Follow me home (Frerard)

I don't care how much You'll invest yourself in me, we're not working out

Gerard's POV

I quietly push the door open, futilely hoping that Mikey would still be asleep. It's already past one in the afternoon, though, and it doesn't surprise me that my brother storms into the kitchen the moment the apartment door is closed behind me. His glasses are askew on the end of his nose, light hair unstraightened and sticking up in various directions. His eyes are huge, nostrils flared, and I can't help but compare him to a wild animal. His expression is a strange mix between pissed, relieved, and terrified. I sigh heavily.

"Where the hell have you been?!" He demands. I drop my keys onto the counter and avoid his gaze when I speak.

"Out," I say vaguely. "You sound like Mom."

Mikey scoffs. "I woke up at four in the morning and you were gone. I tried calling you--"

"I left my phone here," I admit. I see it lying on the counter and gesture to it, though I'm sure Mikey has found it by now. I just hope he hasn't found the most recent content, sent from Jamia. I shake the thoughts from my head and focus back on my angry brother.

"So where were you!?" The utter desperation in his voice makes my chest tighten-- I'm hurting him again. I'm reminded painfully of that night three years ago when I pushed him down the stairs, the sudden wave of terror that washed over me, and realize that this is kind of like that. I'm hurting him again.

I run a hand through my hair and lean against the counter, still avoiding his eyes. "I was with Zacky," I finally say, my voice barely heard between the two of us. "I crashed at his place and he dropped me off at a meeting this morning."

Mikey is quiet for a long time before asking hesitantly, "An AA meeting?"

I can't fight the roll of my eyes and the dry laugh that escapes my throat. "No, a PTO meeting. Yes, AA." As soon as the words are out, I regret them. I turn to face Mikey. His expression is mostly guarded, but his bottom lip quivers. "I'm sorry," I apologize immediately and look down at my feet. "I just... I couldn't be here. I ended up at a bar and--"

"A bar?" Mikey interrupts. "Did you..." Though he doesn't say the words, I can hear the unsaid question in his voice.

I shake my head. "No, I didn't drink anything. Like I said, I called Zacky."

I risk a glance at Mikey. He's watching me with a sympathetic expression, his arms folded loosely across his chest. "Why? Gee, you've been clean for three years. Why now? What happened?"

I didn't want to tell him. He was my brother and I should be able to tell him anything, but this seemed way too personal suddenly. He knew about Frank-- the late night conversations we shared, the texting and Skypes-- but in a way, he still was my secret. Mikey didn't know how serious I was about Frank.

But Frank was what caused me to almost relapse. His relationship with Jenna drove me to nearly drinking again after three years of sobriety. He was what was causing me to revert back to my old ways, back when I hurt my brother, when he didn't trust me, when I didn't even like the person I was.

And then, like rays of sunshine breaking through a gray cloud, it seems to dawn on me; Frank was fucking it all up. It wasn't his fault, per se, but more my feelings for him. The feelings he obviously didn't return. It was impairing my decision making, it was polluting my thoughts, it was driving me insane.

And I couldn't do that anymore. Not if it meant hurting my brother.

So I look back to Mikey and force a sad excuse for a smile. "Have you had breakfast? Zacky didn't feed me this morning. I'll make some waffles."

After that, I cut all ties with Frank. Well, the majority of my ties. It's not like I could force Bob to dump Jamia and delete the last remaining connection we had, though I didn't talk to her much after they got back from Florida.