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Losing the Innocence of Faith	By : druscillaryan Category: My Chemical Romance > General Views: 2038 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of My Chemical Romance. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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So, I know Mikey doesn’t actually have asthma. Sue me. And I know that a cigarette could kill him probably if he has asthma. Sue me again. But don’t sue me for not owning them, please. That’s unoriginal.

Losing the Innocence of Faith
Part Three

Mikey pulled away and pulled off his glasses, wiping at his eyes. "Can we go now?"

Gerard sighed and turned on the car slowly, the radio off. He grabbed Mikey's wrist before his brother could turn it on. "You know you can always talk to me right? No matter what. I don't care if it's four in the morning and it's the stupidest thing in the world, okay? We're brothers, Mikey. This is what we do. We take care of each other."

Mikey nodded, but inside he was screaming. I am taking care of you!] "I know. Don't worry, Gee. I'm fine."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Overprotective big brother cramping your style. Not that you had much to begin with." He laughed and smiled, but his eyes still shone slightly with worry. His brother didn't act like this, didn't ask hypothetical questions. He always told Gerard what he was thinking, asked the stupid questions, asked for help. Mikey knew he could, he knew Gerard would help him.

So what was the difference now?

Mikey turned on the radio and stared out the window, shifting his weight again. "Gee?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we go do something tonight? Just get out of the house for awhile?" It wasn't a throwaway question, but it didn't tell Gerard anything. Mikey always wanted to get out of the house, away from the screaming. Gerard usually took him because he felt guilty. Mostly due to the fact that he caused nearly all the screaming.

"Yeah, sure. What do you want to do?"

Mikey shrugged. "I don't care. Something. I just don't want to see D-Dad." He stumbled over the word.

Gerard glanced at his brother and at the yellow bruise on his cheekbone. "It'll go away soon, Mikey. Dad's a prick. We all know that." He reached over and squeezed his brother's shoulder. "I'm going to get you out of there as soon as I can."

"Not soon enough." Mikey breathed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

---

The movies. Dollar night at the movie theater. It didn’t matter that the theater only ended up half full except on Saturday nights. Kids had better things to do during the week, like having sex and getting drunk, than to go to the movies.

But Gerard and Mikey went. They were sitting in the back row. Mikey had discovered if he tucked his feet underneath him it didn’t hurt so much to sit. They were watching Star Wars, however. And even though the two brothers had the movie memorized, down to the choreography of the lightsaber fights, there were still certain parts of the movie you jumped at.

And it hurt.

“Mikey, you okay?” Gerard whispered for the fourth time.

“Shut up.” the younger one said through gritted teeth. “I’m fine.”

After the sixth time of asking the question, Gerard got fed up. Moving to his feet, he yanked his brother up from his chair and dragged him from the building.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Mikey snapped. Not only was he humiliated and not in the mood for another third degree, but it hurt to move. And it hurt even more when he couldn’t control moving.

“What the fuck is your problem!?” Gerard snapped back. “You’ve been fucking suicidal all day. You keep wincing for no Goddamn reason, you skipped school, you decided to start smoking. Asking those fucking hypothetical questions, Mikey? Just tell me what’s wrong!”

“I can’t!” Mikey yelled, painfully aware that the few people on the street were staring right at them. “I can’t tell you, Gerard, so can you just drop it?” He walked over to Gerard’s car and started tugging on the locked door. “I want to go.” he said, shameful tears falling down his red cheeks.

Slowly Gerard walked to the car and unlocked his door, then reached across the interior of the car to unlock Mikey’s. They were halfway home before a word was spoken.

“You said you could tell me anything.” Gerard said softly, turning on the one working windshield wiper as it began to rain.

“I lied.” Mikey said numbly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You lied.” Gerard repeated, nodding his head.

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

Their parents’ Honda wasn’t in the driveway when they got home. Either Dad had gone down to the bar for a pick-me-up or he had gone out with their mother on a date. Mikey didn’t care as long as he wasn’t home.

Mikey made it into the house first and Gerard slammed the door hard enough to make the windows rattle after he came in. He stomped up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door even louder than the downstairs one.

Mikey stood on the linoleum in his muddy sneakers for a moment, his lip trembling. Finally he kicked his shoes off and threw his wet socks in the laundry room on his way to the kitchen. Shutting his mind off to what would happen when his parents found out that their liquor cabinet had been ransacked, Mikey made a combination of the hardest ingredients he could find.

He had to fight his gag reflexes for nearly five minutes after he drained the tumbler, but he managed. He rinsed out the glass and returned it to the cupboard, then stumbled upstairs and collapsed on his bed, crying himself to sleep.

---

“Oh my God, Mikey. What the hell is wrong with you?” Gerard hissed when he came into the bathroom at midnight to find his brother practically vomiting up his own stomach into the toilet.

“I’m going to die.” Mikey choked out, tugging a washcloth off the shelf and wiping his face on it. He reached his hand up and flushed the toilet, then fell back against the wall.

“Damn right you’re going to die.” Gerard said. “Especially after Mom and Dad find out you were drinking.”

At the mention of their father, Mikey leaned over the toilet and puked again, this time puking up bile and blood, since the contents of his stomach had long since been purged. After Gerard was sure his brother was done being sick and had washed his face and rinsed his mouth, he lead the younger boy to the kitchen.

“Water, Tylenol, crackers.”

“Huh?”

“Water for dehydration, Tylenol for headaches, crackers so you stop puking up your stomach.” Gerard was rummaging through the cupboards, tossing a box of Tylenol on the table and thrusting a glass at his brother who just stood there. The older one crossed the kitchen and threw the crackers on the counter before turning to Mikey and crossing his arms.

“I thought you didn’t drink.” Mikey said quietly.

Gerard looked at his brother for a second, a sudden anger flaring up in his eyes. “I lied.”

Mikey turned away quickly toward the dink, head lowered as he filled the water glass. It was hard enough living with what had happened last night. Why did he have to live with it today, too? He had spent all day convincing himself what they said on TV: that it wasn’t his fault. But chancing a look at his brother, he knew that was bullshit. Gerard wouldn’t be mad at him unless he had done something wrong.

The rational part of his mind screamed that Gerard wouldn’t be if he knew what were going on, but Mikey decided to choke on his water while it screamed. Quickly, worried, Gerard crossed the kitchen and took the glass from his brother, thumping him on the back several times.

The younger boy cried out and pulled away, choking even harder. Gerard’s eyes widened and he ran up the stairs two at a time, returning with his brother’s inhaler. After his breathing returned to normal, Mikey burst into tears.

Gerard put the inhaler on the counter and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. He started when Mikey threw his arms around his neck and started sobbing into his tee shirt, but he hugged him nervously anyway. “Mikey, what is it?”

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you.” the other boy whispered desperately. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” Gerard said in what he hoped was an assuring voice.

“You won’t start, will you?”

“Of course not.”

They stood there like that, not caring or knowing how long. Not until the front door burst open and they yanked apart as if they had done something wrong. When Mikey saw his father he pushed pass Gerard and ran to the bathroom again. The whole family could hear him retching.

Their father moved toward Gerard, grabbing his oldest son by the upper arms and shaking him. “As if it weren’t enough to simply exist with your faggotry—“

Gerard pushed away, furious. “I’m gay. I wasn’t molesting my brother!”

“Am I supposed to take your word for that?”

“He smelled like alcohol.” their mother commented from the door. “Vodka.”

Gerard looked up at her. “That was mine. He came in when I was pouring it and I accidentally spilled it on him.”

“That’s convenient.” James snarled.

“Always is.” Gerard said, turning to head for the bathroom.

Mikey was crying as he continued to purge his invisible sins to the sound of his father beating his brother.

He fell to the floor of the locked bathroom, sobbing. “If there is a God,” he whispered to the darkness, “I hate you.”

---TBC---

Yeah, so I know that it sucks, but any other comments?
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Losing the Innocence of Faith