turps

Title: Right Here Waiting
Author:

turps33
Fandom: bandom MCR
Pairing: Gen. Mikey and Gerard only.
Rating: PG
Warning: Implied character death.
Notes/Summary: Written for

picfor1000, a challenge to write a thousand word story based on a picture prompt. Inspired by this article that stated Mikey Way had five siblings and the resulting discussion in my journal. Thanks go to

sperrywink for the look over.

My picture prompt

The snow was falling the last time Mikey saw his brother.

Preparing for his monthly visit to the nearby town, Gerard pulled on his hat and wrapped his scarf twice around his neck, picked up his leather satchel and pushed open the heavy wooden door to outside. The snow whirled around their bodies as Gerard kissed Mikey's cheek and said his goodbyes. Left alone Mikey ran up the stone staircases, past coiled heaps of wire and a box of bolts balanced on a narrow step. Panting, he reached the top of the tower as Gerard squeezed past the rusted gate at the boundaries of their estate. Gerard looked up and waved, and while from this distance it wasn't clear, Mikey knew he was smiling.

Gerard didn't come home that night. Or the next, or the seven after that.

True to his promise that he never venture outside their garden walls, Mikey endlessly wandered the castle at night, Gerard's shirt draped over his shoulders and sick to the stomach. Each morning he sat in the window of the tower room, watching the path to town. He watched as the snow fell, froze and turned to slush, as the sun rose, again and again and again, on days that started with hope and ended with quiet despair.

On day twenty-seven Mikey forced himself upright, legs aching and chilled to the bone as the moon rose huge in the sky. Gerard's shirt clutched against his chest he stumbled down the stone steps to the lower floors, knowing he had to try and eat at least. Instead he found himself in Gerard's workroom where as usual all was chaos, but to Mikey it was home, it was Gerard and he made his way to the workbench and Gerard's latest invention. Sick with loss, Mikey reached out and lay his hand on the chest of GeeThree. Imagined breath in that still body, life in those dead eyes.

Mikey flicked a switch and was granted both.

GeeThree wasn't Gerard but Mikey could pretend. He stopped haunting the tower and instead spent time in the workroom, handing over tools as GeeThree laughed and gestured and sometimes, for all of a second, Mikey could forget. His all-consuming grief easing as GeeThree ruffled his hair or leapt back from an exploding component, his eyes wide and astonished. Mikey laughed for the first time in months that day. His face hurt to do so.

In winter GeeThree would sit beside the fire and tell stories. Rub Mikey's feet and laugh at memories that weren't his own. In summer he would sit under the shade of the apple tree, surrounded by sketch books and pens, his eyes alight as he explained new experiments and plans. Mikey forget even more. Seconds then minutes and eventually, whole hours.

Summer became fall became winter became spring.

Mikey grew his hair and cut it again. Experimented with colours and styles as GeeThree remained the same, looking on with fond amusement. Sometimes Mikey still found himself at the window, staring at the path toward town and at those times GeeThree would arrive in the tower room with oatmeal and a mug of weak coffee. Each time Mikey would smile his thanks and eat bite by tiny bite, GeeThree a constant at his side.

Fallen apples covered the ground when GeeThree left too.

Mikey found him in the garden, soaked through with golden leaves blanketing his body. Frantic, Mikey pulled GeeThree back to the castle, over the dew soaked grass and up the stone steps, GeeThree's feet clanking against each one. Positioning him in front of the nearest fire Mikey lay at GeeThree's side and held on, told him over and over he couldn't go.

It didn't work. A week later, Mikey buried GeeThree under the apple tree.

Numb with grief, it was winter when Mikey activated GeeTwo.

GeeTwo smiled the same, laughed the same, would pull Mikey into spontaneous hugs, but he also walked with a lurch and sometimes Mikey found him sitting in dark rooms just staring into space. Mikey understood, sometimes he did the same, would climb to the tower and force open the window. His breath puffs of mist as he looked at the ground so far below. Each time GeeTwo would appear, place his hand against Mikey's back until eventually they'd go downstairs.

The snow melted and flowers began to appear, tiny green shoots pushing through the hard ground. Arm in arm Mikey and GeeTwo would wander the garden, Mikey supplying the words that slipped away from GeeTwo. At first there weren't many but more and more faded until eventually GeeTwo didn't talk at all. Not that it mattered. They'd sit at the kitchen table, Mikey eating sliced apples as GeeTwo drew and pushed pictures across to Mikey with a beaming smile. Mikey pinned them to the walls. So many they spilled from the kitchen into the great hall.

GeeTwo left on a hot summer's night. Mikey found him at the kitchen table, clutching one last drawing. Mikey weighed it down on top of the freshly dug grave with a stone.

GeeOne never talked at all.

He still smiled, still walked and held Mikey in his arms but never anything more. Hands trembling Mikey would brush GeeOne's hair, wash his face, hold him tight by the hand as they walked outside and watched the end of yet another day.

GeeOne was there when Mikey attempted the stairs for the final time, crawling on hands and knees. He was gasping for breath when he finally reached the tower, GeeOne helping Mikey to his feet and to the window before sinking to the floor with a last whir of sound, his head against Mikey's knee.

Mikey sat on the cold ledge and pressed his face against the glass, his eyes fixed on the road to town. Waiting. Always waiting.

Minutes later he saw Gerard, and even from this distance Mikey knew he was smiling.

Mikey closed his eyes and ran to meet him.