We're All Outcasts (Gerard Way/ MCR Fanfiction)

You Can't Touch My Brother

Mikey's POV:

I was stunned. My bother had fallen for my best friend. It wasn't just that; of course it wasn't - Gee was her teacher, which made it far more than personal. I wasn't lying when I said it was okay with me (and I would never report them to the authorities), but I was incredibly surprised to hear that my suspicions had been confirmed.

The circumstances surrounding how they became closer than just a teacher and student really were remarkable. It was the biggest coincidence I'd ever heard of. How did that even happen?

Yes, Scarlett and Gee were intellectually equal. Yes, I could understand why he felt that way and, to some extent, saw what he saw in her. But the most shocking part of the whole thing was that Gee had fallen for her at all. He had never been the hopelessly romantic type, nor had he been the arrogant, audacious type. He'd never been any type at all, really. He was always far too shy and secretive to ever find love.

He'd kissed her. My brother had kissed my best friend. How had she felt about it? Did she even like him back? I doubted heavily that he'd ever take advantage; he would never do anything like that. But if they did want to be in a relationship, how would it possibly work out? They would have to be so careful - it would be hard for them both.

How the hell had I found myself in the midst of what could be a scandal?

This was the sort of thing that hit the News At Ten. It wasn't something to shrug off or to be treated lightly. This was serious and it was illegal.

It was illegal.

I let it sink into my head, sitting on my bed and restlessly running my fingers through my hair. I wasn't bothered if they both wanted a relationship, but I knew perfectly well that it was not acceptable for them to be together. They must have known too. That was the thing that bothered me and stuck in my head; the fact that they knew and went forth regardless.

A niggling fragment of thought was running around my head - he admitted to kissing her. That in itself was crossing the line. Had I completely misjudged his character, and if so, had he gone further than just kissing her?

He couldn't have. Could he?

No. He wasn't like that. I knew him.

I knew what he was like, and he would never do anything without making damn sure it was okay.

But why hadn't he told me? Admittedly, I was being selfish in wishing that he had told me before I asked him, but again, I wouldn't expect him to suddenly come forward with the truth of how he felt. Of course, I considered various scenarios in my head, but realised quickly that they were just totally unrealistic. I was Scarlett's best friend, so that made the possibility of him telling me even more remote.

I'd long since accepted that Gee was a very isolated person, very enclosed, almost scared to wear his heart on his sleeve, so wanting him to waltz straight out of his comfort zone and confide in me when I could so easily have turned around and told Scarlett and everyone else at school was wrong of me.

Maybe Frank had guessed before I did. He was always cracking jokes about them, so had he caught on? Perhaps he was misguided when he was laughing about their 'relationship', but maybe he was far more perceptive than he let on.

I looked up and around my room, the street lamp casting an orange glow and giving everything a warm hue. I saw a small pile of books on the floor next to my desk, titles like 'Growing Up' and 'What's Happening To My Body?' illuminated in amber.

I don't know why I kept them, I'd intended to throw them out or give them to charity years ago, but they'd just ended up lurking on the floor.

They were crap anyway. I bet none of them had advice like 'What to do when your brother has fallen for your best friend, who he just happens to teach...'.

Sighing, I lay back down on my bed, trying to go to sleep; I couldn't, though, my thoughts were racing and I was unable to just lie there still. Giving up on my efforts, I read a few more chapters of 'A Clockwork Orange' instead. I was glad Scarlett had let me borrow it; I'd been curious about it for a while but they didn't have it in the local library, so I was really, oddly, excited when I first opened the cover. Some people don't understand when I say I love the smell of books - it's not exactly a common habit, but I do. You can always tell a lot about the book's history by the smell: a brief whiff of tobacco could suggest that the previous owner was a smoker, a fresh, clean, crisp smell and you know that you're the first to read the words inside.

Admittedly, it's nerdy, not to mention odd, but I've been smelling books for as long as I can remember. There's something oddly comforting about the distinctive smell of a good book. You might think I'm destined for a psychiatric ward, but try it. Next time you pick up a story, open the cover and just discreetly sniff it. You'll be surprised.

A few hours later, I finished the story (with sore eyes, an aching back and that familiar sense of pride), putting it carefully down onto the floor next to my bed and placing my glasses on top. Then, as I was eventually drifting into sleep, I allowed myself to drift between the lines of the book, finally understanding every curve and twist in the plot, analysing every character and letting the entire book get under my skin. I loved the feeling of closing a finished book; it's like a bizarre sort of excitement, a buzzing in the your head as you suddenly get an urge to discuss the book, to share it, to talk about it in detail and share it so you can pass that feeling onto other people. They say a good book stays with you long after the cover has been shut, and I live for that, the curious sense of empowering curiosity, how you feel you could do anything in the world.

Books are far more than words, they are what explore reality and give you the freedom to dream.

***

I woke up with a start, any pleasant feeling stripped away with the opening of my eyes. I remembered what had happened to Scarlett, how she had a dangerous heart condition, and how she was in a coma.

If Gee had kissed her, that meant he must have been having a much harder time than I was.

He loved her, I was sure of it, so he must have been almost dying inside. He would be heartbroken. Oh god, what if he became depressed? I hated myself for not realising sooner: Gee needed me.

He fucking needed me and all I'd been doing was making it worse by bombarding him with questions.

He could be a wreck.

I needed to help him. Glancing at the clock, I groaned; it was 4.57 in the morning. It was dark outside, tiny snowflakes beginning to drift down from opaque skies. I stretched, yawned and padded across the floor. At one point, I hit a creaky board and nearly jumped out of my skin. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, I opened the door to his room.

An audible sigh of relief escaped my mouth as I saw him sleeping peacefully, duvet pulled around his shoulders tightly. He was okay, I could feel it. Gee was my brother; I always knew if he was alright, I just needed to pay attention to it.

He might have been older than me, and he might have been the one who paid the bills, but he was vulnerable. I made a promise to myself that I would never let him down. He had it worse than me; I had to stop him from doing whatever it was that had nearly killed him as a teenager.

***

A/N: Hi. I'm really grateful to all of you for sticking with me whilst I haven't done a lot of writing. It is wonderful to see that people are enjoying my story; I am immensely thankful for all of the votes and comments. It's always great to hear your opinions.

Sorry for the short chapter.

As always, please do get in touch if there's anything you'd like to see happen.

3,600 reads. Thank you. I'd like to give you something back by always posting a nice picture of Gerard with the chapters.

Stay beautiful, keep it ugly,

Maya-The-Psychic