turlough: Gerard Way in white shirt & black waistcoat, photoshoot by Rob Bennett, 20 October 2007 ((mcr) dress like a sleeper cell)
The fight left Mikey as suddenly as it had appeared; he cocked an eyebrow, voice going back to its regular expressionless level. "My problem? Honestly, Gerard, your job is my problem." He tossed the helmet onto the living room floor. Gerard winced at the crash, but Mikey just kept pulling his gloves and jacket off, tossing them aside too and walking into the kitchen. Gerard trailed behind him, watching in disbelief as Mikey pulled a glass out of a cupboard and poured himself some water.

"My job … with BLI? Where you work? How exactly is that a problem for anyone?"

Mikey smoothed stringy brown hair back out of his face. "It means... shit, Gerard. Either you're more clueless than I thought, or you're not... not the same person you used to be."

It hurt. It hurt like a laser burst to the chest, quiet and bloodless and deadly. "I -" 'I don't remember who I used to be,' he wanted to yell. 'You're supposed to be the one who remembers.' But Mikey was turning away, bracing a hand on one of the chair backs. Gerard studied the dismissive line of his shoulders for a long time. Mikey didn't turn back around. "I don't understand this, but fine," Gerard said finally, trying to hold his voice steady. It was easier than he'd imagined it would be. "Then I'm not." He took a deep breath; the kitchen walls were tilting in, making him feel like he was smothering. He'd only ever had two solutions to that problem: drink until they crashed down, or run.


- [archiveofourown.org profile] tuesdaysgone's The Kids from Yesterday

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August 2012

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