The next morning, Mikey's head was like the morning after a tornado: the whole place wrecked, but not gone, and he knew he had to fix this all, put the pieces back together, and he knew it would be hard, and damn near even impossible, but he had little choice in it, and he knew that for certain as he glanced across his bedroom and saw Gerard curled up at the other end of his bed.

Gerard hadn't trusted him alone that night; Mikey wouldn't have trusted himself alone, but still he yearned for loneliness and a world with the pills and a night where everything made sense, but he had to face reality and more importantly, his brother.

Because Gerard had seen it all and still said nothing, and perhaps that was worse, because now as he slept, his mind was clicking away and making assumptions that meant very little, and still all too much, but would never adhere to the truth, and perhaps Mikey preferred it that way, but perhaps he didn't.

In fact, Mikey's head was in nowhere near the right place to be making assumptions, or any kind of decision for that matter, and he knew that as he lay there in bed, his eyes fixated upon the white ceiling, clear above, and the mess in his head that was simply nowhere near as clear.

He wanted out.

He wanted out of his own fucking head, and perhaps the pills and the ending could have accomplished that, but still, Mikey reckoned he didn't want to do that.

He didn't want to do that to boy curled up at the end of his bed, his brother who loved him so much, perhaps too much even; the brother who'd tried so hard time and time again, and the brother that was by no means perfect, but easily the best brother in the world.

And as he turned his attention away from Gerard, he realised that he didn't want the same for Pete either, who was all smiles and promises he kept, and stupid ideas, and the capability to make Mikey smile like an idiot regardless of the circumstances. Pete was the worst person in the world, and the absolute best person at the same time, but regardless as to where he stood in Mikey's head, Mikey knew that he absolutely needed Pete.

And he needed Gerard.

And his mother, and Frank, and everyone else that had even mattered for just a moment.

And like that, motivation came, and Mikey Way sat up in bed, and somehow, the world managed to present itself so differently from this angle, because it was so less white ceiling and simplicities that Mikey was little but jealous of, and so much more sunlight, and familiar walls, and a familiar room, and a familiar room.

He glanced between his cellphone and his brother; he glanced between Pete and Gerard, and a decision couldn't be made, but it had to be, and after all, he could only tell Gerard that he was awake, whereas Pete needed to know that he was alive.

And fuck.

Fuck, what must Pete have thought?

God, Mikey's mind certainly didn't work well in that state at all, and perhaps that was his biggest flaw, and god, he wasn't even glancing much at Pete's other messages, simply typing out a quick:

'I'm sorry, I'm okay, I got fucked up but I'm fine now.'

And putting his phone back down, before turning to Gerard and wondering where they could possibly start, because they had to, and they would, start somewhere, and Mikey was all nerves and false assumptions that Gerard could do little about when he lay there asleep and unaware.

And he'd have to break this tension in his head soon enough, but he didn't quite have the courage, and after all, Gerard looked so peaceful sleeping, and he wouldn't be anywhere near as peaceful once he was thrown back into the awful reality of what his brother was about to do last night.

Perhaps Mikey shouldn't wake him up at all.

But as he moved in the sheets, Gerard turned over, his eyes opening to meet Mikey's, and like that, the younger boy knew he had little left for him there anymore.

"Morning." Gerard let out a sigh, sitting up in bed and leaning back against the wall: his gaze never leaving Mikey as he did so.

"M-morning." Mikey added, stuttering a little, as he sat there frozen, and fixated upon his brother and what he could possibly say next.

"I'm sorry, Mikey, I'm so sorry, but please don't, fucking don't... it gets better, your head sorts itself out, the problems don't seem so much like mountains anymore with time, and-"

"But right now I can't deal with them: I can't deal with myself, and I'm sorry, but I don't fucking know what to do, Gerard." Mikey threw his head back against the wall, tears soon making their way onto his cheeks.

"I know what to do, Mikey." Gerard paused, meeting his brother's gaze, "don't let your mind get into places like that - don't take pills, don't get drunk, because those all do make it worse, I promise you, now, look you don't have to face everything at once, we can go step by step if you want, and you can be six again, and you can hold my hand if you want-"

"Fuck off, Gerard." Mikey rolled his eyes, laughing it off.

"I'm just saying, Mikey, I'm here for you. I'm your brother, I'm always here for you, and I'm not going to give up on you, you got that?" And Gerard meant so much, and fuck, Mikey didn't know how to express that at all.

"So what do I do first?" Mikey asked, letting out a desperate kind of fucked up sigh.

"Well, it's nine in the morning, and you don't have to go to school today - I already told mum you're ill, and thankfully I don't have work today-"

"You have a job?" Mikey exclaimed, genuinely shocked by that simple fact.

"God, Mikey, don't sound so fucking surprised, but for your information, I do, I work in a record store, and mum got me it, and it sounds really shitty, but actually, there's this guy called J-"

"Yeah, okay, you got laid at work, moving on." Mikey shook his head in disbelief, because Gerard was most certainly something else entirely, but he was still the best kind of brother Mikey could ask for here, because he was here right now, and that was what really mattered, after all.

"Let's get breakfast, and coffee, and then we can take it from there, and one fucking thing, Mikey?"

"Yeah?" Mikey let out a sigh, meeting Gerard's gaze with slightly narrowed and skeptical eyes.

"Fucking smile." Gerard grinned, stumbling out of bed, and gesturing for Mikey to follow. "You don't smile enough, you idiot."

"Well since when did you become the fucking smile police?" Mikey rolled his eyes, groaning a little as he crawled out of bed, Gerard throwing him a middle finger as he did so.

-

Lindsey had been fifteen, and there hadn't been all that much difference in the past two years beside the fact that she reckoned that she most definitely had a much better taste in guys, however, just about the rest of the damn world would still argue that she couldn't see a person for who they really were for the life of her.

And Jimmy Urine was proof of that.

Because he'd been the absolute fucking love of her goddamn life for something like three weeks when she was fifteen, and now, now he was just that kid, with the mohawk, and the kind of bendy dick and the stupid jokes - the boy you looked back on and regretted with a passion, and well, she had indeed been having such a wonderful time with forgetting about his fucking ass and the fact that he'd cheated on her for a fucking cigarette, until Gerard just had to make another fucking stupid decision.

The guy made have been older than her, but she was definitely the one with some common sense here, because Gerard was utterly lacking in that department, but he was indeed totally fantastic in bed, so she could see how it all balanced out.

Perhaps Gerard was just really fifteen year old her, and perhaps come two years time, he'd be the Lindsey who sat in her room staring at Jimmy's Facebook profile and shaking her head.

She didn't quite know what to do about this, but she knew for sure that she didn't want Gerard to get into this mess with someone like Jimmy, because he was all kinds of asshole, and all kinds of fucked up, and Gerard had really quite perfected romantic apathy, but Jimmy Urine was something else and Lindsey knew that first-hand.

But of course, the likelihood lay in the matter that Gerard wouldn't believe a single word she said, because Jimmy was just that good; he was the straight to your face liar, the kind of guy that would fucking set his nose on fire just to prove to you that he had the guts, and Lindsey knew like hell that was the kind of person she least wanted to associate with, but her fifteen year old self would of course disagree.

Because fifteen year old Lindsey was a little shit, not that Jimmy was all that much better.

And that was how Lindsey found herself burying her fucking dignity as she typed in a number she knew too well, but fucking loathed, because the actual relationship had been three weeks long, but the aftermath had been something like three months long, and hardcore kind of jealousy warfare for the both of them, and she really did not want Gerard to get caught up in that kind of shit, because Gerard was a nice guy, and he didn't deserve this shit, and Lindsey really should have been calling Gerard, but she was one for confrontation and bitching on the phone at stupid times in the morning.

"Hey?" His voice was kind of drawled out: stoned, and Lindsey rolled her fucking eyes, but really what had she been expecting? Perhaps it was easier this way, because stoned Jimmy was most certainly just a little bit easier to brush off than sober Jimmy, not that sober Jimmy was much of a regular occurrence, of course.

"We need to talk-"

"Lindsey!" He gasped, his smirk audible down the phone line, and god she was about to fucking slap herself. "It's been too long, honey, do you want to fuck again, come on, I know you do-"

"No, this is about Gerard and that fucking status and you're talking about him like he's a prize or something, some sort of achievement, some sort of fucking medal for you to wear, and no, no he's not, because unlike you, Gerard is actually a nice person, and he deserves so much fucking more than you do, okay?"

"God, Lindsey, are you being jealous here, come on, this is deja vu to the extreme, don't you think?" Jimmy let out a pathetic kind of giggly laughter, that Lindsey did little but shake her head at, not that Jimmy could see her through the phone, of course, but somehow it was the thought that counted.

"I'm not jealous, Gerard is my friend, and in fact, he should be dating my other friend Frank, and they just fucked up, and we just fucked once, because that's what kind of people we are, and that was that, and where the fuck did you come from, Jimmy? I want you to get the fuck out of his life before you fuck it up completely-"

"I didn't know you were his mum, Lindsey, Jesus, does he know that you're calling to get me to fuck off?"

"No, but I'm gonna tell him what kind of trash you are, Jimmy, you got that?"

"Shut up, Lindsey, you're such a bitch when you're jealous." He laughed a little, before continuing, "but seriously, are you sure that you don't want a fuck, because I'm so ready right now, and we don't live that far away, do we? I could even come over to yours, climb through your window like we're little again if you want, hey, what do you think?"

"Jimmy, I fucking think you're out of your fucking mind-"

"I'll leave Gerard alone if we can fuck, because you're always gonna be better than him, aren't you, Lindsey, you know that, don't you, babe? You're the fucking best, best fucking fuck, and we ended too fast, and I'm stubborn and you're a bitch, and let's just see how this goes, huh?"

"You'll leave Gerard alone?" Lindsey shook her head in disbelief, because dear god, she was considering this fucking shit.

"Of course I will, I keep to my word, don't I? Now, come on, baby, your place or mine?"

"Mine."

And a click, as the called ended, and what felt like somewhat of a life ending blood pact was sealed.

-

"What's up with Pete?"

"What isn't up with Pete?"

Ray narrowed his eyes, and glanced across the room at the particularly emo looking scene queen once more - there was something off, Pete hadn't try to make some stupid pun even once today, and that was some serious fucking shit right there.

"No but seriously, he looks really upset." Ray insisted, even going as far as to tug on Frank's arm to further capture his attention.

"Hmm... maybe MySpace is down, I don't fucking know, Ray, I'm not his mother." Frank rolled his eyes, avoiding both Pete and Ray with what was an undeniable force.

"But you are his friend-"

Frank met Ray's gaze, and fucking laughed at him for that, "no, Ray, no I'm fucking not."

Ray didn't seem nearly as amused, "that's fucking horrible, Frank, what the hell is up with you?"

"I don't know, why don't you go and bother Pete about it and then snap at him because he doesn't know and doesn't care, because that's what you're doing with me."

"No, but seriously, Frank, what's up?" Ray grabbed Frank by the arm, forcing him to look him in the eye, as if that might have some sort of affect upon the shorter boy's stubborn nature at all.

"Some shit - it's not important." Frank shook his head and turned away, continuing to focus on just how damn fascinating this maths problem obviously was.

"Well, if it's not important, why is it bothering you?" And fucking Ray always knew what 'not' to say, and Frank was so fucking fucked, and he just wished that Mikey was here today and the two could have snuck off and smoked something in the toilets or something, because that was seriously what Frank needed right then.

"It's just this guy, Ray, it's stupid, and I shouldn't be upset because he's a dick, but I am, and that fucking sucks, and I'm just trying not to think about it, you know?"

"Yeah, well, honestly, Frank with the way you're acting, you're not doing much of a great job." And Frank was never quite aware that Ray could really be that blunt, and he even began to wonder if something was bothering him too. "Just go and talk to Pete, it's upsetting me, he really isn't okay - anyone can see that."

"Why the fuck don't you do it?" Frank snapped, glaring at Ray in a way that the taller boy really should have slapped him for.

"Because I don't need to take my mind off something with Pete's mess of problems, do I? Now go," and with that, Ray gave Frank a gentle shove in Pete's direction, and Frank tapped him on the back, before beckoning him over to their table, because he seriously needed some fucking moral support in this one, even if the moral support was getting all fucking passive aggressive with him.

"You okay, Pete?" Ray asked, raising his eyebrows a little as Pete Wentz, everyone's favourite scene queen sat down opposite them.

"I... I guess..." Pete stuttered out, his words shaky, and fuck, Frank was really so fucking clueless, and somehow still Ray was convinced that he was Pete's designated counsellor here.

"Well, that means no, doesn't it?" Ray shot a glance in Frank's direction, before turning back to the absolutely fascinating maths problems in front of them.

"I guess..." And one hell of a blush, and fuck, Frank had absolutely no fucking idea what he was doing and he was totally going to unintentionally morally wreck Pete here, but it was actually one hundred percent Pete's fault, so at the very least, that was in his favour.

"Then explain?" Frank nodded in his direction, because at the very least he wasn't thinking about Gerard, or Lindsey, or even the fucking maths problems for that matter, because they fucking sucked too.

"It's Mikey - he's not here today, and I'm worried about him." Pete admitted, his voice quavering a little as he spoke, and Frank reckoned that it was either the most heart wrenching or most pathetic thing he'd ever fucking seen.

"He's probably just ill, Pete, or I don't know, maybe he even overslept, he's probably fine, he's probably just in bed right now, and he'll probably be back tomorrow, and you don't need to get so upset over it, like-"

"No, Frank, it's not like that!" And with the power in Pete's voice as he slammed his fist down against the table, quite a few people looked up, but as the conflict seemed to fizzle out like a faulty electrical current, people soon lost interest, bar Ray and Frank, of course, who still sat there completely at a lack for what to say or how to continue.

"O-oh... h-how?" Frank stuttered out, blushing a goddamn horrible shade of red as he did so.

"It doesn't... I can't tell you, because it's a secret and I'm going to keep Mikey's secrets, but something happened last night and I'm really worried about him."

Frank glanced at Ray, all wide eyed and suddenly regretting ever thinking of Pete as pathetic, because perhaps there was more to this than he had ever thought.

"Pete, what kind of thing was it?" Ray asked, turning to face Pete, and thankfully taking over, because Frank was doing absolutely nothing besides grasping at straws here.

"I can't tell you, it's a secret-"

"Be vague then, please, it's important. We're worried about Mikey too." Ray added, even going as far as to put down his motherfucking pen, like seriously, those maths problems must have been feeling uber fucking rejected.

"It's a bad thing, and it was last night and he texted me about it, but my phone died, so I don't know what else he's said, and I kind of don't want to know, but I have to know, but I-" Pete shook his head, his breathing increasing a little, and Frank was so fucking out of his depth here.

"Pete, is Mikey in danger?" Ray continued, his words spoken with entirely too much caution and unease, but it wasn't like anyone could blame him, considering the state Pete was in.

"No one's like... I don't know... it's himself, and I'm worried, and I-"

"Pete, is he going to hurt himself, like do something stupid-"

"I... I... I think he already has." And there was little more they could get out of him, as Pete fell into a fit of fucking tears, and dear fucking god, Frank knew far too little, but still far too much, and he just needed Mikey to be okay, and not just for his stupid fucking smoke in the toilets, but for Pete, for the boy who was crying, for the boy who cared, so fucking much.

-

hey i love oitnb more than i love anything ever im so dead and so gay i just please watch this show if you havent its the best thing in the world after mikey way. votes and comments would be very nice bc i love you all super lots <3