Zero Percent - Part Four
“Breakfast,” Gerard says, waving a McDonald’s bag around, laughing when Zero gets to his feet with a yap and tries to jump Gerard. “Hi boy. Missed you too.”
Before Gerard gets a chance to pet Zero the dog has already moved on to say hello to Mikey.
Frank watches with a smile from where he’s huddled against the wall, blanket up to his nose and hood pulled low. He’s always restless until Mikey and Gerard get back, trying not to
imagine all the things that could happen to them.
“Awesome.” Frank shifts and pushes the blanket down a little when Gerard and Mikey sit down on either side of him. They press close and somehow manage to arrange the blanket so it covers all three of them. Zero worms his way between their feet and lies down with a self-satisfied sigh.
“Okay night?” Frank asks and clutches the cup of tea Mikey hands him. He still doesn’t quite know how to ask them if they’re all right, despite Gerard being painfully honest at all times, which makes threading around on egg shells unnecessary.
“Fucking slow,” Gerard huffs, shoving a fry into his mouth and licking salt from his fingers.
Frank’s mouth hangs open for a second before he manages to say, “Sucks.”
“Mhm.” Mikey leans his head against Frank’s shoulder and takes a sip of what smells like cocoa.
“You not eating anything?” Frank asks softly, holding his cup with one hand and trying to fumble open a McMuffin carton with the other.
“Nah, not really hungry.” Mikey mutters. This close up he smells like pot.
“Get some sleep, Mikes,” Gerard says, shifting against Frank’s side and looking at his brother. Mikey hums again, sounding like he’s already half asleep. Frank and Gerard finish their food in silence. Frank sips his tea slowly, but eventually not even his willpower can keep it warm and he drains the lukewarm remains.
“He’s thinking about cutting back,” Gerard says lowly, breaking the early morning silence that’s settled comfortably over them.
Mikey’s head is heavy on his shoulder and Frank tries to stay as still as possible, looking at Gerard from the corners of his eyes.
“Really?” Frank’s throat feels tight.
“Yeah,” Gerard nods and fumbles a cigarette out of a battered pack, leaving it perched between his lips without lighting it for a moment. “I. . . I want to believe it. I mean, I know he wants to, but I’m not sure,” he trails off and cups his hand in front of his mouth, lighting the cigarette.
“You’re not sure if he can do it?” Frank asks, his hand seeking Mikey’s arm under the blanket, fingers curling into the sleeves of Mikey’s coat. “He can do it. I know it.”
Gerard’s smile is wry but he nods, slowly exhaling smoke. “That shit is difficult.”
“Yeah,” Frank barely stops himself from shrugging, “But he’s got us.”
~
Mikey closes his eyes and exhales slowly, trying to keep from tapping his foot against the pavement. It’s freezing, he’s fidgety, he really, really, reallyreallyreally wants a hit, just a tiny one, and he’s got ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’ stuck in his head. Fucking Christmas time and stores blasting stupid, happy songs that force their way into one’s brain and refuse to leave.
Two more days until Christmas and business is slow. Gerard’s driven off with a john a few minutes ago, but so far Mikey’s only had two back alley blowjobs.
Mikey sniffs and rubs his nose. The skin around it is sore and Mikey feels the skin under it, relieved when his fingers don’t come away bloody. A nosebleed is the last thing he needs right now.
Hardly any cars drive by and Mikey amuses himself for a while by looking at the Christmas decorations, letting his vision go unfocused until they’re shiny blobs of color.
“Mikey?”
Mikey blinks until the world shifts back into focus and turns, smiling when he sees who’s approaching.
“Hi Ryan.”
Ryan’s lips twitch into the barest of smiles. “How are you?”
His voice is low, like always, and Mikey has to strain to hear him. Ryan speaks and behaves in a way that attracts trouble. On more than one occasion Gerard and Mikey had to help him into one of the back alleys and sit with him for the day, trying to judge if he needed the free clinic or not. Ryan’s a shy and private person, but Mikey likes to think they’re friends.
“All right,” Mikey shrugs, tugging on the sleeves of his coat. He can’t feel the tips of his fingers anymore. “It’s the holidays.” Ryan’ll understand what Mikey means. “How’re you?”
Ryan is wearing a scarf and a newsboy cap, large parts of his face hidden in the shadows. He seems to be mostly fine, physically.
“I’m okay,” Ryan nods and takes a cautious step closer. “It’s almost Christmas.”
Mikey nods and scratches the bridge of his nose.
“So. It’s not, like, anything great or stuff, but, Gee and you, you’re. . . you’re my friends, so,”
Ryan stops and takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to compose himself, and pulls something out of the pocket of his ratty coat, holding it out for Mikey. “Merry Christmas.”
For a moment Mikey doesn’t move before he reaches out and takes the mittens Ryan’s holding. One pair is black and the other one grey.
“I thought. . . I thought maybe you could use them.” Ryan sounds insecure and Mikey desperately wishes that Gerard was here to handle this properly, hug Ryan as tightly as possible.
“Did you make them?” Mikey asks, rubbing his thumb over the soft wool.
“Yeah,” Ryan shrugs and looks down, seemingly more embarrassed by the second. “Can’t sleep a lot of the time, so I kinda took knitting up as a hobby,” he laughs softly, like he’s expecting Mikey to make fun of him.
“That’s amazing.” Mikey’s fingers close tighter around the mittens and he shuffles forward a little. Ryan and him aren’t the most touchy of people, so Mikey only reaches out to link his fingers with Ryan’s and squeeze. “They’re fantastic. Thank you.” He tries to put it into his voice how much this actually means, but as always it comes out sounding wrong.
“We. . . I got nothing for you.”
Ryan shakes his head and links their fingers tighter. “You. . . helped me. A lot of times. And. . . it’s good to have. Have someone.”
Mikey nods jerkily. As shitty as their situation is, Mikey’s always going to have Gerard. Ryan has no one, doesn’t trust people. It took them over six months to stop Ryan from running away from them.
Looking down at the mittens an idea crosses Mikey’s mind.
“This is kinda short notice, but could you maybe. . . knit something else for me? I’ll invite you for dinner in exchange.”
Ryan nods before Mikey’s even finished speaking.
~
Frank is playing a game with Zero that involves rolling a plastic bottle around when Gerard and Mikey come back from work, looking worn out and tired. The bottle rolls across the pavement and hits the brick wall on the other side of the alley as Zero forgets all about playing in his haste to welcome the brothers back.
“Hey,” Frank says, noticing the shadows under Mikey’s eyes that look like bruises and the way Gerard drags his feet, like he doesn’t even have the energy to lift them anymore. Gerard grunts a reply and flops down on the ground next to Frank, leaning heavily against his side. Mikey picks up Zero and holds him close before joining them.
“Long night,” Gerard mutters and Frank drapes part of the blanket over him.
“Sucks,” Frank offers, running a hand through Gerard’s hair. There’s not really a way for him to provide comfort.
Mikey’s petting Zero, pressed to Frank’s other side. Frank smiles at them before doing a double take.
“Did you buy mittens?” He asks, looking at the grey ones Mikey’s wearing.
“No. Ryan made them for us,” Mikey says and rubs his nose. The mittens hide it, but Frank knows that Mikey’s fingers are trembling.
“Ryan. . . what?” Frank looks at Gerard because he’s usually better at explaining things than Mikey. Gerard wiggles his fingers and Frank sees that he’s wearing a pair of black mittens.
“Ryan made them for us. He’s a friend.”
“Oh.” Frank swallows because suddenly his mouth is stupidly dry. Of course Gerard and Mikey have other friends. That’s nothing special. Nothing that should make him feel like he can’t breathe.
“We could go to the soup kitchen later,” Frank suggests, trying to change the topic and ban all thoughts of Ryan and awesome, self-made presents he can never compete with.
“Sure,” Gerard replies at the same time as Mikey says, “Can’t.”
“What? Why?” Frank asks.
“I’m meeting Ryan,” Mikey shrugs and Frank wants to bash his head against a wall. Fuck everything, now he’s grumpy and annoyed and wants nothing more than go to sleep and not think.
“Gee,” Mikey whines and leans forward so he can look at his brother. Frank knows that look and it doesn’t improve his mood. With a huff Frank leans back and pulls his legs up closer to his chest, trying to get comfortable. Gerard’s arm keeps bumping against Frank’s side and he jostles Frank when he leans over and hands Mikey a joint.
Frank tries very hard to pretend it’s a cigarette and closes his eyes.
~
Frank isn’t happy about Mikey going off to meet Ryan. He wants to ask Gerard a million questions but stubbornly refuses to open his mouth. After all he’s got no right to be jealous. Mikey can hang out with whoever he wants. Frank always knew the Ways would eventually move on.
“Why’re you sulking?” Gerard asks, shooting Frank a sideways look.
“What? I’m not sulking.” Frank’s hand tightens around Zero’s leash and he looks down at the ground, almost running over an old lady.
“Uh-huh.” Gerard doesn’t sound like he believes it, but thankfully he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t press matters further.
They walk the rest of the way to the soup kitchen in silence, Gerard smoking a cigarette and trying to draw it out as long as possible. There’s only half a pack left and no money to buy a new one anytime soon. Frank keeps a tight hold on Zero’s leash and makes half-hearted attempts to keep him from marking every lamppost and bus bench they pass.
“We should take some food for Mikey,” Frank says, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” Gerard nods, then sighs. “He’s never eaten much, but it’s worse now.” His bottom lip catches between his teeth and Frank reaches over with his free hand to tentatively link his fingers through Gerard’s.
“He’ll be okay.” Frank swallows against the lump in his throat. “It’s just his body adjusting.”
“I know,” Gerard replies, sounding frustrated and holding onto Frank’s hand a little tighter.
“Just. I keep. . . I keep thinking. If only cutting back a little has him in such a state,” Gerard trails off, but Frank knows what he means. What is full on withdrawal going to do to Mikey? It’s not something they’ve talked about before.
“Maybe if we slowly cut back his doses?” Frank asks, feeling like he’s walking on very thin ice. He’s not sure if there is a ‘we’.
Gerard shakes his head. “That won’t do. He has to decide himself when he wants to stop. If we make the decision for him he’s just gonna go off and buy whatever he can afford.”
“Shit,” Frank sighs, knowing Gerard’s right. “Guess we can only try and talk sense into him.”
Gerard shrugs in a way that Frank’s not sure how to interpret. Before he’s got a chance to ask they reach the soup kitchen and Gerard lets go off Frank’s hand and pushes the door open.
Inside it’s warm and noise, dishes clattering and people chatting. After a while out in the streets on your own you become desperate for human contact. The soup kitchen is like a social gathering for the poor.
Frank scans the tables, but there are enough free seats that he doesn’t bother asking Gerard to reserve them a spot. Gerard looks uncomfortable enough as it is, shoulders pulled up high and looking at the floor.
“Frank!”
Hearing his name Frank turns around and only gets a second to wonder why Zero is straining against the leash. Ray’s making his way over to them, grinning widely. With his wild hair barely contained in a ponytail, wearing a washed out Iron Maiden shirt and jeans he looks the same as always. Frank’s not sure why, but for some reason he expected Ray to be different.
So many things have happened to Frank in the past few weeks that it seems unthinkable that everything is still the same at the soup kitchen.
“Hey,” Frank smiles and loosens his hold on Zero’s leash a little, allowing him to jump up Ray’s legs by means of greeting.
“Hey Zero,” Ray pats Zero’s head and laughs when the dog licks his hand. “It’s good to see you again. I was starting to get worried.” Ray glances up at Frank.
“Oh. I’m. . . sorry?” Frank’s at a loss because he didn’t expect anyone to even notice his absence. “I got sick.”
Ray wrinkles his nose and straightens up when Zero finally gets back down on all fours and trots over to Gerard. “Aw shit man. Is that why this other guy came by the other day with Zero?”
It takes Frank a little to puzzle the pieces together. He only vaguely remembers Mikey coaxing to eat when he was sick, something hot and delicious. “Mikey was here?”
“Mikey, yeah. That was his name.” Ray looks less then pleased and his eyes stray to Gerard. “Another one of your friends?”
Frank nods. “That’s Gerard. He’s Mikey’s brother.”
Gerard raises his hand and waves awkwardly.
“Hi,” Ray says and it sounds so clipped and unfriendly that Frank does a double take. Since he’s known him Ray has never been anything but friendly.
“Hey Gee, you wanna go get some food? I’ll see about some water for Zero.” Frank raises an eyebrow at Gerard, who looks confused at first but nods when Frank keeps staring at him meaningfully. As soon as Gerard’s out of ear-reach Frank turns and takes a step closer to Ray, voice coming out strained as he tries to hold back on his anger, “What the fuck, Ray?”
Ray purses his lips and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “These people are no good, Frank. You shouldn’t hang out with them.”
“What the fuck?” Frank repeats, hands clenching into fists at his side and trying to order the replies flitting through his mind by importance. “You don’t even know them.”
Ray shrugs uncomfortably. “There’s not that much to know, is there?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck and looking at Frank. “I just don’t want you to get yourself involved in anything.”
“Oh my God,” Frank groans and closes his eyes for a few seconds, trying to work through the blinding rage mixed with stunned disbelief. “Are you trying to give me a ‘Drugs are bad’ speech?”
“I. . . no! Well, kinda,” Ray shrugs again. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
It’s an admission that quenches some of Frank’s anger. Ray is trying to look out for him, which is in itself a nice thing to do. Only he doesn’t know that he’s attacking the wrong people.
“Look, you don’t have to be worried, okay? They are good guys. They looked after me when I was sick.” Frank bites his tongue before he adds a nasty comment about how they are not afraid to offer him a place to sleep when Ray clearly doesn’t want him anywhere near his private life.
“Right. If you say so,” Ray replies, though he still doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ll go see if there’s cake left.”
“Cool.” Frank forces his fists to unclench. “Can you maybe pack some food for Mikey?”
Ray nods and Frank watches him disappear into the kitchen, releasing a long breath.
“Hey, you okay?” Gerard asks, balancing two trays in his arms. Frank swiftly takes one of them.
“Sure, everything’s cool,” Frank forces himself to smile.
Gerard nods and looks down at the trays. “They didn’t have much left, so I took some for you as well. Hope it’s what you wanted.”
It’s not like Frank is picky, but Gerard knows about his food preferences. One afternoon when Mikey was really high he’d giggled and told them that he really missed Fruit Loops, which had been followed by two hours of talk about all the food they really missed.
“Perfect, I love lasagna,” Frank smiles and nods towards a free table. Better eat while the food is still warm.
Both of them wolf down the first few bites before slowing down, making an effort to eat slowly and enjoy the food, making it last as long as possible.
Frank is licking his fork clean of tomato sauce when Ray comes over and puts a plastic bag down on the table. “I managed to get some pieces of lasagna and bread. But there was no cake left.” The way Ray says it he makes it sound like no cake is the end of the world.
“Dude, that’s awesome. Thank you.” This time when Frank smiles at Ray it’s genuine. That’s more than he expected. Now they only need to get Mikey to eat.
“Sure,” Ray says, briefly glancing at Gerard. “So, hey. You know there’s a kind of Christmas dinner thing here tomorrow? You should come.”
Frank doesn’t like shitty charity events, but he’s not one to turn down free food, even if it means having to endure cheerful Christmas spirit bullshit.
“I guess,” Frank replies slowly, placing his fork carefully on his empty plate before looking up at Ray again. “I can bring Mikey and Gerard, right?”
The corners of Ray’s lips twitch but he manages to hold onto a smile. “Of course.”
~
Mikey pours another packet of sugar into his coffee, watching the white grains fall with rapt attention. Tapping his middle finger against the flimsy paper bag he sends a few more grains into his coffee. A few miss their target and Mikey licks the tip of his finger and picks them up from the table top. Nothing happens when he rubs his finger over his gums, except his mouth filling with a sweet taste.
“Hey.” Ryan flops down in the seat across from Mikey. He’s wearing an array of scarves, pulled up high and almost hiding his face. The thin material doesn’t seem like it’ll ward off the cold.
“Coffee?” Mikey asks, already waving the waitress over.
“Tea,” Ryan mumbles, not even glancing at the waitress as he gives his order. Once she leaves Mikey and Ryan sit in silence for a moment.
“Are you hungry?” Mikey asks, because even though the smell of grease and bacon wafting through the air is making him nauseous he did promise Ryan a meal.
“No,” Ryan shakes his head, twisting his fingers together and pulling his shoulders up, eyes nervously scanning their surroundings. He hates being surrounded by people even more than Mikey.
The waitress puts a cup down in front of Ryan and he waits until she turns around before wrapping his hands around it. The tips of his fingers are bright red from the cold. He could do with a pair of gloves that weren’t holey and fingerless. Mikey takes a slow sip of his coffee and breathes through the tight feeling in his chest.
“You didn’t say which colors you want,” Ryan breaks the silence and reaches into his backpack, pulling out what looks like a bundle of wool. After carefully checking the table for stains he spreads it out and the bundle turns into a tiny sweater. “I thought red and blue would be nice any time of the year.”
Mikey reaches out and carefully traces a finger over the sweater. The wool’s thick and soft.
“It’s perfect,” Mikey says and although his smile is not wide it’s honest. Mikey knows Ryan’ll get it. They’re similar in a lot of ways.
“Yeah?” There’s still a trace of doubt in Ryan’s voice but his eyes have lit up.
“Yeah,” Mikey nods. If Gerard were here he’d hug Ryan, but Mikey settles for bumping his leg against Ryan’s under the table. “Honestly, it’s perfect Ryan. Thank you.”
A hint of color blooms on Ryan’s cheeks and Mikey makes a silent vow to meet Ryan more often. Gerard and he help whenever they can, but at the end of the night it’s not all about help. Sometimes all you need is company.
“I. . . I got you something as well. For Christmas, kinda.” Mikey’s not good at giving presents. He fumbles awkwardly to get the bag he stowed under the table out and holds it out to Ryan.
As soon as Mikey sees Ryan’s face he regrets it. The corners of Ryan’s lips are twitching and he looks like he’s ready to bolt. Maybe a present wasn’t a good idea. Maybe Ryan doesn’t like presents.
Mikey’s palms are getting sweaty and he wishes the stupid bag would disappear because now that he’s awkwardly holding it between them he can’t just put it away again.
“For me?” Ryan asks, his voice is a little wobbly and breaking away from his usual monotone.
Mikey nods and when Ryan takes the bag from him he releases the breath he’s been holding.
“It’s not a great Christmas gift or anything,” Mikey mumbles, tracing his index finger over a chip in his mug, “Just something I thought you could use and. . . yeah.” This is why Mikey usually leaves the talking to Gerard. Still, Ryan looks completely enchanted. It makes Mikey wish that he could’ve put aside more money and bought Ryan a proper present.
Ryan runs his hands over the plastic bag before he carefully looks inside. “Oh.” His eyes light up.
“It looked really warm,” Mikey says, like he needs to explain to Ryan why he bought him a blanket. Mikey’s seen the ratty little thing Ryan carries around in his backpack. He also knows that Ryan sleeps on a mattress in an abandoned warehouse, where it is always damp and drafty. There is nothing Mikey can do about that, but when he’d seen the blanket in a store, ran his fingers over the thick, soft material he’d thought that it might help to make Ryan at least a little comfortable.
“It’s awesome,” Ryan whispers, clutching the bag to his chest. “Thank you.”
His voice is full of raw emotion and Mikey doesn’t know what to do with that. It’s obvious that it’s been a long time since Ryan got a present from anyone. It makes Mikey aware how lucky he is. Gerard gets him little things all the time.
“Merry Christmas, Ryan,” Mikey replies eventually, pressing his leg against Ryan’s under the table. Ryan presses back and smiles.
~
If Frank had a watch he’d repeatedly glance at it and tap his foot impatiently. As it is he has no idea how much time has passed since they’ve come back to their alley and curled up with the blanket, waiting for Mikey to return. Gerard is half-asleep, head on Frank’s shoulder, apparently without a care in the world.
“He’s been gone for a while now,” Frank mutters and picks dog hair off the blanket.
“Hm?” Gerard blinks and barely lifts his head. “He’ll be here soon. Don’t worry.”
Frank huffs. Zero sighs deeply and puts his head down on his paws. Frank’s dog is the only one who understands him.
It seems like an eternity until Frank hears someone approaching. He holds his breath and presses back against the wall out of instinct.
“Hey,” Mikey mumbles as he rounds the dumpster, looking the same as when he left. Frank doesn’t know what he was expecting. Mikey sits down in front of them and scoops Zero up. He laughs when Zero stretches to lick his chin.
“Had a good time?” Gerard asks, finally lifting his head from Frank’s shoulder. He’s smiling as well. Why is everybody smiling when Frank feels like fucking things up?
“Yeah. Ryan says hi and Merry Christmas.” Mikey replies, petting Zero once the dog has settled in his lap.
“That all Ryan said? Considering you were gone for so long and all,” Frank mutters, pulling his shoulders up and picking at the blanket. Neither Mikey nor Gerard reply and the air between them is suddenly thick with tension.
“Why’d you go and meet him anyway?” Frank prods further because he never knows when to stop. When he looks up he finds Mikey looking at him with a blank expression. Frank hates it when Mikey closes off like that.
“Because he’s my friend and because it’s Christmas,” Mikey replies slowly, looking right at Frank. Great, now Frank feels like an asshole.
“I was just worried,” he mumbles and pulls his knees closer to his chest. Gerard presses a little closer to Frank’s side.
“You can stop worrying now,” Mikey points out nonchalantly.
“I guess,” Frank shrugs. Truth is, he’ll never stop worrying about Mikey.
“Gee,” Mikey mumbles and pokes Gerard’s leg through the blanket.
Gerard hesitates for a moment, looking like he wants to say something. In the end he keeps his mouth shut and reaches into his boot with a sigh. “We brought you some food.”
“I’m not hungry,” Mikey replies, looking like he’s trying to disappear into his coat.
“Need me to come with you?” Gerard asks as he presses a small plastic bag into Mikey’s hand.
Mikey pushes his hand into the pocket of his coat and coaxes Zero to stand up before he pushes to his feet himself.
“No,” he shakes his head. “’s just around the corner.” Mikey raises his free hand in a distracted wave, already on his way to the public bathroom.
Frank lifts Zero into his lap and cuddles the dog, needing something to hold onto. Now he’s even more miserable than before.
“Frank-“
“Look, I’m sorry,” Frank interrupts Gerard before he can break into a rant. “I was just worried.”
“Hey, I know. I get it.” Gerard squeezes Frank’s knee reassuringly. “I get it,” he repeats and Frank has no doubt that he does.
“You love him, don’t you?” Gerard asks after a moment and Frank nearly chokes on his own saliva.
“I. . . what?” He splutters, starring at Gerard with wide-eyes, waiting for him to start laughing. Because this is a joke, it has to be. Mikey is Gerard’s and Gerard is Mikey’s. Frank isn’t going to get between them. Gerard is going to tell him to fuck off now, Frank’s sure.
“I’ve seen the way you look at him, you know?” Gerard says. He’s smiling. Frank doesn’t know what to do with that.
“From the first time he brought you along. You always looked at him like he’s special.”
“He is special,” Frank interrupts before he can stop himself.
“See, that’s what I mean!” Gerard nearly pushes the blanket off them when he waves his arms like he’s actually excited. “You know that. And you treat him like he is.”
“Well, duh,” Frank huffs, trying to untangle a knot in Zero’s fur. “He’s my friend. I treat all my friends like that.” Not that Frank’s got any friends left to prove it.
“Frank.” Gerard’s using the same tone Frank’s mother used to use when she thought he was being dense.
“But he’s yours.” Why doesn’t Gerard get it? There’s no need to rub it in Frank’s face. Besides, the very last thing Frank wants to hear right now is a speech about staying the fuck away from Mikey.
“Yeah he is,” Gerard nods. He still sounds unnervingly calm. “But he’s yours too. Frank, hey.” Gerard turns so he’s facing Frank, his hand settling gently on Frank’s arm. “Mikey deserves all the love he can get.”
It’s so stupidly selfless, so typically Gerard that it makes anger boil hot in Frank’s veins. He’s never acted rational when angry.
“You do too, idiot,” Frank hisses before he leans in and crashes his lips against Gerard’s. It’s not a romantic first kiss, no flowers and rainbows and angels singing in the background. It’s not meant to be, with Frank still so angry and confused.
“You deserve all the love too,” Frank repeats as he pulls back.
Gerard looks shocked but not like he wants to punch Frank, which Frank counts as a good sign.
“Oh,” Gerard smiles and he looks open and vulnerable in a way Frank’s never seen before, shy instead of sassy. “Well. I guess you don’t really have to decide. I mean,” Gerard shrugs and rubs the back of his neck.
“You guys were always gonna be a package deal anyway,” Frank concludes with a small smile of his own. Fine, so maybe he’s greedy. Or maybe this is too good to be true. Or maybe it’s a long overdue Christmas miracle.
Gerard’s reply is cut off when Mikey comes back and slides down the wall next to his brother, looking calmer than before.
“Hey Mikes,” Gerard mumbles, shooting Frank an apologetic glance and mouthing ‘talk later’ before he turns to Mikey and tucks the blanket around him. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Mikey replies and sniffs, leaning against Gerard.
“Try and eat a little bit now?” Gerard tries again. Mikey sighs and picks at the blanket, not answering or even looking at Gerard.
“Mikey,” Gerard’s voice is a little firmer than before and brings Mikey back to reality.
“What? Oh. Uh. I guess. Okay,” Mikey shrugs, obviously not thrilled at the idea of food but willing to indulge Gerard now that he’s had his fix.
They sit in silence as Mikey eats and keeps slipping Zero bits of food.
“So, hey, Ray totally invited us to this Christmas thing at the soup kitchen tomorrow,” Gerard lies, nudging his elbow against Mikey’s side. “That’s gonna be good, yeah? We can get some food and listen to stupid Christmas songs before we check into the motel.”
“Hm. Cool.” Mikey pushes the rest of his food around in the takeaway container with his fork . “Can Ryan come too? He’s got no place to stay at tomorrow.”
Frank’s pretty sure that this is going to lead to Ryan coming along to the motel with them. He keeps his head down and picks at the knee of his jeans where a hole is forming.
“Course. Everybody can come. Right, Frank?”
Frank ‘accidentally’ kicks Gerard. “Sure,” he replies sweetly, flashing Gerard and Mikey a smile before curling back into himself, mumbling about getting a few hours of sleep while they’re still here.
In the end Frank is too worked up to sleep. He sits with his eyes closed and leans against Gerard’s side, keeping his breathing even as he listens to Gerard and Mikey whisper to each other about comic books, things they’ve seen in shop windows, what they should get as a special Christmas breakfast.
“Mikey, c’mon. Blueberry muffins suck. Triple chocolate or nothing. Live a little!”
“No. Blueberry,” Mikey replies, calm as ever. Despite Gerard’s protests there is no doubt that he’ll buy blueberry muffins for Mikey. Fuck, Frank is ridiculously in love with these ridiculous people and it makes breathing ridiculously hard.
“Hey Frank, you okay?” Gerard sounds genuinely concerned. Frank opens his eyes and smiles at him, feeling all warm inside. The entire world is completely ridiculous today.
“Yeah. I’m good,” he mumbles, scooting closer and pressing against Gerard’s side.
“Okay then,” Gerard doesn’t sound fully convinced. “We’re getting triple chocolate muffins for breakfast tomorrow before going to the motel.”
“And blueberry,” Mikey throws in with a dark look, poking Gerard’s side.
“Fine. And blueberry,” Gerard rolls his eyes. “Frank, tell him triple chocolate are better. You’re on my side, right?”
Frank looks between Gerard and Mikey, and there is that ridiculous feeling in his chest again.
“I like both,” he replies with a grin.
~
Gerard and Mikey spend a big part of the remaining evening arguing food choices with Frank throwing in a comment every now and then. For the most part he’s captivated audience because the Way brothers arguing peanut M&M’s versus peanut butter M&M’s is hilarious.
The later it gets the more the conversation lulls until Gerard finally detangles himself from the blanket with a sigh. “We should get going.”
“Hm.” Mikey huffs and gets to his feet with a sigh, pulling his shoulders up against the cold.
Getting out from under the blanket is always the worst. Frank makes sure that Zero is still comfortable in his blanket nest and won’t get cold before he gets to his feet as well, putting his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and standing awkwardly.
“Right. Uh. I’ll see you in a few then,” Frank mumbles.
“Yep. We’ll come back here to pick you up,” Gerard says.
“Okay. Cool.” Frank swallows against the tightness in his throat. What the hell is wrong with him? He used to be smooth and sure of himself. Back in another life when he was more than a street urchin.
Frank exhales sharply through his nose and takes a step forward just as Gerard and Mikey turn to leave.
“Hey.” They both stop and look back at Frank, who shifts under the attention before telling himself to grow a pair. Taking another step forward Frank pushes up on his tiptoes and presses a light kiss to Gerard’s lips, feeling them twitch into a smile under his own. That’s reassuring, but the way Mikey looks at them with a blank face isn’t. Damn, Frank should’ve done this the other way round.
“Take care,” Frank says and his voice cracks a little as he steps closer to Mikey and fists his hands in the front of Mikey’s coat, pulling him in for a kiss as well. Mikey’s lips don’t move.
They’re cold and chapped under Frank’s. Frank wants nothing more than to kiss the cold away.
The way Mikey doesn’t respond at all makes Frank’s heart sink. When he pulls back he’s almost afraid to see what he’s going to find in Mikey’s eyes. There’s nothing but curiosity and a bit of hesitation though. Mikey looks at him for a moment before his eyes flicker over to Gerard. Frank can’t see what it is Gerard does, but it seems to reassure Mikey. The line of mouth softens and he leans his forehead against Frank’s, not quite kissing him. “Always. You take care too.”
Frank grins and rubs the tip of his nose against Mikey’s. “Always.”
~
They don’t talk about Frank.
Not with a lot of words anyway. Gerard reaches over and takes Mikey’s hand, squeezing lightly. There are years of sibling speech between them making it a no-brainer for Mikey to translate.
He squeezes back.
“I knew you liked him from the beginning,” Gerard says, looking straight ahead. Gerard’s always known things about Mikey before Mikey’s known them himself.
“I like him too,” Gerard adds, glancing over at his brother. Something in Mikey unwinds and he holds onto Gerard hand so tight it hurts.
“Yeah?”
Gerard smiles and ducks his head. “Yeah. Kind of a lot.”
Frank has wormed his way into their lives and now there is no way Mikey could imagine a life without him.
“Then it’s all good?” Mikey asks, because he needs to be sure. His thoughts are so jumbled, he needs Gerard to spell it out for him.
“Yes. It’s all good.”
Mikey nods. There is no question of how they are going to make this work. Because it already works. It’s them, now without inhibitions.
“Seems like Santa sent us an early present,” Gerard grins, startling a laugh from Mikey.
“He’s gotta make up for the shitty Christmas last year.” At Mikey’s words Gerard’s smile falters and he squeezes Mikey’s hand again.
“Hey,” Mikey bumps his shoulder against Gerard’s. “Totally made up for it.”
“Totally,” Gerard agrees, bumping Mikey back.
“I’ll see if Ryan’s around already. Tell him to come to the soup kitchen tomorrow. Meet you at the corner?” Mikey asks, his steps slowing down.
“Yeah. Tell Ryan I count on seeing him tomorrow,” Gerard says, getting a battered pack of cigarettes out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket.
“’kay,” Mikey nods and lets go off Gerard’s hand, smiling at him before he turns around and walks to Ryan’s usual corner. Looks like Christmas this year is going to be good.
~
Ryan is leaning against a wall, hunched into himself and starring down at the pavement.
“Hey,” Mikey says and leans against the wall next to Ryan, watching the cars pass by.
Ryan snaps his head up, eyes wide with surprise. “Hey,” he echoes. Glancing over Mikey notices Ryan’s hands trembling even though they are balled into fists. It’s not difficult to guess what’s up; Mikey’s been in the same position.
“There is some kind of Christmas thing at the soup kitchen tomorrow. You should go there with us,” Mikey says, kicking a pebble out of the way and letting his eyes go unfocused until the world in front of him is nothing but shadows and passing bulbs of light.
“I don’t know,” Ryan replies and sniffles. Mikey resists the urge to rub his own nose.
“There’ll be food and it’s really warm there.” Mikey isn’t going to talk Ryan into coming the way Gerard would. If Ryan doesn’t want to come he doesn’t want to come, it’s his decision. But Mikey can point out the advantages. “And you’d get to meet Frank and Zero.”
Ryan’s quite for a while, scratching his wrist and coughing softly. “I guess,” he replies eventually.
Mikey blinks until the world comes back into focus and smiles at Ryan. “Cool. You know how to get there?”
Ryan furrows his brows before he nods, tongue darting out to lick over his chapped lips. He’s in a bad state and Mikey is about to take him back to Gerard, share some of the cocaine that’s for later tonight. It’s a fucked up Christmas present, but it’s going to help Ryan the most.
Mikey’s barely opened his mouth when he’s cut off by a car pulling up on the curb. Mikey and Ryan watch as the window on the passenger side rolls down. It’s Ryan’s corner, so it’s going to be his job. Mikey can’t bring himself to walk away. Ryan is obviously in bad shape and that’s like sticking a bloody leg into the ocean - it attracts clients like sharks.
“You two, how much?” The guy in the driver’s seat bellows, leaning over and looking them up and down.
Ryan’s mouth works but no sound comes out. Mikey looks from him to the car and back, making a decision within seconds. Taking Ryan’s hand he walks closer to the car.
“400 for an hour.” Mikey’s reply makes the man scoff. Mikey raises his chin higher and squeezes Ryan’s hand. They’ve never taken a job together, but they both need the money and this way Mikey can watch out for Ryan.
“Aiming a little high, arent’cha?” The man grins. He’s the kind of sleazy that makes Mikey’s skin crawl.
Mikey shrugs and squeezed Ryan’s hand sharply when it seems like he’s about to crumble and ask for less.
“Holiday season, holiday prices,” Mikey points and takes a step back. His palms are sweaty.
Ryan needs this job even more than Mikey does, but chances of the john pulling away are high. The man looks annoyed and taps his fingers against the steering wheel, never taking his eyes off of them. Mikey tries his best to appear self-assured, making up for Ryan’s trembling.
“Fine,” the john finally agrees and juts his chin towards the backseat. “Get in.”
(START SKIP, go to next part)
Mikey slides into the seat next to Ryan. Gerard will know that he’s picked up a job on the way, so that’s one less thing to worry about, even though Mikey would’ve preferred to let his brother know.
Ryan is tense next to him and Mikey takes forcefully even breathes. He’s got to be the calm one this time.
No one says a word during the drive. It’s a heavy silence Mikey’s become used to; it doesn’t bother him anymore and he looks out of the window. It’s never a bad thing to know where you’re going.
The motel the john takes them to is one of the more upscale places, which is only going to make things marginally better. In the end it doesn’t matter if you’re in a shitty room or a fancy suite, you’ll always walk away feeling the same.
“Take the bag,” the man instructs, glancing back at them in the rear view mirror before he gets out of the car. Ryan releases a shaky breath once the door slams shut. Then he pulls his shoulders back and grabs the handles of the weekender bag on the floor and exits the car as well. It takes Mikey a moment to follow, taken aback but relieved by Ryan apparently finding the strength to put on the mask he needs for this job.
“You wait here,” the man orders as soon as they are inside, walking up to the desk alone. Mikey and Ryan hang back without a word, both used to following orders. For a moment Mikey imagines Frank in the same situation, lips forming a smile at the thought of Frank’s attitude getting the better of him.
“Watcha think?” Ryan asks, looking past Mikey at the john handing over cash for the room. “What kind is he?”
Mikey tilts his head to the side and musters the guy. Polished leather shoes, beige pants, a beer belly emphasized even more by the salmon colored shirt he’s wearing. His brown leather jacket looks old and well-worn. Dark hair slicked back, and something about the way he regards the world around him that makes it clear that he thinks he’s superior. And he’s willing to pay 400 bucks for an hour. There is no way he won’t have special requests.
“Bondage, probably,” Mikey shrugs. “Voyeurism maybe. Definitely something where he gets to order us around.” He seems like the kind of guy who gets off on having power over others.
“My guess too,” Ryan nods. Mikey doesn’t point out that Ryan must have a lot of experience with clients like that. He’s the perfect prey for their games.
“Boys,” the man calls from the front desk and nods towards the elevator. There’s something about the way he says ‘boys’ that makes the hairs on Mikey’s neck stand up.
The elevator ride is quiet, another kind of situation that would make a normal person uncomfortable. Mikey’s used to it. He’s spent time in elevators with fiddling first timers, impatient assholes, hateful drunks in need of a punching bag. The silence is another part of the routine, the same as following the john to the room, never speaking unless you’re being addressed.
Stepping into the room Mikey quickly scopes out the interior. As far as motel rooms go it’s nice and clean.
“There’s clothes in the bag. Change into them.” The man orders, kicking the door shut behind himself and locking it. “Make yourself pretty for me.”
Ryan has already taken a step towards the bathroom when Mikey grabs his wrists, looking evenly at the john, quirking his eyebrow. When the man doesn’t react Mikey sighs and tries to stand up taller. He hates this part.
“Money first.”
“Ah, right. Of course,” the man smiles pleasantly, like they’re all friends, and pulls a wad of notes from his pocket, counting out 400 and handing them to Mikey. Mikey makes sure the man counted right before he nods and folds the bills, giving Ryan a gentle nudge in the direction of the bathroom.
Closing the door behind them Mikey leans back against it, exhaling slowly. This is going to be the only moment of privacy they’ll get tonight. “Let’s see the damage,” Mikey mumbles, watching Ryan unzip the bag through heavily-lidded eyes. He’s so tired of this. Movement seems like too much effort, making playing a role look like an impossible mission. If Gerard were here he could do this, take most of pressure off of Mikey. But Gerard isn’t here and Mikey is the one who has to hold things together.
“Shit,” Ryan gasps, looking into the bag. Mikey pushes away from the door and peers over his shoulder, barely suppressing a groan. Grabbing the garment on top Mikey pulls it out, inspecting the sundress. It’s rose colored with flowers all over it. It’s innocent rather than sexy. Mikey tosses the dress over the towel rail and pulls the rest of the clothes from the bag. There’s a pair of brown knickerbockers and a green shirt with Donald Duck on it. Shit indeed. Looks like they won the fucked-up jackpot.
“Shit,” Ryan repeats and sits down on the edge of the tub, starring at the clothes like they are going to take a flying leap and strangle him. His hands are trembling worse than before.
They’ve never really talked about their pasts. Why would they anyway, it’s not like who they used to be matters anymore. But Mikey vaguely remembers that Ryan didn’t end up in the streets because of an addiction problem like Gerard and him, but because of family issues.
“Shit,” Mikey agrees softly. He’s all too aware of time ticking away, the john getting impatient outside. “We’ll manage, okay? Here, that’ll help.”
Mikey crouches down in front of Ryan and unzips his left boot, reaching inside and producing a bag that holds a small amount of white powder. It’s not much left, but it’ll be good for an initial rush.
Opening it carefully Mikey sucks on his index finger before collecting the grains with it. He wants but the way Ryan’s starting to tremble all over makes him reach out, pushing his finger into Ryan’s mouth without much ado and rubbing it over Ryan’s gums. “It’ll be okay,” Mikey mumbles again and gives Ryan the very last cocaine from the bag. Mikey can deal for another hour or two and then he’ll go and buy some more from the money they are making with this job.
The job that impatiently pounds on the bathroom door. “Get a move on, will ya? We don’t have all night.” The way his voice is dripping sleazy sweetness makes Mikey want to vomit.
Ryan is still looking around wide-eyed, but at least a little more composed, absently minded running his tongue over his teeth repeatedly.
“Put that on.” Mikey hands Ryan the trousers and shirt, taking the dress himself. Ryan seems okay for now, but Mikey’s got a feeling that it’ll only take the smallest of things to push him back over the edge.
Mikey undresses as quickly as possible, folding his clothes carefully and putting them on the towel rack. Maybe he’ll get the chance to wash them at the motel tomorrow, but either way he doesn’t want them on the dirty bathroom floor.
The flimsy material of the sundress provides no protection against the cold and Mikey shivers in the cold room. While Ryan is still struggling into his clothes Mikey looks at himself in the bathroom mirror. The white light makes him look washed out. Or maybe he really looks like that by now, he wouldn’t know. Mikey only ever sees himself in mirrors in motels or public restrooms where the light is bad.
Reaching up Mikey pokes at his cheekbones. He almost expects them to feel sharp under his fingertips. Rubbing away the smudges of eyeliner under his eyes Mikey briefly thinks that the dress is not flattering him at all. His shoulders look too wide, his chest too flat and pale. He hasn’t washed his hair in days and his skin looks blotchy. He doesn’t have any make-up to give his lips some color or his eyes a less sunken-in look.
Mikey’s not pretty. The john will have to deal with that.
“I’m done,” Ryan says, breaking the silence of the room. Mikey nods and turns, walking to the door without looking at Ryan, who’s always beautiful, no matter how fucked up he is.
“There you are.” The man looks them over before he nods approvingly, his smile brightening.
“Daddy brought you some Christmas presents. Isn’t that great?”
Mikey’s fingertips feel numb and there is bile rising in his throat. He barely manages to nod.
“Now, that’s no proper way to say thank you, is it? C’mere and thank your daddy properly.”
(END SKIP)
next
~
Before Gerard gets a chance to pet Zero the dog has already moved on to say hello to Mikey.
Frank watches with a smile from where he’s huddled against the wall, blanket up to his nose and hood pulled low. He’s always restless until Mikey and Gerard get back, trying not to
imagine all the things that could happen to them.
“Awesome.” Frank shifts and pushes the blanket down a little when Gerard and Mikey sit down on either side of him. They press close and somehow manage to arrange the blanket so it covers all three of them. Zero worms his way between their feet and lies down with a self-satisfied sigh.
“Okay night?” Frank asks and clutches the cup of tea Mikey hands him. He still doesn’t quite know how to ask them if they’re all right, despite Gerard being painfully honest at all times, which makes threading around on egg shells unnecessary.
“Fucking slow,” Gerard huffs, shoving a fry into his mouth and licking salt from his fingers.
Frank’s mouth hangs open for a second before he manages to say, “Sucks.”
“Mhm.” Mikey leans his head against Frank’s shoulder and takes a sip of what smells like cocoa.
“You not eating anything?” Frank asks softly, holding his cup with one hand and trying to fumble open a McMuffin carton with the other.
“Nah, not really hungry.” Mikey mutters. This close up he smells like pot.
“Get some sleep, Mikes,” Gerard says, shifting against Frank’s side and looking at his brother. Mikey hums again, sounding like he’s already half asleep. Frank and Gerard finish their food in silence. Frank sips his tea slowly, but eventually not even his willpower can keep it warm and he drains the lukewarm remains.
“He’s thinking about cutting back,” Gerard says lowly, breaking the early morning silence that’s settled comfortably over them.
Mikey’s head is heavy on his shoulder and Frank tries to stay as still as possible, looking at Gerard from the corners of his eyes.
“Really?” Frank’s throat feels tight.
“Yeah,” Gerard nods and fumbles a cigarette out of a battered pack, leaving it perched between his lips without lighting it for a moment. “I. . . I want to believe it. I mean, I know he wants to, but I’m not sure,” he trails off and cups his hand in front of his mouth, lighting the cigarette.
“You’re not sure if he can do it?” Frank asks, his hand seeking Mikey’s arm under the blanket, fingers curling into the sleeves of Mikey’s coat. “He can do it. I know it.”
Gerard’s smile is wry but he nods, slowly exhaling smoke. “That shit is difficult.”
“Yeah,” Frank barely stops himself from shrugging, “But he’s got us.”
~
Mikey closes his eyes and exhales slowly, trying to keep from tapping his foot against the pavement. It’s freezing, he’s fidgety, he really, really, reallyreallyreally wants a hit, just a tiny one, and he’s got ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’ stuck in his head. Fucking Christmas time and stores blasting stupid, happy songs that force their way into one’s brain and refuse to leave.
Two more days until Christmas and business is slow. Gerard’s driven off with a john a few minutes ago, but so far Mikey’s only had two back alley blowjobs.
Mikey sniffs and rubs his nose. The skin around it is sore and Mikey feels the skin under it, relieved when his fingers don’t come away bloody. A nosebleed is the last thing he needs right now.
Hardly any cars drive by and Mikey amuses himself for a while by looking at the Christmas decorations, letting his vision go unfocused until they’re shiny blobs of color.
“Mikey?”
Mikey blinks until the world shifts back into focus and turns, smiling when he sees who’s approaching.
“Hi Ryan.”
Ryan’s lips twitch into the barest of smiles. “How are you?”
His voice is low, like always, and Mikey has to strain to hear him. Ryan speaks and behaves in a way that attracts trouble. On more than one occasion Gerard and Mikey had to help him into one of the back alleys and sit with him for the day, trying to judge if he needed the free clinic or not. Ryan’s a shy and private person, but Mikey likes to think they’re friends.
“All right,” Mikey shrugs, tugging on the sleeves of his coat. He can’t feel the tips of his fingers anymore. “It’s the holidays.” Ryan’ll understand what Mikey means. “How’re you?”
Ryan is wearing a scarf and a newsboy cap, large parts of his face hidden in the shadows. He seems to be mostly fine, physically.
“I’m okay,” Ryan nods and takes a cautious step closer. “It’s almost Christmas.”
Mikey nods and scratches the bridge of his nose.
“So. It’s not, like, anything great or stuff, but, Gee and you, you’re. . . you’re my friends, so,”
Ryan stops and takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to compose himself, and pulls something out of the pocket of his ratty coat, holding it out for Mikey. “Merry Christmas.”
For a moment Mikey doesn’t move before he reaches out and takes the mittens Ryan’s holding. One pair is black and the other one grey.
“I thought. . . I thought maybe you could use them.” Ryan sounds insecure and Mikey desperately wishes that Gerard was here to handle this properly, hug Ryan as tightly as possible.
“Did you make them?” Mikey asks, rubbing his thumb over the soft wool.
“Yeah,” Ryan shrugs and looks down, seemingly more embarrassed by the second. “Can’t sleep a lot of the time, so I kinda took knitting up as a hobby,” he laughs softly, like he’s expecting Mikey to make fun of him.
“That’s amazing.” Mikey’s fingers close tighter around the mittens and he shuffles forward a little. Ryan and him aren’t the most touchy of people, so Mikey only reaches out to link his fingers with Ryan’s and squeeze. “They’re fantastic. Thank you.” He tries to put it into his voice how much this actually means, but as always it comes out sounding wrong.
“We. . . I got nothing for you.”
Ryan shakes his head and links their fingers tighter. “You. . . helped me. A lot of times. And. . . it’s good to have. Have someone.”
Mikey nods jerkily. As shitty as their situation is, Mikey’s always going to have Gerard. Ryan has no one, doesn’t trust people. It took them over six months to stop Ryan from running away from them.
Looking down at the mittens an idea crosses Mikey’s mind.
“This is kinda short notice, but could you maybe. . . knit something else for me? I’ll invite you for dinner in exchange.”
Ryan nods before Mikey’s even finished speaking.
~
Frank is playing a game with Zero that involves rolling a plastic bottle around when Gerard and Mikey come back from work, looking worn out and tired. The bottle rolls across the pavement and hits the brick wall on the other side of the alley as Zero forgets all about playing in his haste to welcome the brothers back.
“Hey,” Frank says, noticing the shadows under Mikey’s eyes that look like bruises and the way Gerard drags his feet, like he doesn’t even have the energy to lift them anymore. Gerard grunts a reply and flops down on the ground next to Frank, leaning heavily against his side. Mikey picks up Zero and holds him close before joining them.
“Long night,” Gerard mutters and Frank drapes part of the blanket over him.
“Sucks,” Frank offers, running a hand through Gerard’s hair. There’s not really a way for him to provide comfort.
Mikey’s petting Zero, pressed to Frank’s other side. Frank smiles at them before doing a double take.
“Did you buy mittens?” He asks, looking at the grey ones Mikey’s wearing.
“No. Ryan made them for us,” Mikey says and rubs his nose. The mittens hide it, but Frank knows that Mikey’s fingers are trembling.
“Ryan. . . what?” Frank looks at Gerard because he’s usually better at explaining things than Mikey. Gerard wiggles his fingers and Frank sees that he’s wearing a pair of black mittens.
“Ryan made them for us. He’s a friend.”
“Oh.” Frank swallows because suddenly his mouth is stupidly dry. Of course Gerard and Mikey have other friends. That’s nothing special. Nothing that should make him feel like he can’t breathe.
“We could go to the soup kitchen later,” Frank suggests, trying to change the topic and ban all thoughts of Ryan and awesome, self-made presents he can never compete with.
“Sure,” Gerard replies at the same time as Mikey says, “Can’t.”
“What? Why?” Frank asks.
“I’m meeting Ryan,” Mikey shrugs and Frank wants to bash his head against a wall. Fuck everything, now he’s grumpy and annoyed and wants nothing more than go to sleep and not think.
“Gee,” Mikey whines and leans forward so he can look at his brother. Frank knows that look and it doesn’t improve his mood. With a huff Frank leans back and pulls his legs up closer to his chest, trying to get comfortable. Gerard’s arm keeps bumping against Frank’s side and he jostles Frank when he leans over and hands Mikey a joint.
Frank tries very hard to pretend it’s a cigarette and closes his eyes.
~
Frank isn’t happy about Mikey going off to meet Ryan. He wants to ask Gerard a million questions but stubbornly refuses to open his mouth. After all he’s got no right to be jealous. Mikey can hang out with whoever he wants. Frank always knew the Ways would eventually move on.
“Why’re you sulking?” Gerard asks, shooting Frank a sideways look.
“What? I’m not sulking.” Frank’s hand tightens around Zero’s leash and he looks down at the ground, almost running over an old lady.
“Uh-huh.” Gerard doesn’t sound like he believes it, but thankfully he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t press matters further.
They walk the rest of the way to the soup kitchen in silence, Gerard smoking a cigarette and trying to draw it out as long as possible. There’s only half a pack left and no money to buy a new one anytime soon. Frank keeps a tight hold on Zero’s leash and makes half-hearted attempts to keep him from marking every lamppost and bus bench they pass.
“We should take some food for Mikey,” Frank says, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” Gerard nods, then sighs. “He’s never eaten much, but it’s worse now.” His bottom lip catches between his teeth and Frank reaches over with his free hand to tentatively link his fingers through Gerard’s.
“He’ll be okay.” Frank swallows against the lump in his throat. “It’s just his body adjusting.”
“I know,” Gerard replies, sounding frustrated and holding onto Frank’s hand a little tighter.
“Just. I keep. . . I keep thinking. If only cutting back a little has him in such a state,” Gerard trails off, but Frank knows what he means. What is full on withdrawal going to do to Mikey? It’s not something they’ve talked about before.
“Maybe if we slowly cut back his doses?” Frank asks, feeling like he’s walking on very thin ice. He’s not sure if there is a ‘we’.
Gerard shakes his head. “That won’t do. He has to decide himself when he wants to stop. If we make the decision for him he’s just gonna go off and buy whatever he can afford.”
“Shit,” Frank sighs, knowing Gerard’s right. “Guess we can only try and talk sense into him.”
Gerard shrugs in a way that Frank’s not sure how to interpret. Before he’s got a chance to ask they reach the soup kitchen and Gerard lets go off Frank’s hand and pushes the door open.
Inside it’s warm and noise, dishes clattering and people chatting. After a while out in the streets on your own you become desperate for human contact. The soup kitchen is like a social gathering for the poor.
Frank scans the tables, but there are enough free seats that he doesn’t bother asking Gerard to reserve them a spot. Gerard looks uncomfortable enough as it is, shoulders pulled up high and looking at the floor.
“Frank!”
Hearing his name Frank turns around and only gets a second to wonder why Zero is straining against the leash. Ray’s making his way over to them, grinning widely. With his wild hair barely contained in a ponytail, wearing a washed out Iron Maiden shirt and jeans he looks the same as always. Frank’s not sure why, but for some reason he expected Ray to be different.
So many things have happened to Frank in the past few weeks that it seems unthinkable that everything is still the same at the soup kitchen.
“Hey,” Frank smiles and loosens his hold on Zero’s leash a little, allowing him to jump up Ray’s legs by means of greeting.
“Hey Zero,” Ray pats Zero’s head and laughs when the dog licks his hand. “It’s good to see you again. I was starting to get worried.” Ray glances up at Frank.
“Oh. I’m. . . sorry?” Frank’s at a loss because he didn’t expect anyone to even notice his absence. “I got sick.”
Ray wrinkles his nose and straightens up when Zero finally gets back down on all fours and trots over to Gerard. “Aw shit man. Is that why this other guy came by the other day with Zero?”
It takes Frank a little to puzzle the pieces together. He only vaguely remembers Mikey coaxing to eat when he was sick, something hot and delicious. “Mikey was here?”
“Mikey, yeah. That was his name.” Ray looks less then pleased and his eyes stray to Gerard. “Another one of your friends?”
Frank nods. “That’s Gerard. He’s Mikey’s brother.”
Gerard raises his hand and waves awkwardly.
“Hi,” Ray says and it sounds so clipped and unfriendly that Frank does a double take. Since he’s known him Ray has never been anything but friendly.
“Hey Gee, you wanna go get some food? I’ll see about some water for Zero.” Frank raises an eyebrow at Gerard, who looks confused at first but nods when Frank keeps staring at him meaningfully. As soon as Gerard’s out of ear-reach Frank turns and takes a step closer to Ray, voice coming out strained as he tries to hold back on his anger, “What the fuck, Ray?”
Ray purses his lips and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “These people are no good, Frank. You shouldn’t hang out with them.”
“What the fuck?” Frank repeats, hands clenching into fists at his side and trying to order the replies flitting through his mind by importance. “You don’t even know them.”
Ray shrugs uncomfortably. “There’s not that much to know, is there?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck and looking at Frank. “I just don’t want you to get yourself involved in anything.”
“Oh my God,” Frank groans and closes his eyes for a few seconds, trying to work through the blinding rage mixed with stunned disbelief. “Are you trying to give me a ‘Drugs are bad’ speech?”
“I. . . no! Well, kinda,” Ray shrugs again. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
It’s an admission that quenches some of Frank’s anger. Ray is trying to look out for him, which is in itself a nice thing to do. Only he doesn’t know that he’s attacking the wrong people.
“Look, you don’t have to be worried, okay? They are good guys. They looked after me when I was sick.” Frank bites his tongue before he adds a nasty comment about how they are not afraid to offer him a place to sleep when Ray clearly doesn’t want him anywhere near his private life.
“Right. If you say so,” Ray replies, though he still doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ll go see if there’s cake left.”
“Cool.” Frank forces his fists to unclench. “Can you maybe pack some food for Mikey?”
Ray nods and Frank watches him disappear into the kitchen, releasing a long breath.
“Hey, you okay?” Gerard asks, balancing two trays in his arms. Frank swiftly takes one of them.
“Sure, everything’s cool,” Frank forces himself to smile.
Gerard nods and looks down at the trays. “They didn’t have much left, so I took some for you as well. Hope it’s what you wanted.”
It’s not like Frank is picky, but Gerard knows about his food preferences. One afternoon when Mikey was really high he’d giggled and told them that he really missed Fruit Loops, which had been followed by two hours of talk about all the food they really missed.
“Perfect, I love lasagna,” Frank smiles and nods towards a free table. Better eat while the food is still warm.
Both of them wolf down the first few bites before slowing down, making an effort to eat slowly and enjoy the food, making it last as long as possible.
Frank is licking his fork clean of tomato sauce when Ray comes over and puts a plastic bag down on the table. “I managed to get some pieces of lasagna and bread. But there was no cake left.” The way Ray says it he makes it sound like no cake is the end of the world.
“Dude, that’s awesome. Thank you.” This time when Frank smiles at Ray it’s genuine. That’s more than he expected. Now they only need to get Mikey to eat.
“Sure,” Ray says, briefly glancing at Gerard. “So, hey. You know there’s a kind of Christmas dinner thing here tomorrow? You should come.”
Frank doesn’t like shitty charity events, but he’s not one to turn down free food, even if it means having to endure cheerful Christmas spirit bullshit.
“I guess,” Frank replies slowly, placing his fork carefully on his empty plate before looking up at Ray again. “I can bring Mikey and Gerard, right?”
The corners of Ray’s lips twitch but he manages to hold onto a smile. “Of course.”
~
Mikey pours another packet of sugar into his coffee, watching the white grains fall with rapt attention. Tapping his middle finger against the flimsy paper bag he sends a few more grains into his coffee. A few miss their target and Mikey licks the tip of his finger and picks them up from the table top. Nothing happens when he rubs his finger over his gums, except his mouth filling with a sweet taste.
“Hey.” Ryan flops down in the seat across from Mikey. He’s wearing an array of scarves, pulled up high and almost hiding his face. The thin material doesn’t seem like it’ll ward off the cold.
“Coffee?” Mikey asks, already waving the waitress over.
“Tea,” Ryan mumbles, not even glancing at the waitress as he gives his order. Once she leaves Mikey and Ryan sit in silence for a moment.
“Are you hungry?” Mikey asks, because even though the smell of grease and bacon wafting through the air is making him nauseous he did promise Ryan a meal.
“No,” Ryan shakes his head, twisting his fingers together and pulling his shoulders up, eyes nervously scanning their surroundings. He hates being surrounded by people even more than Mikey.
The waitress puts a cup down in front of Ryan and he waits until she turns around before wrapping his hands around it. The tips of his fingers are bright red from the cold. He could do with a pair of gloves that weren’t holey and fingerless. Mikey takes a slow sip of his coffee and breathes through the tight feeling in his chest.
“You didn’t say which colors you want,” Ryan breaks the silence and reaches into his backpack, pulling out what looks like a bundle of wool. After carefully checking the table for stains he spreads it out and the bundle turns into a tiny sweater. “I thought red and blue would be nice any time of the year.”
Mikey reaches out and carefully traces a finger over the sweater. The wool’s thick and soft.
“It’s perfect,” Mikey says and although his smile is not wide it’s honest. Mikey knows Ryan’ll get it. They’re similar in a lot of ways.
“Yeah?” There’s still a trace of doubt in Ryan’s voice but his eyes have lit up.
“Yeah,” Mikey nods. If Gerard were here he’d hug Ryan, but Mikey settles for bumping his leg against Ryan’s under the table. “Honestly, it’s perfect Ryan. Thank you.”
A hint of color blooms on Ryan’s cheeks and Mikey makes a silent vow to meet Ryan more often. Gerard and he help whenever they can, but at the end of the night it’s not all about help. Sometimes all you need is company.
“I. . . I got you something as well. For Christmas, kinda.” Mikey’s not good at giving presents. He fumbles awkwardly to get the bag he stowed under the table out and holds it out to Ryan.
As soon as Mikey sees Ryan’s face he regrets it. The corners of Ryan’s lips are twitching and he looks like he’s ready to bolt. Maybe a present wasn’t a good idea. Maybe Ryan doesn’t like presents.
Mikey’s palms are getting sweaty and he wishes the stupid bag would disappear because now that he’s awkwardly holding it between them he can’t just put it away again.
“For me?” Ryan asks, his voice is a little wobbly and breaking away from his usual monotone.
Mikey nods and when Ryan takes the bag from him he releases the breath he’s been holding.
“It’s not a great Christmas gift or anything,” Mikey mumbles, tracing his index finger over a chip in his mug, “Just something I thought you could use and. . . yeah.” This is why Mikey usually leaves the talking to Gerard. Still, Ryan looks completely enchanted. It makes Mikey wish that he could’ve put aside more money and bought Ryan a proper present.
Ryan runs his hands over the plastic bag before he carefully looks inside. “Oh.” His eyes light up.
“It looked really warm,” Mikey says, like he needs to explain to Ryan why he bought him a blanket. Mikey’s seen the ratty little thing Ryan carries around in his backpack. He also knows that Ryan sleeps on a mattress in an abandoned warehouse, where it is always damp and drafty. There is nothing Mikey can do about that, but when he’d seen the blanket in a store, ran his fingers over the thick, soft material he’d thought that it might help to make Ryan at least a little comfortable.
“It’s awesome,” Ryan whispers, clutching the bag to his chest. “Thank you.”
His voice is full of raw emotion and Mikey doesn’t know what to do with that. It’s obvious that it’s been a long time since Ryan got a present from anyone. It makes Mikey aware how lucky he is. Gerard gets him little things all the time.
“Merry Christmas, Ryan,” Mikey replies eventually, pressing his leg against Ryan’s under the table. Ryan presses back and smiles.
~
If Frank had a watch he’d repeatedly glance at it and tap his foot impatiently. As it is he has no idea how much time has passed since they’ve come back to their alley and curled up with the blanket, waiting for Mikey to return. Gerard is half-asleep, head on Frank’s shoulder, apparently without a care in the world.
“He’s been gone for a while now,” Frank mutters and picks dog hair off the blanket.
“Hm?” Gerard blinks and barely lifts his head. “He’ll be here soon. Don’t worry.”
Frank huffs. Zero sighs deeply and puts his head down on his paws. Frank’s dog is the only one who understands him.
It seems like an eternity until Frank hears someone approaching. He holds his breath and presses back against the wall out of instinct.
“Hey,” Mikey mumbles as he rounds the dumpster, looking the same as when he left. Frank doesn’t know what he was expecting. Mikey sits down in front of them and scoops Zero up. He laughs when Zero stretches to lick his chin.
“Had a good time?” Gerard asks, finally lifting his head from Frank’s shoulder. He’s smiling as well. Why is everybody smiling when Frank feels like fucking things up?
“Yeah. Ryan says hi and Merry Christmas.” Mikey replies, petting Zero once the dog has settled in his lap.
“That all Ryan said? Considering you were gone for so long and all,” Frank mutters, pulling his shoulders up and picking at the blanket. Neither Mikey nor Gerard reply and the air between them is suddenly thick with tension.
“Why’d you go and meet him anyway?” Frank prods further because he never knows when to stop. When he looks up he finds Mikey looking at him with a blank expression. Frank hates it when Mikey closes off like that.
“Because he’s my friend and because it’s Christmas,” Mikey replies slowly, looking right at Frank. Great, now Frank feels like an asshole.
“I was just worried,” he mumbles and pulls his knees closer to his chest. Gerard presses a little closer to Frank’s side.
“You can stop worrying now,” Mikey points out nonchalantly.
“I guess,” Frank shrugs. Truth is, he’ll never stop worrying about Mikey.
“Gee,” Mikey mumbles and pokes Gerard’s leg through the blanket.
Gerard hesitates for a moment, looking like he wants to say something. In the end he keeps his mouth shut and reaches into his boot with a sigh. “We brought you some food.”
“I’m not hungry,” Mikey replies, looking like he’s trying to disappear into his coat.
“Need me to come with you?” Gerard asks as he presses a small plastic bag into Mikey’s hand.
Mikey pushes his hand into the pocket of his coat and coaxes Zero to stand up before he pushes to his feet himself.
“No,” he shakes his head. “’s just around the corner.” Mikey raises his free hand in a distracted wave, already on his way to the public bathroom.
Frank lifts Zero into his lap and cuddles the dog, needing something to hold onto. Now he’s even more miserable than before.
“Frank-“
“Look, I’m sorry,” Frank interrupts Gerard before he can break into a rant. “I was just worried.”
“Hey, I know. I get it.” Gerard squeezes Frank’s knee reassuringly. “I get it,” he repeats and Frank has no doubt that he does.
“You love him, don’t you?” Gerard asks after a moment and Frank nearly chokes on his own saliva.
“I. . . what?” He splutters, starring at Gerard with wide-eyes, waiting for him to start laughing. Because this is a joke, it has to be. Mikey is Gerard’s and Gerard is Mikey’s. Frank isn’t going to get between them. Gerard is going to tell him to fuck off now, Frank’s sure.
“I’ve seen the way you look at him, you know?” Gerard says. He’s smiling. Frank doesn’t know what to do with that.
“From the first time he brought you along. You always looked at him like he’s special.”
“He is special,” Frank interrupts before he can stop himself.
“See, that’s what I mean!” Gerard nearly pushes the blanket off them when he waves his arms like he’s actually excited. “You know that. And you treat him like he is.”
“Well, duh,” Frank huffs, trying to untangle a knot in Zero’s fur. “He’s my friend. I treat all my friends like that.” Not that Frank’s got any friends left to prove it.
“Frank.” Gerard’s using the same tone Frank’s mother used to use when she thought he was being dense.
“But he’s yours.” Why doesn’t Gerard get it? There’s no need to rub it in Frank’s face. Besides, the very last thing Frank wants to hear right now is a speech about staying the fuck away from Mikey.
“Yeah he is,” Gerard nods. He still sounds unnervingly calm. “But he’s yours too. Frank, hey.” Gerard turns so he’s facing Frank, his hand settling gently on Frank’s arm. “Mikey deserves all the love he can get.”
It’s so stupidly selfless, so typically Gerard that it makes anger boil hot in Frank’s veins. He’s never acted rational when angry.
“You do too, idiot,” Frank hisses before he leans in and crashes his lips against Gerard’s. It’s not a romantic first kiss, no flowers and rainbows and angels singing in the background. It’s not meant to be, with Frank still so angry and confused.
“You deserve all the love too,” Frank repeats as he pulls back.
Gerard looks shocked but not like he wants to punch Frank, which Frank counts as a good sign.
“Oh,” Gerard smiles and he looks open and vulnerable in a way Frank’s never seen before, shy instead of sassy. “Well. I guess you don’t really have to decide. I mean,” Gerard shrugs and rubs the back of his neck.
“You guys were always gonna be a package deal anyway,” Frank concludes with a small smile of his own. Fine, so maybe he’s greedy. Or maybe this is too good to be true. Or maybe it’s a long overdue Christmas miracle.
Gerard’s reply is cut off when Mikey comes back and slides down the wall next to his brother, looking calmer than before.
“Hey Mikes,” Gerard mumbles, shooting Frank an apologetic glance and mouthing ‘talk later’ before he turns to Mikey and tucks the blanket around him. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Mikey replies and sniffs, leaning against Gerard.
“Try and eat a little bit now?” Gerard tries again. Mikey sighs and picks at the blanket, not answering or even looking at Gerard.
“Mikey,” Gerard’s voice is a little firmer than before and brings Mikey back to reality.
“What? Oh. Uh. I guess. Okay,” Mikey shrugs, obviously not thrilled at the idea of food but willing to indulge Gerard now that he’s had his fix.
They sit in silence as Mikey eats and keeps slipping Zero bits of food.
“So, hey, Ray totally invited us to this Christmas thing at the soup kitchen tomorrow,” Gerard lies, nudging his elbow against Mikey’s side. “That’s gonna be good, yeah? We can get some food and listen to stupid Christmas songs before we check into the motel.”
“Hm. Cool.” Mikey pushes the rest of his food around in the takeaway container with his fork . “Can Ryan come too? He’s got no place to stay at tomorrow.”
Frank’s pretty sure that this is going to lead to Ryan coming along to the motel with them. He keeps his head down and picks at the knee of his jeans where a hole is forming.
“Course. Everybody can come. Right, Frank?”
Frank ‘accidentally’ kicks Gerard. “Sure,” he replies sweetly, flashing Gerard and Mikey a smile before curling back into himself, mumbling about getting a few hours of sleep while they’re still here.
In the end Frank is too worked up to sleep. He sits with his eyes closed and leans against Gerard’s side, keeping his breathing even as he listens to Gerard and Mikey whisper to each other about comic books, things they’ve seen in shop windows, what they should get as a special Christmas breakfast.
“Mikey, c’mon. Blueberry muffins suck. Triple chocolate or nothing. Live a little!”
“No. Blueberry,” Mikey replies, calm as ever. Despite Gerard’s protests there is no doubt that he’ll buy blueberry muffins for Mikey. Fuck, Frank is ridiculously in love with these ridiculous people and it makes breathing ridiculously hard.
“Hey Frank, you okay?” Gerard sounds genuinely concerned. Frank opens his eyes and smiles at him, feeling all warm inside. The entire world is completely ridiculous today.
“Yeah. I’m good,” he mumbles, scooting closer and pressing against Gerard’s side.
“Okay then,” Gerard doesn’t sound fully convinced. “We’re getting triple chocolate muffins for breakfast tomorrow before going to the motel.”
“And blueberry,” Mikey throws in with a dark look, poking Gerard’s side.
“Fine. And blueberry,” Gerard rolls his eyes. “Frank, tell him triple chocolate are better. You’re on my side, right?”
Frank looks between Gerard and Mikey, and there is that ridiculous feeling in his chest again.
“I like both,” he replies with a grin.
~
Gerard and Mikey spend a big part of the remaining evening arguing food choices with Frank throwing in a comment every now and then. For the most part he’s captivated audience because the Way brothers arguing peanut M&M’s versus peanut butter M&M’s is hilarious.
The later it gets the more the conversation lulls until Gerard finally detangles himself from the blanket with a sigh. “We should get going.”
“Hm.” Mikey huffs and gets to his feet with a sigh, pulling his shoulders up against the cold.
Getting out from under the blanket is always the worst. Frank makes sure that Zero is still comfortable in his blanket nest and won’t get cold before he gets to his feet as well, putting his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and standing awkwardly.
“Right. Uh. I’ll see you in a few then,” Frank mumbles.
“Yep. We’ll come back here to pick you up,” Gerard says.
“Okay. Cool.” Frank swallows against the tightness in his throat. What the hell is wrong with him? He used to be smooth and sure of himself. Back in another life when he was more than a street urchin.
Frank exhales sharply through his nose and takes a step forward just as Gerard and Mikey turn to leave.
“Hey.” They both stop and look back at Frank, who shifts under the attention before telling himself to grow a pair. Taking another step forward Frank pushes up on his tiptoes and presses a light kiss to Gerard’s lips, feeling them twitch into a smile under his own. That’s reassuring, but the way Mikey looks at them with a blank face isn’t. Damn, Frank should’ve done this the other way round.
“Take care,” Frank says and his voice cracks a little as he steps closer to Mikey and fists his hands in the front of Mikey’s coat, pulling him in for a kiss as well. Mikey’s lips don’t move.
They’re cold and chapped under Frank’s. Frank wants nothing more than to kiss the cold away.
The way Mikey doesn’t respond at all makes Frank’s heart sink. When he pulls back he’s almost afraid to see what he’s going to find in Mikey’s eyes. There’s nothing but curiosity and a bit of hesitation though. Mikey looks at him for a moment before his eyes flicker over to Gerard. Frank can’t see what it is Gerard does, but it seems to reassure Mikey. The line of mouth softens and he leans his forehead against Frank’s, not quite kissing him. “Always. You take care too.”
Frank grins and rubs the tip of his nose against Mikey’s. “Always.”
~
They don’t talk about Frank.
Not with a lot of words anyway. Gerard reaches over and takes Mikey’s hand, squeezing lightly. There are years of sibling speech between them making it a no-brainer for Mikey to translate.
He squeezes back.
“I knew you liked him from the beginning,” Gerard says, looking straight ahead. Gerard’s always known things about Mikey before Mikey’s known them himself.
“I like him too,” Gerard adds, glancing over at his brother. Something in Mikey unwinds and he holds onto Gerard hand so tight it hurts.
“Yeah?”
Gerard smiles and ducks his head. “Yeah. Kind of a lot.”
Frank has wormed his way into their lives and now there is no way Mikey could imagine a life without him.
“Then it’s all good?” Mikey asks, because he needs to be sure. His thoughts are so jumbled, he needs Gerard to spell it out for him.
“Yes. It’s all good.”
Mikey nods. There is no question of how they are going to make this work. Because it already works. It’s them, now without inhibitions.
“Seems like Santa sent us an early present,” Gerard grins, startling a laugh from Mikey.
“He’s gotta make up for the shitty Christmas last year.” At Mikey’s words Gerard’s smile falters and he squeezes Mikey’s hand again.
“Hey,” Mikey bumps his shoulder against Gerard’s. “Totally made up for it.”
“Totally,” Gerard agrees, bumping Mikey back.
“I’ll see if Ryan’s around already. Tell him to come to the soup kitchen tomorrow. Meet you at the corner?” Mikey asks, his steps slowing down.
“Yeah. Tell Ryan I count on seeing him tomorrow,” Gerard says, getting a battered pack of cigarettes out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket.
“’kay,” Mikey nods and lets go off Gerard’s hand, smiling at him before he turns around and walks to Ryan’s usual corner. Looks like Christmas this year is going to be good.
~
Ryan is leaning against a wall, hunched into himself and starring down at the pavement.
“Hey,” Mikey says and leans against the wall next to Ryan, watching the cars pass by.
Ryan snaps his head up, eyes wide with surprise. “Hey,” he echoes. Glancing over Mikey notices Ryan’s hands trembling even though they are balled into fists. It’s not difficult to guess what’s up; Mikey’s been in the same position.
“There is some kind of Christmas thing at the soup kitchen tomorrow. You should go there with us,” Mikey says, kicking a pebble out of the way and letting his eyes go unfocused until the world in front of him is nothing but shadows and passing bulbs of light.
“I don’t know,” Ryan replies and sniffles. Mikey resists the urge to rub his own nose.
“There’ll be food and it’s really warm there.” Mikey isn’t going to talk Ryan into coming the way Gerard would. If Ryan doesn’t want to come he doesn’t want to come, it’s his decision. But Mikey can point out the advantages. “And you’d get to meet Frank and Zero.”
Ryan’s quite for a while, scratching his wrist and coughing softly. “I guess,” he replies eventually.
Mikey blinks until the world comes back into focus and smiles at Ryan. “Cool. You know how to get there?”
Ryan furrows his brows before he nods, tongue darting out to lick over his chapped lips. He’s in a bad state and Mikey is about to take him back to Gerard, share some of the cocaine that’s for later tonight. It’s a fucked up Christmas present, but it’s going to help Ryan the most.
Mikey’s barely opened his mouth when he’s cut off by a car pulling up on the curb. Mikey and Ryan watch as the window on the passenger side rolls down. It’s Ryan’s corner, so it’s going to be his job. Mikey can’t bring himself to walk away. Ryan is obviously in bad shape and that’s like sticking a bloody leg into the ocean - it attracts clients like sharks.
“You two, how much?” The guy in the driver’s seat bellows, leaning over and looking them up and down.
Ryan’s mouth works but no sound comes out. Mikey looks from him to the car and back, making a decision within seconds. Taking Ryan’s hand he walks closer to the car.
“400 for an hour.” Mikey’s reply makes the man scoff. Mikey raises his chin higher and squeezes Ryan’s hand. They’ve never taken a job together, but they both need the money and this way Mikey can watch out for Ryan.
“Aiming a little high, arent’cha?” The man grins. He’s the kind of sleazy that makes Mikey’s skin crawl.
Mikey shrugs and squeezed Ryan’s hand sharply when it seems like he’s about to crumble and ask for less.
“Holiday season, holiday prices,” Mikey points and takes a step back. His palms are sweaty.
Ryan needs this job even more than Mikey does, but chances of the john pulling away are high. The man looks annoyed and taps his fingers against the steering wheel, never taking his eyes off of them. Mikey tries his best to appear self-assured, making up for Ryan’s trembling.
“Fine,” the john finally agrees and juts his chin towards the backseat. “Get in.”
(START SKIP, go to next part)
Mikey slides into the seat next to Ryan. Gerard will know that he’s picked up a job on the way, so that’s one less thing to worry about, even though Mikey would’ve preferred to let his brother know.
Ryan is tense next to him and Mikey takes forcefully even breathes. He’s got to be the calm one this time.
No one says a word during the drive. It’s a heavy silence Mikey’s become used to; it doesn’t bother him anymore and he looks out of the window. It’s never a bad thing to know where you’re going.
The motel the john takes them to is one of the more upscale places, which is only going to make things marginally better. In the end it doesn’t matter if you’re in a shitty room or a fancy suite, you’ll always walk away feeling the same.
“Take the bag,” the man instructs, glancing back at them in the rear view mirror before he gets out of the car. Ryan releases a shaky breath once the door slams shut. Then he pulls his shoulders back and grabs the handles of the weekender bag on the floor and exits the car as well. It takes Mikey a moment to follow, taken aback but relieved by Ryan apparently finding the strength to put on the mask he needs for this job.
“You wait here,” the man orders as soon as they are inside, walking up to the desk alone. Mikey and Ryan hang back without a word, both used to following orders. For a moment Mikey imagines Frank in the same situation, lips forming a smile at the thought of Frank’s attitude getting the better of him.
“Watcha think?” Ryan asks, looking past Mikey at the john handing over cash for the room. “What kind is he?”
Mikey tilts his head to the side and musters the guy. Polished leather shoes, beige pants, a beer belly emphasized even more by the salmon colored shirt he’s wearing. His brown leather jacket looks old and well-worn. Dark hair slicked back, and something about the way he regards the world around him that makes it clear that he thinks he’s superior. And he’s willing to pay 400 bucks for an hour. There is no way he won’t have special requests.
“Bondage, probably,” Mikey shrugs. “Voyeurism maybe. Definitely something where he gets to order us around.” He seems like the kind of guy who gets off on having power over others.
“My guess too,” Ryan nods. Mikey doesn’t point out that Ryan must have a lot of experience with clients like that. He’s the perfect prey for their games.
“Boys,” the man calls from the front desk and nods towards the elevator. There’s something about the way he says ‘boys’ that makes the hairs on Mikey’s neck stand up.
The elevator ride is quiet, another kind of situation that would make a normal person uncomfortable. Mikey’s used to it. He’s spent time in elevators with fiddling first timers, impatient assholes, hateful drunks in need of a punching bag. The silence is another part of the routine, the same as following the john to the room, never speaking unless you’re being addressed.
Stepping into the room Mikey quickly scopes out the interior. As far as motel rooms go it’s nice and clean.
“There’s clothes in the bag. Change into them.” The man orders, kicking the door shut behind himself and locking it. “Make yourself pretty for me.”
Ryan has already taken a step towards the bathroom when Mikey grabs his wrists, looking evenly at the john, quirking his eyebrow. When the man doesn’t react Mikey sighs and tries to stand up taller. He hates this part.
“Money first.”
“Ah, right. Of course,” the man smiles pleasantly, like they’re all friends, and pulls a wad of notes from his pocket, counting out 400 and handing them to Mikey. Mikey makes sure the man counted right before he nods and folds the bills, giving Ryan a gentle nudge in the direction of the bathroom.
Closing the door behind them Mikey leans back against it, exhaling slowly. This is going to be the only moment of privacy they’ll get tonight. “Let’s see the damage,” Mikey mumbles, watching Ryan unzip the bag through heavily-lidded eyes. He’s so tired of this. Movement seems like too much effort, making playing a role look like an impossible mission. If Gerard were here he could do this, take most of pressure off of Mikey. But Gerard isn’t here and Mikey is the one who has to hold things together.
“Shit,” Ryan gasps, looking into the bag. Mikey pushes away from the door and peers over his shoulder, barely suppressing a groan. Grabbing the garment on top Mikey pulls it out, inspecting the sundress. It’s rose colored with flowers all over it. It’s innocent rather than sexy. Mikey tosses the dress over the towel rail and pulls the rest of the clothes from the bag. There’s a pair of brown knickerbockers and a green shirt with Donald Duck on it. Shit indeed. Looks like they won the fucked-up jackpot.
“Shit,” Ryan repeats and sits down on the edge of the tub, starring at the clothes like they are going to take a flying leap and strangle him. His hands are trembling worse than before.
They’ve never really talked about their pasts. Why would they anyway, it’s not like who they used to be matters anymore. But Mikey vaguely remembers that Ryan didn’t end up in the streets because of an addiction problem like Gerard and him, but because of family issues.
“Shit,” Mikey agrees softly. He’s all too aware of time ticking away, the john getting impatient outside. “We’ll manage, okay? Here, that’ll help.”
Mikey crouches down in front of Ryan and unzips his left boot, reaching inside and producing a bag that holds a small amount of white powder. It’s not much left, but it’ll be good for an initial rush.
Opening it carefully Mikey sucks on his index finger before collecting the grains with it. He wants but the way Ryan’s starting to tremble all over makes him reach out, pushing his finger into Ryan’s mouth without much ado and rubbing it over Ryan’s gums. “It’ll be okay,” Mikey mumbles again and gives Ryan the very last cocaine from the bag. Mikey can deal for another hour or two and then he’ll go and buy some more from the money they are making with this job.
The job that impatiently pounds on the bathroom door. “Get a move on, will ya? We don’t have all night.” The way his voice is dripping sleazy sweetness makes Mikey want to vomit.
Ryan is still looking around wide-eyed, but at least a little more composed, absently minded running his tongue over his teeth repeatedly.
“Put that on.” Mikey hands Ryan the trousers and shirt, taking the dress himself. Ryan seems okay for now, but Mikey’s got a feeling that it’ll only take the smallest of things to push him back over the edge.
Mikey undresses as quickly as possible, folding his clothes carefully and putting them on the towel rack. Maybe he’ll get the chance to wash them at the motel tomorrow, but either way he doesn’t want them on the dirty bathroom floor.
The flimsy material of the sundress provides no protection against the cold and Mikey shivers in the cold room. While Ryan is still struggling into his clothes Mikey looks at himself in the bathroom mirror. The white light makes him look washed out. Or maybe he really looks like that by now, he wouldn’t know. Mikey only ever sees himself in mirrors in motels or public restrooms where the light is bad.
Reaching up Mikey pokes at his cheekbones. He almost expects them to feel sharp under his fingertips. Rubbing away the smudges of eyeliner under his eyes Mikey briefly thinks that the dress is not flattering him at all. His shoulders look too wide, his chest too flat and pale. He hasn’t washed his hair in days and his skin looks blotchy. He doesn’t have any make-up to give his lips some color or his eyes a less sunken-in look.
Mikey’s not pretty. The john will have to deal with that.
“I’m done,” Ryan says, breaking the silence of the room. Mikey nods and turns, walking to the door without looking at Ryan, who’s always beautiful, no matter how fucked up he is.
“There you are.” The man looks them over before he nods approvingly, his smile brightening.
“Daddy brought you some Christmas presents. Isn’t that great?”
Mikey’s fingertips feel numb and there is bile rising in his throat. He barely manages to nod.
“Now, that’s no proper way to say thank you, is it? C’mere and thank your daddy properly.”
(END SKIP)
next
~