Wintertime (Frerard, Sequel to Summertime)

28: The Word Fuck Appears Over 50 Times In This Chapter

Mikey had fainted.

But who the fuck could blame him? He'd gone a good ten years without hearing Gerard Way make one single pissed off angry comment and then he was practically thrown in the deep end.

Frank didn't exactly look at it that way, though.

Frank looked between the two brothers: one on the floor, and the other trying to refrain from smirking, and wondered what the fuck he'd ever gotten involved in.

"And you had to fucking do that, didn't you?" He snapped, his eyebrows raised a little - question directed at Gerard, of course.

Gerard shrugged, brushing his hair away from his face, "he thought you were fucked up, he was going to do something."

"I was handling it." Frank protested, his eyes widening further in disbelief.

"And how the fuck were you doing that?" Gerard responded, rolling his eyes.

"A fucking better way than just popping out of nowhere and fucking causing him to pass out-" it was then that what had happened really dawned upon Frank, "fuck," he rushed over to Mikey, "is he okay?"

"He's fine." Gerard told him rather blankly. Frank met him with an unconvinced glare. "I can feel it. Energy, and shit... I don't know. He's fine."

"Physically, maybe, fucking emotionally, I doubt that." Frank groaned, tapping Mikey upon the face gently, trying his best to get him to consciousness again.

"Who is?" Gerard let out a sigh, going over to sit down upon the edge of his bed: awkwardly, with his legs together, like he didn't belong there anymore, like he was sat in the room of someone he barely knew and not his own.

"You can do the explaining." Frank said dryly, biting his lip as Mikey's eyelids began to flicker upon.

"What- the fuck... I...?" Mikey stammered out, reaching out for Frank as he pulled himself into a sitting up position, "I just... that had to be.... I think I blacked out... had some crazy fucking vision- I-"

"Not a vision." Gerard let out a sigh: his tone nonchalant, impatient even, even picking at his fingers as he sat there, not even really looking at Mikey as he spoke, although that was largely down to the fact that he couldn't quite bring himself to.

And Mikey was at least eighty percent sure that his heart exploded in his chest right there as he turned again, facing the bed, facing the figure sat at the end of it: his brother, just the same as he had been ten years ago, besides the hair, of course, and suddenly, Mikey was grasping Frank's wrist tight enough to fuck up the blood flow.

"You fucking- what the fuck-" Mikey began, but he could only stammer and stare in Gerard's direction, unable to form a sentence in his head, let alone verbalise it with a vague sense of coherence.

"Dyed my hair?" Gerard continued to be, well, fucking Gerard, "I know," he went on to say, pulling his hand up through his black locks, "it does look different. Suits me, though, like it. Frankie likes it. Although I think I could shave my whole head and tattoo a butthole onto my scalp and he'd still say I was beautiful, you know what he's like-"

"Gerard." Frank gasped out, narrowing his eyes: not entirely sure as to what he could say either. "Stop being such a fucking asshole."

"You- you..." Mikey gasped out, glancing frantically between Frank and Gerard, and coming to realise that they were just as real as each other, and fuck, he really needed to pass out again, but even he knew that it wasn't going to accomplish anything. "What the fuck did you do?" He spat, this time directly at Gerard.