Frank, but he doesn’t hate him. He makes Mikey smile, so he’s okay to have around.
Frank shrugs and his mouth works like he’s trying to say something but his vocal chords refuse to cooperate.
“’m takin’ your money,” he finally manages, followed by a coughing fit. Gerard pulls Frank into a more upright position, hoping that it’ll make things a little easier. It sounds painful and Gerard winces, sitting down on the edge of the bed so Frank can lean on him. When the cough subsides he’s left breathing hard, face red.
“Fuck money, ‘s not important.” Gerard rubs the small of Frank’s back, making a face when his fingertips brush sweat-slick skin where Frank’s shirt rode up. “We’ll have to get you healthy again. ‘sides, it’s Christmas soon and stuff, time of giving and being generous and shit.”
Frank cracks up a little at that, but he seems too exhausted to form a full laugh.
“You’re a Christmas Spirit then,” he mumbles, head lolling back against Gerard’s shoulder, “A really weird one, but that’s ‘kay.”
“I’m. . . glad,” Gerard replies because what the fuck is he supposed to say to that? It must be the fever talking. He pushes a damp strand of hair away from Frank’s forehead and tries to make him lie back down, but Frank refuses, twisting until his head is tucked under Gerard’s chin.
“Jus’ don’ disappear after Christmas, prom’se? Cuz I do kinda like you. I’ll make you like me too.” Frank whispers, fingers curling into Gerard’s shirt.
Gerard pats Frank’s head before he eases back, bringing them both into a mostly lying position. Frank is a tiny ball of heat against Gerard’s chest.
“I’ll stick around, promise.” Gerard closes his eyes and focuses on Frank’s breathing, adapting the same pattern as he tries to relax. He keeps rubbing Frank’s back, starts humming and banishes all worries from his mind.
~
It feels like the way back to the motel has gotten twice as long and by the time he pushes the button for the elevator Mikey is cranky, frozen to the bone, and his nose hurts like hell. The bleeding has stopped, but the crusted blood is itching on his skin.
Mikey doesn’t bother to knock but kicks his foot against the door instead, rubbing his thumb under his nose. A little of the crusted blood gets stuck under his thumbnail and Mikey pulls a face. Seriously gross.
“Gee, c’mon,” he huffs and knocks his elbow against the door. He can hear shuffling inside the room. Zero whines and scratches at the door.
“I know. You’d think he’d try and move a little faster,” Mikey mutters, leaning his forehead against the door and closing his eyes. He’s feeling like shit and only wants to wash up and crawl under the blankets, close his eyes and wait until the cold seeps out of his bones.
When he hears the key turning in the lock Mikey takes a step back, blinking owlishly. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep, but his eyelids feel heavy and sore.
Zero pushes his way into the room as soon as the door cracks open and Mikey lets the leash slip from hand. They can take it off after Zero’s checked on Frank.
“Mikey.” Gerard’s fingers curl into the hoodie’s sleeve and he pulls Mikey into the room, closing the door behind him.
“What the fuck happened?”
“Hm?” Mikey frowns at Gerard, confused for a second until Gerard brushes his fingertips over Mikey’s nose.
“Nosebleed,” he shrugs, ignoring the way Gerard’s lips curl into an unhappy line. “I brought food.” Mikey changes the topic and holds up the bag with a tiny smile. “For you and Frank.”
“What? How’d you-? What did you do?”
Mikey groans and rolls his eyes. Why can’t Gerard just accept it and be happy?
“Soup kitchen.” He didn’t really want to say it, but otherwise Gerard is going to get all these ideas about the terrible things Mikey might have done and work himself into a state. Nobody wants that to happen.
“It’s probably cold by now, but it’s food. Eat.” Mikey presses the bag into Gerard’s hand.
“Frank should eat something too,” he adds, glancing at the bed. Frank seems awake, but barely coherent as he pats Zero’s head slowly, lips twitching into a barely there smile when the dog noses at his neck and tries to crawl under Frank’s shirt.
Mikey goes into the bathroom before Gerard can fire more questions at him. A brief glance in the mirror makes him pull a face. He looks terrible. Not only because of the blood, but also because he’s pale and there are dark circles under his eyes that look like bruises. It’s a look that’ll attract the bad kind of customers. If he’s lucky Gerard’s got some concealer he can use.
Turning on the tap Mikey holds his fingers under the water while it warms up, ignoring the way it stings against his frozen skin. Grabbing some toilet paper Mikey wets it and starts clearing up, rubbing at his skin with a little more force than strictly necessary. His skin turns pink and the water rusty when he drops the wad of toilet paper in the sink.
“Mikey, you want something to eat?”
Mikey stares at his reflection for a few seconds longer before he turns away and heads back into the room. “Nah, ‘m good.”
He sits down on the bed and pulls off his shoes before squirming under the covers. Gerard is sitting on the other bed, Frank propped up next to him, and opens one of the Tupperware boxes from the bag.
“Oh, it’s spaghetti!”
“See, ‘m magic. Better than room service.” Mikey says, words muffled against the blanket.
“Course you’re magic,” Gerard agrees, followed by Frank giggling and adding “Magic like Tinkerbell!”
Mikey groans and peeks over the blanket. “How much medicine did you give him?”
Gerard shrugs and presses one of the plastic forks into Frank’s hand. “He’s been like that all afternoon. Hey, Mikes, you should eat something too.” Even with his eyes closed Mikey can tell that Gerard is talking with his mouth full and it’s disgusting, making his stomach turn. His relationship with food is a little shaky at the moment.
“’m good. Jus’ tired.”
“Oh. ‘kay.” There’s something in the way Gerard says it, but Mikey’s too exhausted to think about it. He sighs and rubs his cheek against the rough material of the pillow and curls up even more with the blanket, trying to warm up and resolutely not thinking about how nice it would be to curl up on the other bed with Gerard and Frank.
~
Frank gets better with the approximate speed of a grandpa driving a scooter. He’s a lot more coherent once the fever breaks, making him impatient. Frank hates being sick and being a burden. The Ways would probably give him terribly sad looks if he said that out loud, but it’s how Frank feels. He doesn’t like relying on other people. Mikey and Gerard work hard for their money. It’s not fair that they have to spend it all on Frank. He’s going to find a way to make up for it.
Frank spends his nights plotting while curled up with Zero and waiting for Gerard and Mikey do be done with work. It’s not like he’s got much else to do, still too weak to go all the way to the soup kitchen. Walking to whatever motel the Ways can afford for the night is about as much as Frank can do at the moment.
“You’re no help at all,” Frank mutters, nuzzling Zero’s neck. The dog is curled up against Frank’s chest like an overly furry baby and snuffles happily. “They are nice to you as well and Mikey’s your best friend. You totally should help me think about a Christmas present.”
Zero lifts his head and licks Frank’s cheek.
“Thanks, man,” Frank smiles and holds Zero a little tighter. “But I don’t think that’s a very good present, you know?”
Zero pushes his wet nose against Frank’s neck, making it clear that he disagrees.
The truth is that Frank doesn’t even know when Christmas is. Hell, he doesn’t even know what day it is. Only Gerard mentioning that it was Christmas soon clued him in. Ever since his mom died the holidays have bypassed Frank completely. There’s no point in acknowledging them if you have no one to celebrate with. He’s even ignored all the decorations in stores because they made his throat feel tight and stomach turn over, too many memories floating up in his mind to haunt him.
The only good thing about Christmas is that people are a little more generous. Sitting at a street corner next to a convenience store Frank manages to get five dollars in change within two hours. Even the desperate, running to the store at four AM, are generous around this time of the year.
Pocketing the money Frank moves back to the alley before the Ways arrive and throw a hissy fit. Gerard has turned into a mother hen, fanning over Frank and telling him to stay put every night before they leave for work, like Frank’s still green behind the ears. In a way it’s endearing because Frank hasn’t had anyone care for him like that in a long time. At the same time it’s starting to get annoying. Frank is perfectly capable of looking out for himself. And as good as it feels, Frank doesn’t need anyone. He’s fine on his own.
Because in the end? People always leave.
~
Work always slows down during the beginning of the holidays. The clients are too busy playing pretend with their families. It’s a shit time of the year, leaving them standing in the cold for hours without anyone showing interest.
Mikey sighs and flicks another cigarette butt to the ground. He’s already feeling nauseous, but smoking is the only thing keeping him busy and giving the illusion of some warmth.
“I don’t think we can afford a motel tonight.” Gerard says, looking straight ahead at the road, eyes following the cars speeding past.
“I know.” They’ve been lucky to stay in motels so many nights in a row. “We’ll deal,” Mikey pulls his shoulders up, tries not to think about the cold. The thought of going back to a motel and sleeping the morning away with Gerard, Frank and Zero there with him, safe and sound, was the only thing Mikey has been looking forward to lately.
“But I think if we try and get some extra, maybe we can get a room for Christmas Eve.” Gerard looks over at Mikey, lips curled up in an insecure smile.
“That’d be nice.” Mikey smiles even though the corners of his lips feel like they’re cracking. There is no time of the year that makes being a homeless whore worse than Christmas.
“It’ll just be something shitty, but we can manage. Maybe grab some extra money somewhere.” Gerard worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He hates stealing.
Mikey exhales slowly before he reaches over and grabs Gerard’s hand, holding on tight.
“What if we cut back on my stuff?” It’s going to be shit because Mikey’s doses are precisely measured. They both know exactly how much Mikey needs to make it through the day.
Gerard’s quiet for a long time and Mikey looks down at a crack in the pavement, concentrating on his breathing.
“Mikey, are you sure?”
Mikey wants to say yes and be confident about it, but he can’t. It’s going to suck. He’s never considered cutting back on drugs before, even when Gerard got sober. The thought of having to deal with the world without the protective drug blanket wrapped around his mind is daunting. Just thinking about it makes Mikey want to throw up with nerves.
But Mikey’s got Gerard and Frank and maybe that’ll make everything all right, even without drugs. For the first time in years it seems like there is something that might be worth fighting for.
“Yeah,” Mikey replies eventually and Gerard holds his hand tighter.
“Okay. Okay, maybe, just a little. That’ll help.”
Mikey nods. They might be street urchins, but they can at least make a nice Christmas for themselves, like the shabbiest, weirdest family in the world.
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