Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a lonely night and a quiet one at that.

There was a man, nursing a drink in his hands – fingertips rough and calloused; blue black bruises beneath his bloodshot eyes.

He had bright red hair, haphazardly cut, that grazed the tips of his narrow shoulders and hung over his sore forehead.

Taking a swig from the glass in his hands – he blinked as he swallowed the booze, feeling the burning, startlingly familiar sensation in the cavity of his chest; as his problems,

his anxieties,

his fears,

his darkness,

were washed away and replaced with the heavy emptiness that pressed down on his spine.

The invisible man’s name was Gerard Way, ex drug addict, past alcoholic.

And he had relapsed – he was no longer clear, clean, sober.

He was simply a mess of darkness, shaking hands, tears in the night-time and low self-esteem and troubled thoughts.

Best friends with the music that blasted through his headphones.

A rough laugh escaped his throat as his legs buckled and he fell from the bar stool and stumbled from the dimly lit bar.

The all-consuming guilt, the shame had yet to plant itself in his foggy head. 

The walk back to his apartment was one he would never forget.

He put one foot in front of the other as he walked, swaying along the quiet bridge.

The only sounds that the man could focus on were the Billie Joe’s ballad to his father in his ears, his heavy breathing, his ragged heartbeat.

The black stretch of sky was smothered in floating orbs of light, which lead the broken man home.

The thunder, made him fall to the wooden planks and hold his head in his hands, breathing speeding up and he could feel the anxiety attack coming on.

His hands were shaking so bad and nothing was working.

The thunder was so loud.

It was too loud and it wouldn’t STOP.

Cursing to himself, he pressed the ‘louder’ volume button on the side of his phone.

It was a simple gadget, a smart-phone, packed with songs, poems and comic ideas also.

The one thing that was to blame for his non-existent storage was the photos of him and his husband, Frankie.

He remembered when he had fallen in love with Frank – when he talked him down, when the depression had screamed at him and he believed all the lies.

And held him at 4am when all he wanted to do was give up and there was so much black that he was blind to the light that was next to him.

When he cried and wanted it to stop.

When he sang and wrote and drew and Frank was holding him as they laughed and kissed and hugged.

Gerard approached the door, planning the excuse, the apology, pleads, cries, to why he had drunk again.

He didn’t want to – but it helped block out the darkness – even if was only momentarily.

He turned his key in the lock and everything happened too quickly after that.

In his intoxicated state, he hadn’t noticed the police officers in his, in their kitchen.

He hadn’t seen the cars, the ambulance, the doctors, the paramedics.

He hadn’t heard the officer declare:

“Time of death: 2:30am.”

He hadn’t felt his heart fall to pieces, hadn’t heard and felt his screams tear at his throat.

He was numb.
Gerard Way was utterly empty.

He was emptier than he had ever been, the cavity within his bones growing larger and worse and darker by the second. His Frankie, his anchor, his… everything was gone. Forever.

And Gerard was nothing all over again.

Chapter Text

There it was, the ring of the doorbell – cutting through the roaring static.

Pausing the time loop in its tracks only moments before it was complete.

Sighing to himself, hands shaking, eyes downcast – he unlocked the door.

He saw dirty blond hair, soft brown eyes, black skinny jeans, Green Day shirt.          

He saw his brother.

“Mikey?” Gerard whispered.

The man standing out in the cold, a layer of frost upon the shoulders of his leather jacket; looked to his older brother. “Hey Gee.” Mikey replied gently – giving his brother a sad smile.

The two embraced. Tightly.

“How’ve you been?”

“Fine and dandy baby bro. Fine and dandy.”

Gerard finally made eye contact with his younger brother.

“To quote the great F. Scott Fitzgerald – ‘I was alone again in the unquiet darkness’.”

“What happened Gee?” Mikey held his brother even closer, feeling Gerard fist the material of his t-shirt.

“I- I just came back. And he-he was… he was gone, Mikey, he was gone.

I didn’t even get to say goodnight.”

With that realisation; his dam broke and he gripped his brother’s waist, sobbing.

As if he was holding on for dear life. But he was, after all.

Mikey’s eyes were glazed with tears. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Gerard swore. “I was drunk that night,”

He led his brother in and opened the blinds, dust flying and settling onto the sofa.

“I relapsed.

I came home drunk and I didn’t even realise he was…gone.”

Mikey stopped.

 “It’s my fault,” Gerard whispered. “I killed him. I killed him. I killed him.”

The words were ripped from his older brother’s throat in a cry for help.

Gripping his brother’s wrists, Mikey urgently counselled his terrified brother. “It isn’t your fault, Gee. It isn’t. I promise you.”

The bright red of his hair had faded to a soft pink. “You- you need to leave. Now. Please.”

He was whispering to himself urgently. “It won’t stop. Please Mikey, make it stop, it hurts so bad.”

It was all monochromatic to the broken man who was crying his heart out and to the other whom was muttering under his breath.

“Why do you want me to leave Gee?” Mikey held his brother’s hand. “Why?”

“Because – because I might say something I regret!” Gerard shouted.

“I’m not leaving, Gerard. I’m not.” Mikey Way was terrified of his brother – he hadn’t been this bad in a while. He hadn’t been this bad since he met Frank.

He’d been okay for 15 years.

15 years of sobriety, gone in one night – mere hours before he had lost his husband.

Grabbing a bag from the cupboard, he stuffed bottle after bottle in and threw the sack in his car. Planning to take it to the dump.

“What are you doing?” Gerard called out – on the brink of hysteria.

“Helping you. You asked me to, after all.”
“No, nonono I need it. Leave the bottles, please leave them, please.”

The older boy was hyperventilating and suffocating within the static.

“I’m not leaving them Gee, I’m sorry.”

Gerard glared at his brother, almost with a melancholy undertone – the bags under his eyes had their own bags – he looked so… defeated.

“GET OUT!” He screamed and slammed the front door shut, hands pressed to his ears.

Mikey fell to the ground. Head in his hands, he called out to the only man who knew how to help his brother more than even he did. “Frank. Please tell me what to do! PLEASE!”

He could hear Green Day bleed from behind the closed door.

He only wanted to know if Gerard was okay, it was stupid really, of course he wasn’t, Frank was gone.

Frank was gone. And he was never coming back.

He paused, as if to knock on the door once more – but wiped his tears and walked away.

He didn’t turn back.

And he wouldn’t, not for a long time.

Gerard was…

Drowning, to simply put it. It’s a cliché – only because it’s so true.

He was drowning in the darkness of the ocean in his mind – he was screaming for help, but no one could see him, no one could hear him.

There were faded lines on his wrist – remnants of when all he wanted to do was feel.

Feel something other than lost, something other than numb.

Feel something. All he wanted to do was feel, but he couldn’t.

The truly sad thing was, it was all so easy.

To fake a smile, to fake a laugh, to put on a mask that you were okay but you weren’t. To nod and say ‘I’m fine’ when someone asks how you are because you don’t want them to leave you if the truth falls from your lips. It was all too easy to keep your sleeves over your forearms so the shame doesn’t consume you and pull you under more than it already is.

Mikey had left him.

He hates you, you know?

He doesn’t want anything to do with you.

He blames you for all of it.

You fucked him up.

Waste of space

There was so much red on his hands.

It was so bright and it was all so real.

Because the reason was staring him right in his eyes – the same eyes he refused to open out of sheer, absolute, fear.

It was his fault.

And he was the reason Frankie was gone – it was all Gerard.

He knew how it felt to crave death. Because such thoughts had kept him up into the early morning with so much static.

We take silence for granted but we really shouldn’t.

Gerard knew all too well the feeling of utter hopelessness. When you didn’t know whether or not you’ll make it through the night.

When all you want to do is leave.

When the cavity in your bones is at the darkest, and your bones are at their most fragile.

Gerard knew all of it.

He drank all of it away, until all the black in his head was washed away with the toxicity in his bloodstream.

Until his head was quiet and all there was, was the infinite, screeching white noise.

But Gerard had no idea that Mikey had been there on that Night.

He had no idea that his baby brother had found Frankie.

Found him gone.

Mikey gently knocked on his brother's door. 

"Gee?" He called out "I'm so sorry."

The door creaked open - there was no need for a key.

Mikey was scared, he hadn't heard Gee walking to him.

 Then he smelt it.

The metallic, distinctive scent of blood.

There were red handprints on the wall.

The tiles were covered in water.

Gerard was gone.

Like his husband was only months before.

There was a note scrawled in Gerard's loopy handwriting - I'm sorry Mikey. I love you so much - keep running, Kobra. Goodbye <3

Frank Anthony Way passed away on February 7^th of 2017, at the age of 30 years old; he suffered from severe depression since he was 16.

A heartbroken Michael found Frank hanging in his apartment at approximately 2:15am.

He was declared dead at 2:30am the same morning.

He left behind a husband, Gerard Arthur Way, his brother-in-law Michael James Way and his close friend, Ray(mond) Toro.

Frank was an utterly brilliant person who had the power to light up the room when he entered – he also was a major part in the sobriety of his husband.

He will be sorely missed. <3

 Gerard Arthur Way passed away on October 30^th 2017 at the age of 30; alike to his husband, Gerard suffered from major depression since he was 14 years old and was a former alcoholic and ex drug addict.

His brother Michael found him in his bathtub at 3:15pm.

He was declared dead long before he was found.

Gerard left behind his brother, Michael James Way and his close friend, Ray(mond) Toro.

Gerard was a genius; a singer, a musician, an artist in many ways; and will be greatly missed – he was a light that went out too soon <3

 “I love you Gee, I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Mikey stepped down from the stand, hands shaking, breathing speeding up – he felt Ray grab his hand and hold the breaking boy close.

Then the two friends walked away.

It was just Ray and Mikey now; the other two had left.

It was just the two broken, shattered, lonely guitarists versus the world.

The ugly world.

The lonely world.

The beautiful world.

The two gone boys lived on in the heads and in the hearts of the living.

They were loved, oh, they were loved.

And they were missed, so bad.