1939

Chapter 1: Stowaways

A gentle breeze swam amongst the sea as waves crashed into the shore, the sand sticking to bare feet as Mikey walked amongst it with his hands in his pockets. The sun swept over his dark hair as it stuck to his forehead, hair stiff from saltwater that drifted in the air. Listening to the sound of seagulls as he watched the horizon, golden sunlight bouncing off his large rimmed glasses. His hands held a pair of jet black dress shoes that matched his rolled up pant legs of an ebony suit so as to not be soiled by sand. Black socks hung around his neck, framing the red tie dangling from his collar. Slick backed hair, he was no one special on this day. The men around him all blended with his style, although not many had the glasses like him. That was only so he could watch the waves crash against the sand, see the birds scour the pier and watch the incoming vessels.

The murky blue of American waters  swam underneath Mikey as he walked down the boardwalk, with sand caked feet hitting wet wood. Standing at the end he stared out across the ocean when the wind knocked his glasses from his face. Gasping he tried to grabbed for them and missed as they plummeted towards the watery grave below. With a gentle clang they hit a boat and skidded across the deck. A man with dark hair bent over and picked them up, smiling at Mikey. He spoke with a German accent.

"These yours?" Mikey laughed and took them from him, placing them back on the bridge of his nose.
"Thank you. I'm Mikey, Mikey Way." The stranger smiled and extended a hand, arm adorned with a dark grey sweater and neck with a white collar that had a black tie tucked into the sweater. His black pants were tucked into knee length boots and a flat cap hid his hair from view. He didn't appear to be a sailor and his accent indicated that he was foreign. "Pete, Pete Wentz." He climbed off the boat and stood up beside Mikey as Mikey ran a hand along his neck, palms sweaty. Pete captivated him, his dark brown eyes swam with untold stories as sweat dripped down Mikey's spine. Mouth dry he darted out a tongue to lick his lips, trying to pinpoint why this stranger made him so nervous. Speaking quietly he asked, "So Pete, where are you from?" Pete's quiet laughter rang in Mikey's ears as he shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm from Germany. I came from there on this boat. It's been a long journey but I've made it." A smile curved across his cheeks, white teeth glinting in the sunlight from underneath the edges of gentle lips. Mikey smiled back, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. This man ahead of him instantly captured his attention yet he couldn't place why. After all he was a German and Mikey was an American. They had no reason to be friendly with each other, especially since Germany declared war only a few months prior. A war that was shaping up to be larger than ever expected, and Mikey knew he would be caught in the middle of it if America was ever involved. However this was 1939 and Mikey was terrified for how Pete encapsulated him. The feeling was almost like love or lust but that wasn't possible, after all, how could a man ever love another man?

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Pete laughed quietly as he walked down the boardwalk, talking to Mikey about the American culture. Speaking softly Mikey told him about his brother and his family, how the war had already claimed his father and how soon, it would take his elder brother. Pete with a smile listened to each word intently. Mikey's words captivated him and they he spoke so lovingly about his brother proved what Pete had suspected. From one glance he could tell Mikey was shy yet dedicated to his friends and family. From as far as he could tell he was an introvert who only opened up via Pete's gentle prompts, and perhaps that's what drew Pete to him. To this shy, quiet American who was so passionate about who and what he loved, a complete opposite of all the stories he was told about Americans. About their rude ways and cruel, over the top attitudes.

Mikey was nothing like the stereotypes he lived with, but neither was Pete. He wasn't a cold heartless German with no sense of humour. In fact he was quite fun to be around yet caring and gentle whilst also being wild and outgoing. His complex nature and personality perplexed Mikey, his thick accent rolling off the tongue and worming it's way into his ears as Mikey listened to the tales of pain and oppression. Each day was the same, hide your displeasure from the world, never show them you cared. Prove to the world that nothing can phase you or break you, that the sound of gunfire outside your window could never break you down or make you cry in fear. Pete spoke of how he stowed away on several boats to escape the opressionistic war torn society of Germany. He knew America was safe and relatively unscathed. His pain and suffering is what brought him into Mikey's life and Mikey knew from the very first word exchanged that he wanted Pete to stay.

That he wanted Pete involved in his life. He wanted more than friendship but that, that was an inexcusable thought. How could he be so disgusting as to think that this feeling was natural? A man cannot love another man. Even if it was okay, he could be imprisoned for it and that was the last thing he wanted. 
"So where are you staying?" Mikey's voice barely cut through the air as he spoke softly and quietly, terrified of pushing him away. Pete's laugh came as a comfort, the low sound warming his ears as he settled into ease.
"I don't have a place. I'm a stowaway with no money," laughing he looked back at the small dinghy he came in on, "I even stole the boat, surprised I haven't been arrested."
Mikey grinned and nervously mumbled, "You can stay with me. I'm sure my brother won't mind." At the first word he uttered Pete's eyes lit up with a spark and he smiled widely, the corners of his mouth etching into a large curve whilst eyes squinted. The spark in his eyes glowed brightly as he followed Mikey, eyes captivating the man by Pete's side as he followed the golden light swimming amongst a sea of brown.

The sound of wind and seagulls was replaced by the rickety sound of cars crawling their way through the streets. Slipping on his socks and shoes Mikey stepped off the boardwalk and onto the dirt beside the road. Women in long skirts walked amongst cobblestones, arms linked with men who pulled them along. Seagulls and pigeons fluttered past the two men as they walked amongst the streets, the vastly different culture sending a shockwave through Pete's system. He was half American so he had heard of the American culture whilst growing up but he had never imagined it to be so starkly different. There was no order or regiment, it was every man for himself, and that, of course, meant only men. Women were toys and had no place. It wasn't much different in Germany except the woman wouldn't allow themselves to be pulled around like rag dolls. They weren't pretty dolls to show off, they were house maids and mothers and they made damn sure that's where they stayed. The majority at least. Everyone seemed so selfish and easily manipulated from what he saw. It was a no brainer to him why his mother left America. Germany had a far better culture but, the war had made it inhabitable. Maybe America would be his escape, his salvation, and with Mikey by his side everything felt alright. For just a moment he forgot all about the suffering in the world, all the pain, every innocent corpse. For just a second everything felt okay.

Footsteps echoed in the relatively empty street as they approached a brick apartment. It was just like every other building they had walked past, dull, boring and overall uninteresting. Nothing was special about it. The red and brown bricks said nothing about the character it didn't have. The wooden door gave no indication of a kind or cozy interior, which it in fact lacked. As Mikey opened the door using a plain silver key Pete instantly noted how bland the interior was. White walls and a plain staircase with only a rickety wooden staircase that looked like it was going to collapse at any minute.

Making his way upstairs Mikey led Pete to the third floor where he opened the door to reveal a small place cramped with mismatched furniture. A sad brown couch sat amongst the further most wall with a wooden table and chairs pressed against the wall across from it. There was only small windows that let in minimal light, thus lending to a darkly lit apartment. The kitchen had a gas stove and white cupboards. A man exited a room that appeared to be the only bedroom in the apartment with loose clothing. He was unlike the other men in this culture as he had long dark brown hair and had settled for a simple white shirt that fell overtop a pair of black pants, his feet bare in the apartment. He hadn't bothered to cut his hair or slick it back, it just hung by his face, a limp rat that screamed his difference from the world. Raising an eyebrow he noticed Pete and Mikey.

"Mikey, who the hell is this?" He spoke with a soft gentle voice and sat on the couch, largely ignoring Pete and only addressing Mikey.
"Gerard, this is Pete, a friend. Pete, this is Gerard, my brother." Gerard laughed and shook his head.
"Since when did you have friends?" Mikey snorted and playfully punched Gerard.
"Shut up. He doesn't have anywhere to stay so I said he can stay with us." Pete smiled at the words and glanced around the apartment once more as Gerard gaped like a goldfish.
"We can't afford that! We're struggling as it is, how are we going to afford to house one more person?" Gerard stood up with hands tangled in his long hair. He walked to the table and leaned on it, the wood groaning precariously with his weight. Pete spoke quietly, in a thick German accent for the first time. He somewhat struggled with English but he tried to explain his story as clear as he could, in the hopes that Gerard would understand. That moment was when Gerard sighed in defeat and, head hung low pressed a letter into Mikey's hands.

A letter which confirmed Gerard's placement in the military.