Wrong is Relative

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I don't know them. No money is being made. Unfortunately, this never happened. Nightwish owns the song.

My first MCR fic. Please review!

Wrong is Relative

As you wish for Kingdom Come
The one to know all the answers.

I've always felt for him too strongly. Always imagined that the blood spilling from my wrists could spell out 'I love you' and he would see it and everything would be okay. Always.

But I always knew it would never happen. I also knew that the blood was just blood and it fell in no pattern. I always knew he would think just like everyone else. Always.

It's wrong. It's sick. It's twisted.

Times two.

But they don't know. How can love be wrong? If it's love . . . why is it so wrong to love someone? The world needs more love. But there's a type of love it needs and it's like mixing up medicine when you're trying to give a patient a flu vaccine and you accidentally give them arsenic.

That's what they think it is. It's arsenic.

I make pretty little designs on my arm as I think about this. A cross. An eye. I watch the blood fall in no pattern, smile at it.

The blood loves me. Even if no one else does.

I press down too hard and the blade cuts my fingertip. Slowly, I bring it to my mouth, sucking on the cut until it stops bleeding.

I'm cleaning off the other cuts when there's a banging on the door. "Just a minute."

I can't wait until I'm eighteen. Then I can cut myself anywhere in the house and no one will knock on the door and interrupt me.

"Gerard, Mom wants you." Mikey says.

"Shit." I turn on the faucet and watch the blood wash down the drain.

"Don't swear, Gee." he says. He doesn't like it when I swear. Fourteen and thinks he's so innocent. Like he doesn't cuss at school when he's with his friends.

I blink as I hear him walk away, trying to fight tears. I tug down the sleeve of my sweatshirt and turn off the faucet. I slip the razor blade in the little gap between the medicine chest and the wall.

I pull the door open and go into the kitchen. Mom's in a dress and she's putting in earrings. Date with Dad. I'm baby-sitting.

"I need you to watch Mikey while we go out." she says. "You didn't have anything planned, did you?"

"No, Mom."

"I don't need a baby-sitter." Mikey says from the doorway, arms crossed. "I'm fourteen."

I roll my eyes and trudge up the stairs as Mom explains to Mikey that he might have an attack and that I would have been here anyway. She babies him.

I shut my door to drown out the sound of their argument. I hear footsteps and then there's a knock on my door. "Gee?"

"Come in." I say acting exasperated. Like I was really doing anything important.

Mikey pushes the door open. "They're gone now."

"Okay."

He looks at me. "Are you mad at me?" he asks finally.

I look at him carefully, pretending it's perfectly normal. He's picking at his nails.

I shake my head. "No. I'm not mad at you."

"Who are you mad at then?"

"No one."

He glares at me and crosses his arms. No quietness in his voice now. "I'm not stupid, you know. You're mad at someone."

"Why would I tell you even if I was?"

His face falls. "You used to tell me everything."

I bite my lip for a moment, thinking. It used to be so innocent talking to Mikey. He's my little brother. I don't want him worrying like I do. "I'm mad at me." I say finally.

"Why?"

Before I can answer, he runs over to me and grabs my hand. "Gerard, you're bleeding." And before I can tell him to stop, he pulls up the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

He stares at me, his eyes huge behind his glasses. "That's why you were in the bathroom." I've never heard Mikey angry like this before. Not with me. He shoves me. "Stupid fucking--"

"Stop it." I'm not even talking that loud and he stops immediately. "You can't tell anyone about this."

"Are you going to kill yourself?" he asks, his voice blunt and pissed.

I shake my head. "No."

"Why do you do it?"

"I feel better when I do." Why's he looking at me like that? It's better than thinking about . . . the other thing.

"Maybe I should do it." he says. His voice is cold and I don't like it. Mikey's not supposed to sound like that. He's good. It's like I'm the darkness and he's the light.

"No."

"Well, you do it."

My hand closes around his wrist and I squeeze. "I have to do it. You don't. And you better not even fucking think about it."

"You don't have to do anything." he says in this 'duh' sort of tone. It hurts. He doesn't understand at all. He doesn't understand that I'm doing this to protect him.

"You wouldn't know."

"You're stupid." he snaps, pushing his glasses back him his nose with the hand I'm not holding. "You're a hypocrite."

I push him away from me. Hard. "Get out."

He stares at me for a minute, blinks and then leaves, slamming the door.

I lock it and pull the blinds, light a candle, and turn out the light.

I'm in love with my brother. I'm in love with Mikey. I'm a fag and an incestual fuck.

I hold my fingers over the flame of the candle. It burns so good, feels so good on my skin. If I can focus on the pain then I can forget.

I hear the doorknob jiggling. Mikey's trying to get in. "Gee? Open the damn door."

"Ca-an't." I say in a singsong voice.

"I'll tell Mom."

Son of a bitch. "Damn." I blow the candle out, turn on the light and pull open the door. "What do you want?"

"Tell me what hurts." His face and voice are softer than they were before. "Tell me what hurts. I can help, Gee. Let me help."

"I-I can't."

"Just tell me. I'll help you make it better. I promise. I'm your brother. That's what we do."

"Mikey--"

"Tell me."

"You! You're what fucking hurts!" I clamp my hands over my mouth, wincing when my blistered fingertips make contact.

He doesn't even flinch. He's too young to be this old. "What do I need to do?" he asks.

I sit down on the bed. "You need to stay away from me, Mikey."

"What?" Now he looks hurt. He drops to his knees in front of me and pulls my hands away from my mouth. "Why? What did I do?"

"Nothing." I say honestly. "I'm afraid I'll hurt you."

"You wouldn't hurt me, Gee." he says, a flicker of a smile on his face. "I know you wouldn't."

And suddenly, I can't take it anymore. I put my hands on either side of his face and kiss him.

I pull away almost immediately, feeling sick and completely pissed at myself.

"Brothers aren't supposed to kiss like that, are they?" he asks softly.

I shake my head. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." he says, touching my hand. "It's okay, Gee. I wanted to kiss you, too. I just didn't think you'd understand. I thought you'd think it was wrong."

"It is wrong."

He squeezes my hand. "If it's love, why's it wrong?"

"You're my brother."

"I don't think it's wrong." he says, eyes completely innocent. I wish I could see the world like Mikey does.

He pulls me down and kisses me again. "Does it feel wrong?"

"No." I whisper.

"Then it's not."

---

There will be a second part.