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bandomstuffsitTitle: Sometimes You Just Have To Believe
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fictionalfaerie
Pairing(s): Brendon Urie/Gerard Way
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character Illness
Word count: 4,336
Summary: The only thing worse than “It’s faerie magic…” that Mikey could say is “Pete will know what to do…” So naturally, that’s what he says. Which is how it all begins.
It’s the second day of the fourth week of Mikey’s illness. It’s the middle of the third week of his bed confinement. It’s the beginning of the third week since he ate anything other than a few teaspoons of broth every few hours. It’s the fourth day of the second week since Doctor Schechter admitted that there wasn’t much hope, and the Ways gave up on optimism, resigning themselves to watching Mikey die.
Doctor Schechter still comes four times a week. Each time he carts three or four medicines in with him to try on Mikey, and leaves with at least two vials of blood to test. Each time he looks more and more grim. Gerard would feel sorry for him if the situation were different, if that were anyone else’s brother curled up in the bed, mumbling feverishly in his sleep, never coherent for more than ten minutes at a time. As it is, he’s secretly pleased in a bittersweet way that Doctor Schechter looks so guilty and embarrassed that he can’t save Mikey.
He’s watching as Brian collects his items, looking as tired and drawn as Gerard feels. Gerard knows he shouldn’t harbor these hateful feelings, he really shouldn’t. Brian’s been with them since they were kids. They grew up together, and were often the brothers Brian never had. Gerard watches, focusing on the way Brian folds up the microscope, wraps the syringes, secures the vials… his magnified goggles are skewed on top of his hat, and his coat is buttoned wrong. Gerard’s half tempted to draw him, probably would if his sketch pad weren’t forgotten in his workshop, thrown in a fit of anger.
He doesn’t bother to say goodbye to Gerard when he leaves. Gerard doesn’t bother to care. Instead, he turns back to Mikey, leaning his head down to rest against his on the pillow.
The movement stirs Mikey, who struggles awake, coughing and grasping out for him.
Gerard takes his hand, making soothing noises, “Hush, Mikey, hush, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m right here with you.”
“Gerard?” Mikey asks, blinking in confusion.
“Of course,” Gerard replies, running a hand over Mikey’s forehead. He’s burning up, the hottest he’s felt so far. He’d know… he’s been there every harrowing step of the way.
“What’s wrong with me?” he asks, trying in vain to sit up. These times, they’re the hardest. How do you explain to someone that you’re pretty sure they’re dying?
“You’re sick, Mikey, you need to lie back down, come on, there we go. Let’s stay like that, good, good…”
“Sick?” Mikey asks, voice fading a bit. He’s already falling asleep again.
“That’s right. Brian’s not quite sure what’s wrong, but he’s working on it,” Gerard says, smoothing the covers over his chest.
“That’s because it was the faeries, Gee,” Mikey replies sleepily.
“That so, Mikey?” he asks, reaching for the cloth they’ve been keeping by the basin.
He wets it and is wringing it out when Mikey sits up, forcefully and almost energetically, startling Gerard into dropping it back into the basin.
“Don’ laugh at me, Gerard. It was the faeries. They did this.”
Gerard nods, too surprised to argue.
“They DID.”
“Mikey,” he finally says, regaining some composure, “You really shouldn’t talk like that, okay? They’re not-“
He cuts off that train because Mikey’s eyes have narrowed, surely anticipating the ‘real’. “They’re not something we want to mess with, Mikey. What do… how would you even go about solving something the faeries did? We can’t… we can’t undo that, Mikey.”
“Gerard. You have to believe me. Please, Gerard. It was the faeries. I’m not… I’m not delusional, okay? It was the faeries.”
Mikey looks so upset and so convinced that Gerard swallows the lump in his throat, forcing out, “What should I do, Mikey?”
Mikey’s eyes flutter, the sudden burst of life gone, and he collapses back to the bed, already drifting off, even as he murmurs out, “Pete knows.”
Gerard maybe hates himself for having any part that would find this plausible. More so, he hates that this traitorous, ridiculous part actually believes that Pete Wentz is his only shot at saving his baby brother.
---
Gerard Way is plotting ways in which he can murder Pete Wentz without obvious guilt. A lot of these ways involve dumping Pete’s body in the very woods he’s got Gerard traipsing about in. Gerard is a lot of things, and absolutely none of these things involve the outdoors. At his best, he’s not great with trees and limbs and briars and brambles. Combined with the level of discomfort he’s at, he’s terrible at the outdoors.
Pete’s got him in the itchiest get up Gerard has ever been in- wool pants, wool shirt, leather jacket and shoes. Absolutely everything, Pete had insisted, has to be natural. As if that hadn’t been enough, he’d presented Gerard with the most ridiculous looking helmet he had ever seen, and Gerard was friends with Ray Toro, whose hair took some impressive helmets to contain it during his experiments. This one is, according to Pete, all natural- turtle shell base, some metal Pete found and melted and formed himself holding on hits of crystal that form some ridiculous eyepiece. Pete swears it will help- the natural composition of the outfit combined with the conditions he’d found the ingredients and made the helmet under would all give him he power to see faeries, with or without their permission, and the rest of the outfit was less of a threat somewhat, according the loon, and would make him more inviting.
If Pete hadn’t insisted on seeing Mikey first, and if that hadn’t caused him to look more scared than Gerard’s ever seen anyone look in his life, then he would have written this all off as lunacy. Instead, he took the advice, accepted the terms, and that tiny part that believed that maybe this was all real grew a bit.
He’s been lumbering through the forest for hours. He refuses to even stop to think about how lost he undoubtedly is. The pants he’s borrowed from Pete are bloody where he’s ripped his legs open on thorns more times than he can even count. He’s covered in mud from the handful of falls he’s taken into the creeks he’s passed over. He hopes it’s not the same creek, anyway. Otherwise he’s wandering in circles.
The sun’s just set over the horizon when he sees him.
Sees him is really a vast understatement to the entire situation, in honesty. The moment begins when a head peeks around a tree, and a voice that isn’t any Gerard can readily identify greets him. The moment reaches its peak when Gerard screaming at a pitch he’s never hit before, even when he found the wolf spider on his pillow. The ending, naturally, is him flailing and falling directly into the fucking creek.
The shock of the cold water rushing around and over him is surprisingly calming, which is why when the man- boy?- offers his hand in assistance, Gerard accepts it.
“Was that my fault? I’m sorry,” the boy- man?- says, and he grins at Gerard. Gerard takes a moment to stare in confusion.
“Who… who are you? What are you?” he demands, tilting his head and squinting, as if the eyepiece will be more effective that way.
The guy laughs and tilts, squinting as well, “I’m Brendon. I’m… special. Who are you? And what are YOU? I’ve never seen anything with a head quite like this…” He prods gently at the helmet.
“Fucking Pete,” Gerard mutters.
“Well, a pleasure, Fucking Pete,” Brendon replies, beaming at him again.
“No, no, I’m not- that’s not my…” Gerard blushes, pulling the helmet off and sitting down on a large rock by the river. He’s tired and cold and lost and somewhere is home, where Mikey’s busy dying because fucking faeries decided to give him some magic plague. “I’m Gerard,” he replies quietly, trying to remember the breathing exercises Brian’s been trying to sneakily give him without him noticing. “I’m a human.”
Brendon crouches in front of him, “Oh, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to misunderstand. It is lovely to meet you, Gerard. I’ve never met a human. I was unaware humans had detachable heads.”
“Detachable… no, oh, no. This is just a helmet that a very dumb man gave me to help me see faeries.”
“Does it work?”
“I haven’t the faintest.”
“Well…” Brendon says, scrunching his face up in a ridiculous manner, “You saw me. So it probably works.”
Gerard, who had previously been considering liking this fellow, looked up and glared, “You mean. You’re a faerie?”
Brendon nodded, grinning at Gerard as Gerard stood up, “I am!”
Gerard, later on, will admit that maybe he should have taken a moment to compose himself instead of going with his first instinct. Aside from sheer inability to effectively deliver it, punching a faerie is probably not the brightest of moves.
Immediately after doing it, he realizes what he’s done. It’s too late, though, as Brendon disappears, probably even before the punch really fully landed.
“Oh, oh, no, please- I’m so sorry,” he says, looking around. He grabs the helmet and puts it on, glancing around frantically, “Please, please, please, no, don’t be gone, oh, please, no.”
It’s all futile, of course. Brendon is positively nowhere in sight.
Gerard feels absolutely all of his hope, as small as it was, draining out of his body. Along with it, he feels his remaining energy, warmth, everything, disappear. He collapses roughly onto the same rock he’d been sitting upon, trying very hard not to vomit. Tears begin rolling down his face, and he just completely loses it. All of the stress and hopelessness and worry bubble up and spew out, and it feels like he’s being eaten alive from the inside.
“I didn’t… shit. I didn’t mean… I just... I can’t… Mikey. You made Mikey sick, and I didn’t mean to hit you, and now you’re gone, and I… I just don’t want Mikey to die,” he’s whispering, gasping out between sobs. “And I’m lost and cold and Mikey. Mikey.”
“I don’t even know who Mikey is,” he hears. A quick look around tells him that Brendon’s not revealed himself yet, but fuck- at least he’s talking.
“He’s my baby brother,” Gerard replies, “And he’s sick, because some faerie apparently did some spell. He’s my baby brother and he’s at home, tucked neatly into bed and dying, and there’s absolutely nothing we can do for him. And now I’ve punched you, like an idiot, and just completely lost all my chances at helping him.”
“Are you… are you sure it’s faerie magic that got him sick?” Brendon’s voice asks.
Gerard just nods, “We’ve got the best doctor checking on him, and there’s nothing he’s been able to do so far. Mikey’s mentioned it a few times, and this last time… he was just so adamant, and he was so clear about it, like, he knew for sure… I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t believe him… if I wasn’t sure.”
Brendon reappears, directly in front of him, frowning, “I had brothers once. I don’t… I don’t think any of them loved me that much- I mean… they didn’t come… they just gave up on me.”
“Is there anything I can do to convince you to help me?” he asks, “I’ve been searching for hours, and you’re the first faerie I’ve found. I can’t… I won’t be able to find another one.”
Brendon makes a face, scrunching it thoughtfully, “I can’t help you- but I can get help. I know the right ones.”
Before Gerard can reply, Brendon presses his fingers over Gerard’s lips, “Go home. I’ll find you, I promise.”
---
It’s the first day of the fifth week since Mikey got sick. Gerard can barely look at him without shuddering- he’s so pale, thin and drawn and looking like death. Brian’s still coming- he’s bumped the visits up to daily. Their mother spends her time between cooking soups for them to encourage Mikey to eat and sitting by his side, pretending she isn’t crying while she sews.
Gerard spends the time his mother is cooking with Mikey, and the rest of his time is spent sitting in his workshop, starting listlessly at the wall. His latest project sits abandoned on his desk, a mobile of mechanical birds that hover and sparkle in the light. Intended as a gift for his mother, Gerard’s pretty sure that he’ll never finish it. It was Mikey’s idea.
Mikey’s only awake for half an hour a day now, two or three minutes here and there- just long enough to cough and gasp for breath before he fades back out.
Gerard picks up his sketchbook from the floor, tosses it onto his desk, frowning at it. He’s contemplating burning it when he’s interrupted by a knock at the door. Straightening his tie and his hat, he heads to the entry way and opens the door, trying to look inviting and welcoming.
Judging by the look on Brendon’s face when he sees him, he’s pretty sure he failed miserably at that.
“You look terrible,” Brendon says.
Gerard ignores this, instead choosing to ask, “Did you- is Mikey going to be okay?”
“I’ve spoken with the King’s messenger, and he’s assured me he’ll see what he can do, as quickly as he can. They sent me to check on him, to get a feel for just what sort of time table we’re working on here,” Brendon replies.
“The King’s messenger? Why can’t you heal him? You’re here, just go in there and heal him!” Gerard hisses.
Brendon frowns, “I can’t. Even if there weren’t procedures and restrictions to faerie magic, I still couldn’t… I’m just a changeling.”
“A changeling?” Gerard asks, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
“You know, sickly child, traded for a sickly faerie child, raised in different worlds, the like. I was seven when I was taken,” he says, waving his hand around. He slides by Gerard as he talks, looking around the house and chattering on, “So I’ve got a bit, but definitely not the power it would take to heal someone afflicted like you say your brother is. Where is he, by the way?”
Gerard isn’t sure what to say, so he just shows him the way to Mikey’s room, checking to make sure their mother is busy in the kitchen.
Brendon immediately crouches by Mikey, frowning deeply, “You were definitely right, Gerard. This is undoubtedly faerie magic. It’s really advanced… it would have been better if we’d caught it sooner, but ah, well. I should let The Butcher know. The sooner the better, even. I’ll be back, soon, as soon as we have news, okay?”
Gerard’s still flustered, and he waves his hands halfheartedly, “The Butcher?”
“Oh, sorry, he’s really- I know, I know, it sounds foreboding. He’s not; he’s completely good, definitely on our side. He’s not a general anymore, but nicknames like that… well, they stick. He’s the messenger I mentioned earlier,” Brendon replies. He pauses, pressing his palm against Gerard’s cheek, “You need to eat. And sleep. And bathe. You’re a complete wreck. Is this really how you want Mikey to see you when he wakes up? This can’t be good for him, Gerard, adding that stress onto his condition. Please. Take care of yourself?”
Gerard nods, and Brendon grins at him, “I’ll see you soon, Gerard. I promise.”
And with that, he’s gone.
---
Gerard spends the next few days in a state of absolute frustration. He prowls around the house, pacing and worrying, messing with everything he can mess with. He’s trying his best to distract himself from Mikey’s bedside, because that’s only serving to stress him more. He spends all his time watching like a hawk, hoping that it’s working; looking for any sign that Brendon’s mystery sources are doing anything at all to save Mikey.
He tries drawing, tries cleaning, tries everything. Nothing works.
---
Surprisingly, when Mikey had done one of his five minute spells of being awake, he had commented on Gerard’s appearance. Granted, it had been to make fun of him for clearly having bathed, but still. It was so much more than Gerard had been accustomed to.
Brendon, upon hearing this, just beamed at him. “You see, then? I told you.”
“You’re sure he’s going to get better?” Gerard asks, changing the subject. It’s the third time Brendon’s been to the house. He’d come a few hours after his last visit, just as a reassurance that he had passed on the information about Mikey’s condition. He’d stayed for supper with Brian and his mother, with Gerard passing him off as a friend from his days at University.
“Once The Butcher sets out to do something, it gets done. How else do you think our King came into his position? It certainly wasn’t by asking.”
Before Gerard could inquire on faerie politics, Brendon scrunched his face, prodding at a picture on the wall, “Did you draw this? Your mother said you were an artist… can I see?”
Gerard nodded, “I used to draw. I haven’t really since Mikey got sick…”
He led the way to his workshop, wishing briefly that he’d taken time to organize it a bit more. Apparently, though, he needn’t have worried. Brendon’s looking around in awe, reaching out to lightly touch the various mobiles hanging around, grazing his fingers over the glass from the framed art decorating the walls.
“This is beautiful,” Brendon breathes, eyes catching on a tiny brass owl perched over Gerard’s desk.
“This,” Gerard says proudly, reaching out to flip a switch so that the owl’s eyes light up, “Is Archimedes. The design is mine, as is most of the body work. My friend Ray did the wiring for me. I’m not clever enough for that sort of thing on my own.”
“You’re plenty clever,” Brendon says, moving on to pick up the guitar he’d finished last month for Ray. It needed a few tiny tweaks here or there before he could pass it on. “These things, they’re glorious. Why haven’t you done anything recently?”
Gerard spins the birds, “I was working on this. It was Mikey’s idea, and he was sitting in on it, giving me input. When he got sick, I promised him I’d wait before I finished it… the worse he’s gotten, the less I’ve had to even consider creating.”
“What does Mikey like?” Brendon asks, “What’s he like?”
Gerard laughs, trying not to acknowledge how wet it sounds, “He’s amazing. He’s… he’s my baby brother, sure, but he’s my best friend. He always has been. He likes everything beautiful about the world- the birds, the sun, the trees, the flowers…”
“Get your sketchbook, come on, we’re going somewhere special. You’re going to make him a present, for when he’s well,” Brendon says firmly.
Gerard complies, and follows Brendon as he heads toward the door. “Close your eyes,” Brendon whispers.
Gerard does as he’s told to do, which is for the best. When Brendon tells him to open it, they’ve only stepped from his workshop into the hall- except they’re in a clearing, surrounded by trees. There’s a lagoon in the distance, and Gerard can barely keep from gasping. On the rocks in it, mermaids are splashing about. Mermaids. Actual mermaids.
“Got that notebook?” Brendon asks, grinning.
Gerard nods, and Brendon prods him, “Get to work, then. Make something beautiful.”
They move closer, sitting on a patch of moss. As Gerard sketches the lagoon itself, Brendon stretches out, shedding the thin shirt he’d been wearing and stretching out wings that Gerard probably should have realized he had, but clearly didn’t. After a few hours, Brendon’s given up on sun bathing and is playing in the water with the mermaids. The drawing isn’t close to perfect, he’s not even overly sure he’s pleased with it, but he decides it’s the best he can do for the moment- a moment too beautiful to really capture.
“Are you coming in?” Brendon yells, having noticed that he’s set aside the book.
“Oh, no, no thank you, I don’t swim,” Gerard replies, walking over so that he doesn’t have to yell.
One of the mermaids scoffs, “You don’t swim. Monstrous.”
“Oh, I mean, I just… I tend to flounder around is all,” he says, hoping he’s not offended them. They’re all flocked around, now, peering at him as if trying to discern which sort of monster he may be. Unfortunately, in paying attention to them, he failed to notice Brendon disappear. He notices that Brendon’s not among them, however, as he suddenly plunges in the midst of them.
“Everyone swims,” Brendon says, laughing. His eyes are twinkling as he jumps back in.
---
“Does it never get dark here?” Gerard asks. They’re sprawled out on the moss, drying out in the sun.
“Here? No, actually.”
Gerard laughs and rolls over to look at Brendon. Brendon’s found his notebook, is tracing his finger over the lines of the drawing. “This is gorgeous, Gerard!”
“I… thanks. Thanks for sharing this with me,” he replies.
Brendon wrinkles his nose and laughs, “I’ve had a blast with you. I mean, I’m really sorry about Mikey, but I’m really pleased I’ve gotten to know you.”
“It… it has been nice,” Gerard replies, “It would have been better if Mikey hadn’t been sick, clearly…”
They’ve moved closer together, Gerard notices, trying not to blush. Their shoulders are touching. Brendon looks at him, cheeks turning pink. Gerard’s trying to decide if he’s imagining it, or if Brendon’s really…
Their lips touch softly, gentle and warm. Brendon’s hand comes up to cup the back of Gerard’s head, drag him the tiniest bit closer.
The moment, however, is ruined when a voice calls out, “Brendon!”
They both jerk, turning to see a faerie- Gerard has no trouble believing this one is. He’s gorgeous, body painted in vibrant colors, flawless.
“The deed is done. The mortal will be healed within the week. I suggest you return this one where he belongs,” the faerie says. Before Brendon can reply, he’s gone.
Looking embarrassed, Brendon leads the way toward the grove of trees they entered at, and then back into the workshop.
“Gerard?” someone’s calling. It takes Gerard a moment to realize the voice belongs to Mikey.
“Mikey?” he asks, taking off toward Mikey’s room.
He pauses, turning to look to Brendon, to thank him, to talk to him, to ask him to wait… but Brendon’s already gone.
---
He tells Mikey about everything, his lagoon adventure and Brendon and the magic, all of it.
“I wish I’d gotten to go,” Mikey says. He’s still tucked in bed, and he still tires easily, but he’s definitely improved. It’s been a week since they got told that he’d be getting better, and he is. Not as quickly as Gerard would like, but definitely improving. He tries really hard not to think about how he’s not seen Brendon since then, either. It’s easier not to focus on that. It confuses him how someone he knew so shortly affected him so deeply.
“Me, too,” Gerard agrees, grinning at him. He’s drawn as many things from memory as he can, and they’re all littered around Mikey’s bed. Mikey’s favorite is the one of Brendon riding a unicorn, which is clearly something he’s added in solely for Mikey’s amusement. Mikey’s face had been completely fallen when he realized there weren’t any unicorns in any of these stories, so he’d had to fix that for him.
“Tell me about the mermaids, again,” Mikey says, starting to doze off.
Mikey’s been asleep for a bit when he quits talking, which he only does because someone’s rung the bell. He heads to the entry way and opens the door, still smiling over his brother and the memory of the lagoon.
“Good day?” Brendon asks.
Gerard’s smile multiplies immediately, “Brendon! Where have you been? Mikey’s been begging to meet you! Shit, I’ve missed you!”
Brendon grins, “Is Mikey better? I hope so-“
“He’s so much better! He’s not the best, but he’s better!” Gerard laughs, “He just fell asleep, but if you’re sticking around you can meet him later!”
“I, uh, actually, I needed to talk to you,” Brendon says, biting his lip, “Can I?”
Gerard grins, waving him in and toward the workshop. When they get there, Gerard begins to worry a bit, watching as Brendon sits and very pointedly doesn’t fidget with anything, unlike the previous times.
“What did you need to talk about?” Gerard asks.
“Butcher… well, he told… It’s all faerie law, see. I can’t… we… you and I can’t be together, like I want to be with you,” Brendon replies, “And they saw us kiss, and that’s a big strike against everything. So, I’m not supposed to even come see you.”
Gerard’s never understood the expression about hearts dropping, but his certainly does, right then.
“So, this is goodbye?” Gerard asks.
“I’ve been with the faeries,” Brendon begins, “For over three hundred years. It’s slowed everything down, which is nice, but it’s also… I don’t fit in entirely with them, and I can’t fit in with the humans… I can’t… It wouldn’t be the worst thing, you know, not to be a faerie anymore…”
Gerard’s leaning forward, because as Brendon talks his voice gets quieter and quieter, “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Brendon says quietly, “If you’d have me…”
Gerard doesn’t even bother to see what he knocks over as he pretty much dives across the desk to hug him, “If I’d have you, of course, of course I would! Shit! We have to go wake Mikey up! Shit!”
Brendon starts cracking up, wrapping himself up in Gerard, “Are you sure?”
Gerard laughs against his cheek, “I’ve never been more certain of anything, Brendon.”
“Gerard?” Mikey’s voice comes, drifting through the house, and Gerard exchanges a grin with Brendon, pulling him along and down the hallway.
Author:
fictionalfaeriePairing(s): Brendon Urie/Gerard Way
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character Illness
Word count: 4,336
Summary: The only thing worse than “It’s faerie magic…” that Mikey could say is “Pete will know what to do…” So naturally, that’s what he says. Which is how it all begins.
It’s the second day of the fourth week of Mikey’s illness. It’s the middle of the third week of his bed confinement. It’s the beginning of the third week since he ate anything other than a few teaspoons of broth every few hours. It’s the fourth day of the second week since Doctor Schechter admitted that there wasn’t much hope, and the Ways gave up on optimism, resigning themselves to watching Mikey die.
Doctor Schechter still comes four times a week. Each time he carts three or four medicines in with him to try on Mikey, and leaves with at least two vials of blood to test. Each time he looks more and more grim. Gerard would feel sorry for him if the situation were different, if that were anyone else’s brother curled up in the bed, mumbling feverishly in his sleep, never coherent for more than ten minutes at a time. As it is, he’s secretly pleased in a bittersweet way that Doctor Schechter looks so guilty and embarrassed that he can’t save Mikey.
He’s watching as Brian collects his items, looking as tired and drawn as Gerard feels. Gerard knows he shouldn’t harbor these hateful feelings, he really shouldn’t. Brian’s been with them since they were kids. They grew up together, and were often the brothers Brian never had. Gerard watches, focusing on the way Brian folds up the microscope, wraps the syringes, secures the vials… his magnified goggles are skewed on top of his hat, and his coat is buttoned wrong. Gerard’s half tempted to draw him, probably would if his sketch pad weren’t forgotten in his workshop, thrown in a fit of anger.
He doesn’t bother to say goodbye to Gerard when he leaves. Gerard doesn’t bother to care. Instead, he turns back to Mikey, leaning his head down to rest against his on the pillow.
The movement stirs Mikey, who struggles awake, coughing and grasping out for him.
Gerard takes his hand, making soothing noises, “Hush, Mikey, hush, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m right here with you.”
“Gerard?” Mikey asks, blinking in confusion.
“Of course,” Gerard replies, running a hand over Mikey’s forehead. He’s burning up, the hottest he’s felt so far. He’d know… he’s been there every harrowing step of the way.
“What’s wrong with me?” he asks, trying in vain to sit up. These times, they’re the hardest. How do you explain to someone that you’re pretty sure they’re dying?
“You’re sick, Mikey, you need to lie back down, come on, there we go. Let’s stay like that, good, good…”
“Sick?” Mikey asks, voice fading a bit. He’s already falling asleep again.
“That’s right. Brian’s not quite sure what’s wrong, but he’s working on it,” Gerard says, smoothing the covers over his chest.
“That’s because it was the faeries, Gee,” Mikey replies sleepily.
“That so, Mikey?” he asks, reaching for the cloth they’ve been keeping by the basin.
He wets it and is wringing it out when Mikey sits up, forcefully and almost energetically, startling Gerard into dropping it back into the basin.
“Don’ laugh at me, Gerard. It was the faeries. They did this.”
Gerard nods, too surprised to argue.
“They DID.”
“Mikey,” he finally says, regaining some composure, “You really shouldn’t talk like that, okay? They’re not-“
He cuts off that train because Mikey’s eyes have narrowed, surely anticipating the ‘real’. “They’re not something we want to mess with, Mikey. What do… how would you even go about solving something the faeries did? We can’t… we can’t undo that, Mikey.”
“Gerard. You have to believe me. Please, Gerard. It was the faeries. I’m not… I’m not delusional, okay? It was the faeries.”
Mikey looks so upset and so convinced that Gerard swallows the lump in his throat, forcing out, “What should I do, Mikey?”
Mikey’s eyes flutter, the sudden burst of life gone, and he collapses back to the bed, already drifting off, even as he murmurs out, “Pete knows.”
Gerard maybe hates himself for having any part that would find this plausible. More so, he hates that this traitorous, ridiculous part actually believes that Pete Wentz is his only shot at saving his baby brother.
---
Gerard Way is plotting ways in which he can murder Pete Wentz without obvious guilt. A lot of these ways involve dumping Pete’s body in the very woods he’s got Gerard traipsing about in. Gerard is a lot of things, and absolutely none of these things involve the outdoors. At his best, he’s not great with trees and limbs and briars and brambles. Combined with the level of discomfort he’s at, he’s terrible at the outdoors.
Pete’s got him in the itchiest get up Gerard has ever been in- wool pants, wool shirt, leather jacket and shoes. Absolutely everything, Pete had insisted, has to be natural. As if that hadn’t been enough, he’d presented Gerard with the most ridiculous looking helmet he had ever seen, and Gerard was friends with Ray Toro, whose hair took some impressive helmets to contain it during his experiments. This one is, according to Pete, all natural- turtle shell base, some metal Pete found and melted and formed himself holding on hits of crystal that form some ridiculous eyepiece. Pete swears it will help- the natural composition of the outfit combined with the conditions he’d found the ingredients and made the helmet under would all give him he power to see faeries, with or without their permission, and the rest of the outfit was less of a threat somewhat, according the loon, and would make him more inviting.
If Pete hadn’t insisted on seeing Mikey first, and if that hadn’t caused him to look more scared than Gerard’s ever seen anyone look in his life, then he would have written this all off as lunacy. Instead, he took the advice, accepted the terms, and that tiny part that believed that maybe this was all real grew a bit.
He’s been lumbering through the forest for hours. He refuses to even stop to think about how lost he undoubtedly is. The pants he’s borrowed from Pete are bloody where he’s ripped his legs open on thorns more times than he can even count. He’s covered in mud from the handful of falls he’s taken into the creeks he’s passed over. He hopes it’s not the same creek, anyway. Otherwise he’s wandering in circles.
The sun’s just set over the horizon when he sees him.
Sees him is really a vast understatement to the entire situation, in honesty. The moment begins when a head peeks around a tree, and a voice that isn’t any Gerard can readily identify greets him. The moment reaches its peak when Gerard screaming at a pitch he’s never hit before, even when he found the wolf spider on his pillow. The ending, naturally, is him flailing and falling directly into the fucking creek.
The shock of the cold water rushing around and over him is surprisingly calming, which is why when the man- boy?- offers his hand in assistance, Gerard accepts it.
“Was that my fault? I’m sorry,” the boy- man?- says, and he grins at Gerard. Gerard takes a moment to stare in confusion.
“Who… who are you? What are you?” he demands, tilting his head and squinting, as if the eyepiece will be more effective that way.
The guy laughs and tilts, squinting as well, “I’m Brendon. I’m… special. Who are you? And what are YOU? I’ve never seen anything with a head quite like this…” He prods gently at the helmet.
“Fucking Pete,” Gerard mutters.
“Well, a pleasure, Fucking Pete,” Brendon replies, beaming at him again.
“No, no, I’m not- that’s not my…” Gerard blushes, pulling the helmet off and sitting down on a large rock by the river. He’s tired and cold and lost and somewhere is home, where Mikey’s busy dying because fucking faeries decided to give him some magic plague. “I’m Gerard,” he replies quietly, trying to remember the breathing exercises Brian’s been trying to sneakily give him without him noticing. “I’m a human.”
Brendon crouches in front of him, “Oh, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to misunderstand. It is lovely to meet you, Gerard. I’ve never met a human. I was unaware humans had detachable heads.”
“Detachable… no, oh, no. This is just a helmet that a very dumb man gave me to help me see faeries.”
“Does it work?”
“I haven’t the faintest.”
“Well…” Brendon says, scrunching his face up in a ridiculous manner, “You saw me. So it probably works.”
Gerard, who had previously been considering liking this fellow, looked up and glared, “You mean. You’re a faerie?”
Brendon nodded, grinning at Gerard as Gerard stood up, “I am!”
Gerard, later on, will admit that maybe he should have taken a moment to compose himself instead of going with his first instinct. Aside from sheer inability to effectively deliver it, punching a faerie is probably not the brightest of moves.
Immediately after doing it, he realizes what he’s done. It’s too late, though, as Brendon disappears, probably even before the punch really fully landed.
“Oh, oh, no, please- I’m so sorry,” he says, looking around. He grabs the helmet and puts it on, glancing around frantically, “Please, please, please, no, don’t be gone, oh, please, no.”
It’s all futile, of course. Brendon is positively nowhere in sight.
Gerard feels absolutely all of his hope, as small as it was, draining out of his body. Along with it, he feels his remaining energy, warmth, everything, disappear. He collapses roughly onto the same rock he’d been sitting upon, trying very hard not to vomit. Tears begin rolling down his face, and he just completely loses it. All of the stress and hopelessness and worry bubble up and spew out, and it feels like he’s being eaten alive from the inside.
“I didn’t… shit. I didn’t mean… I just... I can’t… Mikey. You made Mikey sick, and I didn’t mean to hit you, and now you’re gone, and I… I just don’t want Mikey to die,” he’s whispering, gasping out between sobs. “And I’m lost and cold and Mikey. Mikey.”
“I don’t even know who Mikey is,” he hears. A quick look around tells him that Brendon’s not revealed himself yet, but fuck- at least he’s talking.
“He’s my baby brother,” Gerard replies, “And he’s sick, because some faerie apparently did some spell. He’s my baby brother and he’s at home, tucked neatly into bed and dying, and there’s absolutely nothing we can do for him. And now I’ve punched you, like an idiot, and just completely lost all my chances at helping him.”
“Are you… are you sure it’s faerie magic that got him sick?” Brendon’s voice asks.
Gerard just nods, “We’ve got the best doctor checking on him, and there’s nothing he’s been able to do so far. Mikey’s mentioned it a few times, and this last time… he was just so adamant, and he was so clear about it, like, he knew for sure… I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t believe him… if I wasn’t sure.”
Brendon reappears, directly in front of him, frowning, “I had brothers once. I don’t… I don’t think any of them loved me that much- I mean… they didn’t come… they just gave up on me.”
“Is there anything I can do to convince you to help me?” he asks, “I’ve been searching for hours, and you’re the first faerie I’ve found. I can’t… I won’t be able to find another one.”
Brendon makes a face, scrunching it thoughtfully, “I can’t help you- but I can get help. I know the right ones.”
Before Gerard can reply, Brendon presses his fingers over Gerard’s lips, “Go home. I’ll find you, I promise.”
---
It’s the first day of the fifth week since Mikey got sick. Gerard can barely look at him without shuddering- he’s so pale, thin and drawn and looking like death. Brian’s still coming- he’s bumped the visits up to daily. Their mother spends her time between cooking soups for them to encourage Mikey to eat and sitting by his side, pretending she isn’t crying while she sews.
Gerard spends the time his mother is cooking with Mikey, and the rest of his time is spent sitting in his workshop, starting listlessly at the wall. His latest project sits abandoned on his desk, a mobile of mechanical birds that hover and sparkle in the light. Intended as a gift for his mother, Gerard’s pretty sure that he’ll never finish it. It was Mikey’s idea.
Mikey’s only awake for half an hour a day now, two or three minutes here and there- just long enough to cough and gasp for breath before he fades back out.
Gerard picks up his sketchbook from the floor, tosses it onto his desk, frowning at it. He’s contemplating burning it when he’s interrupted by a knock at the door. Straightening his tie and his hat, he heads to the entry way and opens the door, trying to look inviting and welcoming.
Judging by the look on Brendon’s face when he sees him, he’s pretty sure he failed miserably at that.
“You look terrible,” Brendon says.
Gerard ignores this, instead choosing to ask, “Did you- is Mikey going to be okay?”
“I’ve spoken with the King’s messenger, and he’s assured me he’ll see what he can do, as quickly as he can. They sent me to check on him, to get a feel for just what sort of time table we’re working on here,” Brendon replies.
“The King’s messenger? Why can’t you heal him? You’re here, just go in there and heal him!” Gerard hisses.
Brendon frowns, “I can’t. Even if there weren’t procedures and restrictions to faerie magic, I still couldn’t… I’m just a changeling.”
“A changeling?” Gerard asks, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
“You know, sickly child, traded for a sickly faerie child, raised in different worlds, the like. I was seven when I was taken,” he says, waving his hand around. He slides by Gerard as he talks, looking around the house and chattering on, “So I’ve got a bit, but definitely not the power it would take to heal someone afflicted like you say your brother is. Where is he, by the way?”
Gerard isn’t sure what to say, so he just shows him the way to Mikey’s room, checking to make sure their mother is busy in the kitchen.
Brendon immediately crouches by Mikey, frowning deeply, “You were definitely right, Gerard. This is undoubtedly faerie magic. It’s really advanced… it would have been better if we’d caught it sooner, but ah, well. I should let The Butcher know. The sooner the better, even. I’ll be back, soon, as soon as we have news, okay?”
Gerard’s still flustered, and he waves his hands halfheartedly, “The Butcher?”
“Oh, sorry, he’s really- I know, I know, it sounds foreboding. He’s not; he’s completely good, definitely on our side. He’s not a general anymore, but nicknames like that… well, they stick. He’s the messenger I mentioned earlier,” Brendon replies. He pauses, pressing his palm against Gerard’s cheek, “You need to eat. And sleep. And bathe. You’re a complete wreck. Is this really how you want Mikey to see you when he wakes up? This can’t be good for him, Gerard, adding that stress onto his condition. Please. Take care of yourself?”
Gerard nods, and Brendon grins at him, “I’ll see you soon, Gerard. I promise.”
And with that, he’s gone.
---
Gerard spends the next few days in a state of absolute frustration. He prowls around the house, pacing and worrying, messing with everything he can mess with. He’s trying his best to distract himself from Mikey’s bedside, because that’s only serving to stress him more. He spends all his time watching like a hawk, hoping that it’s working; looking for any sign that Brendon’s mystery sources are doing anything at all to save Mikey.
He tries drawing, tries cleaning, tries everything. Nothing works.
---
Surprisingly, when Mikey had done one of his five minute spells of being awake, he had commented on Gerard’s appearance. Granted, it had been to make fun of him for clearly having bathed, but still. It was so much more than Gerard had been accustomed to.
Brendon, upon hearing this, just beamed at him. “You see, then? I told you.”
“You’re sure he’s going to get better?” Gerard asks, changing the subject. It’s the third time Brendon’s been to the house. He’d come a few hours after his last visit, just as a reassurance that he had passed on the information about Mikey’s condition. He’d stayed for supper with Brian and his mother, with Gerard passing him off as a friend from his days at University.
“Once The Butcher sets out to do something, it gets done. How else do you think our King came into his position? It certainly wasn’t by asking.”
Before Gerard could inquire on faerie politics, Brendon scrunched his face, prodding at a picture on the wall, “Did you draw this? Your mother said you were an artist… can I see?”
Gerard nodded, “I used to draw. I haven’t really since Mikey got sick…”
He led the way to his workshop, wishing briefly that he’d taken time to organize it a bit more. Apparently, though, he needn’t have worried. Brendon’s looking around in awe, reaching out to lightly touch the various mobiles hanging around, grazing his fingers over the glass from the framed art decorating the walls.
“This is beautiful,” Brendon breathes, eyes catching on a tiny brass owl perched over Gerard’s desk.
“This,” Gerard says proudly, reaching out to flip a switch so that the owl’s eyes light up, “Is Archimedes. The design is mine, as is most of the body work. My friend Ray did the wiring for me. I’m not clever enough for that sort of thing on my own.”
“You’re plenty clever,” Brendon says, moving on to pick up the guitar he’d finished last month for Ray. It needed a few tiny tweaks here or there before he could pass it on. “These things, they’re glorious. Why haven’t you done anything recently?”
Gerard spins the birds, “I was working on this. It was Mikey’s idea, and he was sitting in on it, giving me input. When he got sick, I promised him I’d wait before I finished it… the worse he’s gotten, the less I’ve had to even consider creating.”
“What does Mikey like?” Brendon asks, “What’s he like?”
Gerard laughs, trying not to acknowledge how wet it sounds, “He’s amazing. He’s… he’s my baby brother, sure, but he’s my best friend. He always has been. He likes everything beautiful about the world- the birds, the sun, the trees, the flowers…”
“Get your sketchbook, come on, we’re going somewhere special. You’re going to make him a present, for when he’s well,” Brendon says firmly.
Gerard complies, and follows Brendon as he heads toward the door. “Close your eyes,” Brendon whispers.
Gerard does as he’s told to do, which is for the best. When Brendon tells him to open it, they’ve only stepped from his workshop into the hall- except they’re in a clearing, surrounded by trees. There’s a lagoon in the distance, and Gerard can barely keep from gasping. On the rocks in it, mermaids are splashing about. Mermaids. Actual mermaids.
“Got that notebook?” Brendon asks, grinning.
Gerard nods, and Brendon prods him, “Get to work, then. Make something beautiful.”
They move closer, sitting on a patch of moss. As Gerard sketches the lagoon itself, Brendon stretches out, shedding the thin shirt he’d been wearing and stretching out wings that Gerard probably should have realized he had, but clearly didn’t. After a few hours, Brendon’s given up on sun bathing and is playing in the water with the mermaids. The drawing isn’t close to perfect, he’s not even overly sure he’s pleased with it, but he decides it’s the best he can do for the moment- a moment too beautiful to really capture.
“Are you coming in?” Brendon yells, having noticed that he’s set aside the book.
“Oh, no, no thank you, I don’t swim,” Gerard replies, walking over so that he doesn’t have to yell.
One of the mermaids scoffs, “You don’t swim. Monstrous.”
“Oh, I mean, I just… I tend to flounder around is all,” he says, hoping he’s not offended them. They’re all flocked around, now, peering at him as if trying to discern which sort of monster he may be. Unfortunately, in paying attention to them, he failed to notice Brendon disappear. He notices that Brendon’s not among them, however, as he suddenly plunges in the midst of them.
“Everyone swims,” Brendon says, laughing. His eyes are twinkling as he jumps back in.
---
“Does it never get dark here?” Gerard asks. They’re sprawled out on the moss, drying out in the sun.
“Here? No, actually.”
Gerard laughs and rolls over to look at Brendon. Brendon’s found his notebook, is tracing his finger over the lines of the drawing. “This is gorgeous, Gerard!”
“I… thanks. Thanks for sharing this with me,” he replies.
Brendon wrinkles his nose and laughs, “I’ve had a blast with you. I mean, I’m really sorry about Mikey, but I’m really pleased I’ve gotten to know you.”
“It… it has been nice,” Gerard replies, “It would have been better if Mikey hadn’t been sick, clearly…”
They’ve moved closer together, Gerard notices, trying not to blush. Their shoulders are touching. Brendon looks at him, cheeks turning pink. Gerard’s trying to decide if he’s imagining it, or if Brendon’s really…
Their lips touch softly, gentle and warm. Brendon’s hand comes up to cup the back of Gerard’s head, drag him the tiniest bit closer.
The moment, however, is ruined when a voice calls out, “Brendon!”
They both jerk, turning to see a faerie- Gerard has no trouble believing this one is. He’s gorgeous, body painted in vibrant colors, flawless.
“The deed is done. The mortal will be healed within the week. I suggest you return this one where he belongs,” the faerie says. Before Brendon can reply, he’s gone.
Looking embarrassed, Brendon leads the way toward the grove of trees they entered at, and then back into the workshop.
“Gerard?” someone’s calling. It takes Gerard a moment to realize the voice belongs to Mikey.
“Mikey?” he asks, taking off toward Mikey’s room.
He pauses, turning to look to Brendon, to thank him, to talk to him, to ask him to wait… but Brendon’s already gone.
---
He tells Mikey about everything, his lagoon adventure and Brendon and the magic, all of it.
“I wish I’d gotten to go,” Mikey says. He’s still tucked in bed, and he still tires easily, but he’s definitely improved. It’s been a week since they got told that he’d be getting better, and he is. Not as quickly as Gerard would like, but definitely improving. He tries really hard not to think about how he’s not seen Brendon since then, either. It’s easier not to focus on that. It confuses him how someone he knew so shortly affected him so deeply.
“Me, too,” Gerard agrees, grinning at him. He’s drawn as many things from memory as he can, and they’re all littered around Mikey’s bed. Mikey’s favorite is the one of Brendon riding a unicorn, which is clearly something he’s added in solely for Mikey’s amusement. Mikey’s face had been completely fallen when he realized there weren’t any unicorns in any of these stories, so he’d had to fix that for him.
“Tell me about the mermaids, again,” Mikey says, starting to doze off.
Mikey’s been asleep for a bit when he quits talking, which he only does because someone’s rung the bell. He heads to the entry way and opens the door, still smiling over his brother and the memory of the lagoon.
“Good day?” Brendon asks.
Gerard’s smile multiplies immediately, “Brendon! Where have you been? Mikey’s been begging to meet you! Shit, I’ve missed you!”
Brendon grins, “Is Mikey better? I hope so-“
“He’s so much better! He’s not the best, but he’s better!” Gerard laughs, “He just fell asleep, but if you’re sticking around you can meet him later!”
“I, uh, actually, I needed to talk to you,” Brendon says, biting his lip, “Can I?”
Gerard grins, waving him in and toward the workshop. When they get there, Gerard begins to worry a bit, watching as Brendon sits and very pointedly doesn’t fidget with anything, unlike the previous times.
“What did you need to talk about?” Gerard asks.
“Butcher… well, he told… It’s all faerie law, see. I can’t… we… you and I can’t be together, like I want to be with you,” Brendon replies, “And they saw us kiss, and that’s a big strike against everything. So, I’m not supposed to even come see you.”
Gerard’s never understood the expression about hearts dropping, but his certainly does, right then.
“So, this is goodbye?” Gerard asks.
“I’ve been with the faeries,” Brendon begins, “For over three hundred years. It’s slowed everything down, which is nice, but it’s also… I don’t fit in entirely with them, and I can’t fit in with the humans… I can’t… It wouldn’t be the worst thing, you know, not to be a faerie anymore…”
Gerard’s leaning forward, because as Brendon talks his voice gets quieter and quieter, “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Brendon says quietly, “If you’d have me…”
Gerard doesn’t even bother to see what he knocks over as he pretty much dives across the desk to hug him, “If I’d have you, of course, of course I would! Shit! We have to go wake Mikey up! Shit!”
Brendon starts cracking up, wrapping himself up in Gerard, “Are you sure?”
Gerard laughs against his cheek, “I’ve never been more certain of anything, Brendon.”
“Gerard?” Mikey’s voice comes, drifting through the house, and Gerard exchanges a grin with Brendon, pulling him along and down the hallway.
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no subject
Date: 2010-12-24 01:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-07 09:02 pm (UTC)♥
I'm glad you loved them, and enjoyed my faerie world!
♥
no subject
Date: 2010-12-24 05:19 am (UTC)This story is love.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-07 09:04 pm (UTC)I'm so, so, so glad you thought it was adorable! And just *flappy hands*!
♥
Thanks so much for your comment!
no subject
Date: 2011-01-10 05:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-24 05:51 am (UTC)The imagery is so rich and full. Plus the almost fairytale quality of this is just stellar and grand.
I don't think I could ever have enough words for how wonderful this is and how hard it had me awwwing and grinning and giggling at the end and also how it made me sad at the beginning and just the emotions it pulls out is nifty and great...
JUST ♥♥♥♥♥♥ forever
no subject
Date: 2011-01-07 09:06 pm (UTC)I was so worried- I started one and got mostly done and then in a fit of idiocy decided I hated it and deleted it--- and then I stressed and stressed over this! ♥
I'm so, so, so incredibly pleased that you enjoyed this! I hope you had a fantastic holiday ;D
♥ !!!
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Date: 2011-01-08 02:58 am (UTC)There was no need to be worried..because you rocked this. Rocked it soooo hard. *hugs you forveeeeerrrrr* ♥
I had a pretty spiffy holiday I hope yours went well.
Also I want to say THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES for writing Brendon/Gerard because there's hardly any of it around and I'm sooo pleased you took one of the lesser common pairings and ran with it. And you had Mikey and Gerard being close close siblings and I love really really loved that.
And I could be here forever just telling you how much I ♥ This...seriously I could
no subject
Date: 2011-01-08 03:02 am (UTC)♥
I have to admit, the first pairing I noticed was Brendon/Gerard on your pairing request, and my decision was made, and I couldn't even tell what the other requests were, because that is a pairing I adore- I didn't even pause to consider the others, ahaha. ♥ ! So much!
Seriously, so pleased you liked it. ♥
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Date: 2011-01-08 03:07 am (UTC)I'm glad you noticed it then and was all oooossss yayyss!!! and dude I understand that. I like to write Brendon/almost anyone but I love to write the not as common pairings.
*beams at you*
I shall now have to be on the look out for when you post more awesome fics...because you are NIFTY COOL
♥
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Date: 2011-01-08 03:10 am (UTC)I will admit, there's an epilogue that I cut because I decided it needed to be it's own story in which Brendon misses his wings and Gerard makes him brass wings.
But, shhh!
Brendon is the BEST because he's so compatible with everyone!!!
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Date: 2011-01-08 03:14 am (UTC)EXACTLY....EVERYONE EVAR!!!!...ummm I might be slightly tired so I might not exactly understandable so sorry if I seem too flaily..
♥
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Date: 2011-01-08 03:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-24 05:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-07 09:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-25 09:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-07 09:08 pm (UTC)And thanks so much for the rec! I have an alert set so that I don't miss your recs, and I never figured I'd see myself there. XD
♥
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Date: 2010-12-26 05:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-07 09:09 pm (UTC)There really isn't, it's a shame.
I don't even know if I read the other requested pairings after seeing Gerard/Brendon ;D
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Date: 2010-12-30 11:12 am (UTC)Gerard hates Pete! And his automatic reaction is to punch the fairy in the face for hurting Mikey! And he invents! And Ray helps him! And Brendon's family didn't try to find him! And Mikey needs a unicorn in fairyland! AND THEY ALL LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER!!!
no subject
Date: 2011-01-07 09:09 pm (UTC):D