Mix Tape [2]

Ray/Gerard
Chaptered fic - COMPLETE
Based around a hypothetical mix tape; tracks Ray's relationship to Gerard from their first meeting in high school. Some chapters are more closely connected to their songs than others. Currently at a hard R rating for language and sexuality. Some chapters may be triggering.
91,597 words
Written June 21, 2005 - August 17, 2005


It's early Sunday morning when Ray calls Gerard. For a moment, the thought flickers through his head that Gerard might be at church. He dismisses it quickly - Gerard used to wear a cross around his neck, but he said it was more out of habit than belief. "For my mom," he'd said. "Makes her sad if I don't."

His hands don't shake very much as he dials the number. It's about nine, maybe, but he hasn't gotten dressed yet; he still needs to shave. It's almost comforting. If the conversation goes badly, Ray can just crawl back into bed until he needs to eat. Just erase the conversation from his memory entirely. Sleep it away.

"Hi, Gerard here." His voice over the phone line is faintly distant - like it's coming through a series of time zones. Ray clears his throat before he talks.

"So, hey, um... I don't know if you remember me, but we used to go to high school together. I'm Ray."

"Ray Toro?" There's the briefest of pauses before Gerard says, "No fuckin' way! Jesus, I remember you. Math, like three years straight, right?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Ray laughs in relief. "I don't know, I thought about you the other day - " Shit, no, you sound weird. "I saw somebody who... uh, who looked like you. And I was like, hey, I should talk to him again."

Gerard's smile is practically audible. He says, "Man, this is awesome. I haven't talked to anyone from back then in forever... What're you doing now, anyway?"

"I'm... studying film." Now that the conversation has settled down, Ray lets himself sit back on his bed, pick at the hem of his shirt. God. Gerard is probably doing something horribly smart, like researching nuclear weaponry. Maybe quantum physics. Gerard was terrible at math and even worse at science, so it's a completely illogical thought, but it'd just be so classic. Exactly the kind of thing to happen to Ray.

"Yeah? Where are you, anyway? Can't believe I never asked you."

"For sure, it's crazy. I saw you every day, and I don't even know what college you're at..." Ray laughs. "I'm in New York. Visual Arts."

Gerard gasps, almost campily. "Me too! I'm doing art here, it's great - man, I can't believe I've never seen you. Ray fuckin' Toro. This is too awesome."

There's a long pause, both of them making noncommital noises about how awesome it is, for sure. Gerard asks where he's working; Ray goes on a bit about the local camera store where he works part-time. Not a big deal. Gerard talks about how he's kind of, you know, between jobs, you know how it is. Yeah. Ray knows how it is. They go back and forth again about how weird it is, not seeing each other around campus. So weird. Definitely.

Eventually, Ray says, "So... um. You said you were studying art?"

"Yeah. Not much, but I'm not bad at it."

"I'm really glad you're still drawing." His voice is casual, but Ray hopes the force of it gets through to Gerard - he is glad. Insanely, hopelessly happy about it, just ecstatic. If he'd found out Gerard had given up drawing... Ray is sure he'd have found some excuse to hang up. He says, slowly, "I mean... your stuff. I liked it. Some of the guys you drew..."

Gerard's voice tightens a bit. "Look. Ray." There's another pause. "If that's what this is about... whatever. I'm a grown man, I don't care if you know I'm gay. If that's why you called then you found out, all right?"

Ray flops backward, groaning. "That's not it! I mean, it's nice to know for sure, but... that's not why. I mean it."

"Yeah. Is that so."

"That's so." Ray tries not to hold his breath but finds himself doing so anyway. There's silence, bleak and tense like a very long stretch of highway at night. Ray lets it go on for a moment before saying, "It's not like I care. I liked all your stuff. Really." He crosses his fingers and waits out the silence, lets it roll at him in waves, waiting for Gerard to speak.

"Fine. I just... I got a lot of shit about it. You know."

"I know," Ray says, smiling. "God, that school sucked."

"Nice choice of words." At that, they both laugh - Gerard's laughter sounding crackly, a bit layered over in static, but still wonderful. Ray didn't hear it often. It's nice to hear it after this long; it sounds freer than it used to be. Not so trapped. Gerard says, softly, "Hey, look. You're doing film, right? Never would've guessed. So... hey. You mind if I see some of your stuff?"

"It's all kind of boring." This is a complete and utter lie, but Ray's still unnerved by the man - he likes him, sure, but he never quite got comfortable around him. Never saw the inside of his house. Only met his brother that one time. Guys like that... you don't necessarily want to show them something you poured your heart into.

"Mm... well, hey. Everyone says that about their own stuff. I mean it, I wanna see what you're doing." He pauses. Ray can sense the distinct breath he draws in before he says, "If you don't mind..." Ray thinks about it for a moment. That breath sounded so shaky, almost nervous.

He says, "Not at all. On one condition - I get to see your drawings."

Gerard laughs again, and Ray feels something inside him twitch - some unfamiliar muscle used entirely for feeling joy. "Yeah," Gerard says. "Yeah. That's a fair deal." They decide on a time later that afternoon, and Ray scribbles down Gerard's address - it's an apartment, not too far from the dorms. They say goodbye. When he hangs up, it's not even nine-thirty. Ray feels like he's trapped in something slow-moving; melting amber or sticky sunlight. He gets dressed and shaves and makes an attempt to brush his hair out.

Tim's still sleeping off a hangover, and Ray wants to shake him. There's so much you could be doing, for Christ's sake. It's cliched and silly but there's something really strong in his veins. Something like the mornings when he sits down for coffee with Michelle and they both suddenly get the desire to finish a project, or the days when he just films, a few hours straight. Catching anything and everything, even if it all turns out terribly.

That's the feeling he has right now, and he refuses to let it go.

-----

"Okay," Ray says, laughing, "I can't do this. I give up."

"You can!" Gerard tugs at his sleeve, not taking his eyes away from the small TV on his kitchen counter. "Stay. I insist."

"I can't. Too much." He pulls away, trying to stay serious. "It'll kill me, I swear."

Gerard lets out an exasperated sigh. "Okay! You... um. You go somewhere else then, I don't know where." On the TV, a young girl is chasing her brother around a playground; he shimmies up a pole and she kicks at the ground angrily. The wind knocks her hair around her face, blows her skirt up a little. She keeps it pinned down with one hand, shaking the other at him. He just laughs and sticks out his tongue. "This is cute, you know. I mean... it's really honest."

"Yeah, yeah." Ray rubs his arm, trying not to look as awkward as he feels. "Hey, tell you what - where are your drawings and shit? You said I could see them."

"Bedroom, second door on the left." Gerard gestures down the hall. He still hasn't looked away from the screen, not since Ray put in the tape five minutes ago.

Ray waits a minute before leaving. He's tried not to take every opportunity to stare at Gerard, but it's difficult - he's so... different. It's something deeper than the long, messy way Gerard wears his hair now. Deeper than the weight he's lost, or even the weight he still has yet to lose. Gerard is smiling. And he's gotten two phone calls since Ray showed up.

He still freaks the hell out of Ray, too. He has a giant sketch of Wolverine - from X-Men, for fuck's sake - traced on the wall. Parts are painted in, with bold, chunky shading. And when he answered the door, he just stared for a moment, then pulled Ray into an immense hug. It was a bit awkward, considering Ray's finally taller than him, but... even so. Freaks the hell out of him. Not in a bad way, though, just in the sense that Gerard... takes some getting used to. Ray remembers how it used to be - he'd walk into math and just sort of shift into being someone else. Someone that knew how to talk to Gerard.

That, and the fucking hair. Ray absolutely cannot get over it. That's the reason he keeps taking these brief opportunities to stare - Gerard still does that damn thing where he pushes his hair back, but now there's actually something there to push at. And it's darker brown than he remembers it. And oh, Christ, why is he noticing Gerard's hair? Ray shakes his head and leaves the room before he can notice.

His bedroom is almost exactly what Ray expected. Painted black, with only one small window, and posters coating the walls. Mostly sketches, pages photocopied out of comics, but the occasional band poster. Ray nearly bursts out laughing when he sees a replica of his old Smiths posters - God, does that take him back. Morrissey looks as sarcastic and pretty as ever. Under Morrissey is a stack of canvases, so Ray pulls them out, starts flipping through them.

When Gerard walks in, Ray's going through them for the third time. "Oh, god," Gerard says. "I didn't think you'd... you know, look at them."

Ray shrugs. "What was I supposed to do, look through your dresser?"

"That'd be better!" Gerard collapses onto the bed, palm to his forehead. "Anyway, your thing... Where the hell did you learn to do that?"

"School," Ray says dryly. He holds up one of the paintings - a woman lying in a hospital bed. There's a skeleton standing next to her, fingertip to her cheek. "This one... I can't get over it. Black and white, for this kind of scene, it's perfect. Totally unexpected."

"Yeah? You really like it?"

Ray glances up. Gerard is sitting with his legs crossed, tugging at a lock of his hair slightly. It looks like it needs to be washed - not quite dirty, just a little less than clean. In the thin light from the window, the circles under his eyes grow. Ray nods quickly. "Yeah. I like your style, it's... it's different. You don't see this a lot."

"Different..." Gerard laughs softly, pulls his knees up to his chest.

"No, shit! Not like... not like bad. Like, unique."

"Yeah? Um. Okay." Ray goes back to looking through the pictures again, and he gets so absorbed that when Gerard speaks again, he jumps. "I don't think your stuff is unique."

There's the Gerard I remember. Ray almost nods with the assurance of it - that awkward kid who always said shit like this. The guy who called Ray a fag to his face, like it was the best compliment he could give; the guy who once told Ray quite cheerfully that he was going to hell and nobody could save him. And he'd punctuated it with a bright peal of laughter.

"But," Gerard continues, "I think you... um. You do it better than anyone else. Like, you know what my stuff looks like - " He gestures helplessly, and Ray nods, holding his breath. "That video. It makes me want to use real colors, not this bright overdone stuff."

"Oversaturated," Ray says, without even thinking about it.

"Exactly. The colors in yours. Fuckin' genius, just gorgeous, the trees and the grass - it's real. You see stuff the way it is."

And Ray remembers, when Gerard called him a fag, it made him smile for the rest of the day. Even if no one else saw it... he was smiling. And when Gerard said he was going to hell, Ray said in that same tone, "I'll be there with you, man."

He looks up from the floor, clutching the canvases to his chest, and he says, "I think we should hang out more." Gerard nods, and Ray feels something really bright and strong wash through his chest - the same feeling as when he got off the phone this morning. Even if he never sees Gerard dance again, this will be something good. Just because of who they are. That's all. And Ray does know who he is, and who Gerard is, and who they are together, and all of it - Jesus. It's all laid out so sharply.

"Definitely," Gerard says. "You know it."

-----

"And whatever you say, that's all just going to be fake - so I might as well shoot you in the head now." Jenny laughs and takes another drag off the joint she's holding between her first two fingers. "If the past two years are something I can throw away... isn't an entire life worth throwing away, too? What about a planet? Shall I build you a nuclear bomb?"

"You'd build a bomb for me? Maybe it is love, then." Alex leans over. He moves to take the joint from her, but ends up just sitting with his fingers pressed close to hers - both of them holding it. He looks at her, and she smiles, ducking her head. Her hair falls into her eyes.

"Okay, that's good," Ray says, standing up. Jenny puts out the joint in a nearby ashtray and Alex straightens his shirt. Sarah pauses the CD she has going in the background - something instrumental, but not classical. Just quiet and rippling and very, very infinite. That's the word for it. Infinite. The kind of music that makes Ray dizzy with his own largeness and age; the sort of thing he can't stand musically, but respects emotionally.

"You know," Jenny says to Sarah, "I'm not so sure about this next scene, with the books. I think it's a little... you know. Drawn out." Sarah makes her way to the bed where the two are lying, and begins discussing it in hushed tones with the two. Ray fiddles with his camera - adjusting it slightly, moving the tripod a bit to the left. Sarah gets very intense when she's working and honestly, he doesn't want to mess with that.

Michelle is sitting next to him. She mumbles in his ear, "You know, this script? So trite. Mister Toro, you are way better than this."

"I like it," he says softly. "Ssh."

"Hey, Raymond," Sarah yells. "We're changing the next scene, kay? Cut it in half, take out the whole notes section. That cool? You gotta change anything?"

Ray studies them. Taped onto the window is a large translucent filter, shading all the light in the room with a thin layer of red-orange. There's smoke billowing around from the joint; Jenny's auburn hair has turned the color of an autumn leaf. It'd be pretty, if he were given to admiring that sort of thing. Instead, he just inspects her. She's wearing a blue dress; Alex has jeans on. "Okay," he says. "You got anything in blue?"

"Sweetheart," Michelle says, "she's got twenty blues." Sarah nods and points to a stack of the same sheets in the corner.

Ray leans back and looks at the room. The bed is right under the window, with light streaming down. Before he could see dust filtering in and hanging in the air in shimmering waves; he wanted to reach up and clear it away, stand in the patch of cleanness. Jenny and Alex have been acting at each other on and off for the past two hours. Alex has an immense crush on Sarah and keeps overacting the love scenes; Jenny is fixated on her tights because they keep slipping down. They're both freshmen. Ray thinks they are the cutest things he's ever seen.

"Okay," he says to Sarah. "Give me something... warm. A little dark, on the purple side." She nods and bounces up to find something.

While she's putting it up, Michelle says, "What's with this? You usually don't get so... obvious about it." She gestures to the light filters. "Hell, half the things you do are in that goddamn black and white. It's so... overused."

He gives her a crooked smile, not taking his eyes from the filter. "I wanted to try something different. See, no black and white. Happy?"

"But why? Good Lord, you could make the earth stop turning, you're so damn stubborn." She fans herself with one hand, yawning.

"I dunno. Oversaturated colors... I wanted to try it out, and all. A guy can do that."

"Yeah, yeah." She pauses. "Sarah, honey, that's crooked, there's light getting through on one side. Fix it, it'll be off otherwise." Sarah flips her off, but she obliges and retapes one side of it.

Right before they start filming the next scene, Ray says, "So I called that guy." Michelle's mouth drops open, but Ray says loudly, "Okay, action," and she just glares at him as he starts zooming in on Jenny. As soon as it's over, though, Michelle nearly tackles him, rattling off questions about who he is and what he's like, etcetera, etcetera.

"He's no one," Ray says, grinning. "A nice guy. You might like him." And, ignoring her protests, he gets up to take the light filter down.

While he's standing on the bed, looking out the window, he can see the parking lots spread out below - all of it layered over with that warm, elegant blue. It's a nice color. He's glad he could use it; the last shot is probably his favorite. He's a little sad to have to keep filming now that it's over. Something about it... this color, that was so heavy on top of Jenny's dress, and the way she seemed impossibly fragile. Her hair is the same length as Gerard's. He can't stop thinking about the man. It's disgusting.

Everything reminds Ray of him lately, it seems. The mug he gets his coffee in, and the understated CD Sarah put on. The sound of an unexpected low note in the middle of a song. The blue falling over his hands and arms. The scene he just filmed, with Jenny reading at her bed. It's really a good scene - she's just bent over this book, glaring at it with all her might, biting her lip. Her fingers are digging into the leather binding.

In the scene, Ray zooms in on the top of the page and it says, "The Making of the Atom Bomb." And even the fucking typeface reminds him of Gerard. The stains the ink leaves on his hands, just from turning the page.

End scene, and cut to the next one. The happier one.

-----

When Ray walks into the shop, Gerard doesn't even look up from his book before saying, "There are doughnuts in back. Might wanna get one before Matt stops by."

Ray is practically an employee, so he just shrugs and strolls past the skinny kids and into the back room. Sure enough, Gerard's brought a box of glazed doughnuts - the ones Ray hates. He bursts out laughing at the sight, then yells, "Gerard, don't be an asshole."

"Aw, damn - mistake. I swear."

"You keep on saying that, man." Ray emerges and takes a seat next to him at the register. He props his feet up next to Gerard's - plain black Converses for Ray, thick combat boots for Gerard. Ray nudges Gerard's feet lightly with his own. "Matt's coming by, you said?"

"Yeah, for a bit. He's got a double shift at work, so... we've pretty much got the place to ourselves." Gerard smirks, then stretches, his jacket shifting open a little. Ray makes a mental note of the fact that, yet again, he has borrowed one of Mikey's shirts. It's not like Gerard is large. He's just... well, next to Mikey, anyone can look like a beached whale. Still, on the rare occasions when Mikey buys shirts that aren't skin-tight, they usually end up on Gerard within a week.

"Double shift, huh." Ray leans back in his chair, laughing. "What's that code for? Girlfriend, or hooker?"

Gerard widens his eyes, bringing his lips together in a pout. "Matt? Ditch us for sex? Surely you jest, good sir!" There's a beat where Gerard just stares, looking horrendously depressed, and then they both fall forward laughing. Gerard offers his hand up, and Ray high-fives him. "I mean, damn," Gerard says. "Boy gets more action than I do, and I'm - "

He breaks off the sentence at the sight of a woman standing before the register, clutching the hand of some snot-nosed little kid. She's holding a stack of comic books and wearing that suburban-mom face, that look of, please just help me out so I can get off my feet. Not a mean look, just a polite one. Gerard snaps his feet off the counter, sits up, asks if that's all she needs today. Ray makes himself suitably invisible.

As Gerard is ringing up the woman's purchases, Ray takes the book he's still clutching, flips through it briefly. It's a leather-bound copy of Dracula. Gerard has taken to calling it his most prized possession, and though Ray used to tease him about it, it's obviously true. The binding has grown shiny with oil from his fingers; the pages are thin enough to see through, almost. In areas, the text is almost worn away. Gerard carries it in the front pocket of his jacket, over his heart - mostly for convenience, so he can read it at a moment's notice. But he told Ray once, "Also, so if I ever get shot, I can say this book saved my life."

"Like you're gonna get shot," Ray had said, shaking his head.

"We live in Jersey, man, everyone gets shot."

Except then Gerard had called him in the middle of the night, drunk with his hand shaking against the phone - Ray could hear the click-click of his fingernails. "Motherfuckers," he'd said, "those motherfuckers, didn't give me a chance." Ray thought he was hearing a ghost. And Gerard just spooled off the story of how that afternoon some kids came in and pushed him onto the floor.

"And asshole me," he'd said, "I thought it was because someone found out."

Ray was used to Gerard by then, but every now and then he'd say something that made Ray's heart curl in on itself, collapse into a ball. Gerard and his complete paranoia, the way he hasn't said the word gay since their telephone conversation three years ago. Reckless, he'd called that incident. Careless. Idiotic like the way he acted out in high school, desperate to be noticed. Not realizing how much it hurts to be noticed. Not everyone's an art student, not everyone'll hug you and say they love you anyway. Anyway - like it's even a big deal. Gerard doesn't think it's a big deal, and Ray certainly doesn't, considering he's had two serious boyfriends. But the rest of the world thinks so. So Gerard thought that was why he ended up with a gun in his face.

"They were gonna shoot me," he'd said, and he didn't cry but Ray knew he wanted to. "Back of the head. That's where. Like a fucking execution, like I deserve to die because I work in a shitty comic book store."

Since then, Ray has tried not to make fun of the book. He lets Gerard clutch it to himself when he needs to. The corners are bent inwards; it's touching, if Ray lets it be. He runs his fingers over the spine. Gerard says goodbye to the woman and turns back to Ray, smiling. He pushes back his hair with one hand. "So."

"So." He watches Gerard fiddle with a strand of hair, squinting at it. "You do that way too often."

"Yeah, well - " He shrugs helplessly. "Habits, man, can't change 'em. Just... you know how it is."

"You're a grown man!" Ray smacks his hand. "Seriously, just... here, have this. Better than you touching your damn hair all the time." He gives Gerard the book, laughing. Gerard pretends to pout, but he slides the book back into his pocket, looking infinitely more relaxed as soon as it's in. He props his feet up again, ankles crossed.

"Anyway," Gerard says, "my shift ends about five. You wanna get pizza then, or something?"

"Yeah, I'm up for it. We can catch a movie, maybe? Pretty much everyone else is busy tonight, and... you know." Ray thinks it is a little pathetic how hard he still tries to act cool around Gerard - like the man can never know how much Ray likes him. It's stupid. It really is. But Jesus, the way Gerard freezes up every time Ray shows any affection... it's a little scary. Ray hugged him once, like that first day they'd talked in college, and Gerard just stood there. Eventually Ray had to let go. He wanted to shoot himself in the face right there, just not have to deal with the aftermath.

So Ray settles for acting casual, and letting Gerard be very content around him.

"Sounds good," Gerard says. "What's out?"

"Well... Jurassic Park, the third one, that should be worth mocking at least."

"Hell yes, I am up for that!" Gerard snorts. "Oh no, dinosaurs, whatever will we do?"

"You like Dawn of the Dead, you have no right to talk." Ray spins in his chair, laughing. Some kids look up from flipping through copies of Fangoria and glare at Ray; Gerard has a similarly insulted expression on his face.

"Dawn of the Dead is an excellent movie. Say another word, and you get slapped, I swear it."

Ray lifts his hands in the air, still chuckling. "I say nothing! Jesus, Gerard, you are the least threatening person ever." This is certainly true - Gerard's gotten paler, especially since he spent his summer in the back of the store, away from the windows. And while he's definitely not big or flabby or anything, he's just... Gerard. He has less muscle tone than Mikey, and he looks kind of like a bunny when he smiles, and even if he tends to call people fags, he always laughs while he does it. Ray sighs.

At that moment, Matt bangs the door open and yells from the front, "What's new, guys?" A few non-regulars kind of wince at the sight; the kids who know the store wave, and Matt waves back, grinning. The kids there like him. He's cool enough to not be working there at twenty-four, unlike Gerard; on the other hand, he's just dorky enough to still hang around. "What're y'all talking about?"

"How incredibly tough and masculine I am," Gerard says. "Doughnuts in back."

"Oh, sweet, we're onto his fighting skills now? Gee, man, you are the shittiest fighter ever." He makes a beeline for the back room, and he says a few things that are muffled by the food in his mouth. Gerard and Ray exchange glances and snickers. When Matt emerges, he's holding two more doughnuts in one hand, and he says, "Even I could take you. Fuckin' Ray could take you."

At the same time, Gerard and Ray say, "No, not fair - "

"Definitely," Gerard says, nodding. "He works out. He has touched a set of weights in his life."

"You have too!" Ray nods. "High school gym class, remember? I'm pretty sure you touched them."

"Once," Matt says, eating half a doughnut in one bite. He mumbles around it, "Fuckin' great."

Ray continues, "Anyway, I don't... work out. You know. I just kinda end up lifting shit for my mom, and stuff, and it... you know. It happens." He tries not to look at the messy way Matt chews, and instead finds himself staring at a rack of Wonder Woman comics. No pun intended, or anything. Ray thinks it's a little disgusting how big her breasts are; he likes girls that look real. Like they could step off the page and breathe and you could feel it on your skin, warm and smelling like mint or coffee.

"Mikey does most of that stuff," Gerard says thoughtfully. "Isn't that weird? Mikey carrying stuff. His arms, you know, they're big. I didn't even know he had arms. Kid's like a fucking toothpick."

"This is true." Matt finishes off his last doughnut, then nods and says, "I gotta hit the road, they got me working late today." Ray bites his lip and tries to maintain a straight face. Gerard, in his typical fashion, snorts and throws a penny at Matt's head. Matt ducks it and some kid scoops it up, tosses it back. "Have fun, freaks. See y'all Monday."

They both wave goodbye, Ray still struggling to maintain his composure. As soon as he's out the door, a line of kids forms with their comics in hand; Gerard sets to the task of evaluating the purchases and offering suggestions. One of the boys is buying a revised third-edition Dungeons and Dragons rulebook; Gerard, who is a purist at heart, says, "Put that back. I refuse to take your money for it - no, no, I mean it. Don't even look at it." A few kids snicker, and he says with a grin, "That goes for the rest of you bastards too!"

Within a few minutes, most of the kids are wandering out, though they take a few minutes to glance around one last time. Gerard says loudly, while most of them are still in earshot, "I fuckin' love this store. These kids, they know to shut the hell up when I'm having a conversation." Ray smiles. It's half-true - they stay away as much from a fear of Matt as they do out of respect, but even so. They like Gerard. They know his name; the older ones ask how he's doing. They ask for advice, sometimes. How to talk to a girl - oh, does that one make Gerard laugh. How to pull off the leather jacket without looking like an asshole.

When the rest are gone, Gerard takes out his copy of Dracula again, starts reading. "I've got a chapter to finish up," he says. "Put on some music or shit." Ray obliges. He's in a good mood, so he puts on the Misfits, just to make Gerard happy. Sometimes he hopes he'll see Gerard dance again, so he tries to always play happy music around him - nothing too tuneless.

When he finishes the chapter, Gerard slides it back into his pocket, then starts tapping his feet against the counter. One girl with short, choppy hair and glasses yells, "Dance, man! Do it!" The other kids laugh and start clapping. Gerard waves them off with his hand, but he's laughing, smiling so hard his eyes crinkle up.

"You really love this place, don't you?"

"Course I do, man." Gerard spins around to face him. He's still smiling. "I almost took a fuckin' bullet for it, didn't I?"

-----

"You know," Ray says, "there are probably better places you could spend your nights."

Mikey shrugs and takes a beer out of the fridge, then makes his way to the couch where Ray is sprawled out. "It's a Sunday. I get Sundays off from partying."

"For fuck's sake, the semester starts in, what... two weeks? Less." Ray flips on the TV, but leaves it on mute, just to have something to do with his eyes. "Anyway, you guys have parties on Tuesdays. That's... that's definitely worse than Sunday."

"That was only once! For Gabe's birthday." Mikey wipes at his mouth self-consciously. He's always like that when he drinks - incredibly picky about everything, making sure he doesn't smell alcoholic or look stupid. At least, he's like that until he hits his sixth or seventh, and then he just goes to hell. Ray loves it - Mikey's sloppy about everything else, leaving his hair in a fluffy mess and wearing his shirts inside-out, but he is completely anal when he gets drunk. It's so bizarre. Perfectly Mikey.

Ray says, "Well, it was a shitty birthday party. Isn't that when he got the bad acid?"

"Yeah, and he tried to pull the hair out of his arms - wait. No." Mikey scrunches up his nose. "That was for Geoff's birthday. Because his cousins were around, the twins, you remember the twins. And the chick had that Bowie shirt, so I tried to set her up with Gerard, but he was depressed so he didn't want to - Ray? Why was he depressed?"
Ray blinks, taking this all in. He says, "Because... of the music. It was terrible music."

"That's right! It was really bad, I was depressed too, it was Geoff's birthday." He slips into a mournful look. "They were playing mash-ups! Someone put Destiny's Child vocals over a Cure track, oh, god. Ray, that hurt. On the inside. It was awful." He punctuates this with another sip of beer, another delicate swipe at his mouth. Ray laughs.

Actually, he remembers that party quite well - Mikey was refraining from his usual cheerfully snobby commentary on the music, and Gerard was wearing only minimal amounts of black. He spent most of the party with other people - mostly Jack and Alex and sometimes Casey. But when he saw Gerard, they'd wave and talk for a little bit. He ran into Gerard while he was trying to serenade Geoff, but he kept missing the chords or screwing up the words. He told Ray, "I can't do it at the same time, I suck," so Ray claimed the guitar. Gerard turned "Happy Birthday" into something he could show off to, something with high croons, making Geoff fall out of his chair laughing. Afterwards, Gerard told Ray, "I didn't know you could play - fuck, man, you're good."

"It was 'Happy Birthday'," Ray said, laughing.

"Even so. Man, you know what you're doing." Ray just blushed at that, shoved him, pretended he didn't really like hearing it.

That night, Gerard even almost danced - Ray's heart stopped a little at that - but then he declared himself "not drunk enough, never drunk enough." Really, just being at one of those parties was enough of a shock for him. Mikey's friends are fundamentally different from Ray's and that's all there is to it.

For one thing, they drink a lot more. Ray glances at the beer Mikey has appropriated from his fridge - he rarely sees Mikey completely sober these days, but apparently Gerard doesn't either, and he's the man's damn brother. He says, "You know, Mikes, there are kids who just.. .don't drink. You do know that."

"They're called straight-edge, yeah."

"I mean, they just don't... get around to it." Ray grins.

Mikey glances at the ceiling, mulling it over. He pats his fingertips at his mouth absently - Ray rolls his eyes at this. Mikey says, "I know of this. In theory. There are... really kids like that? I mean I know it's got to be true, but... Really, Ray."

"Really, really." He shakes his head.

"You know who doesn't drink that much? Gerard. It's weird."

Ray glances over Mikey. Really, Mikey should have the hugest beer belly ever, but he manages to keep it off via a strict regime of mosh-dancing and the occasional line of cocaine. Compared to Gerard, who has smooth round edges, he looks like the good kid. The one who doesn't drink or stay out nights partying. He doesn't have the thick, crayon-like circles drawn under his eyes the way Gerard does.

"That is weird," he says. "Maybe you got all his drinking genes?" Mikey laughs, nods, and drinks the remaining half of his beer in two gulps. He pats at his mouth. Ray smiles and watches him - Mikey has all the graceful movements, too. Not so much in public, but when he's around people he really trusts, he gets less careful. More unwound. He and Ray like each other, have liked each other since that one meeting in high school; they fit neatly. Ray thinks maybe he just has a talent for being around the Ways. Even their mother likes him well enough.

As Mikey's getting up for another drink, he says, "You wanna come to a party Wednesday? Geoff's promoting this new band, they're pretty sweet. They're called... uh... shit, give me a minute. I think it's got 'blood' in the name, or maybe 'bleed', unless that was the other band... Maybe 'bled'?"

Ray just laughs. "Sure, sounds good. Mind if I bring someone, maybe?"

"As long as it's no one I know." Mikey rolls his eyes. "I keep expecting you to show up with Casey, like... as your date. That'd be awkward, man! Too awkward!"

"Yeah?"

"I fucked her!" Mikey's eyes grow wide behind his glasses. "It'd be like incest, or something. Just... ew, no, you can't do that. Totally wrong." Ray holds back a snort of laughter and just nods solemnly.

He kind of wishes Gerard were more open about things - he'd like to crack a joke, something like, "In that case, I'll bring your brother." Not a big deal. But if it got back to Gerard, he'd freak out and throw things and be generally horribly upset. He just doesn't get it. Gerard spat it out at Ray so easily on the phone, and he is perfectly fine with Ray being out. But even Gerard's own brother has no clue, and it just... doesn't click for Ray.

He tried asking once - why Gerard didn't just say it. "It's your brother," he'd said, aggravated. "He's used to this. He says it's... you know, trendy. He wouldn't care."

Gerard just shrugged and picked at the hem of his black jeans. His head was bowed, hair falling over his eyes, so his face was hidden. "It's different, telling you. You're not family." He'd looked up, pushed at his hair. His eyelashes made tiny shadows over his face. "If Mikey gets upset... it doesn't go away. He's my brother forever. I could've made you go away."

Ray had tried to figure out which hurt was more irrational - that over the fact that he wouldn't just fucking admit it, or that over Gerard's admission that he could've cut Ray out completely. Both illogical, of course, especially considering they had only been talking for fifteen minutes when Gerard blurted it out. Even so - to Ray, it felt like a short, blunt sword in his chest, knowing Gerard could've abandoned him. Completely irrational.

He shakes his thoughts off, ignores the jokes he could've made. Could-have-beens. He looks at Mikey, and smiles, and he says, "Okay. In that case, I don't think I'm gonna bring anyone after all."

-----

Ray doesn't know what he's going to do.

More accurately, he knows what he's going to do. He's going to keep living life and just... keep doing things. Working and screwing around with his guitar and trying to convince Gerard to come out, hopelessly. Taking drinks out of Mikey's hand at parties. Making fun of Matt behind his back. He's... allowed to do that, right? He feels seventeen and dizzy with confusion again. Except this isn't him, it's everyone, everyone's like this - fuck.

The world fell down. That's how he wants to describe it, the entire world collapsed, but it is nothing so simple. Already everything feels like a buzzword. "Terrorists" or "evil" or "plane crash", whatever. Ray doesn't know how to think about it without turning himself into a cliche. A media whore, something that is using everyone else's sadness for his own. If he's honest, that's why he's confused. Nobody he knows died. He doesn't even go to New York that much, he isn't so familiar with the area. He's a Jersey kid at heart. Bellevile and Newark, that's what he knows. Not... big cities. Not places where things happen.

But there are shockwaves even out in Belleville, because Ray's mother called him crying and scared. And his older brother called him, "just to see how you're doing", but that was bullshit.

Ray has watched more of the news this week than he has in the past year. It scares him. Everything scares him, because everything scares everyone - some assholes are buying up wooden planks and canned food. Ray wants to laugh at the wooden planks. It's fucking Jersey, he thinks, just steal some off your neighbor's fence. Is he even allowed to laugh?

But even this is all a lie. He doesn't think about it as much as he should. Only when he's trying to sleep, and that's when everything comes in - when he worries about getting a real job, and he gets scared Mikey's going to OD one day, and he freaks out because he's still never been In Love. So he worries then. But most of the day is just life as usual, and that scares him. It's like he's a robot inside. That's not okay.

At least, this is how Ray is thinking about it until Gerard calls him.

It's a few days after, and Ray hasn't been by the store in a few days - he's been working overtime lately, trying to save up some extra money. Just in case. Not even because of the attacks; he started a couple weeks before. So he's been busy. He certainly hasn't been expecting Gerard to call him in tears.

"I am so fucked," is the first thing he says, before Ray even says hello.

"What? Jesus - Gerard. Is that you?"

"I don't know, I don't know what the hell I'm doing - my life is pointless." His words get slurred together faintly. There's a crackle of background noise, but nothing recognizeable. "I work at a fuckin' comic book store and I'm an ugly fag and I can't draw for shit. I haven't picked up a fuckin' pencil - "

"Sssh," Ray says, trying to breathe slowly. He doesn't know what's going on either, but it makes his stomach do flips. His skin feels tighter. "Gerard, listen, just... listen. It'll be okay. You're not ugly."

"That doesn't even fuckin' matter!" His voice is explosive. "People are dead, Ray, they died, they died, you gotta listen to me. I am wasting my goddamn life. What do I do that matters?"
Ray is silent. He asks himself the same thing every night while he tries to sleep, except he has even less of an answer than Gerard. What's he going to say - you make people happy? What bullshit. Ray doesn't count as "people", and he guesses the kids who come by the store don't count either.

Gerard continues, sobbing as he speaks, making the words run together like mascara. "I'm not gonna save anyone, I'm not gonna be fuckin' important. You tell me who gives a shit if I'm here or not."

"There's - "

"And if you say you, I'll drive over there and punch you in the goddamn face, see if I don't." He laughs derisively.

Ray sighs. "Matt cares. Mikey cares. Your mom and Geoff and Alex and Gabe."

"But only 'cause I'm here. If I weren't - if it were, y'know, wonderful life, I never existed - no big deal. Everyone's okay." There's a pause, and then very quickly, Gerard sniffles. It's short and fast but Ray recognizes it as a distinct sound, and his heart cracks. He wants to be able to say, I wouldn't be okay, but somehow he feels... that's not right. They're not close enough, or something. They like each other but they aren't... Ray doesn't know. They're not there.

Instead, he says, "They wouldn't be. Look, Gerard... Where are you?"
"Some kid's. Party." He sighs deeply. "I took the phone in the closet. I... can't really breathe in here." Ray wants to be there, rubbing his back, pretending not to notice the tears. That sudden sharp burst of longing is enough to make him nearly drop the phone, and he just listens to Gerard, trying to suppress the emotion. "Mikey's here and Geoff is but they don't get it, Geoff just keeps fucking writing. And Matt's here but he's drunk."

Ray almost says, do you want me there? but he stops at the last minute. Instead, he says, "It'll be okay."

"Everyone's... dead. Fuck, Ray, you don't get it - people died. I just... fuck." He sobs again. It stands out perfectly against the background rustle - just this moment, one loud, open-ended sob. "I gotta go. I can't breathe. I gotta go."

"Okay," Ray says, but Gerard's already hanging up. He stares at the phone for a long time. He doesn't know anyone who died, and neither does Gerard, but suddenly everything is personal and breaking down and already broken down. He can't sleep that night, and he doesn't even want to think. But he does it anyway.

But two days later, Matt is on the phone at two AM. He sounds less drunk than early-morning Matt usually does, so Ray lets him stay on the line; he's slurring a bit, but he sounds intelligent enough. "Ray, listen, listen," he says. "We got a real vital question for you. Life or death, man." In the background, Gerard curses at him.

"Yeah?" Ray blinks. He's been sleeping, but only on and off, slipping in between dreams and wondering about the paint chipping off his ceiling. Matt is a welcome distraction.

"Gerard here," he drawls, "wants to confess his undying love for you - " There's a few bizarre noises, then Gerard yells, "Don't trust this motherfucker!" Both of them are laughing. Matt regains the phone and says, smoothly, "You are going to be famous."

"Someday!" Gerard chips in.

Ray just waits out the conversation, as he usually does when Matt's on the phone. He can't remember the last time they just talked, the two of them, without someone interrupting - Matt seems to attract that sort of thing. That, and headlocks. Ray is surprised his neck isn't broken already from all the times he's been grabbed in a stranglehold or something.

Matt says, "So we're starting a band, and Gerard can't play for shit - "

"Can so - "

" - so we want you to do it, you're probably better than both of us combined." There's another fit of laughter from the other end, and a few thumping noises. Ray waits it out again, thinking it over. It takes him about five seconds.

As soon as Matt's back, he says, "Fuck yes."

Matt lets out a whoop, then yells, "We got him, Gerard! We're gonna have actual melodies!" There's some laughter, and Matt informs him, "I play drums. We really need you, man. You don't even fucking know." Ray collapses back onto his bed. He can hear Gerard yelling for Matt to give him the phone, and more thumping noises. He just laughs. They're insane, completely out there. He loves them. Really does.

When Gerard gets on the phone, he's panting a little. "Sorry."

"It's cool. You're serious about this, man? A band?" He looks up at the ceiling. He really needs new paint up there.

"Yeah, one hundred percent. I wrote some stuff... I dunno, Matt likes it. We need a melody. I dunno. It'll be good." Gerard's voice is shaking a little, and Ray can hear those clicking noises of his nails against the phone. That, more than anything, reassures him this isn't a dream. This is okay.

"I wanna hear it," he says. "If it's as good as your art, I'll like it. Promise." He tries to keep his voice steady.

"Okay, fuck. That's good. That's real good." Gerard sounds happier - hell, he just sounds happy. "I've been working on this one - you'll like it, there's colors in it and shit - lots of images. Lots of pictures and shit. You'll like it. Metaphors, and all that, I promise." And he goes off about it, repeating over and over, "it's really good, at least I hope so." And Ray just nods along, making vague noises of agreement. He doesn't say much else. He likes it, though. Gerard sounds... like himself again.

He even says at one point, "I think we're gonna do something good. I think this is... this is something."

Ray nods. "I like it. I really do. Tell you what... it's pretty late, let's talk in the morning, okay?"

"Yeah, I can show you this stuff - the lyrics, I mean." In the background, Matt is yelling, "He gets the picture!"

"I'll swing by the store in the morning. We'll talk then." Ray smiles and closes his eyes. Gerard's voice is pitched higher, smoother. He sounds confident. He has this aura, so strong it even comes through the phone lines - I am doing what I want to do. Something so strong, it washes through Ray's heart and saturates him with it.

"All right, Ray. We'll talk then. Sleep well, and all, motherfucker." The way he says it, it almost sounds like a blessing. Ray's still smiling.

"Night, fag."

-----

to chapter 6.