Riffs in Time

Chapter Ten

I tensed. Quietly, I slid out of my bed and opened my door a little, peeking down the hallway.

Mikey stood outside Gerard's hotel room, arms crossed tight. Gerard leaned against the doorframe, looking guilty as hell. And inside the room, I saw her. Lindsey.

My stomach twisted. A dull, sinking feeling settled in my chest, one I had no right to feel. Gerard wasn't trying to hurt me. No one knew—not even Gerard—that I had feelings for him. Only Frank had clocked it, and even then, I'd brushed it off like it was nothing. Because it was nothing. It had to be. Lindsey was going to be his wife in the future, and I was just a glitch in the timeline. But knowing that didn't stop it from stinging.

Mikey made his way down the hall. Gerard shut the door and followed Mikey.

Mikey shook his head. "I thought you said you and Lindsey weren't together. Eliza's losing her mind over you and you don't even care."

Gerard let out a long breath. "We're not together."

"Bullshit."

"We're not," Gerard insisted. "We're just... fucking. And I've been trying to end it, okay? But I feel guilty—"

"Guilty?" Mikey cut in. "Gerard, what about Eliza?"

Silence.

And then Mikey laughed. But it wasn't a happy sound. "You don't even know, do you? You don't even think about what you put people through." He made his swift exit.

Gerard didn't argue. He just stood there, looking tired, looking guilty—like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. I didn't stick around to watch the fallout. Whatever came next, it wasn't my place.

So, I slipped out the doorway and made my way to Mikey's room. The hallway felt colder than before, the distant hum of the hotel quiet in a way that made everything feel heavier. I hesitated for a second outside Mikey's door, then knocked.

He opened it without a word, then walked back inside and collapsed onto his bed, arms folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

I hesitated in the doorway before stepping inside, closing the door behind me. The room was dim, just a sliver of streetlight cutting through the curtains. I sat beside him, nudging his arm with my elbow. "Hey."

He exhaled sharply but didn't look at me.

"I know it sucks," I said quietly. "Watching someone you care about make a mess and knowing there's nothing you can do to stop it."

Mikey blinked, finally turning his head toward me. "Yeah?"

I nodded, staring at the floor. "Yeah."

A silence settled between us, heavy and tired. Then, Mikey let out a dry laugh. "I just—I hate this. I hate getting dragged into his shit. I get it, okay? He's got his own problems, but he's not the only one. And Eliza—" He rubbed a hand over his face. "She's my friend. She doesn't deserve this. And I don't know how to help her. I can't help her." His voice wavered, and he shook his head. "And I don't think Gerard even cares that he's hurting people."

I swallowed hard, pushing down the twist in my chest. "It's not your job to fix it, Mikey. You don't have to clean up his messes."

He let out a dry chuckle, devoid of any real amusement. "Yeah? Try telling that to the rest of my life."

His voice was sharper now, frustration creeping into every word. "He was supposed to be my big brother, you know? The one who looked out for me. But instead, I'm the one stuck picking up the pieces when he screws up. I mean, Christ, how many times do I have to be the one cleaning up after him?" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being the one who cares more than he does."