The Man I Know I'm Not [Frerard] (Sequel To Tell Me I'm A Bad Man)

Twenty-one - You'll Keep On Giving Me Shit 'Til I Choke

I'd rarely seen a grown man cry before, but it was quite a crushing experience. Like I said, nobody wants to see one cry, and no man wants to be the one crying.

But seeing Mikey Way cry - not just crying, but sobbing softly into his pale hands - made my heart wrench, and I didn't know what to do. His shoulders shook and his hair fell forward, but he made no move to brush it away.

I just...didn't know what to do. I'd never been able to cope appropriately when someone in front of me was upset. I simply froze up.

"He - he doesn't care!" Mikey suddenly slammed a fist onto the counter, looking up at me. "He doesn't give the slightest fuck, does he?" I slowly shook my head, admitting that maybe he didn't. "It's always been Gerard, Gerard, Gerard, and everyone else can go fuck themselves as far as he's concerned. I'm sick of it!" He sounded like a furious mom, but he was his brother, and that probably meant so much more.

His head fell back slightly, and he ran his tongue over his upper lip. He swiped at his face but tears kept coming, streaking his flushed skin. He rubbed his eyes, exhaling heavily and sort of slumping against the counter.

"What do I do?" He turned his gaze towards me. "Did he mean it? When he said it wasn't Bert?"

I shrugged, the action feeble and tired. "I don't know. Maybe. I wouldn't be surprised."

"He...he doesn't care." He sank into Gerard's vacant seat, rubbing at his arms. "Ever since he started drinking, he's just cared less and less. And - and - and he shuts himself away. Haven't you ever noticed that he's never really been sympathetic, or empathetic?"

I thought for a moment, and realised that he'd never been emotional at all - I mean, he had, but not like a normal person. Not like Mikey or I.

He seemed to sense my agreement because he continued, his voice shaking. "This wasn't...this wasn't even because of Bert...Bert tried to make him better, even though I could see that he was struggling himself, and - and now, they're both fucked and they fucked each other and -"

"What?!" I practically shrieked, my heartbeat rocketing and my hands shaking and I felt like I was going to pass out.

Mikey stared at me for a moment before realising his mistake. "Fuck."

"No no no Mikey, this isn't just 'fuck', what the fuck?! Are you shitting me?!" He didn't reply, his lips pressed together as his hands held his upper arms, his elbows on the table. "Mikey, I swear to God, this had better be a fucking joke -"

"You weren't supposed to find out this way -"

"I probably wasn't supposed to find out at all!"

"Frank, it was just a drunken thing, before you went to New York -"

Suddenly the coffee went flying, the mug smashing against the floor. It was my turn to slam my fist against the table, my turn to shoot up from my chair. "What else has he been keeping from me, huh? What else has he lied about? Is he even an American citizen?!"

"Of course he's an American citizen - just because he screwed Bert -"

I covered my ears, my lower lip trembling. "I don't want to hear it!"

I didn't know if I was more hurt or angry; didn't know if I wanted to punch my so-called boyfriend or cry in a dark room until I lost my voice. And then a cold sort of realisation washed over me, and I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach.

I lowered my hands from my ears, taking several deep breaths before I spoke. "I'm going to Brendon's, and then tomorrow I'm going to New York."

"How will you get there?"