Welcome to the Pride Parade [Frerard AU]

Part II: Chapter 3

          

CHAPTER 3 – WE BELIEVE WHAT'S ON TV

Wanting to get away from my phone for a while just to process, I turned down Mikey's music and headed downstairs. In another room I could hear him talking to our mom about something he'd been procrastinating.

"-Supposed to get this signed months ago," our mom was saying. "And you're bringing it to me now?"

"Figured you knew more about this thing than I did," Mikey mumbled, hands stuffed in his pockets.

I quietly walked past them, absentmindedly reaching for the refrigerator door. If I ignored them, they'd ignore me, and I wouldn't have to get involved in their budding argument.

"Gerard, dinner is in ten minutes; don't go looking for food," my mom said without taking her eyes off of my brother. She never was one to leave a conversation before it was over. "Mikey, if you want to go on this mission trip you have to be on time about these things. I can get it done by Friday, but you leave Saturday night. I just hope your youth pastor is okay with it being late..."

I closed the fridge and decided to speak up anyway. "Why do you want to go so much?"

Mikey shrugged. "The guys at church last week were making it sound like it was the best thing that had ever happened to them. Thought I'd try it."

"Yeah, I heard them talking," I nodded, and then realized that wasn't exactly true. Not being the most active about our family's religion, I hadn't been to church in at least a few months. Maybe not even at all this year. Maybe praying for myself was overdue; God probably wasn't too happy about my slacking. "Where are you guys going again?"

"Someplace in Missouri. There was a tornado there a few years ago and so we're going down there to help fix up a few houses."

"Mikey, it's on the TV right now!" Mom called, having turned on the television in the living room and flipped to the weather channel. "Joplin, Missouri. Looks like they're doing a feature on intense storms."

The weatherman was talking to somebody who survived the tornado, asking for her side of the story.

"It was like a movie," she was saying. "We were hiding in a bathroom, and my parents were praying, and we really just had no idea what would happen next. But I really have to give credit to God for my survival – people aren't supposed to survive a level 5 storm. But the only room in our house that stayed standing was the one we were hiding in."

"What a coincidence. Maybe God's telling us right now that Mikey will make it on that trip after all." Mom flipped to the news and Mikey disappeared into another room.

The local news informed us that there was a kid missing in our area who was just found living with a friend. After his pasty-white parents found out he was dating a black girl, they kicked him out, but got worried after a day or so. I remembered getting the Amber alert, but I'd never seen the guy. It was sickening to think those things ever happened.

"Just awful," Mom said, as the kid they interviewed declared that he never wanted to return to a set of racist parents. "Just awful. If anything like this ever happens to someone you know, know our doors are always open. I'm so glad this boy had a friend to keep him safe."

I nodded vaguely, listening more to the story than to her. The concept was unthinkable.

"I'd rather watch storms than a bunch of corrupt people," I told her bluntly.

She laughed, changing the channel again. "Fair enough."

***

The rest of the week, Mikey spent half of his day playing bass and the other half planning his trip to Missouri. He seemed more excited about this than he had been about his own single being released.

"How goes the songwriting?" I asked him one day.

"It's not really me doing the writing," he admitted, "though I've asked to help before. They let me add my little changes to the music they give me, but the lyrics are all out of my control."

"Do you not like the lyrics they're singing?"

"They're fine... I just know what I would change about them."

"Maybe you could write your own. Bring it to a rehearsal one day and see what they think of it."

"I could... I don't know. I've tried. It's hard."

"Sounds like it would be."

As I habitually checked my phone for notifications, I found myself feeling like I was missing something. Like there was a conversation I was neglecting, or like there was an unasked question waiting in an unsent message somewhere.

Frank! I hadn't talked to him the entire week, I'd been so busy with Mikey. About time my notifications stopped being so empty. I opened his message thread.

From Gerard Way: Hey

He didn't reply for a few minutes.

From Frank Iero: hi

So he was putting the conversation starter on me, then.

From Gerard Way: How are you?

It seemed like a necessary question, considering the topic of choice the last time we talked. It was Friday; with a look at the clock I could see that he would just now be getting back from therapy. Maybe things were better now.

From Frank Iero: idk u

I wasn't used to this kind of shorthand from him; he seemed to be the kind of guy who used flawless grammar even when it was unnecessary. Semicolons and everything. That may have been the most alarming thing at the moment, but right then all it did was make me scrunch my eyebrows.

From Gerard Way: I'm alright. Are you okay? Did something happen?

From Frank Iero: yeah, whatever though. i'll be fine tomorrow

I stared at the screen, wishing I could just reach through it and give him a hug even if I didn't know why he needed one. Frank's lack of capitalization made him seem even smaller and quieter than he was.

I tried to keep my mind from caring what was going on if he didn't want to tell me. It was really none of my business, but I had a feeling whatever was going on wasn't good for him and therefore it hurt me. Where was this boy when all I wanted to do was hold him against me and wrap his hands in mine, whispering between nose kisses that he would be okay no matter how he felt right then?

I shook my head a little to get my phone back into focus and my mind's eye away from situations so specific I might never be in them. In any case, whatever more there was to that statement, I didn't want to pry.

I thought about changing the subject, maybe asking him out somewhere soon, but I wasn't sure if it was a good time. I was no psychologist, but based on his behavior he would probably agree to anything just to get the conversation going somewhere else. Dates should have been things for us to look forward to, not treat like distractions.

That was why I plugged my phone into the wall by my bed and didn't look at it again the rest of the day. Not that it lit up a single time. He said he was okay, so I left him alone for now. I trusted him enough to take care of himself.