Life After Stardom - Chapter One
Title: Life After Stardom
Status: Chapter One
Author: maskofsanityy
Pairing: Gerard/Bert
Rating: R
Summary: Their fifteen minutes has been up for ten years and while everyone else formerly in My Chemical Romance is able to move on, Gerard seems stuck on everything that has been. For once you're a rock star, normality is anything but acceptable.
The New York skyline never changes. Standing in front of the panel of windows in his bedroom with a cooling cup of coffee in hand, Gerard stares out on the never changing sight that greets him every morning. Curling his lip up in scorn, Gerard turns to leave the disappointing view. He never liked consistency and over his forty one years, that hasn't changed. Sadly, Gerard seems to be unable to escape from such, life turning into one large repetitive block since My Chemical Romance disbanded. It could be argued that his life was repetitive before that as well, but Gerard just shrugs that argument off with the fact that he woke up every day in a new place with ever-changing goals. Whether those goals be to complete the next song, get to the top of the charts, or even just seek out the nearest god forsaken Starbucks, life didn't seem constant then. Now, the mundane seem to eat Gerard alive.
Sighing at the clock on his wall, Gerard takes another sip of the half empty mug before placing it on his dresser. Eleven fourteen, that means that Mikey and everyone will be at his apartment in forty-five minutes. Even his brother's visits have become cyclic. Noon every Saturday and dinner on Wednesday. Heading to his adjoining bathroom and turning the water on, Gerard immediately steps under the spray. Gasping, his eyes widened and muscles tightened as the frigid water flays his back. Drawing in a deep breath, Gerard tips his head back while letting the water hit his forehead and slick back his hair. Stray drops collect in his open mouth before Gerard runs his hands through his hair as the water warms. Lowering his head, hazel eyes fix on the tiled wall in front of him. For the brief moment where the water ran freezing over his skin, Gerard could feel alive. As it the water levels to one just below scorching, Gerard mechanically reaches for the soap. Going through the motions, he finishes his shower quickly without reveling in the warmth of the water or letting his mind wander. It was as if his mind has a switch, for it only seems to produce anything when Gerard wants it to. Those times were becoming increasingly few and far between lately.
Pulling back the shower curtain, Gerard shivers at the sudden change in temperature before grabbing a towel and wrapping it securely around his waste. His bathroom is rather large and well taken care of, to the point where it looks sterile and out of use. Treading across the white tiles, Gerard braces himself on the sink, staring into the foggy mirror. Staring at the distorted image, Gerard holds his breath as he wipes away a space to view himself. Letting it out with a slump of his shoulders, Gerard hangs his head in disappointment. He does this every time he showers, always waiting for the day that when he wipes the condensation from the mirror, he'll be greeted with his younger self smirking back at him. It has yet to happen and in the back of his mind, Gerard knows it will never happen. Lifting his head back up listlessly, he leans in closer to the reflection. Wrinkles tarnish his once flawless reflection. Two half circles plague the corners of his eyes, smile lines marring his cheeks. A fold graces either side of his once loved nose. Some would comment he has aged well for a man nearing forty-two, but the tarnishes of years past disgust Gerard. Thankfully there were no age spots as on some men his age as Gerard was sure he'll kill himself the day he sees so much as a trace of one. The robbing of his beauty seems to him one of the worst crimes against him ever committed. Maybe if he hadn't smiled as much over trivial things or spent more time caring for his complexion he wouldn't have to suffer the burdens of aging. While his hair is pitch black as it had been for the most of his youth, this was out of necessity as Gerard refuses to have a trace of gray on him. He refuses to embrace the fact things are not as they once were. Leaning back, dropping his eyes from the personal monstrosity before him, Gerard continues to ready himself. Brushing his teeth and applying deodorant, Gerard soon leaves the still steamy room without another glance at his sullen reflection.
Gerard returns to his room without a second thought to his lost self, dropping his towel numbly as he grabs a pair of boxers and jeans from his drawers. A black shirt was thrown over the top of the dresser which he put on, noting that it was one of his old Misfits tees. When Mikey had suggested a year or so ago that Gerard get a new wardrobe that was more mature, Gerard had nearly ripped his younger brother's head of, insisting that he is Gerard Way and he can wear whatever the fuck he wants. The next day, Mikey had returned with a bunch of clothes that suited a man of his age and put them in Gerard's closet. They still sit there, untouched. For a good reason too, at least Gerard believes so. For a rock star never really ages, they can make comebacks, they can make solos. Therefore, Gerard need not listen to his baby brother who had copped out of the stardom early because he was going to be back in that limelight one day. Maybe not today, but it was coming.
Gerard's eyes caught on the mug from before. Picking it up, he took a sip of the now chilled coffee. Wincing as the distasteful drink trickles down his throat, Gerard contemplates getting another cup from the kitchen. Swirling the contents around, Gerard decides that he would like another, warmer, serving. The kitchen is on the other side of the fair sized apartment, the entire apartment furnished in perfect black and white decor. The batch was still hot as Gerard makes himself his second glass that morning. Leaning against his counter, he doesn't flinch this time when he takes the first gulp. His eyes trail lazily over his familiar apartment. Everything seems so sterile, so showcase and uninhabited. Ironically, Gerard spends almost all of his time inside these walls. He rarely ever goes out and when he does, it is by the force of others. Television isn't something he enjoys either, preferring to be cut off from the world entirely. The up and coming ideas were no longer his concern because, as far as he was concerned, no one deserves what they have nowadays.
Gerard lingers on an oversized picture of his pride captured forever behind polished glass. It was taken as a promotion right after Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge went platinum. His long black hair hung around his pale face, lips curled in a smirk as he was in front of everyone else. He could remember the sore attitudes of the others after that shoot, saying that Gerard had hogged the camera, but none were really cross with him. But now, as the image of pure arrogance and perfection taunted him, Gerard is overcome with a burst of hatred for his past self. Brashly, he hurls the cup at the wall with a wail of sadness. Thankfully, his aim has always been off and the cup crashes feet away from the picture on the white wall. The shatter seems to reverberate throughout the apartment until it settles to silence with Gerard grasping the counter with almost desperation. His eyes are wide and full of anxiety, jealousy, and contempt as he pants wildly. His youthful mirror just continues to smirk back at him, unaware of its near destruction and almost fully aware of the distress causing its older counterpart.
The buzzer sounded throughout his apartment, sounding Mikey's arrival. Gerard's eyes dart wildly around his apartment before he calms walks over to his door. Pressing the button on the wall next to it, he waits for his family to make it up the three floors to his residence. Glancing hesitantly back, almost as if scared of the mess he has made, he notices the large brown splotch against the perfect white of the wall. He frowns, noting that this has to be fixed soon as it throws off the entire color scheme. The rest of his drink that had not ruined his house now puddles on his floor as evidence of his short break down. Instead of doing anything, Gerard turns his attention back to the door expectantly. A few moments later, firm knocking sounded. Out of habit, Gerard peers out into the hallway through the peephole to make sure that it isn't some stalker fan, although one hasn't found him in a few years. He just figures he has become better at hiding and them worse in finding. As he expects, it is only Mikey and his family. Gerard unlatches the door, smiling smally as to not further those damn smile lines and lets them in wordlessly.
"Hey bro," Mikey greets, pulling the dark haired man into a short hug. Gerard lets himself be embraced but makes no move to reciprocate it. As they pull back, Gerard takes in the appearance of everyone, hoping for some drastic change that he could latch onto. Mikey had let his dark hair grow out after he quit My Chemical Romance and it was still his unique brown, some gray traces apparent and Gerard found himself wondering if his brother dyes it. Alicia was right behind him, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail as it had been regularly since their daughter was born with a love for pulling anything that dangled. In her arms was that daughter- Samantha. Somehow, she had ended up with brilliant red hair that was now just below her shoulders.
"Uncle Gee!" She squeals as she tries to free herself of her mother's grip. Alicia chuckles as she deposits the child onto the carpet. "Hey, Uncle Gee," she greets with outstretched arms. Gerard chuckles as he bends down to hug the child.
"Hi Sam, I missed you last week. Are you feeling better?" The girl nods furiously.
"Yup! I'm not itchy anymore! And see? No more red dots!" She holds her arms out proudly. Gerard chuckles again, messing up her hair before standing up. "Can I go play with your dolls?" Samantha chirps innocently. Gerard mocks anger at this.
"I told you they're not dolls, they're action figures."
"Whatever. Can I go play?" She asks innocently, batting her eyes. Smiling, he ruffles her hair again and nods. Clapping she skips energetically to one of the back rooms where she knows the action figures are waiting for her. Gerard just shakes his head after her.
"Sometimes I think she just uses me for my action figure collection," he says to the two. Mikey laughs and places a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"She'd use anyone for toys," he assures the older man. Gerard just shrugs, not caring that much.
"I just made some coffee, would you like some?" Gerard offers, feeling awkward just standing in the door. Not waiting for an answer, he returns to the kitchen, grabbing two more mugs. The couple sits down at the kitchen table, Mikey talking but the words just go over Gerard's head. The conversation was almost always the same each time they come over, all he had to do was add in some noncommittal noise form time to time and things would be okay. It isn't that he dislikes having his brother over, it was more that he feels under scrutiny. He knows that they worry over him, but he does his best from week to week for them not to. It's just formalities now, which Gerard detests. He doesn't even feel comfortable with his brother anymore; they just pity him and baby him when he needs neither. He's fine and no one seems to understand him. But nearing forty-two, he really should not play the misunderstood card anymore, but it's true. No one seems to understand Gerard's point of view, they all seem fine living mundane lives, treating their moments of stardom only as pieces in a puzzle of a past life. Gerard hates them for it, so he just puts on a face twice a week and deals with the glaring normalcy of what everyone else settled into. Returning to the table, he passes each their cup before retrieving his third of the morning. Mikey continues to talk, Alicia watching him with half interest and neither notice how Gerard's eyes wander about his own home, searching for release. Something of the sort was found in Samantha's voice.
"Mommy, come over here! I want you to see something!" Excusing herself, Alicia exits to see what the four-year old wants. The two brothers watch her leave before settling into an almost awkward silence. Mikey's eyes drift to the shattered coffee mug.
"What happened?" he questions, motioning to it. Gerard doesn't even look up, just keeps his eyes on the table.
"I dropped my cup earlier," he lies. Mikey knows this isn't true, especially due to the stain on the wall but decides not to question it.
"Alicia would be glad to clean it up if-"
"No. No...I'll do it later," Gerard snaps before fading into a soft tone. Mikey studies his brother, frowning before resuming to talk.
"Frank is in town for a bit," Mikey informs. Gerard doesn't seem to respond. "He's staying with us for two weeks. He hasn't seen Sam since she was less than a year. I think she reminds him of his sons a bit. Jamia and he are back in court over the custody. He wants at least shared custody, as he rarely gets to see them anymore. God, if Alicia and I ever split, I'd have no idea what to do without Sam. I feel bad for him. But he's gotten everything going smoothly over there. His label is rising," Mikey informs.
"Tell him I say hi," Gerard instructs emotionlessly. Mikey frowns.
"We were thinking you might like to see him. Frank says he hasn't talked to you in ages," Mikey probes. Gerard's eyes snap to Mikey's.
"I'll think about it," he says in a tone of finality. Mikey sighs, drinking the last of his coffee.
"So what have you been up to?" Mikey asks politely, quite lost on how to communicate with his brother anymore. It seems at times that they were strangers.
"Some of this, some of that," Gerard says elusively. Another lie and another straight face. Once again, Mikey doesn't call him on it. Alicia then reappears with Samantha trailing behind her. She jumps onto her father's lap, smiling widely, showing her missing front tooth.
"Uncle Gee, what are you drinking?"
"Coffee."
"May I try?"
"You won't like it, it's a grown-up drink," Gerard replies, smiling warmly at her. She pouts but gives up, turning to Mikey.
"Daddy, why can't I have coffee?" Samantha whines.
"Because Uncle Gerard is right," Mikey replies, kissing her nose. Samantha crinkles up her face before crossing her arms. Gerard laughs before getting up and placing his cup in the sink.
"Tell you what, I have a drink I know you'll like," Gerard informs the girl. Samantha turns to watch her uncle curiously. Taking a carton from the fridge, he filled two glasses, bringing them back over.
"What is it?" she asks innocently, looking at the amber liquid.
"Apple juice," Gerard smiles. Samantha makes a face again.
"I don't like apple juice," she tells her uncle. Gerard fake gasps.
"What? Apple juice is the best! How can you not like apple juice? It's better than candy and cake and princesses and unicorns!" He argues, then pauses. "Well, maybe not unicorns. Those are awesome." He gulps down the entire glass and makes an exaggerated noise of satisfaction. Samantha watches her uncle oddly.
"You're weird," she comments before sipping at the juice. A smile curls around her face, but she tries to hide it. "Yuck," she remarks before taking another sip. Gerard smirks knowingly. As she takes another sip, the cup slips out of her hand, wetting both her and Mikey before clattering to the floor with the rest of the drink.
"Sh-" Mikey stops himself from cursing, scooping Samantha up. Her eyes grow wide, tears brimming them slightly.
"I-I'm sorry," she snivels. Mikey sighs, turning her around and hugging her.
"It's fine, baby, you didn't mean to," Mikey assures.
"Yeah, it's no problem," Gerard coos. Alicia was making her way to the paper towels to clean it up but Gerard cuts her off. "Don't worry, I've got it." At this point, Sam is crying softly into her father's shoulder. "Why don't you take her home and get cleaned up?" he suggests. Mikey throws him a thankful look before Gerard approaches the crying child. "Hey Sam? Don't worry about it, okay? I spill things all the time. Now you're going to stop crying and give me a smile, okay?" The child nods, sniffling a bit more before offering a toothy grin. Gerard ruffles her hair before turning to Alicia.
"Are you sure you don't want me to clean it up?" Alicia offers again. Gerard just shakes his head at her.
"It's fine, Alicia," Gerard assures. Alicia smiles at him before closing their distance, hugging him. Gerard hugs her back, smiling almost sadly before he steps back.
"Dinner on Wednesday?" she asks, heading with Mikey towards the door.
"Yeah, Wednesday," Gerard confirms, opening the door to them. "Later guys; bye Sam," he waves at he girl who had now stopped crying. Sam manages a small smile before waving. Closing the door as soon as his guests reach the elevator, Gerard leans against the fixture and sighs.
"Daddy, can I get a new dress? This one is bad now," Gerard hears through the door.
"Okay, sweetie, how about a nice pink one," Mikey suggests.
"No, I want a yellow one. With unicorns! For Uncle Gee!" She contradicts. The elevator dings, signaling it has arrived as Mikey laughs, but it gets muffled as the doors close around them, cutting Gerard off from the rest of the conversation. Frowning, he slides down against the door. The simplicity of the conversation between his brother and his niece had affected him more than he likes. The casual nature of it ruptures everything that Gerard has ever built for himself, the entire life he has led and plans on leading is spotted by the fact that everything else around him seems to want to be mundane and dull. Somehow, he's being pulled down with that too. He does not belong in this, he was a music god of sorts and to have fallen so far from that pains Gerard to even look at himself.
Pulling himself off the ground, he makes his way into the kitchen to clean up both messes. The one left by Sam is easier to clean than his own, as the cup did not shatter like his own. Wiping up the liquid, he places the cup in the sink to move into the dishwasher later before starting on the dark brown puddle from earlier. Carefully picking up the shards of broken china, Gerard's annoyance flares again and he's crushing the jagged pieces in his hand. Inhaling sharply, he drops the pieces to the pile and examines his hand. Blood streams swiftly from his palm, meeting the darker liquid on the floor, mixing into some hideous colored mess. Cursing, he hurries to the paper towels, ripping a piece and jamming it onto his hand before stalking to the bathroom where he washes it with water. As the flow lessens, Gerard examines his hand and its newly shredded nature. Smiling sardonically, he opens the cabinet to pull out gauze. Physical signs of his emotional pain for this life, it fits well. The bandaging was quick and messy, but it'll do for its purpose. Instead of returning to his cleaning task, Gerard grabs his coat and follows the same route his guests had taken only a few minutes earlier.
Although he doesn't choose to leave much, Gerard knows his way around the immediate area of his apartment. Deciding to check out the near by music store, he makes his way down his block, weaving in and out of the New York City bustle. The shop isn't one of the large scale chains and is fairly unknown, which might be why Gerard likes it so much. It also carries mostly older music, which is more likely the reason why Gerard likes it so much. Entering the shop, there are only a handful of customers and one employee running the store. There was really no use for CDs anymore, but they are much like records were a decade before and in demand none the less. Disregarding the other inhabitants of the store, Gerard browses through the racks of music labeled as "new." Flipping through the cases, he sneers at more than one of the CDs. There is no real quality music at all anymore, he resolves. Half the artists either sound like a duplicate of another band or they are not inclined musically. Really, the world of music has sunk too low for Gerard's taste. He believes, in all arrogance, that he was part of the last wave of true rock stars. Then again, truer rock stars have a sonic boom as a finale rather than the mere extinguishing of a flame Gerard had gone through. Withdrawing his hand as if it burns to touch the cases, Gerard retreats to his personal favorite part of the store- "classic rock." It disheartens him each time he visits to see what is now considered classic along with the originals- because surely Motion City Soundtrack does not have any right to share a row with Metallica and The Misfits. What made him double take was the new addition to that row, a familiar black cover with approaching heads and reminiscent text. Gerard's eyes bore into the title and he's sure he is going to throw up. On the last row of "M" under the classic rock section sits his own sophomore CD smiling up at him. Picking it up and looking at it as if in wonder, Gerard flips it to the back cover as if to verify it being his own. A wave of emotion overcomes him as he violently shoves it back into its spot and quickly grabs a Metallica volume to cover his own. Backing up slowly, he is sure that nothing could shake him worse than what he just saw. Himself, classic? That is almost as if someone had dug his grave and is instructing him to lie in it and that it's fine that he's still alive because he won't be shortly. Half wanting to complain and insist this is some sort of mistake, Gerard turns to make his way to the front but not before bumping into a shorter man with a mop of dark hair.
"Sorry," Gerard mumbles, righting the man, still too caught in the shock of seeing himself labeled as classic to notice the familiar face.
"Gerard?" the voice questions as the former singer begins to walk away. The sound of his name halts Gerard, making him close his eyes. He had forgotten to wear his glasses to disguise him, although they had never succeeded in that nor have then been needed for a while. Fixated on the idea that someone had recognized him and that he is not, after all, a classic rocker, he turned around with a smile in place. The fact of being recognized makes him actually happy that he is so forgetful and never remembers to wear his outdated glasses anywhere. His smile fell drastically when he turns to face the voice. He expected almost anyone other than the blue eyes that seem to pierce him as they always have.
"Shit," he mutters, frozen in place. Where he had just been thanking his forgetfulness, he now curses himself twice as much as he's now face to face with the one man he hasn't wanted to see in years and would have been happy to never see again. Bert fucking McCracken.
Status: Chapter One
Author: maskofsanityy
Pairing: Gerard/Bert
Rating: R
Summary: Their fifteen minutes has been up for ten years and while everyone else formerly in My Chemical Romance is able to move on, Gerard seems stuck on everything that has been. For once you're a rock star, normality is anything but acceptable.
The New York skyline never changes. Standing in front of the panel of windows in his bedroom with a cooling cup of coffee in hand, Gerard stares out on the never changing sight that greets him every morning. Curling his lip up in scorn, Gerard turns to leave the disappointing view. He never liked consistency and over his forty one years, that hasn't changed. Sadly, Gerard seems to be unable to escape from such, life turning into one large repetitive block since My Chemical Romance disbanded. It could be argued that his life was repetitive before that as well, but Gerard just shrugs that argument off with the fact that he woke up every day in a new place with ever-changing goals. Whether those goals be to complete the next song, get to the top of the charts, or even just seek out the nearest god forsaken Starbucks, life didn't seem constant then. Now, the mundane seem to eat Gerard alive.
Sighing at the clock on his wall, Gerard takes another sip of the half empty mug before placing it on his dresser. Eleven fourteen, that means that Mikey and everyone will be at his apartment in forty-five minutes. Even his brother's visits have become cyclic. Noon every Saturday and dinner on Wednesday. Heading to his adjoining bathroom and turning the water on, Gerard immediately steps under the spray. Gasping, his eyes widened and muscles tightened as the frigid water flays his back. Drawing in a deep breath, Gerard tips his head back while letting the water hit his forehead and slick back his hair. Stray drops collect in his open mouth before Gerard runs his hands through his hair as the water warms. Lowering his head, hazel eyes fix on the tiled wall in front of him. For the brief moment where the water ran freezing over his skin, Gerard could feel alive. As it the water levels to one just below scorching, Gerard mechanically reaches for the soap. Going through the motions, he finishes his shower quickly without reveling in the warmth of the water or letting his mind wander. It was as if his mind has a switch, for it only seems to produce anything when Gerard wants it to. Those times were becoming increasingly few and far between lately.
Pulling back the shower curtain, Gerard shivers at the sudden change in temperature before grabbing a towel and wrapping it securely around his waste. His bathroom is rather large and well taken care of, to the point where it looks sterile and out of use. Treading across the white tiles, Gerard braces himself on the sink, staring into the foggy mirror. Staring at the distorted image, Gerard holds his breath as he wipes away a space to view himself. Letting it out with a slump of his shoulders, Gerard hangs his head in disappointment. He does this every time he showers, always waiting for the day that when he wipes the condensation from the mirror, he'll be greeted with his younger self smirking back at him. It has yet to happen and in the back of his mind, Gerard knows it will never happen. Lifting his head back up listlessly, he leans in closer to the reflection. Wrinkles tarnish his once flawless reflection. Two half circles plague the corners of his eyes, smile lines marring his cheeks. A fold graces either side of his once loved nose. Some would comment he has aged well for a man nearing forty-two, but the tarnishes of years past disgust Gerard. Thankfully there were no age spots as on some men his age as Gerard was sure he'll kill himself the day he sees so much as a trace of one. The robbing of his beauty seems to him one of the worst crimes against him ever committed. Maybe if he hadn't smiled as much over trivial things or spent more time caring for his complexion he wouldn't have to suffer the burdens of aging. While his hair is pitch black as it had been for the most of his youth, this was out of necessity as Gerard refuses to have a trace of gray on him. He refuses to embrace the fact things are not as they once were. Leaning back, dropping his eyes from the personal monstrosity before him, Gerard continues to ready himself. Brushing his teeth and applying deodorant, Gerard soon leaves the still steamy room without another glance at his sullen reflection.
Gerard returns to his room without a second thought to his lost self, dropping his towel numbly as he grabs a pair of boxers and jeans from his drawers. A black shirt was thrown over the top of the dresser which he put on, noting that it was one of his old Misfits tees. When Mikey had suggested a year or so ago that Gerard get a new wardrobe that was more mature, Gerard had nearly ripped his younger brother's head of, insisting that he is Gerard Way and he can wear whatever the fuck he wants. The next day, Mikey had returned with a bunch of clothes that suited a man of his age and put them in Gerard's closet. They still sit there, untouched. For a good reason too, at least Gerard believes so. For a rock star never really ages, they can make comebacks, they can make solos. Therefore, Gerard need not listen to his baby brother who had copped out of the stardom early because he was going to be back in that limelight one day. Maybe not today, but it was coming.
Gerard's eyes caught on the mug from before. Picking it up, he took a sip of the now chilled coffee. Wincing as the distasteful drink trickles down his throat, Gerard contemplates getting another cup from the kitchen. Swirling the contents around, Gerard decides that he would like another, warmer, serving. The kitchen is on the other side of the fair sized apartment, the entire apartment furnished in perfect black and white decor. The batch was still hot as Gerard makes himself his second glass that morning. Leaning against his counter, he doesn't flinch this time when he takes the first gulp. His eyes trail lazily over his familiar apartment. Everything seems so sterile, so showcase and uninhabited. Ironically, Gerard spends almost all of his time inside these walls. He rarely ever goes out and when he does, it is by the force of others. Television isn't something he enjoys either, preferring to be cut off from the world entirely. The up and coming ideas were no longer his concern because, as far as he was concerned, no one deserves what they have nowadays.
Gerard lingers on an oversized picture of his pride captured forever behind polished glass. It was taken as a promotion right after Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge went platinum. His long black hair hung around his pale face, lips curled in a smirk as he was in front of everyone else. He could remember the sore attitudes of the others after that shoot, saying that Gerard had hogged the camera, but none were really cross with him. But now, as the image of pure arrogance and perfection taunted him, Gerard is overcome with a burst of hatred for his past self. Brashly, he hurls the cup at the wall with a wail of sadness. Thankfully, his aim has always been off and the cup crashes feet away from the picture on the white wall. The shatter seems to reverberate throughout the apartment until it settles to silence with Gerard grasping the counter with almost desperation. His eyes are wide and full of anxiety, jealousy, and contempt as he pants wildly. His youthful mirror just continues to smirk back at him, unaware of its near destruction and almost fully aware of the distress causing its older counterpart.
The buzzer sounded throughout his apartment, sounding Mikey's arrival. Gerard's eyes dart wildly around his apartment before he calms walks over to his door. Pressing the button on the wall next to it, he waits for his family to make it up the three floors to his residence. Glancing hesitantly back, almost as if scared of the mess he has made, he notices the large brown splotch against the perfect white of the wall. He frowns, noting that this has to be fixed soon as it throws off the entire color scheme. The rest of his drink that had not ruined his house now puddles on his floor as evidence of his short break down. Instead of doing anything, Gerard turns his attention back to the door expectantly. A few moments later, firm knocking sounded. Out of habit, Gerard peers out into the hallway through the peephole to make sure that it isn't some stalker fan, although one hasn't found him in a few years. He just figures he has become better at hiding and them worse in finding. As he expects, it is only Mikey and his family. Gerard unlatches the door, smiling smally as to not further those damn smile lines and lets them in wordlessly.
"Hey bro," Mikey greets, pulling the dark haired man into a short hug. Gerard lets himself be embraced but makes no move to reciprocate it. As they pull back, Gerard takes in the appearance of everyone, hoping for some drastic change that he could latch onto. Mikey had let his dark hair grow out after he quit My Chemical Romance and it was still his unique brown, some gray traces apparent and Gerard found himself wondering if his brother dyes it. Alicia was right behind him, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail as it had been regularly since their daughter was born with a love for pulling anything that dangled. In her arms was that daughter- Samantha. Somehow, she had ended up with brilliant red hair that was now just below her shoulders.
"Uncle Gee!" She squeals as she tries to free herself of her mother's grip. Alicia chuckles as she deposits the child onto the carpet. "Hey, Uncle Gee," she greets with outstretched arms. Gerard chuckles as he bends down to hug the child.
"Hi Sam, I missed you last week. Are you feeling better?" The girl nods furiously.
"Yup! I'm not itchy anymore! And see? No more red dots!" She holds her arms out proudly. Gerard chuckles again, messing up her hair before standing up. "Can I go play with your dolls?" Samantha chirps innocently. Gerard mocks anger at this.
"I told you they're not dolls, they're action figures."
"Whatever. Can I go play?" She asks innocently, batting her eyes. Smiling, he ruffles her hair again and nods. Clapping she skips energetically to one of the back rooms where she knows the action figures are waiting for her. Gerard just shakes his head after her.
"Sometimes I think she just uses me for my action figure collection," he says to the two. Mikey laughs and places a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"She'd use anyone for toys," he assures the older man. Gerard just shrugs, not caring that much.
"I just made some coffee, would you like some?" Gerard offers, feeling awkward just standing in the door. Not waiting for an answer, he returns to the kitchen, grabbing two more mugs. The couple sits down at the kitchen table, Mikey talking but the words just go over Gerard's head. The conversation was almost always the same each time they come over, all he had to do was add in some noncommittal noise form time to time and things would be okay. It isn't that he dislikes having his brother over, it was more that he feels under scrutiny. He knows that they worry over him, but he does his best from week to week for them not to. It's just formalities now, which Gerard detests. He doesn't even feel comfortable with his brother anymore; they just pity him and baby him when he needs neither. He's fine and no one seems to understand him. But nearing forty-two, he really should not play the misunderstood card anymore, but it's true. No one seems to understand Gerard's point of view, they all seem fine living mundane lives, treating their moments of stardom only as pieces in a puzzle of a past life. Gerard hates them for it, so he just puts on a face twice a week and deals with the glaring normalcy of what everyone else settled into. Returning to the table, he passes each their cup before retrieving his third of the morning. Mikey continues to talk, Alicia watching him with half interest and neither notice how Gerard's eyes wander about his own home, searching for release. Something of the sort was found in Samantha's voice.
"Mommy, come over here! I want you to see something!" Excusing herself, Alicia exits to see what the four-year old wants. The two brothers watch her leave before settling into an almost awkward silence. Mikey's eyes drift to the shattered coffee mug.
"What happened?" he questions, motioning to it. Gerard doesn't even look up, just keeps his eyes on the table.
"I dropped my cup earlier," he lies. Mikey knows this isn't true, especially due to the stain on the wall but decides not to question it.
"Alicia would be glad to clean it up if-"
"No. No...I'll do it later," Gerard snaps before fading into a soft tone. Mikey studies his brother, frowning before resuming to talk.
"Frank is in town for a bit," Mikey informs. Gerard doesn't seem to respond. "He's staying with us for two weeks. He hasn't seen Sam since she was less than a year. I think she reminds him of his sons a bit. Jamia and he are back in court over the custody. He wants at least shared custody, as he rarely gets to see them anymore. God, if Alicia and I ever split, I'd have no idea what to do without Sam. I feel bad for him. But he's gotten everything going smoothly over there. His label is rising," Mikey informs.
"Tell him I say hi," Gerard instructs emotionlessly. Mikey frowns.
"We were thinking you might like to see him. Frank says he hasn't talked to you in ages," Mikey probes. Gerard's eyes snap to Mikey's.
"I'll think about it," he says in a tone of finality. Mikey sighs, drinking the last of his coffee.
"So what have you been up to?" Mikey asks politely, quite lost on how to communicate with his brother anymore. It seems at times that they were strangers.
"Some of this, some of that," Gerard says elusively. Another lie and another straight face. Once again, Mikey doesn't call him on it. Alicia then reappears with Samantha trailing behind her. She jumps onto her father's lap, smiling widely, showing her missing front tooth.
"Uncle Gee, what are you drinking?"
"Coffee."
"May I try?"
"You won't like it, it's a grown-up drink," Gerard replies, smiling warmly at her. She pouts but gives up, turning to Mikey.
"Daddy, why can't I have coffee?" Samantha whines.
"Because Uncle Gerard is right," Mikey replies, kissing her nose. Samantha crinkles up her face before crossing her arms. Gerard laughs before getting up and placing his cup in the sink.
"Tell you what, I have a drink I know you'll like," Gerard informs the girl. Samantha turns to watch her uncle curiously. Taking a carton from the fridge, he filled two glasses, bringing them back over.
"What is it?" she asks innocently, looking at the amber liquid.
"Apple juice," Gerard smiles. Samantha makes a face again.
"I don't like apple juice," she tells her uncle. Gerard fake gasps.
"What? Apple juice is the best! How can you not like apple juice? It's better than candy and cake and princesses and unicorns!" He argues, then pauses. "Well, maybe not unicorns. Those are awesome." He gulps down the entire glass and makes an exaggerated noise of satisfaction. Samantha watches her uncle oddly.
"You're weird," she comments before sipping at the juice. A smile curls around her face, but she tries to hide it. "Yuck," she remarks before taking another sip. Gerard smirks knowingly. As she takes another sip, the cup slips out of her hand, wetting both her and Mikey before clattering to the floor with the rest of the drink.
"Sh-" Mikey stops himself from cursing, scooping Samantha up. Her eyes grow wide, tears brimming them slightly.
"I-I'm sorry," she snivels. Mikey sighs, turning her around and hugging her.
"It's fine, baby, you didn't mean to," Mikey assures.
"Yeah, it's no problem," Gerard coos. Alicia was making her way to the paper towels to clean it up but Gerard cuts her off. "Don't worry, I've got it." At this point, Sam is crying softly into her father's shoulder. "Why don't you take her home and get cleaned up?" he suggests. Mikey throws him a thankful look before Gerard approaches the crying child. "Hey Sam? Don't worry about it, okay? I spill things all the time. Now you're going to stop crying and give me a smile, okay?" The child nods, sniffling a bit more before offering a toothy grin. Gerard ruffles her hair before turning to Alicia.
"Are you sure you don't want me to clean it up?" Alicia offers again. Gerard just shakes his head at her.
"It's fine, Alicia," Gerard assures. Alicia smiles at him before closing their distance, hugging him. Gerard hugs her back, smiling almost sadly before he steps back.
"Dinner on Wednesday?" she asks, heading with Mikey towards the door.
"Yeah, Wednesday," Gerard confirms, opening the door to them. "Later guys; bye Sam," he waves at he girl who had now stopped crying. Sam manages a small smile before waving. Closing the door as soon as his guests reach the elevator, Gerard leans against the fixture and sighs.
"Daddy, can I get a new dress? This one is bad now," Gerard hears through the door.
"Okay, sweetie, how about a nice pink one," Mikey suggests.
"No, I want a yellow one. With unicorns! For Uncle Gee!" She contradicts. The elevator dings, signaling it has arrived as Mikey laughs, but it gets muffled as the doors close around them, cutting Gerard off from the rest of the conversation. Frowning, he slides down against the door. The simplicity of the conversation between his brother and his niece had affected him more than he likes. The casual nature of it ruptures everything that Gerard has ever built for himself, the entire life he has led and plans on leading is spotted by the fact that everything else around him seems to want to be mundane and dull. Somehow, he's being pulled down with that too. He does not belong in this, he was a music god of sorts and to have fallen so far from that pains Gerard to even look at himself.
Pulling himself off the ground, he makes his way into the kitchen to clean up both messes. The one left by Sam is easier to clean than his own, as the cup did not shatter like his own. Wiping up the liquid, he places the cup in the sink to move into the dishwasher later before starting on the dark brown puddle from earlier. Carefully picking up the shards of broken china, Gerard's annoyance flares again and he's crushing the jagged pieces in his hand. Inhaling sharply, he drops the pieces to the pile and examines his hand. Blood streams swiftly from his palm, meeting the darker liquid on the floor, mixing into some hideous colored mess. Cursing, he hurries to the paper towels, ripping a piece and jamming it onto his hand before stalking to the bathroom where he washes it with water. As the flow lessens, Gerard examines his hand and its newly shredded nature. Smiling sardonically, he opens the cabinet to pull out gauze. Physical signs of his emotional pain for this life, it fits well. The bandaging was quick and messy, but it'll do for its purpose. Instead of returning to his cleaning task, Gerard grabs his coat and follows the same route his guests had taken only a few minutes earlier.
Although he doesn't choose to leave much, Gerard knows his way around the immediate area of his apartment. Deciding to check out the near by music store, he makes his way down his block, weaving in and out of the New York City bustle. The shop isn't one of the large scale chains and is fairly unknown, which might be why Gerard likes it so much. It also carries mostly older music, which is more likely the reason why Gerard likes it so much. Entering the shop, there are only a handful of customers and one employee running the store. There was really no use for CDs anymore, but they are much like records were a decade before and in demand none the less. Disregarding the other inhabitants of the store, Gerard browses through the racks of music labeled as "new." Flipping through the cases, he sneers at more than one of the CDs. There is no real quality music at all anymore, he resolves. Half the artists either sound like a duplicate of another band or they are not inclined musically. Really, the world of music has sunk too low for Gerard's taste. He believes, in all arrogance, that he was part of the last wave of true rock stars. Then again, truer rock stars have a sonic boom as a finale rather than the mere extinguishing of a flame Gerard had gone through. Withdrawing his hand as if it burns to touch the cases, Gerard retreats to his personal favorite part of the store- "classic rock." It disheartens him each time he visits to see what is now considered classic along with the originals- because surely Motion City Soundtrack does not have any right to share a row with Metallica and The Misfits. What made him double take was the new addition to that row, a familiar black cover with approaching heads and reminiscent text. Gerard's eyes bore into the title and he's sure he is going to throw up. On the last row of "M" under the classic rock section sits his own sophomore CD smiling up at him. Picking it up and looking at it as if in wonder, Gerard flips it to the back cover as if to verify it being his own. A wave of emotion overcomes him as he violently shoves it back into its spot and quickly grabs a Metallica volume to cover his own. Backing up slowly, he is sure that nothing could shake him worse than what he just saw. Himself, classic? That is almost as if someone had dug his grave and is instructing him to lie in it and that it's fine that he's still alive because he won't be shortly. Half wanting to complain and insist this is some sort of mistake, Gerard turns to make his way to the front but not before bumping into a shorter man with a mop of dark hair.
"Sorry," Gerard mumbles, righting the man, still too caught in the shock of seeing himself labeled as classic to notice the familiar face.
"Gerard?" the voice questions as the former singer begins to walk away. The sound of his name halts Gerard, making him close his eyes. He had forgotten to wear his glasses to disguise him, although they had never succeeded in that nor have then been needed for a while. Fixated on the idea that someone had recognized him and that he is not, after all, a classic rocker, he turned around with a smile in place. The fact of being recognized makes him actually happy that he is so forgetful and never remembers to wear his outdated glasses anywhere. His smile fell drastically when he turns to face the voice. He expected almost anyone other than the blue eyes that seem to pierce him as they always have.
"Shit," he mutters, frozen in place. Where he had just been thanking his forgetfulness, he now curses himself twice as much as he's now face to face with the one man he hasn't wanted to see in years and would have been happy to never see again. Bert fucking McCracken.