That's What You Get

Chapter Four: The Weight of What Was

Mikey sat hunched on his bed, arms wrapped around his knees. The soft hum of the AC filled the silence, but it didn't quiet the noise in his head. Therapy had stirred up everything again; Lincoln and Luca, their bond, the way that even distance hadn't broken it.

It reminded him too much of Gerard.

His throat tightened. His big brother had always been his anchor. But Mikey had drifted. And he ran away before he ever had the courage to ask for help. Before he could admit he needed saving.

A knock startled him. Loud. Sudden. Too sharp.

He flinched, heart racing.

His body went still.

He wasn't expecting anyone, and his mind jumped to the worst-case scenario. That woman from the station, Maggie, what if she found him?

He stood slowly, legs heavy, and walked to the door with quiet steps. For a second, his hand hovered over the doorknob. He considered not opening it.

But he did.

Standing there was a man he didn't recognize right away. White hair. A little shorter than him. Smiling like he knew him.

"...Can I help you?" Mikey asked, cautious.

The man smiled wider. "Mikey."

Mikey blinked. "Yeah, that's me. Do I... know you?"

The man didn't answer. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Mikey in a tight, sudden hug.

Mikey stiffened in confusion.

"Baby brother," the man whispered.

Mikey froze. His breath caught in his chest.

"...Gerard?"

The man gave a small nod, and just like that, the dam broke. Mikey's arms closed around him, and he buried his face in Gerard's shoulder, sobbing harder than he had in years. He couldn't hold it in, the relief, the guilt, the longing. It all spilled out in gasping breaths and shaking shoulders.

Gerard held him tighter. "It's okay," he murmured. "I got you."

Mikey pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them. His cheeks were blotchy and red, his nose running. He wiped at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

Gerard looked around the house before turning back to Mikey. "Twelve years," he said quietly.

Mikey gave a broken laugh. "Fourteen if you count the two years I barely left my room."

Gerard huffed a soft chuckle but his eyes stayed serious. "I heard about Pete."

Mikey nodded. "Four years ago. He went away." His voice was small, like the words still didn't feel real in his mouth.

Gerard sat with him on the couch. "So how are you holding up? Really."

Mikey pulled his knees to his chest again. "I wish I could say I'm fine," he said quietly. "But... sometimes I still miss him."

Gerard's jaw tensed slightly. He didn't say anything at first.

"I know how that sounds," Mikey added quickly. "I don't want to miss him. I just... do."

Gerard looked down, sighed. "Stockholm Syndrome," he said under his breath.

Mikey looked at him. "What?"

Gerard shook his head. "Forget it."

"No, don't do that," Mikey said, frowning. "We've never kept stuff from each other."