I miss him. And I hated the fact that I did more than anything, because he's Pete fucking Wentz - I shouldn't miss him, I should hate him, I should loathe him, I should despise him, yet I can't bring a single cell in my body to do so. My body barely functions in anything over than loathing and extreme methods of procrastination.

The darkness ensnares me and I love every minute of it, and I feel like a liar to deny that, but one of prejudice to proclaim it. I don't like to feel alone, but this alone has comfort and it smells of nothing in particular, just scents that blend in every day, and it smells like scented nothing - it's delightful.

But Pete Wentz crosses my mind against, and I end up forced into dropping my trivial thoughts regarding scents of my darkened room, and I end up realising just how far into insanity I've fallen.

I haven't just dipped my toes; the current's swept me away entirely. I feel foolish now, but I blame it on sleep deprivation, because I haven't got the heart to point the blame otherwise, and otherwise meaning Pete Wentz, because I always end up blaming him somehow, but only now do I realise that he never deserves it.

I just can't bring myself to forgive myself for this, because somehow Pete fucking Wentz had put a magical spin on it so the whole ordeal is magically my fault again, but what should I expect - he's Pete Wentz and he does that, and even when he's past me, he will continue to do that, because I'm just another guy to him when he was and somehow still is my whole world. It’s sickening, and I feel so used I want to rip my lungs from my rib cage and out my chest.

Part of me just desperately wants him back, and I'm simply doing all I can push that part as far back into the derelict corners of my grey matter as possible. Despite this, it just doesn't go away, and a find myself lost in a mess of paranoia and heartbreak, and fucking Breaking Bad box sets and everything else that screams Pete Wentz like some sort of sadistic foghorn.

My room was only illuminated by the desk lamp, and I hadn't got a clue as to what time of night it was, due to the smashing of my phone as Pete tried for the third time to call and make things better. I couldn't accept the calls, or even see the text messages on my home screen, and it bothered me as the missed calls added up, and I didn't want that, in fact, I simply couldn't take that. It was slowly destroying me, so I destroyed the cell phone.

It was just an object, and I was a human heart, shattered and in a million glass pieces, slowly tearing the fabrics of reality apart, because why not. Why not? Why not tear the whole apart for Pete Wentz? If I can justify it within the frames of my own mind, then somehow it seems fine within the harsh reality out there, and I think that scares me, because with a mind like mine, I find myself just everything and anything these days.

Justification is yet another form of misjudged self-acceptance, and I'm blind to just about everything holy now. I feel the darkness like a friend and the world does nothing but hurt. Perhaps it's the insanity. There does seem to be a reason as to why you shouldn't lock yourself in your room for prolonged periods of time, but now I don't want to remember it - I simply want to rot away with insanity and its legion of demons dressed in angel’s robes.

I think maybe this is insanity, but insanity is madness, confusion and fear. Madness is when man becomes animal, and animal becomes man, but I'm just lost and awfully sad, so awfully sad.

I should've learned not to get attached by now, but I'm a stupid guy stuck inside a stupid head, living in a reality where I'm pretending to be sophisticated like the rest of the world who seemed to have structured everything on people’s opinion on you.

Sometimes I wish I could be Gerard; I'm not sure if now is one of them. Gerard seems to accept madness, embrace it really, and he doesn't pretend he knows what he's doing, because half of the time he doesn't. And he's just a stubborn mess that's far too arrogance regarding his feelings for Frank, and despite the fact that Gerard isn't the most desirable of humans to be, at least he's good at being him.

I'm just Mikey Way and I don't know who I am. I think I'm crumbling, and I say it's Pete's fault, but really it's mine too, because I shouldn't have let myself get anywhere near so attached to one stupid guy. That has realised that I'm a stupid guy before I did.

I'm far too late for all of this, and even now the train has departed the station. I think maybe I'll sit on the tracks. I don't particularly, I just wish for the light at the end of the tunnel to just not be the headlights of another train.

I find myself being a train wreck far too often these days. It's a dreadful habit, like smoking. Gerard does an awful lot of smoking, but somehow he doesn't seem to care about the health risks. Gerard can just do that; take something between his lips like a metaphor and just go for it without the slightest care, and I read the labels, and all the safety precautions, and that makes me change my mind, but with Pete I didn't, and that's exactly where I went wrong.

So I don't know what to do know, or where I could possibly go. This feels like limbo, except I'm not actually trapped. The door isn't even locked; my door doesn't have a lock.

I don't think mum trusts me with a lock; I think it's something to do with Gerard, that she wants to see my face more frequently than on a monthly basis. I don't particularly mind the abundance of a lock though; Gerard always knocks.

It's just the fact that Pete didn't knock when he came into my life - he didn't knock at all, and in fact he barely even let the thought slip over his mind. He lured me in as he did into the comic store; Pete was the rain, the heat, everything that day. That whole day was Pete Wentz's doing, and I come now to realise that I should have never woken up.

Because I didn't want another mess; I didn't want Pete Wentz, I didn't want a catastrophe, yet he took me, and I took him, and I think somehow there's beauty in that, but there's always beauty in destruction. It's like the thorns on a cactus; it protects itself from human eradication. The beauty is what protects the destruction and keeps it alive.

Pete Wentz is a by-product of hearts beating in time, of love, of lust, and the euphoria of a good day. Pete Wentz was never intended, yet somehow he fell straight into my grasp, and somehow God never let me let go of his stupid hand, and his stupid head. And still to this day, I didn't want him, and I didn't want to need him.

I think I do now, though. And I really don't like that.

Everything had slowly become a blur within this room and I knew I'd been in there long, I just wasn't sure as to how long; minutes drifted in hours, and hours drifted into days. And soon enough, I was lost within my own bitter sadness, my longing, my depressing need for stupid fucking Pete Wentz. I think time is a matter ignored when one's mind is preoccupied with other matters entirely.

I think time is irrelevant in most cases, but not now. Time is what's ticking down to my demise, because I know it's inevitable, that by some manner I'll one day leave this room, whether it'll be soon or whether it'll be to the extreme and I'll leave on my very deathbed. That doesn't matter though, I think what matters is the awareness, the fact that you know it will happen.

Acceptance is key on the path to selflessness, because you have to accept that people are going to be better than you, and you have to take that as a fact and not a problem.

I think the problem with society are problems themselves, and no one's quite looked past face value long enough to figure out the blindingly obvious. I can understand it though; people like facades. People like them enough to live under them, live with them, live as them, and some people are facades in their entirety.

Problems are perplexing, and people do tend to underestimate their ability to define something as a problem, because labelling something as a problem is saying that something should be wrong or fixed, or possibly even eradicated. And people don't understand just how that affects everything, because labelling something as a problem is so much deeper than labelling something as a pencil, because a pencil is a physical attribute or state, whereas a problem is a matter of perspective, and people's flaws within it.

I could say Pete Wentz is a problem, but I'm not going to, because Pete Wentz doesn't need fixing. Pete is who he is, and seemingly happy that way. I am going to call Pete Wentz a liar, though, because that's what he is, and maybe a cheater too, but the line really gets blurred when someone asks the question as to how many of these titles he really does deserve.

Because deserving isn't a matter of truthfulness, it's a matter of morals, and deep down I'm left bargaining with myself as to just how cruel I think I can get away with being, and after several minutes I'm still not quite sure enough.

I wonder whether Pete thinks I'm a problem and if so, as to what he thinks my solution is, and what names he calls me. I want to know, but I really don't, but the curiosity is awfully strong within me, and it's almost making me sick. It's odd to say the least, because curiosity is within in our nature, so I wouldn't expect it to necessarily work against me, but when I look at the world through rational eyes, I realise that nothing else could make any more sense.

Without a problem, one can't define a solution, but I think the need for a definite solution is a problem within itself. Things can be resolved without a solution, and mostly things don't need resolving. Pete Wentz needs a second chance, a warning, and maybe some herbal tea, but he doesn't need fixing. 

Pete Wentz doesn't need fixing, I think he needs forgiving. He isn't a problem, he's a person gone astray, and that's all we seem to be within this world. We're like ghosts, because we don't quite fit. We just wander. We're not part of the fabric of the world; we're stitched on and badly at that.

My head was hard to comprehend, because deep down, I still loved him, and I had to put a stop to that, but I just couldn't - no matter how hard I tried, I just fucking couldn't. Then maybe I shouldn't, because loving him isn't a problem, maybe it's a mistake, and I don't even think it's one at that.

I think loving him is an inevitable occurrence; it's a side effect of his existence, and I think what the mistake here is, is that I can't accept that I can do very little about the inevitable. Sure, I can struggle and protest, but it won't do any good in the long run.

I think loving him is a natural reaction, something I was made to do; I think I've just been nurturing it wrong, as has he. I think we just need a second go, a rerun, but I'm not sure how to go about that, and I think maybe I should go to sleep, but I've had far too much caffeine to even consider it, and really that's an awful shame, because my thoughts are really starting to get to me now, and I considering leaving this room, but not quite yet.

I'll stick it out a little longer, for my own arrogance if anything, because I like to think I sound like a philosopher, but really I'm just Mikey Way, and I'm letting myself think, and I begin to wonder why I haven't before, because I was born with a brain and only now have I realised how wonderful it is.

It's just not very practical; it's useless when it comes to Pete Wentz, and I think we're both useless when it comes to the whole relationship thing and we're doing nothing but fumbling in the dark, and now I just find it funny that neither of us thought enough to simply turn on the light.

I think it's hopeless, but so am I. The light can't be reached, because I see the light at the end of the tunnel now, and really it's always just been another train.

I think I'll go to sleep now, or try to at the very least. Trying is not compromise to doing, but I think for now, in this state, just maybe it'll suffice.

-

The silence was interrupted by the rattling of knuckles against wood. I didn't get to sleep, in the end, but really that was no surprise, was it now? It didn't expect to take me quickly, or slowly, or at all.

But it was okay, because I think I just liked lying there and looking at nothingness, and I think I liked this far too much at times, especially how I liked listening to the silence.

That silence is gone now, and there are knuckles, and tapping and human life in its place, and I miss it more than anything because it's empty, and I want to feel empty again, because part of me thinks Pete and this whole ordeal warrants sadness. I disagree, but negativity somehow ends up always being the stronger force.

I don't understand that at all. Positivity should shine through, shouldn't that be right? Shouldn't that be how it works? But now it really doesn't seem like there's a god at all. 

"Mikey?" Gerard. I think he must be wondering if I'm still alive in here; I don't quite blame him - even I don't know quite how long I've locked myself in here for. It's mildly sickening, but I don't care, and I don't want to fix that, because it isn't a problem anymore.

"Yeah, Gee?" I mumbled back in the most enthusiastic tone I could muster. Enthusiasm again was an odd concept, and why people fake it was one that would follow. Hypocrites come shortly after. Ah, hypocrisy - we've finally stumbled upon a talent of mine.

"You've been in here for like two days now, that's worse than me - I leave for coffee, seriously." His words stopped so he could let through a small and quite fake laugh.

He looked worried about me and I didn't like that, because he was Gerard and I didn't like to see the cracks in him. I liked holding onto to his recklessness, but I forget that everyone cracks, and some of us more often than the rest.

"Seriously, are you alright?" He wants to get it out of me and part of me would kill to spill it all out to him, but I don't want to hurt him anymore than he's already been. Gerard still seems like mine to protect, despite the fact that he's clearly the older one.

Gerard just doesn't do the best of jobs when it comes to taking care of himself, and I don't like that he focuses a lot of his time and energy into taking care of me, because I'm just fine- well, actually that's the biggest lie I've told today and it's only- in fact, I haven't a clue what time it is, and quite frankly I haven't a clue as to what today is.

No, I'm not okay.

I want to answer, but I don't. I could never do that to Gerard; he's too important. He matters far too much to me.

"Yes." I lied instead, because lying is easier and negativity has an awful habit of shining through, and I wasn’t going to deny negativity its rightful prize. I'm not that kind of guy, not quite. I think sometimes I'd like to think I am, but despite it all, I don't like lying.

"Mikey." He remained unsatisfied, most likely seeing straight through my pathetic attempts at lying. He is my brother, after all. I think maybe he's trained against this stuff, and then part of me ends up reminding the rest of me that the idea's utterly absurd. I don't mind that much though, I think I like absurd, I think I like madness, I think I like mess, but an organised, pre-planned mess. A mess that defeats the purpose of mess itself, simply because I think the concept's entirely perplexing.

"Do you want to talk?" He continued, his words sliding gracefully between his poised lips, and I notice how unusually happy he looks. I don't push it, because I don't think anything more exciting's happened than us getting a new kettle or something equally as menial to fulfil to caffeine addiction.

He'll die from it, I swear, yet somehow he seems awfully content with that fact. I think he's just content with dying happy; he doesn't care when, as long as he's happy, and really he's braver than I could ever be.

Yes, I want to talk.

I want to spill everything out to him in the biggest mess the whole has ever had the dishonour of witnessing, but I'm not going to do that. Sophistication somehow seems to hold some value here. It's crazy, because neither of us has washed in days, I can't read one fucking book, Gerard swears every four seconds, and I'm here considering sophistication.

"No." I lied again, uselessly as I know he’d end up seeing through whatever many coats of deceit I painted my words with. Gerard's awfully good with things like that - I'm not.

"Are you sure?" He tried again, as he would do, considering his persistence and the situation. I, personally, disagree that the situation requires any form of extra digging, but of course Gerard would have other ideas entirely.

"C'mon Mikey, I know you're lying to me." He guessed right then- fuck. I'm a fucking mess; I'm a fucking lying mess. Everything fucking hurts and despite how much of it I can rationalise upon blaming on Pete Wentz, it forever remains my fault. I hate that, I hate everything and I have everything fucking right to-

And then the first sob broke out. It lapped out, wet human waves upon cold white empty cheeks.

"Are you crying?" His voice suddenly filled with the utmost concern. Gerard cared far too much about me. It almost made me uncomfortable at times, but I think mainly I'm glad, because without him I really would be the biggest mess known to mankind, or dead. Dead would be a possibility.

I think we'd both be dead without each other, coming to think of it, and if that doesn't send shivers down your spine I couldn't fathom as to what else would.

Yes, I was crying and it's bleedingly obvious, and I'm a mess. I'm the biggest fucking mess you've ever seen, and I'm scared you'll run away, but you won't because you're Gerard, you're my brother and I need you more than anything.

"No." My words came out between choked sobs, only to emphasise the fakery behind my words.

I don't think I can actually answer a question without lying anymore, and if that isn't weird to think about, then god knows what isn't. I'm not going to blame Pete though; I think I'll blame myself this time.

"Can I come in?" He has that curious and mildly uncertain tone that reminds me of when we were just kids, and he stole my action figures and I was a stubborn little shit and wouldn't accept his apology for days, but we made up in the end, because we're brothers and we always do.

"N-... Yes." I gave up; I needed Gerard. He was my brother and I damn well needed him more than anything.

Sometimes he seemed like my only lifeline, but I didn't care because sometimes he was the only lifeline I could ever want, because he's Gerard, he's my brother and we're closer than close. He also has this knack of just knowing when I really need a hug, a chat, and some coffee, and that was utterly irreplaceable.

The door clicked open and light flooded the room as he walked in. I felt just a little like a vampire as I found myself squinting and grumbling under the excess of light. I felt like Edward Cullen and I was just waiting to sparkle.

At least then I'd have some relationship luck, because Edward got married didn't he? To Bella Swan of all people, but it was someone nonetheless. I'm just going to ignore the part about the vampire baby and the blood in a smoothie cup for now.

"Jesus, this is dark, even for me. Haven't gone all emo on me have you, Mikey?" I had to chuckle at that, but soon enough he flicked the light switch on and then he could see the state I was in.

He could see how I hurt, and how I cried, and I didn't want him to see, I didn't want him to know, because somehow I felt that I still had to protect him from the world, and protect him from my pain.

That was, of course, a stupid idea, because Gerard was twenty five, he'd been more than exposed to this world already. My subconscious was just trying to protect itself, and disguising the whole concept in an act of kindness, but it was a poorly constructed act of kindness; one that would topple and fall if I so much as poked it.

"Fuck...” He stood in astonishment at me red cheeks, runny nose, puffed up eye bags and straw like hair. I was a big ass mess.

I was the absolute definition of a mess; I looked like I needed medical help and plastic surgery at the same time. It was an odd combination, but somehow it managed to make sense in that insanity ridden head of mine.

"You're not okay, are you?" I couldn't answer; I just shook my head, because I most certainly was not okay. I was so far from fucking okay; I redefined the words 'not okay'. At least I wasn't lying this time, as least I finally had the guts to drag the truth between my chewed lips.

Biting my lips had become less of a habit and more of a lifestyle over the past few hours; I knew it was screwing them up too hell, but I couldn't bring myself to care, because I kind of liked the way it feel as my teeth sunk and slowly tore away at the soft surface skin.

It was kind of sickening when you thought about it, so I tried my best not to. Evidently, I wasn't doing the best of jobs, but when it came to me, things like that we sort of expected, things that came on label.

He sat down beside me, whispering his words soothingly into my ear, like a lullaby and like I was just a little child again. It was peaceful, because I just wanted to be seven and for him to be twelve again, because then there was none of this mess of heartbreak, and we barely knew of the real world, and we were fine with that, but we had to grow up.

It was natural but it hurt, and it especially hurt that we couldn't quite grow up together; Gerard grew up first. It was to be expected with the five year age gap, but it still wasn't welcomed. I didn't want to let Gerard grow up and get acne and crushes and addicted to drugs.

I wanted him to be twelve and I wanted us just to be kids forever, but it doesn't work that way. The world isn't Neverland, and neither of us quite enough pairs of tights to be Peter Pan. I do reckon I make an unfortunately convincing lost boy, though.

"It’s okay, it's okay, he's just a guy." Gerard was practically cradling my chocking and distraught frame. I felt ridiculous, I felt sorry for him, but I could barely feel anything at all other than the massive hole in my chest and the knots in my throat.

"He doesn't matter, this doesn't matter. You're fine, you're okay." That felt like a lie, because it did matter, this felt like it mattered more than anything else in the world ever had before, and I wasn't fine, I was far from okay. But Gerard was trying his best and I wasn't going to criticise him for that, because quite frankly, I wasn't even trying.

"But I love him-" I choked out like an over emotional thirteen year old girl.

I was quite clearly in a state, an enormous state and I hated that more than I hated the fact that I love him. Love was a perplexing emotion if anything and it most certainly did an awfully good job at making my head spin like crazy.

"There's no past tense in that sentence." Gerard noted and I nodded, leaving the both of us to slowly come to a realisation. It was a painful realisation, and one I didn't quite want Gerard to realise, yet alone ponder over for what felt like decades on end, whereas in reality was only a few minutes.

"You still love him." He confirmed, but really he didn't have to know. There was no other possibility within the frames of reality we called the universe, because I still loved Pete Wentz and nothing at all could change that.

"Yeah, pathetic... I know." I choked out, the tears never quite calming, because it hurt to realise, it hurt to remember, it hurt to accept, but most of all it hurt to love, and it especially hurt to love Pete Wentz.

They say love's worth all of that, all of that heartbreak and all of that fucking pain, but right now wasn't proving that at all. Right now was proving the opposite.

Right now told me that I wanted to become a hermit and live in my bedroom for the rest of my life, but unfortunately, I don't think Gerard would let me do that; not that he wouldn't be a hypocrite for it, of course.

He'd be a massive fucking hypocrite, but he'd ignore that and carry on drinking coffee, because he's Gerard and he's good at accepting and being himself. I'm Mikey Way, and I'm not.

I'm Mikey Way and I'm in love.

"No it's not - Mikey, it means we can fix this!" He smiled at me a little too enthusiastically, and I just wasn't quite sure as to where he was getting this from, because his words gave off the preposterous expression of a liar, but Gerard wouldn't hold me up only to drop me, would he? No, he's Gerard.

Nothing makes any sense, my head's clouded and my judgement's a mess. I just want this to all sort itself out, but things don't work like that, unfortunately. So, I'm lost and I'm in love, and I can't see a way out, not for miles at least.

"What makes you so sure?" He's Gerard but I still find myself uncertain. I'm not exactly sure why, but I think it's the paranoia, or something like that. I can always trust Gerard; I'm just not sure if I can trust myself. It's a confusing world - that's for sure.

"I am a master of relationships." I snorted at the irony of that. I probably shouldn't have, considering the situation with Frank, but I found myself without the capacity to care. With a heart drained of all feeling, not out of spitefulness, but simply because it's already far too preoccupied with a certain Pete Wentz and the way he kisses and the way he lies, and that stupid flirting technique that I've found myself falling in love with.

"No, seriously-" Gerard continued, but I wasn't going to listen to whatever bullshit he could spur out now. It wasn't that I didn't care; it was just that I didn't want any more lying, because I knew now that I really had a strong dislike to liars, and somehow Pete Wentz seemed to find himself as an exception.

Pete had a growing habit of this and I think I was kind of a little bit jealous of it, because Pete could always see that he was important, whereas I was kind of unable to. Sometimes I wanted to destroy myself, but mostly I just wanted to destroy the whole world. I'd destroy the whole world for Pete Wentz, and he should be careful, because I'd destroy Pete Wentz for the whole world too.

I'd destroy anyone for anything; just feel a little less empty inside.

Destruction is the oddest, yet most refined form of creation. We all practice destruction on a daily basis, but actual physical creation, I'm not so sure. I for one am a terrible procrastinator.

"Whatever." I turned my head away, not keen to hear Gerard's gloating. It's probably a little cruel, but so is Gerard, and more often than I am. 

"Listen to me, goddamn." He was a little pissed at me by now, and I didn't blame him. I was shattering and he was trying he is best to pick up the pieces for me, but I'm seemingly incompliant to put the pieces back together with him.

I just want to lie here and cry and maybe die a little too, but Gerard won't let me, because he's Gerard and he cares too much about me. This is great and also a death wish, but he doesn't care. Gerard is my big brother and Gerard will always be.

"Make me." I rolled my eyes at him, most definitely not expecting him to push a hand over my mouth, making my words nothing but mumbles against his flesh. Fuck. His hand tasted weird too- oh fuck! He's definitely been jacking off with this hand and now it's pressed against my lips.

Oh my god. Gerard was practically putting his come molecules in my mouth. I wanted to be sick, but I was just gagging a little and hating Frank for not fucking Gerard so he didn't have to do this.

"Seriously, Mikey." He raised his eyebrows at me and I made no hesitance in returning the gesture, far too preoccupied in act of desperately trying to breathe through a blocked nose and trying to never swallow, because if I swallowed, I quite frankly don't want to know what I was swallowing.

"Anyway, I fixed things with Frank. We're friends again; I'm just working on getting him into bed with me now." I laughed so hard I spluttered out saliva all over his palm. And dear god, I probably inhaled and swallowed, fuck. I had Gerard's come in my mouth- Okay that sounded really bad. Let me try again: molecules, remnants of when Gerard jacked off in my mouth.

That still sounded dodgy as hell, but there was little that I could do about it other than make sure that Frank and Gerard fuck tonight so I can avoid a situation like this again.

"Ew!" He retorted pulling his hand away. And he has the right to think that's disgusting Jesus Christ?

Gerard was a prat for sure, and he just wasn't going to admit that ever or anytime soon for that matter, because that was just a part of his pratty nature.

"Dude, you totally jacked off with that hand!" The words just tumbled out before I came to realise my accusation.

Gerard just turned a scary shade of red as he stared at me with big wide eyes, and it was then I realised that I wasn't just being paranoid and he actually had. "Oh my god..."

"Everyone does it, Mikes." His eyes trailed off into a different direction as he attempted to hide his killer blush.

I think it just kind of hurt to watch how he was without Frank and I then wondered if that was how it was for him to see me without Pete. I think that inspired me to get my shit together, because I didn't want Gerard to feel hopeless at all.

"You love Frank, like you're in love with him, aren't you?" It wasn't really a question, because it didn't need answering. We both knew the answer far too well by now. Gerard was about as stable when it came to Frank as a door without hinges.

Never before had I compared my big brother to a door, and never before had I compared Frank Iero to a set of hinges. I mean, he was bent enough, but it was a rather odd comparison.

"Yeah, I do. I'm in love with him." Gerard made another confession and I was scared I'd jinxed the whole world up again, because confessions didn't seem to work well with us Way brothers.

"You're in love with Pete, though. Anyone can tell that - he can too and I think it scares him. It scares him because he loves you too, and Pete knows that you two might actually last... he's scared of that."

"You know an awful lot about the guy and you've never mentioned him since I met him." I noted, eyeing Gerard through a narrowed gaze, and wondering whether he'd actually just set me up with Pete or not, but that didn't seem like a Gerard thing to do. He was kind of awfully bitter.

"I was a little preoccupied with Frank." He blushed like crazy again. Frank could plunge Gerard into a furious blush just by simply existing and that was really the cutest thing I've ever seen.

The two of them just fit like puzzle pieces, and Gerard reckons Pete and I are the same, but I'm not sure - that isn't going to stop my heart from fluttering over him, though.

"You apologised to him, didn't you?" I was finding the thought kind of hard to process, actually, because Gerard wasn't the apologetic type - that was for sure. Gerard just didn't do kindness and forgiveness, but I think Frank really was an exception, because somehow Frank was everything Gerard needed. They did just fit together. They 'clicked' you could say.

"Yeah, I said sorry." Gerard exhaled audibly, and he seemed to be just as surprised as I was, leaving the both of us in a perplexed state, as we wondered upon the effects of love and why the hell Frank Iero could have possibly seen anything in Ryan Ross. Well, apart from personal hygiene. That was apparently a factor here.

"Seriously?" I raised my eyebrows; maybe I was still just a little shell-shocked within the whole situation. I probably shouldn't have exaggerated my reaction that much as not to end up accidentally offending Gerard, but he knew I was joking. Well he'd known me for two decades; he had pretty much figured me out by now.

"You actually put aside your big ass ego for long enough to actually apologise to somebody?" I was definitely teasing him by now, and it was kind of fun. I had to bite back a grin, because I didn't want to piss him off entirely. I wasn’t quite that much of an asshole, or at least I didn’t think so.

"Don't sound so surprised." His gaze met with mine in a questioning look, but my raised eyebrows didn't budge at all, and I watched far too amused as he attempted to fit together some form of a coherent explanation.

"It's Frank, okay...." A blush filled his cheeks, "it's different."

"It’s different because you're in luuurvee with him." I teased, winking at him. It was weird how easily Gerard had somehow managed to cheer me up. If only I hadn't been such a pissy bitch and stormed off in the first place.

Gerard just always knew how to make me feel better, but he'd been through my teenage angst, and even if he was stoned for a great deal of it, he still had a pretty decent understanding of how emotions worked.

I suggested that he studied psychology once, but he said he didn't want to be some stuck up therapist sat in a room, telling people what to feel.

Gerard was never really a people person; he just cared a lot about the few people that mattered to him. And of course, he was more than content with wasting the rest of his life away in the basement.

"Yeah, I am." His eyes didn't meet mine and he attempted to hide the disastrous colour his face was going with his hair - it was unsuccessful.

"We've already discussed this, though." It was true, but now I could tease him about Frank without feeling like a shrivelled up piece of crap inside, I was going to make the best of every opportunity.

"So, how are you going to get Frank into bed with you?" I winked at him, and Gerard practically buried his face between our shoulders. He was definitely planning on fucking the guy tonight - that goes without saying. And judging by how his hand smelt, Gerard needed it more than ever.

"He's coming over tonight for dinner and... shit." Gerard mumbled, knowing exactly what I'd be imagining. But it was actually kind of cute that he'd invited Frank over, almost like a date, except with mum and me cockblocking him or something like that. And mum being mum would probably have an in depth and meaningful conversation with Frank, but only say one word to Gerard all night and that one word would be 'condoms'.

It was kind of weird how she'd figured out that both of her sons were gay before we even had for ourselves.

Well, Gerard and Frank were bleedingly obvious; you could tell they were in love by their eyes: hazel upon hazel and a look that screamed bedroom.

I wondered if Pete and I were anywhere near as obvious. It was weird how you couldn't tell how obvious something was when you were right in the middle of it. Like how you couldn't see the full storm from the eye of it - could you could only see a mess of swirling clouds and not the utter havoc it was causing. I decided that maybe we were obvious and we just hadn't noticed it yet.

"And is he staying in your room?" I continued before he could project any form of denial onto me, because Gerard was going to pull that innocent act in a minute, but the truth was clear. "In your bed? With minimal clothing? Is he bringing a condom? Do you have enough lube-?"

"He's still dating Ryan." Gerard's eyes burned into mine. Oh. Of course; Gerard couldn't quite work magic, and somehow Ryan Ross was still a relevant issue, and maybe I should consider listening to Pete for once and killing the guy. There'd be legal trouble, but Gerard knew how to hide a body. This was to do with his CSI addiction and not murderous tendencies - or at least I hoped so.

"You're Gerard fucking Way, he's Frank fucking Iero - you two are made for one another. Ryan Ross is irrelevant." I sounded like some sort of overly enthusiastic homosexual preacher, and I almost spluttered out with laughter at that title. That would really be a weird job, and maybe it was what Gerard was meant to be.

Gerard hadn't a clue what to do with his life other than Frank Iero. He was kind of a hopeless case and mum had recognised this and somehow now I was expected to excel at this English course and somehow end up with a degree I'd do very little with other than flaunt around.

"I'm not sure Ryan's massive ego agrees with that." He just looked at me before we both fell into a fit of laughter. Gerard was the best brother I could ever ask for, because he just got me, and we just worked.

We really were a devilish pair - we were just a little bit hopeless at times, and sometimes more often than not. But were the possibly the closest pair of brothers there ever was.

"Your ego's bigger." I corrected him. Because Gerard was a prat and I felt as if he somehow needed reminding. He really didn't, but I didn't care all that much.

"By ego do you mean dick?" He winked at me, and I really didn't. I didn't want to be involved in Gerard's dick not metaphorically, and certainly not physically. That would really be messed up - like really fucking messed up.

"Gerard I don't know how big your dick is and quite frankly I want things to stay that way-" 

"Ten inches." He lied, because he really didn't have one that big. No one did. Or at least I really hoped he didn't, like really, because I'd then need to get really jealous, even if it was a little weird, and just a little concerned about Frank for tonight.

"Sure." I looked at him in disbelief, trying to rid my head of a ghastly mental image that I daren't even mention, because I really don't think anyone wants this kind of thing imprinted into their head. Well, I think Frank does, but he's Frank and by some witchcraft he's in love with my disgusting older brother. It makes Gerard happy, though, so I don't think I'm going to question it.

"Anyway what was this relationship magic of yours that you could possibly use on Pete?" I tried to speak in the most hopeful sounding tone I could muster, but things really weren't working. I was also simply trying to change the subject and possibly rid my head of that ghastly mental image. I maybe was just a tiny bit curious as to what this 'relationship magic' could possibly be.

"It's not 'relationship magic', Mikes." He confessed, well it wasn't really that much of a confession, (thank god, we couldn't take any more bad luck) because it took someone with one brain cell to figure out he was lying. "I made that bit up." He winked at me, and I felt like reminding him that he was twenty five and not just five.

"I couldn't fucking tell."

He chose to ignore my sarcasm. "Relationship magic, let me tell you Mikey, is ringing him the fuck up and telling him you're both prats and that you're fucking sorry and hoping he does the same. You gotta apologise first, because you don't want to and neither does he. Unfortunately Pete doesn't have a genius of an older brother to tell him how to fix his relationships, so he's not going to apologise first, so you're going to do it."

"I broke my phone." I confessed, and Gerard looked like he thought I was lying and trying to get out of this, but I wasn't quite that much of a coward, well not anymore. In the past, I definitely was, but I think I'm trying to change now. I'm not doing a very good job, admittedly, but I think it's the trying that counts.

"Use mine." He tossed the thing at me in what seemed like the most reckless of manners possible.

Gerard clearly had very little respect for health of cell phones, but considering how I smashed mine over Pete Wentz, it didn't look like either of us did. Cell phones were just cell phones though, and people were people. People were entirely more important - that was for sure.

"How will this even work?" I was still a little uncertain, and nerves were definitely a matter, because there was the awfully possible possibility that Pete Wentz could simply not accept my apology and never want to see me again, because I could be a throw away for him, and he could be everything for me at precisely the same time.

The world worked in weird ways and love worked in crueller ones. I was scared as hell, but I was going to call, because I think I'd rather take my chances with my demise rather than hang in limbo and watch as the two of us drifted away into a certain state of silence.

I missed Pete's one am calls about dick jokes and episodes of Breaking Bad. I thought I hated them, but you never really appreciate someone until they're gone. The world works against us like that.

"One day we all get nostalgic for disaster."

"What does that even mean?"

"Just call him goddamn." Gerard was stubborn about this; I guess he didn't want to see me moping around about something as ridiculous as this. He was just more assured that this would work than I was. He had all the confidence and I had very little. I was just going to have to trust him on this one.

I sighed, going through Gerard's contacts, not questioning at least half of them, before I finally found Pete. I tapped on the call icon and then the ringing started. I stopped wondering why he had a prostitute’s number saved in his phone, because it was probably not a concept that should ever be brought to life. It was probably a joke anyway. I hoped it was a joke.

"Gerard?" Pete's voice broke into the air, uncertain and raw. I couldn't speak, because I was in awe at the sound of his voice.

It sounded pathetic, but I'd missed the sound of his voice at the very least and I didn't like the awkward and uncertain way he said my brother's name opposed to how he screamed 'Mikeess' down the line. It was ear splitting, but I could get hearing aids, I couldn't get another Pete Wentz.

"Uhh... it's Mikey actually." My words stumbled hastily into the silence, as I wondered how he could possibly react to this, because I was scared he'd react badly and even more scared he wouldn't react at all.

I was scared I'd waited too long to call him and he'd already moved on and patched up the hole in his life where I used to lie. I was I could have done that too, but the hole he left was colossal, and it didn't need stitches, it need a transplant.

"Oh."

"Yeah..." I breathed out helplessly, looking at Gerard for help, who rolled his eyes carelessly at me, before mouthing something which was reminiscent of the word 'apologise'.

Gerard wasn't the most helpful people at times. I think he was a little pissed at me, or maybe he just needed some coffee. I wondered if we'd ran out and if that was simply why Gerard had actually bothered coming to talk to me, but I liked to think he cared a little more than that. Wishful thinking was natural, I guess.

"I'm sorry." The words flew out without any preparation, and the line went utterly silent for what felt like days, whereas in reality was probably only a few minutes. Everything felt like it was shattering, and I wanted the whole world to fall apart right there and then. I wanted to disintegrate into pure nothingness and undoubtedly drag Pete down with me.

"Dude, what are you sorry for? I should be sorry - I'm a dick." He finally said into the silence, and I wasn't quite sure how I would even react with the slightest composure, because I wanted to scream at him and kiss him at the same time, but I couldn't kiss a voice down the phone, and I didn't want to deafen him either.

"Yeah you are." There was no denying that, and thankfully he chuckled along with me. I was glad I could settle upon that, because that wasn't quite as disastrous as half the things I wanted to scream at him were.

"I'm sorry, Mikey. Truly." His words were sincere and I trusted them because I wanted to more than anything. Trust was a profound bond and one I didn't quite think that someone like Pete Wentz deserved, but part of me just couldn't care.

Part me just couldn't do anything than want to cry and kiss him and just fall asleep pressed up against his side, but I couldn't because he wasn't here and I was trying to have a relatively heartfelt phone call as my older brother listened in. It was an odd situation to say the least.

"Can I ask why?" The words stumbled out with uncertainty, and what didn't help was Gerard sat there with a gaping expression upon his face. Gerard obviously didn't reckon that I wouldn't just be satisfied with a simple apology and would be prepared to fuck things up again all in search of answers.

"I wanted sex, Mikey. And I was stupid, and you didn't want to have sex with me - I needed to fuck someone. It was a strictly onetime thing." He confessed, and I wasn't quite sure if he was lying or not. I mean it was Pete, so it was definitely plausible at the very least, but I didn't know if I could really trust him or not.

"It was a stupid thing to do, but I didn't want to make you have sex with me if you didn't want to." Okay maybe that was a good thing, but I couldn't excuse the entirety of his douchebaggery for one good hearted deed, could I? I did really just want to forgive him, though. Maybe I wouldn't let him off entirely.

"Discuss these things with me, Pete. And then maybe we could have sorted something out." I wasn't sure as to what we could have possibly have sorted out, but the words sounded good so I went with them regardless.

I wasn't going to fuck him, or let him fuck me, because especially with this situation, I couldn't trust him with something like that, with my virgin ass. I think he liked the fact that I was definitely a virgin. It was kind of weird, but Pete thought it was kind of cute - really, I didn't quite see the appeal. It was just kind of sad.

"Are you suggesting you would have-" I blushing like mad now, because I wouldn't have, but Pete wouldn't accept the truth now he'd been tempted with a possibility of the impossible.

Pete was a wishful thinker, an imaginative liar; Pete Wentz didn't like to live in reality, and that was a weird thing to think about. He didn't look like the typical dreamer, but I didn't look like his type, and yet here we were.

"Shut up!" Gerard was sniggering in the background and if he continued I would have to aim a kick where it hurts, because Pete would surely get a little concerned if he realised that my big brother was listening in on our call. I doubted Gerard could actually hear what Pete was saying, but whatever - he was kind of physic to a certain degree.

"You're blushing - I can tell." Goddamn Pete Wentz and his fucking psychic phone call powers. Psychics - goddamn them. I will kill them all when I end up massacring the whole of planet earth one day. This doesn't even seem quite so impossible anymore.

"I'm not." I protested, I was lying quite clearly, but it was a protest nevertheless.

Gerard was far too amused by the entire situation and I was really considering rendering him infertile; it's not like it'll matter, seeing as far as I'm aware, Frank is a male.

"Liar." Pete wasn't psychic after all. He just knew that I was a terrible liar, as did pretty much everyone. The art of avoiding telling the truth clearly wasn't my forte.

Gerard coughed loudly to remind me he was still here. "Is that Gerard in the background?" Shit. How can he even recognise him from one cough? I don't want to know- oh, it is Gerard's cell phone, isn't it. Now, I do really feel stupid.

"Yeah, this is his phone." I reminded the two of us, as I pretended I'd never forgotten, because Gerard wasn't the only stubborn little shit in the Way family. It was a gene we all seemed to share actually, even mum, and probably dad too.

"Why are you using his phone?" Pete asked, a little confused, but I didn't think it really mattered to him that much in the great scheme of things. I liked to think I mattered to him, though. It was narcissistic, and I had no way of knowing, but wishful thinking was part of the human brain.

"I smashed mine because you kept trying to call me." I confessed, and thankfully he just chuckled at that. Pete wasn't the type to be offended, though. In fact, he seemed to have the ability to take absolutely everything as a compliment. I wondered if this was a facade, or whether the guy had the capacity to really be just that arrogant. It was probably a facade, but Pete was pretty arrogant.

"I'll buy you a new one, don't worry." He assured me, but I most definitely didn't want him to do that, because Pete had very little money I could tell, and if he was somehow going to acquire a cell phone, it wouldn't be by legal means at the very least.

"Don't." My words were firm, because I was scared he actually would. I didn't want some cell phone he'd stolen off a little kid or something equally as dodgy.

"Hey, it's an apology present." Presents are usually bought. Maybe I shouldn't so persistently accuse him of stealing, but really, where the hell would Pete get the money from? He works in a comic book store and lives in his mum's house.

"No, it's not." I persisted, trying to convince him not to bother and generally finding myself regretting telling him about the whole cell phone incident in the first place at all.

"Shut up." He always knew just how to sweet talk me into anything and it was goddamn annoying. He was Pete Wentz, though and sweet talking somehow seemed to come naturally to him, whereas I was about as eloquent as a beaver with a speech impediment.

"Pete, come to mine tonight for dinner... and shit." Gerard raised his eyebrows at me and mouthed something about condoms, which I could only be grateful he hadn't said any louder or Pete might have heard

It was only occurring to me that it'd be Gerard, Frank, Pete and I. I felt sorry for my mum, to be honest. She shouldn't have to put up with both her sons and their boyfriends, and she definitely wouldn't be happy about actually having to cook.

No one in this household could actually cook anything decently, and we were all content with living off ready meals, pot noodle, and caffeinated drinks. Mum was insistent upon buying boxed salads to keep us healthy; she was the only one that ate them though. I didn't like olives and Gerard didn't like lettuce, or salads for that matter. Gerard lived off coffee and the occasional pot noodle, but he was still alive, wasn't he?

"And shit?" He was definitely raising his eyebrows at that, because he was interpreting it the wrong way, or well, the only way to interpret it. He interpreted it the way I interpreted it... when it came from Gerard's lips, which was a completely different matter, by the way. "Should I bring my Breaking Bad box set?"

"Don't worry I have Netflix." I didn't know where half of these words were coming from, but it somehow seemed to work and somehow, in some dimension of insanity, this was all fine with me, because as long as I had Pete everything seemed to somehow fix itself. It was irrational and goddamn stupid but I didn't have the capacity to care.

"I'll bring the condoms don't worry-" There would be no condoms. There would be no need for condoms. I would be very sure of that.

"Pete!" He giggled- yup, I definitely heard a giggle there. Pete's giggle was cute, as was the rest of him. Pete Wentz was just a damn cutie.

"Anyway, bye Mikes-" He was probably running off to buy condoms right this very instant, but I wasn't done yet. I wanted to say something else.

It was a stupid decision and they were stupid words to say but I felt that I was going to say them nonetheless. I'd chance fucking this up for three little words.

"Wait, Pete." Fuck. Was I actually going to say this? It looked like I was and that scared me. That scared me more than anything in the entire universe had before. 

"Yeah?” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"I love you." And somehow the words just fell out. They kind of weren't supposed to, but nothing else had been quite so carefully planned.

We were in silence for far too long, Gerard shot me a terrified look, because he knew, the two of us knew that Pete didn't do commitment and he didn't say 'I love you's. I didn't breathe before I finally heard back, "I love you too." I breathed in like hell to stop myself suffocating and fist pumped at Gerard who had to bury his face in a pillow to muffle his laughter.

"Anyway see you later, Mikes." He said it so casually it almost hurt, because I didn't think there was a hole in my heart anymore, I think it was slowly repairing itself and Pete Wentz wasn't a model for perfect hearts, but excessive amounts of tape and a few stitches held the damn thing together just fine.

"See you, Wentz." And then the line went dead. Silence again, but this time I chose the silence. This was good silence, this wasn't lonely silence. This was the silence I needed.

Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.

Gerard pulled his face up from the pillow and just looked at me, a confused expression and one eyebrow cocked up, "are you calling double date?"

"It's hardly a date." I reassured myself, despite the fact that the words were directed at him they were more for myself.

"How so?" Gerard was pretty sure this was a date, despise the fact that his 'date' had a boyfriend that wasn't him, who was an asshole and washed on a regular basis and wore far too many scarves.

"Mum will be there." I reminded him, and I began to be excessively thankful for my mother's presence at meal even when Pete was there.

And as I thought about it I realised just how badly that would go, because Pete would probably end up telling her dick jokes and then the tables would turn because she'd probably end up laughing hysterically because my mum wasn't the most conventional of people. This does kind of explain Gerard... and myself.

"Just think of her as the chef/room service." Gerard was exceedingly good at being disrespectful to just about everyone and anyone. It really wasn't the best of qualities, but it was definitely a 'Gerard quality'.

It was a better quality than his ability to wear the same shirt, unwashed, for a month straight before mum sabotaged his plans and washed his entire wardrobe. He said he was allergic to the detergent, but really he was just very, very lazy; lazy, being one of the most significant and definitely the most unmistakeable of Gerard's qualities.

"I'll tell her you said that." I would, not that she wasn't already considering the plotting of Gerard's murder, in a maternal manner, of course. As I said, unconventional.

"Yeah, Mikey you do that." He mumbled, pulling himself up from the floor, "but it's five pm and we both have a date to get ready for." It wasn't a date. I had given up protesting by now though; I wasn't quite as stubborn as Gerard.

"You're actually going to shower?" I threw the unspoken question at him as he neared the door. I didn't think he was, but he looked pretty determined, and I was just scared his tactic to replace Ryan Ross was to become Ryan Ross and hope Frank simply didn't notice the difference. I however, really did not want to put up with another scarf wearing asshole.

Gerard was already a prime asshole, but I think the scarves just added to the douchebaggery and I might end up strangling him with them or something and I heard that's kind of very illegal.

"It seemed to work with Lindsey, didn't it?" He shrugged the matter off as if it was simple, but he didn't have a clue just how different Frank and Lindsey were.

Frank loved Gerard for who he was and Frank put up with his bad hygiene and caffeine addiction; Lindsey thought he looked kind of pretty in a shop and asked him on a one time date. Gerard wasn't a one-time date guy though - Gerard was an 'I'll love you for the rest of my life' kind of guy.

"Girls just like that kind of shit. Frank just likes you how you are." I attempted to convey this across to him in the least weird sounding way, but I think I'd already accepted that I was doing a shitty job.

I wasn't one for words and yet I was doing an English course and the test was awfully soon. I was just trying my best not to think about it. I was doing a shitty job of this too.

"Yeah, but I want my dick to taste of something other than mouldy sandwich and three month old boxers." I didn't want to know what on earth it would taste like mouldy sandwiches, so I really wasn't going to press it, even if it did concern me more than just a little.

"He has a boyfriend and you're certain on getting a blowjo-" My words were cut off by his laughter, and simply I raised my eyebrows at my ridiculous excuse for a brother. He was high on the fact that he'd made things up with Frank. He was ridiculously proud of himself, or maybe he'd just realised how good selflessness feels, but he's a prat, so he's just Gerard and he's just proud.

I don't care if he's a prat as long as he's happy and he seems to be happy as long as he has Frank.

"I'm aiming higher, but whatever." Of course he was, being Gerard and being an arrogant prat with no concept of boundaries and a terrible disregard for boundaries. Frank didn't mind though; somehow Frank found Gerard cute - that was clear. Clear, yet confusing. Who was I to talk, though? I found Pete Wentz cute.

"Ryan Ross will shoot you." I wasn't exaggerating. Actually, he'd probably hang him with one of those Ryan Ross gay scarves that I'd love to burn. I want to burn them all, along with Pride and Prejudice.

I want to burn a lot of things actually. Maybe I am a pyromaniac, maybe my professor’s right- nah; I'm too stubborn to let her have that one.

"I'll strangle him with his scarves, don't worry." Gerard assured me with a smirk plastered across his face as he mimed it out, whilst looking like an absolute doofus, but when miming Ryan Ross was anything else possible?

"You're fucking ridiculous."

"And we're both getting laid tonight!" He exclaimed. Dear god, I think he was really getting overexcited; he'd definitely had too much coffee. And Gerard had developed a really fucking high tolerance to that shit so he'd probably had at least seven hundred cups. This was concerning.

"I'm not-" I protested, trying to put his worrying caffeine addiction to the back of my mind, and not doing the best of jobs at it.

"C'mon, we both know Pete's bringing at least seventy different flavours of condom." It was probably true, to be honest. I would enjoy burning them, though. Maybe we could just have a massive bonfire as I celebrated my newly discovered pyromania as no one called the fire department and we all just watched as the fire engulfed the whole of humanity-

I was a guilty pyromaniac, definitely.

"What happened to your 'let's be bitter singles' attitude?" I tried to pull my mind away from pyromania and focused open my brother and the guy that he planned to fuck despite him having a boyfriend that wasn't him. Gerard didn't care though, and Frank was definitely very attracted to Gerard, so he might actually end up succeeding.

"Frank Iero happened, darling." He said in quite possibly the most gay voice anyone could ever dream of pulling off before closing the door behind him, and leaving me to get ready for my not quite really a date.

I thought of maybe just accepting that this kind of was really a date, but I decided I was maybe just far too stubborn for that. I blamed Gerard for this, because I think Pete was tired of getting all the blame and Gerard was an asshole too. We were all assholes, in fact.

This 'date' preparation would prove harder than I first thought, considering the fact I literally looked like a zombie who been dragged backwards through four hedges. It wasn't pretty to say the least, but it was apparent Pete had very little regard for my appearance.

Unfortunately, my self-confidence did.

-

As tugged my straightener through my hair for what I hoped would be the final time, the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the house made me jump and almost burn my ear off. I was pretty glad that I didn't burn my ear off, because that might have some disastrous consequences involving at least second degree burns, failed not quite dates and hospital waiting rooms.

I glanced in the mirror and found myself suitably satisfied with my appearance and then raced off downstairs before Gerard had time to sell Pete lube or something (I'm sure he'd already have this covered).

I just hoped Frank could serve as a suitable distraction for my bastard of a brother. He probably would though, seeing as the two of them haven't seen each other in weeks now and I'm sure they won't be able to take their attention away from one another for long than a second.

Speaking of Frank, I was glad to see him now, because I had missed him as well. I just hoped Ryan hadn't been feeding him too much shit about me. Ryan really did hate me and I hadn't done anything to directly offend him; his hatred for Gerard was just backlashing onto me.

"Your boyfriend's at the door." I looked up to see my disgruntled mother serving up more food than she'd ever cooked before. And she didn't particularly enjoy cooking so this was probably the first time she's cooked a meal this year and it's April.

Don't get me wrong, she's a great mum - probably the best I could ever ask for, because she's so accepting, she doesn't care what we do as long as we're safe and happy.

Well, she kind of has to be okay with the whole gay thing, because with the two of us being gay, she hasn't got much chance to be homophobic without the two of us pummelling her to death and kicking her out of her own house.

She was just a little pissed off with me, because Gerard had managed to convince her that it was entirely my fault that she'd now had to cook decent food for five, as opposed to get some pot noodle out the cupboard and trying to get the kettle to boil to supply our caffeine addictions.

"He's not my boyfr-" I stopped myself, pondering over something; "well actually I think he might be." She raised her eyebrows at me, perplexed and intrigued.

"Don't be too loud tonight." I looked at her with an astonished expression and she just chuckled. You could tell her and Gerard were related. "You know what I might just take off after dinner; because I don't want hear both of my sons fuck their boyfriends all night."

"Mum, I'm not going-" I could protest all I wanted but her head had already been filled with the 'truth'.

"Gerard has already informed me of your plans." I could kill him, I swear. I would kill him if it would upset Frank as much as I know it would, because I want Frank to figure out he's in love with Gerard whilst the guy is still alive, because necrophilia is actually really fucking creepy, well of course it is, but whatever.

I just shook my head at her, before dashing off to find Pete interrogating both Frank and Gerard about what I assumed to be their break up.

Oh, god he'd probably end up mentioning Lindsey to Frank, and fuck, Gerard had kind of told me that was a secret. Frank would surely be just a little amused regarding Gerard's ventures into the scary world of heterosexuality. I was just concerned with the fact that an actual female genuinely wanted to date my brother.

Well, I'm screwed if Pete decides to bring that up. He probably will now, just because he can sense how much trouble I'll get into.

"Mikeyyyyyy!" Pete called at me, practically leaping towards me and ensnaring me in some sort of concerningly constricting hug. Oh my god, help me.

"Pete!" I mumbled back as I grasped for air. Pete was making it awfully difficult for me to breathe, which was as suspected, a minor inconvenience.

"Dude, he can't even breathe." Thank fuck for Frank Iero. Gerard probably will fuck Frank Iero, but I'm not going to thank that.

Pete released me, and looked at Frank and Gerard again, before turning to me, "you totally double dated me, didn't you, Way." Pete had similar suspicions to Gerard, and apparently we were on a date now. I wasn't so sure about it before but I was perfectly happy to go along with Pete's apparently simple explanation.

"Ahem," Gerard coughed; a blush most definitely creeping onto his cheeks, "we're not actually-" Oh so he wasn't so sure now, was he?

"Shut up Gerard, you're so fucking obvious." Frank just winked at us with the smuggest expression on his face. Did Frank just break the code of sexual tension secrecy? Had the confessions finally jinxed us in the right way?

"Oh my god." The words just fell from my mouth and Pete and Frank just giggled at each other. Gerard however, I think had just been paralysed from the bottom up.

I wondered if he'd actually stopped breathing altogether. Frank had noticed this too, and inside of being concerned, was just stood there like a giggling idiot.

"What about this Ryan Ross?" Pete asked, raising an eyebrow and I tried my best not to roll out a reflex like spell of curses just as I heard the guy's name.

"Didn't not work out, let me tell you." Frank laughed and I watched as Gerard fingers fumbled for Frank's who immediately squeezed them as a sign of comfort. Gerard still did look like he'd just been possessed by twelve ghosts at once, but really Frank Iero just held hands with him. I don't think Gerard will ever let him go now.

"How so?" I asked, less in concern for Frank but more in the fact that I really did want to hear every bad word anyone could ever say about Ryan Ross. My hatred for the guy was kind of concerning.

"He was all into bondage and I was like fuck that!" Gerard's facial expression was priceless. Gerard was clearly not into bondage. Gerard was just into Frank and was currently more than smug to be holding hands with the guy right now.

"What did he tie you down with his scarves and shit?" Pete joked. Pete had actually jerked up at the mention of bondage, which really fucking concerned me. I should burn every scarf in his house just to be sure.

"Yeah, let's not get into details."

I think we better not, for Gerard’s sake at the very least.

-

Mum had opted for the seat at the end of the table, leaving Gerard and Frank on one side, and Pete and I on the other. Frank and Gerard were clearly holding hands under the table.

Pete however had retorted to being a little twat and trying to get me aroused by permanently resting his hand on my crotch. This was not fun, let me tell you now.

This was making it increasingly hard to eat anything.

"Frank, it's so nice to see you again." My mum said casually as she was thankfully unaware of Pete palming me just a metre away. The fact that if she knew, she probably would react that majorly, well apart from high-fiving Pete or something ridiculous, did concern me an awful lot.

"Yeah, it's nice to be here." Frank mused whilst gazing absent mindedly at his mash potato in a way that made me mildly concerned, but overall, I was just glad he'd finally realised how in love with each he and Gerard were.

It was cute and I was really happy for Gerard, but the amount of late night fucking I'd be forced to listen to- dear god. I don't even want to think about it.

I shuddered as Pete fucking squeezed and I could feel that fucking smirk on his lips. He was enjoying this more than he'd ever enjoyed anything before and I fucking knew it.

Gerard sent me a concerned look and mouthed something at me. I just looked at Pete with a scowl and he clearly got the right idea, as he had to subdue his laughter with excessive amounts of under cooked broccoli. He didn't even like broccoli.

"Tell me about yourself Pete?" Oh dear god, this was going to be 'interesting', either that or Pete would end up beheaded within the next few minutes and not necessarily just by my mum either.

"I work in a comic book store, and that's how I met Mikey-" I chose to interrupt him before he started going off on a really dodgy tangent or something, because it's what our first conversation consisted of that I'd really rather my own mother didn't know. Blowjobs weren't really a dinner table topic either.

"Yeah, Gerard was too lazy to get his own comic so I had to go out in the rain to get a shiny bloody comic!" Frank chuckled a little at that, but I let him off because I hadn't seen him in ages.

Frank had been trained to be accustomed towards Gerard's scary comic book collecting addiction, so I guess this wasn't anything out of the ordinary for him.

"You should be thanking me, to be honest." Gerard always was an arrogant prat, but at least he was good at it. He wasn't just good at it; he was quite possibly the very best.

"Shut up-"

"You really should." Pete whispered, squeezing again, and I totally didn't fucking kick him in the shin under the table or anything.

"Are you okay Pete?" Mum looked at my ass of a boyfriend with a concerned expression. Or at least I thought we were back at boyfriend status, but I couldn't really be sure you know. I just hoped we were though; I mean, according to Pete this was a date, so at least we were somewhere on the right track.

"Yeah, I'm just fine - it's Mikey you should be worried about. I think he's coming down with something... maybe you should send him to bed early." I was close to face planting in my mash potato.

"Right, that's it - I'm going!" My mum jumped up from the table and grabbed her coat, understanding the other meaning behind Pete's words more than he expected her to. "You can do your own washing up." She yelled in an oddly affectionate manner before closing the door behind her.

"I swear your mother's crazy." Frank directed his words at Gerard but that wasn't going to stop me butting in regardless. I was just crazy and you couldn't control me.

"She has to put up with him, so I'm not surprised." I did love insulting my dearest older brother. And Gerard did loving scowling at my insults towards him.

"She has to put up with you too." Gerard reminded me, which was true and she was probably more pissed off me for generally being incapable at English and college in general.

"Who never leaves the basement?"

"Look at me now, Mikes." He gestured to the air around him. "In the fucking dining room." He seemed far too proud of that for a person claiming to be sane.

"You're only here because of Frank." I reminded him of the truth.

Gerard blushed a little, well; quite a lot actually, "I bet he's better in bed than Pete."

"Now, darling - you're wrong on that front." Pete butted in, clearly offended at Gerard's disbelief in his bedroom expertise.

"I'm offended now." Frank butted in, clearly not letting his sex appeal be lived down by a guy that had more scented candles than friends.

"Don't worry I'm sure Ryan has given you lots of experience." Gerard glared at me as soon as the words left my lips, but I didn't blame him all that much. This was kind of a touchy subject for him.

"I'm Ryan Ross and I will tie you to the bed with my scarves!" Pete did a really dodgy impression of Ryan, which definitely made Frank blush.

I wondered what really compelled Frank to put up with that douche in the first place. Hygiene, probably. Frank is apparently gay enough for personal hygiene to matter.

"He's messed up, I swear." Frank confessed, trying to separate Ryan from himself entirely.

"I'll use something better than a scarf to tie you down." Gerard joked, or at least I hoped he was joking because that was something I didn't want to think about at all.

"It'll be me tying you down." Frank winked at Gerard, pulling him back onto his lap, and tangling his fingers in those matted black locks that really needed washing.

"Well..." I breathed out. "Pete and I have got to go-"

"Watch Breaking Bad." He finished for me, with a wink, and before I knew it, he was dragging me up the stairs and into my bedroom.

This could only end terribly.

Hey guys:) I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. Any thoughts on their renuion and the little bit of frerard going on would be appreciated in the comments, and of course votes are fabulous as well;) Love y'all<3