Before Killing Was Cool ➊ FRERARD

24: A Long Cold Lonely Winter

C h a p t e r | T w e n t y - F o u r

Present Day - Mikey

Mikey spins around immediately, casting his eyes on the person who's caught him redhanded. The older man's face is flushed with an equal mix of terror and fury, his light hair sticking up in uneven patches like he's just rolled out of bed. Of course, it is almost three in the morning.

"Start talking." He's carrying a baseball bat with a solid grip, clearly indicating he's not afraid to use it. Mikey backs up with his hands in the air.

"I'm so sorry," he says shakily, "I can explain—"

"That's what I asked you to do, wasn't it?" The man - it's got to be Pete's father - is reaching for the telephone on the office desk with his other hand, not taking his eyes of the intruder in his home. "You have twenty seconds before I call the police."

It does strike Mikey as odd that he isn't calling the cops straight away. God, Alicia would never forgive him for this. He'd be thrown in jail right beside Pete and it's ironic because all he wants is to see him again. "I know Pete. I was just trying to help." He nods uncertainly to the open drawer of the file cabinet where the money lies. "My family, they - we don't have the means to bail him out, but I thought you would. I didn't realise you were already..."

"What do you know about my son?" His voice rises but still is kept low, probably acutely set on not waking his wife. The last thing they need is a massive commotion or for anyone else who's vulnerable to get involved.

How does Mikey even begin to answer that? These people don't even know he exists; they have no idea that he's been messing around with Pete for all these months. That he's lived under their roof. "We went to school together," he starts after taking a deep breath, "we're friends." As an afterthought: "Good friends."

"Friends don't break into each other's houses for bail money, no matter how close." He isn't buying it.

So Mikey says it, the truth. He has to. He's run out of options and he's panicking and Pete will understand, right? "We're together," he croaks.

Pete's father, presumably, lets his grip on the baseball bat falter for just long enough so that it falls to the ground. Mikey considers lunging for it and picking it up himself just so he has the advantage of a weapon, but he doesn't want this to get any uglier, or to completely betray this man's trust. They're just having a conversation is all.

"We've been together for a while," the boy elaborates, "really, ever since the shooting. My name is Mikey Way. My brother, Gerard, he..." He can't finish the sentence.

The man's expression doesn't falter, just hardens even more. "I heard about your brother on the news, but not about you. Pete's never mentioned you."

Mikey reckons it's been far more than twenty seconds by now but still, there has been no 911 call. He keeps talking, trying to fill up the space between them and distract Pete's dad. "Our relationship is between us." His own comment makes him blush, hearing out loud how ridiculous it sounds, like some school kids afraid to tell their friends they've kissed. "And, uh... Pete didn't think to tell you because—"

"Because we're never around?" The man interrupts. Mikey doesn't even know his goddamn name.

"Well, yeah. Because you're never around." Neither of them have made a move for the baseball bat, too stunned at each other's presences to try anything rash. "And also—"