Pulling the brother card had sufficiently gotten me out of rather tricky situation that'd certainly lead to nothing but a bad outcome, however in the long run it had turned my already pretty tragic life into a game of hide and seek with Mikey Way. I spent my whole day avoiding the flash of blonde hair turning the corner, darting into toilets and classrooms full of people I'd never even met before. Due to the rather shocked reaction I had received from the guy, I largely suspected he was making just as much of an effort to hide from me as I was for him! This all made the situation easier so you couldn’t go wrong really. That was only if you ignored that the whole ordeal had already turned terribly pear-shaped by now, but I liked being naive sometimes, so I did indeed ignore the aforementioned fact.

It was constantly eating away at me though; what had caused such a reaction from the usually resilient towards emotion, younger Way brother. The shocked, almost terrified expression was beginning to drive me crazy as it constantly replayed in my head day in, day out; because no matter how much I avoided the fact, there'd always be something that made him react in such an extravagant manner. He didn't want me to know Gerard existed; he didn't want anyone to know that he was related to the guy with the shocking red hair and maniacal smile. Maybe he was embarrassed? Maybe he was scared - both of the truth, the secret, and of Gerard? Maybe he couldn't care less? I doubted the latter, despite how much I wanted to pin that Mikey Way was an ignorant asshole as the cause, it didn't quite fit, it didn't feel right, and I wasn't quite gullible enough to continue to convince myself that it did. Naive, I could do, gullible wasn't within my spectrum of narcissism.

I was beginning to piece things together; things that I didn't want to fit into a order that scared me so much, things that opened doors filled with stomach lifting darkness, and of course brought thousands of questions to the table. It brought questions that were scared to be asked, questions that were scared to have answers and questions that'd never reach further than the tip of my shy tongue, because I could never ask them, especially not to someone as unpredictable and cruel as Mikey Way.

In fact, if Mikey had reacted any differently to my mentioning of Gerard, we'd be in a completely different situation right now; I could be getting my skull kicked in by now, I could be dead by now, maybe even Gerard could be dead by now- no, I didn't want to think about that, because the fact that he was real didn't fix the problem that I hadn't seen him and his scary gaze in far too long.

Gerard didn't go to school, I swear I saw him at the hospital the other day, Mikey seemed terrified and embarrassed at the mention of his brother's existence, Gerard was creepy, Gerard was unpredictable: all of the aforementioned led to the one conclusion that I daren't realise - the conclusion that there was something wrong with Gerard, something very wrong. I didn't like to think that there was anything seriously wrong with him- okay, his moral values were more than a little corrupted, but other than that he was normal, and more importantly, I seemed to have found myself considering him to be my best friend.

No, I couldn't just assume this all from some stupid lacklustre guess work, I needed proof, I needed evidence, I needed answers, and I needed to befriend Mikey Way. Even if it was going to kill me, because maybe not having the answers would kill me quicker. The uncertainty was a poison, pumping through my veins, stopping my heart every so often and maybe one time it'd stop my heart forever.

Maybe it'd be an easier task now we had established some common ground and I even had the means for blackmail if it came down to that- it most likely wouldn't, because I knew what he didn't want me to know, what he wanted no one to know, his deepest, darkest secret, maybe. So he proceeded with caution, even with a slight fear of me; he was a coward. At least there was the reassurance that The Killers most likely wouldn't bother me for a while, Mikey'd certainly make sure of that. Or at least I hoped he wouldn't grow some huge spurt of confidence and vengeance towards me and being Mikey Way, he'd find the cruellest way to take said vengeance out on me.

Befriending and getting answers from Mikey however, would be a task that I'd have to approach with caution, great caution, because Mikey was clever, sadistic and with a horrible reason to hate me. This would be necessary, but it'd never be fun, because brother or no brother, the fact that I hated Mikey Way only consolidated further by the day.

-

I felt like a fucking stalker, watching him from down the corridor was hardly in the regions of sanity, in the regions of necessity however, it certainly was. I was getting rather desperate by now, missing those hazel eyes and bright red hair and of course Gerard himself. It was ridiculous, because the boy was most definitely an asshole, but he'd left so many gaps, so many open doors that needed to be closed and I couldn't quite close them myself, I needed his help, I needed him.

Mikey was talking to this girl from the year below. She was decently pretty with blonde hair and hazel eyes, but she was certainly much more interested in him than he ever was, or than his ego would ever let him be. The thing is, the longer I observed Mikey in order to figure out the best way to approach him, the more of an asshole he became and my list of reasons to hate him grew like animals in mating season. It was horribly bittersweet, because the more entangled I got in those whole ordeal, the more I wanted out - but, really it'd been like that from the start and I was certain it'd be like that to the end, however with stubborn trait the Way brothers shared, I very much doubted I'd be seeing any sort of end anytime soon.

"Frank?" I jumped and spun around spontaneously at the very mention of my name. I was somewhat relieved to see not Mikey, not a member of The Killers, but Miss Craw standing behind me, with an annoyingly concerned expression upon her face and a hand placed dramatically on her hip. It was only when I realised what she was intending to discuss did I grow to hate her and largely prefer the option of spinning round to face Skully himself. Skully didn't know well enough how to hurt me; he only knew how to punch me, give me a black eye, a broken arm, he didn't know about my father, he didn't know about Gerard, he didn't know about me.

"Y-Yes... Miss?" I stammered out, clenching my disgustingly sweaty palms and glancing over my shoulder to steal a glance at Mikey; I was met with an empty corridor and the sinking feeling in my gut that was brought when I realised he was gone. I turned back to Miss Craw sharply, hoping she hadn't quite noticed who was there earlier. She had glasses and therefore vision wasn't going to be her strong point, or at least, I hoped so.

"Are you coming to group therapy after school?" Ah, group therapy - my favourite. How on earth could I even fathom the thought of forgetting? It's not like I had been dreading the whole ordeal the entirety of the past week.

The bitch had signed me up to this weird group where messed up people sat and drowned out their problems that people gave little to no shits about whilst some pretentious woman with her glasses far too low down on her noise furiously noted every word said down; this was all in some hope of recovery. It was actually ridiculous and of course, optional. It turns out that Miss Craw doesn't know the meaning of the word, that and piss off, not that I'd ever say the latter to her face, despite how much I'd love to. And believe me, I'd really love to.

"Yeah." I nodded; it wasn't as if I actually had a choice - it was this or a letter home. The latter was treated as sudden death in my mind, because if he knew he wouldn't hesitate in beating me far from death, or maybe he'd just land that perfect blow that sent me plummeting straight into the afterlife. Maybe that wouldn't be that bad. It certainly wouldn't have been before the whole mystery regarding Gerard arose and I became far too eager and far too kind to find out exactly what the fuck was going on in that crazy little life of his.

"Good." I was met with a patronising smile, but really, what else was I expecting? "I'm glad you're attending, Frank," I'm glad you're making me, bitch; "I hope these sessions help you. Of course you're free to talk to me anytime you wish; my office is on the second floor." She gestured downwards; thanks bitch, not as if I couldn't figure out how to get from the second floor from the third floor. And it was hardly as if I was ever intending to actually visit the poor bitch's office, or as it would be more appropriately named, lair. Lair with a mini fridge. Hell, I wanted a mini fridge, might as well steal hers.

"Yeah, thanks." I forced a cheesy looking smile over my features and darted off before she could screech at me to come back, hurtling myself down the corridors and pushing myself down flights o stairs, all in search of a certain blonde haired asshole.

The remainder of my day was spent stalking Mikey Way and eternally dreading group therapy, because really, it couldn't be anything else but shit, could it? Nah- I shouldn't overly optimise with possibilities that would never in a million years occur.

I can never work out optimism; I have it and get disappointed, or don't and again, get disappointed.

I suppose disappointment seems rather appropriate for my life though.

-

The hospital stank. It stank of people, rowdy people, it stank of inhabitance, it stank of people, and of course not one of those single people smelt anything like Gerard Way. That was just my luck, wasn't it? Life and I certainly didn't get along some days. Well, most days. I wasn't good at biting my tongue and sticking it out.

My attempts to stalk and eventually befriend the annoyingly elusive Mikey Way had been rather unsuccessful and left me with endless questions and never ending possibilities that seemed to have very little hope of ever being resolved. These thoughts just tended to linger in my head until they eventually nested there and began to rot away in some godforsaken, darkened corner of the unpredictable mess that is my mind.

"Name?" A woman with a clipboard barked at me in a rather unwelcomingly manner. I glanced at her and then looked up at the door - Room 169; this was rather inappropriately named, well numbered if you want the correct term, but most definitely the right place. "Well?" Came another shout from the impatient bitch - I did not looking forward to walking past her weekly, then again what part of this was set up to be enjoyed? That's right, none of it. This entire ordeal was set up as torture trap, maybe even a cruel experiment, I didn't know and quite frankly, I didn't want to.

"Frank Iero." I glared at her, but she wasn't interested in my immature taunts and simply rolled her eyes, before glancing down at her clipboard and ticking my name off. I hated her already; she just reeked of cleaning supplies and arrogance - not a good combination, especially not in my mind.

"Yep." There was a list? Who'd want to lie to get in? The thought was preposterous and borderline insane, but guess what? We were in a hospital so I guess maybe those precautions weren't so ridiculous- maybe. "Just go on in a take a seat." I nodded, pushing the door open and welcoming myself to hell.

Hell was hardly up to any adequate standards. I didn't quite know what I was expecting, but I didn't expect it to be this: the room was white and had a circle of chairs, two of the seven of them being taken already - one by a balding man with another clipboard who I assumed was some sort of councillor for the group or something equally bullshitty. The other was taken by a girl with far too much eyeliner and far too little interest in her surroundings, her focus dominated by the small pixely screen of her smartphone. She was probably playing Flappy Bird or something like that, so really I ought to feel sorry for her. I, of course, being a true rebel, didn't.

The room itself was all too modern and friendly; in fact it didn't even look like part of a hospital. It confused me greatly, but I soon guessed this was all some sort of elaborate charade to get people to speak, bring the idiots into their comfort zones a little, I guess? Well guess what? I wasn't talking, because there wasn't anything to tell, unless they're drastically interested in my far too massive concern for the hurricane of clusterfuck that is Gerard Way.

It occurred to me that Gerard and the mystery he seemed to bring everywhere with him was beginning to take over my whole life. It was certainly unhealthy to obsess over one single guy this much, especially a guy that you meant barely anything to. In fact, I wondered if he even remembered me - Gerard forgetting me was truly a sickening thought. It seemed so absurd, so terrifying, I just didn't want to think it, but the more I tried not to, the more it stuck and I soon found myself in some sort of messed up never ending cycle that I couldn't get out of-

"Just take a seat." I was broken out of my thoughts by the balding man, smiling up at my slightly less patronisingly than the woman outside. He seemed to look like he knew what he was dealing with and therefore was in his job description to show some sympathy. The nurse outside however was just generic hospital staff and generally didn't have a clue. Who did have a clue, though? Who genuinely had a clue as to what was going on in my mind? That's right, no one. Not even Gerard, not even me.

I smiled bleakly back at the man, sitting down as far away from both him and the aforementioned girl as possible. The girl had barely even acknowledged my existence, blocking out the world entirely via digital media. She was lucky to just push this all aside. I couldn't quite do that, the haunting thoughts that came along side this situation, never knowing when to leave a desperate guy alone.

"You're a few minutes early, the session will start in approximately five minutes." I nodded, clearly majorly excited and not excessively dreading the whole ordeal. "Also what's your name?" This question was easily growing tiresome.

"Frank Iero." I repeated for the second time today.

"Ah." I was met with a confusing and irritating response that simply meant he had background info; he knew what I was about and I did not like that, not one bit. This was not going to be good, especially if he had been fed bullshit by Miss Craw and that bitch from last week. Because they knew nothing.

They knew nothing about me.

Well nothing important, anyway.

-

The last five minutes were horrible to watch as people slowly filtered in and by the time the clock struck the four o'clock mark all but one of the chairs were filled. Unfortunately this empty seat was not by me and I was neighboured by a guy burying his face in his fringe and a woman who looked far too stressed to be anywhere near mentally stable, she sat there constantly biting away at her lip and sweating far too pungently. It was horribly off putting actually, but it'd be far too rude to point it out, even in the most discreet manner. I was going to suffer in silence, because I wasn't a Way, I wasn't an asshole.

The nurse from outside poked her head in from outside, "no sign of him, Doctor." The doctor nodded, rolling his eyes in an irritated manner, before turning to the rest of us as the nurse placed her clipboard on a table near the door and promptly left; she didn't want to be around freaks like us, but who blamed her? Not I - I, for one, wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. I even considered making a run for it, but I doubted the news of a breakout would go down very well with Miss Craw.

"Hello, this is our first group therapy meeting for the new term. Some of you would have already been here before, but I'd like you all to introduce yourselves regardless. We'll go around the circle." This was going to be fun; I felt like I was back in nursery school already. "I'm Doctor McGidian." he pointed to a guy beside him. "George, you start." Yes, thank you - he definitely needs to introduce himself now. As much as I liked to believe that I wasn't an asshole, I could never quite get myself to care about strangers - Gerard was an exception, anyway it felt like I knew him far too well by now.

"Uhh... I'm George." George muttered, blushing furiously behind his rounded glasses. I wouldn't be surprised if the lenses began to steam up soon.

"A fact about yourself please?" Oh god, this was definitely going to be fun as fuck wasn't it? I didn't have a clue as to what I could say. What was relevant, appropriate, interesting and worthwhile about me? That's right - nothing.

"Uhh... I like cheese?" Truly fascinating, George; thank you. Nobody laughed; at least we weren't in a room of utter idiots, this was a first. I began to think that this group wouldn't be that bad, but my optimism was soon destroyed when the girl who was far too interested in her smartphone began to talk.

"I'm Hannah." The girl who had been buried in her phone seemed to have actually taken recognition in someone else's existence and spoke her monotonous introduction. "I don't like cheese. I'm vegan, actually." Yes, yes I care. Ugh, vegans.

"I'm Jay." Fringe guy mumbled, his face still cloaked under heaps of hair, "I play basketball." Oh god I fucking hate basketball, this was looking good. All of these people weren't anything but boring, there was nothing interesting, nothing intriguing about a single one of them, but then again, none of them were Gerard.

I soon came to the horrible realisation that it was in fact my turn, "Uhh... I'm Frank." A fact - shit. Maybe I should humour them? I'm Frank and I don't want to be here. I'm Frank and I have a best friend whom I thought was imaginary. I'm Frank and I spent today stalking this guy's brother, who is in fact a major asshole. "I play guitar." Imaginative. I'm great with imagination, as you can tell from my almost imaginary sort of best friend.

It was now stressed woman's turn, "I'm Maria." She spoke all too fast for me to even consider comprehending so I decide now was a perfect opportunity to gaze out of the window aimlessly, because we all know how fucking productive that is. "I like making lists."

My eyes fell upon the empty seat wondering who should be sat there and how much I should hate them. At least they took the initiative to fuck off from this optional activity they most likely got dragged into, because really who actually agrees to shit like this? So maybe they couldn't be that bad after all, but judging from the rest of the people here, they most definitely would be.

"Right, our first activity for today is to think about-" Doctor McGidian's words were cut off by the slamming of a door from nearby outside. The door slamming was shortly followed by a fast chain of profanities and approaching, angry footsteps. Soon enough this door flung upon, revealing an angry figure with flaming red hair and a temper certainly just as fiery. "You're here?" Doctor McGidian himself sounded surprised. This was hilarious.

The guy stormed in and took the empty seat between Maria and the doctor. And that was when his eyes met with mine, because the guy who just stormed in wasn't just any guy. And that's when I realised that this guy wasn't boring or a nobody.

This was Gerard Way.

His eyes widened. "Fuck." He'd definitely noticed me. I stumbled to form a coherent sentence, but before I could even consider doing so, he was up from his chair and storming out of the room in a manner similar to how he had entered.

I felt like puking.

Hey guys:) Yes, it had to be room 169, that was the only number I could have chosen. I hope you liked this chapter and if you did so, I'd really appreciate it if you voted and / or commented on this chapter, because feedback's lovely y'know;)*hint hint* Love y'all and I hope you're looking forward to the next one already.