Work Text:
2025- On the tour bus at the Long Live The Black Parade Tour
The Long Live The Black Parade tour in 2025 was supposed to be a victory lap— a sweeter, louder echo of the past and what was to come for the future of MCR. Gerard Way, now with silver strands interlaced with his black hair, was grinning in a sequinned blazer. He had just cracked a joke into the mic about a midlife crisis and how his back was really not the same anymore when the stage lights flickered, signalling the end of the concert.
“Thank you so much for coming, everyone! We hope to see you all again soon!”
This was their 5th show on the road, almost half way through the tour and he was beginning to feel nostalgic.
Touring when they were younger was a wild adventure to be experienced. It was smelly, sweaty, and party-filled. Gerard was black-out drunk most of the time or hunched over new lyrics the other times. But now when they return to the tour bus all that awaits them is the sight of coffee on the counter, a couple of Ray’s beers scattered around, and some yarn left over from Frank’s new obsession with knitting. He can honestly say he loves this version of them so much more— it was also far better for his olfactory system.
Gerard goes over to the mirrors to remove his stage makeup. He smirks at Ray’s reflection behind him once he realizes the latter’s stare. His husband leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, wearing that look —the one that still made Gerard’s pulse skip a beat after 10 years of marriage.
“You made all the dads in the crowd cry in their Paramore shirts tonight, you know? Can’t keep talking about how old we’re getting, it’s starting to really hurt” Ray teased, moving closer to tuck a strand of Gerard’s hair behind his ear.
“And the moms, and the enbies. Equality, Toro.”
“You tried to crowd-surf tonight. At 45. Are you trying to make our insurance agent quit?
Gerard smirked, spinning around. “You’re just mad I stole your solo thunder with my magnifying speeches.”
“You sobbed during Cancer. Again.”
“Artistic integrity,” Gerard sniffed. He turned, hooking a finger into Ray’s belt loop to pull him closer. “C’mon. Walk me to my bunk like the good husband you–”
Mikey called out behind them for a missing charger. Gerard couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he was momentarily cockblocked by his brother. But before Gerard could continue his honey-pot mission, the world suddenly dissolved into static. A high-pitched whine split the air.
Then—silence.
2002 - Gerard’s Basement, New Jersey
Gerard squinted at the crumpled lyrics in his hand. Demolition Lovers. Too melodramatic? Too not-good-enough ? He threw the paper aside and decided to forget about it for the moment. Grabbing his sketchbook from underneath the table, he opened to a new page and sat with a pencil fidgeting between his fingers.
To be fair, the songs they have already for the album were solid enough. There was no reason for him to keep writing more lyrics. He didn’t even know why he wanted to, it wasn’t like he was certain that the band would go further than this single album. He thought about the concept of the Demolition Lovers when Ray’s voice drifted in from the kitchen, soothing Frank’s latest meltdown about the drums going off the metronome, Gerard’s pencil hovered, sketching absently on the page—soft lips, sharp jawlines, wild curls. Always Ray .
“Gee, I need you to come here and tell him to shut the fuck up.” Ray walked into the room followed by a disgruntled Mikey who was covering his ears.
Frank proceeded to enter after and continued to complain: “Man, look I love Otter and all but he keeps going off the tracks and we just keep going faster each performance. I need him to use a fucking metronome.”
Mikey looks over to his brother and opens his mouth to say something. However, before he can say what he wanted, a strangled sound of surprise leaves him instead. Because sitting on that couch was no-longer his brother yet it wasn’t not him either.
2025
Ray blinked.
Where Gerard had stood seconds ago, there was now a kid . Messy, greasy black hair, a little chubby in a Thursday band tee, eyes wide and just as shocked as Ray was.
“Uh,” said 2003 Gerard, trembling like a cornered animal. “Where the fuck am I?”
Mikey’s espresso cup clattered to the floor.
2003
2025 Gerard staggered forward on the couch, grabbing the nearest person to steady himself. The smell hit him first—the stale smoke of cheap cigarettes, mild mildew, and Ray’s cheap drugstore cologne he’d wear back when the band first started. Home .
Gerard looked up at who he was gripping and his eyes widened with surprise. He had locked eyes with a ripe, twenty-something Ray Toro, exactly how he remembered his husband around the time the band had recorded Bullets.
Ray, all nervous limbs and unkempt hair, looked down, made shocked eye-contact with a middle-aged man that had spawned in place of his best friend. Said middle-aged man who looked remarkably like said best friend was also now holding onto him for support from being spawned in from thin air.
Frank let out a shocked, “What the actual fuck .” Ray has never agreed more.
2025
This baby-faced Gerard Way that looked far too pretty despite his clearly-unwashed hair and teenage angst stared in shock at the polished interior of the tour bus. The air smelled like lavender hand soap and responsibility . His nose felt like it’d been attacked by a bath and body works as it’d been so long since he’d left his basement for a breath of fresh air rather than a cigarette.
Future Mikey picked up his dropped coffee cup, now unfazed. Young or old, that was most definitely his older brother, alright. He turned around and exited the bus to look for Frank. He would definitely make a scene if he found out Mikey and Ray just witnessed time travel without him.
Gerard noticed a person exit the bus but couldn’t care less because of this guy towering over him. There is no way this is who he thinks it is.
“This isn’t funny,” Gerard pushed Future Ray off of him. “Where’s Ray and what did you do to him?” Gerard demanded but his voice fell short with a voice crack. His face instantly flushed with embarrassment but all Future Ray could think about was how adorable it was.
“I’m Ray, if that’s what you’re asking.” Ray crossed his arms, biceps straining his black tee. Gerard’s eyes trace the lines of his arm and Ray can’t help but feel smugly indulgent with how he’s affecting this younger version of his husband.
“No, this– you’re not Ray. Where’s Ray, My Ray?”
Even with childish frustration, Future Ray can hear the possessive note to Gerard saying his name. He knows that he should be calming this tiny version of Gerard down, but can you blame him? How often do you get to see a younger, time-travelled version of your loving husband? Plus, knowing Gerard, he wasn’t worried about the older version of him at all. He was probably gushing over the concept of time-travel, wherever— or whenever he was, right now. Sci-fi nerd.
Ray decided to make the most of it and tease him a bit more. “Define your Ray.”
“The one who stuck a piece of candy up his nose to impress a girl!”
Frank, who basically latched onto Mikey to run back to the bus, overheard the comment and snorted. “Oh my god, you weren’t kidding. It looks like someone ironed his face back to the 2000s.”
The young Gerard turned to look at who just spoke. All he could really do was stare with his mouth open at the older version of his friend and brother who stood at the doorway to the bus. His stomach flipped. “Am I… high ?” He looked back at Ray to examine him again. “No but how– what happened?”
The fight left Gerard’s body as he leaned on the counter behind him in confused resignation. “This is definitely a lucid dream or something.” He looked to meet Ray’s eyes, “No way I time traveled or something… right ? I mean Mikey isn't even wearing glasses."
“I think that’s kinda the only explanation we have right now,” Future Ray muttered bemused. If Ray didn’t think the younger Gerard could get paler, he was wrong. “Sit. Eat something that isn’t microwave dinners.”
“Dude this is fucking hilarious— Ow!” Mikey elbows Frank as they move in to join them.
2003
“You’re Gee… but old?” Ray said, tactless and trembling with confusion.
“Oh my god, did you die and get replaced by the ghost of a way older version of you?” Mikey couldn’t help but interject.
“Better.” Future Gerard took his hands off Ray’s legs to stand up. “I’m the way older version of me without the dead and ghost part.”
Frank crossed his arms in clear disbelief. “Prove it. What’s Gerard’s most embarrassing childhood habit?”
“Embarrassing habit?” Gerard pondered. “When I was seven, I used to tuck handfuls of spaghetti into my pockets for ‘later.’ Drove Mom insane.”
Mikey looked like he just cracked Enigma. “Wait, that’s why she banned pasta for a year?!”
Older Gerard laughed—warm and rich, a sound this basement had heard before but not like that . Young Ray’s stomach flipped and his heart skipped a beat. Since when was Gerard able to laugh like that? He looked so happy and healthy which made Ray want to believe that this was actually Gerard’s future self.
Gerard rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I forgot it in a jacket one time and she found it when the spaghetti started growing mold.” Mikey couldn’t help but make a face but that story did confirm that this was actually Gerard Way. Well, a much older version of him.
“Okay, what the fuck then. Why are you here, how are you here, and where is Gerard?” Frank decided to ask further. “Well, you know, like our Gerard,” He corrected.
“I’m assuming that we probably switched places. Honestly I’m not too sure what happened myself.” Gerard looked unbothered by the fact that he was displaced in time and Ray didn’t know if that made him more or less concerned for the safety of his Gerard.
While Ray was distracted, Gerard seemed to have taken the opportunity to close up the space between them again by tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’ve got to stop furrowing your brows so much when you think it's gonna cause wrinkles.” He looks thoughtful, “Well, not actually I guess, you still look super hot in the future regardless.”
Ray has never felt heat rise up to his face faster in that moment. Gerard just winks at him before turning over to Mikey and cooing over how young and cute his younger brother was. Ray meets Frank’s eyes and the latter shrugs without too much care.
A thought hits Frank, though, as he turns around to the older version of his friend.
“Wait so if you know Ray in the future, I’m assuming the band is still a thing?” Frank is trying to milk all the information he can out of this older version of their frontman. Frank notices how this older Gerard carries himself with a passive confidence that their Gerard doesn’t possess yet. He speaks with assurance in his words and it gives Frank hope that this band wasn’t going to be ‘just another band,’ he really thought what they were doing was special after all.
Gerard flashes a smile at him, “Oh, you wouldn’t believe it Frankie. We absolutely cause some mayhem out there.” Charm oozes from every word of their older frontman and the three younger counterparts can only admire it. The questions keep coming from Mikey and Frank but Ray was still reeling.
Future Gerard was… something else . Confident, charismatic, teasing in a way that felt deliberate —and worst of all, it was working. The same Gerard who once fell off stage trying to look cool to a crowd of 20 kids in a basement show was now answer questions about the music industry and flashing Ray smirks like he knew every thought Ray had before he even thought of them.
Mikey was too focused on the implications of time travel to notice the flirtatious nature of his brother towards Ray. “Wait, so—so we actually made it ?” His voice was full of cautious hope.
Gerard’s expression softened. “Yeah, Mikey. You do.”
Frank looked at him carefully. “And I stay?”
Gerard’s brows twitched. He didn’t want to give too much away, but he couldn’t lie to them, either. “Yeah, we all did, but some things had to change.”
Frank frowned but nodded slowly, sensing there was more to the answer than Gerard was letting on which caused him to gesture to Mikey to stop pushing.
Ray was trying to focus on anything but the way Future Gerard kept sneaking glances at him. Instead, he forced himself to focus on the golden wedding band that gleamed on the older man’s hand every time he moved. His stomach twisted. He knew he shouldn’t ask. He wouldn’t ask and probability couldn’t even if he wanted to.
Future Gerard, as if reading his mind, suddenly clapped his hands together. “Anyway! I probably shouldn’t be answering too many questions. Can’t go screwing up the timeline or whatever, right?”
He looked around the room in nostalgia, "Well, actually I'm not even sure if you guys will remember this or not."
Frank huffed. “Well, you already let slip we made it big. What else are you hiding, time traveler?”
Gerard turned his head to meet Frank. He grinned and winked. “Oh, tons. But you’re just gonna have to wait and see.”
2025
Young Gerard was still trying to process everything. Future Ray. Future Frank. Future Mikey . It was a lot. He was asking questions about everything: about the band, about what they were doing now in a tour bus, and begging for stories they experienced on the road.
He couldn't believe that the Brian May had played their song on stage with them.
He was already bewildered and basically made his three aged-up bandmates take him on a tour of the bus. But even Brian May couldn’t prepare him for what he was about to see.
Because behind Future Ray, tacked up on the wall with a bunch of other tour memorabilia, was a framed photograph.
A wedding photograph.
Specifically, his wedding photograph.
A glowing Ray Toro was in a burgundy tux, arm around an older version of himself–white strands of hair-and-all—in a matching tux. They were standing on a rocky beach, grinning like idiots holding up their hands to show off the rings. And next to that picture? A whole stack of honeymoon photos. Their honeymoon.
Gerard felt his brain short-circuit.
“You okay?” Future Ray asked, brow furrowed in concern.
Gerard pointed at the pictures and looked back at Ray in shock. “I—we— what ?!”
Ray followed his gaze, then groaned, running a hand down his face. “Shit. Forgot about those.”
Frank, who had clearly been waiting for this moment, grinned a shit-eating smirk. “Oh yeah, forgot that’s a thing.”
Gerard made a strangled noise with how flippantly Frank says it. “That’s a thing ?! You—Ray and I are married ?! How does that not warrant you remembering it?!”
Ray rubbed the back of his neck, a little sheepish but mostly amused. “Yeah, well. It has been ten years after all. Everyone is just used to it now.”
Gerard’s eyes would have popped out of their sockets if they could. He stared at the Ray Toro in front of him. The boy who he saw just a few hours ago, the boy he knew since high school, and this man who’s black tee hugs him in all the right places… is his husband.
Gerard turned to Mikey, who just shrugged like this was the most normal thing in the world. “I mean, yeah. You’ve been in love with him for years , dude.”
Gerard sputtered. “I—I have not!” Ray laughs at Gerard’s embarrassed indignation. As if they aren’t literally married.
“Dude,” Frank said, pointing at young Gerard, “You literally begged Ray to join My Chem by complimenting him to death for 3 hours during the initial years.” Gerard’s face flushed because it was true. But Ray was really the best guitarist in New Jersey, so he had to.
“Not to mention, you literally stared at his biceps for like 5 minutes straight when you got time travel dropped here.” Frank was really just burying Gerard this self-inflicted grave.
Betrayed by his own subconscious. Fuck.
Gerard clutched his head, overwhelmed with these new revelations. “This is insane. I was just in my basement, writing songs about— whatever, and now I’m here, and apparently I marry Ray Toro and—” Gerard's ears were bright red with indignation that the last thing on his mind, even in the basement, was still Ray Toro.
Ray crossed his arms, mock-upset. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Gerard made another garbled noise, face matching his bright red ear.
He meets Ray’s eyes. “That’s not —I mean, it’s just—it’s a lot to take in! I was just writing love songs about you and now you guys just told me that we’re married!”
Gerard looks mortified with what he just confessed. Mikey just rolled his eyes, God, this is so melodramatic.
Ray felt so much pride swell up within himself. Even after playing so many arenas and with so many legendary musicians, he never feels more honoured than when Gerard makes himself the muse of his artistry.
2003
After the interrogation of their future, Frank and Mikey finally relented and returned to just joking around with Future Gerard. He was talking, leaned up against the cluttered worktable, and periodically, his gaze lingering on Ray with a knowing softness that made the guitarist’s throat tighten. Not knowing what to do, Ray’s fingers twitched toward his Gibson, as if grounding himself in its familiar curves could ward off the surrealness of… whatever this was.
Frank, finally realizing that it’d be a problem if their time’s Gerard doesn’t come back soon since they had a gig that Sunday. “Okay, time-travel rules. Back to the Future shit. If we don’t fix this, do we, like, get erased? Poof?” He snapped his fingers for dramatic effect.
Mikey, ever the comic book pragmatist, frowned. “Maybe it’s tied to the music. Gee said he was working on another song when the switch happened. The concept was something about a pair of lovers surviving chaos, or something? I’m not completely sure. Maybe the song’s a… portal of some sorts?”
Future Gerard’s eyes lit up. “Mikey, you brilliant little gremlin. That’s exactly— well not exactly, but that’s exactly it!” He pulled a worn notebook from his jacket. “It was definitely more my fault than your Gerard’s fault, though,” Gerard eyes the sketchbook on the couch, frayed at the seams. "Well, actually, I'm not quite sure how inter-time-travel blame would work since we're technically the same person," He laughs.
Gerard flips his old notebook open which reveals his scrawls of lyrics. “I think something about the few new songs I’ve been working on bent reality or something. It built this connection.
Ray’s voice wavered. “So… our Gerard’s stuck in your time? With my… with older me?” The thought of his Gerard face-to-face with a polished, silver-haired version of himself sent a hot-cold rush through his veins.
“Probably babying the hell out of him,” Future Gerard chuckled. “But don’t worry. Future you would be great with the past version of me. He’s very… patient.” The smirk and wink he shot Ray could’ve powered a small city.
Mikey gagged. “Can you not eye-fuck Ray in front of us? It’s weirding me out.”
“Seconded,” Frank muttered, though he was grinning like he knew something.
Future Gerard raised his hands innocently. “What? I’m just saying, this genre of time travel is very romantic. Shakespearean, even.”
“Shakespeare didn’t have to deal with you,” Ray mumbled, cheeks blazing. He gestured sharply at the notebook. “So how do we fix it? Finish the song? Burn it? What?”
“Hmm, well according to this…” Future Gerard tucked the notebook away. “No spoilers. Let’s just say… you’ll feel when it’s right.”
Later, while Mikey and Frank debated the merits of getting drum machines instead of having Otter drum with them (Future Gerard: “Absolutely not, Frank, we’re not becoming a synth band”), Ray cornered Gerard by the broken basement window he was sitting by and looking out of.
“You’re married,” Ray said abruptly, nodding at the ring. His face fired red after realizing how brash he sounded.
Future Gerard paused and turned towards Ray’s voice. The older man smiled indulgently, thumb brushing the golden engraved band on his ring finger. “Yeah. 10 years this October.”
“To…?” Ray was nervous. It was palpable
A slow smile crept on Gerard’s face watching the image of his husband's younger rendition fidget nervously in front of him. “You’ll know.” He looked up to meet Ray’s eyes. He felt warm inside knowing that he had this effect on him even if it was almost 25 years in the past.
Ray’s pulse roared hearing that.
“That’s not fair. You can’t just— dangle that in front of me.” Ray didn't miss the implications of that. He just couldn’t fully believe it, “What if I… what if I screw it up? What if I never…?”
Future Gerard stood up and stepped closer to Ray. Young Ray smelled like his cheap cologne Gerard missed already and the peach gum he chewed earlier in the hour to calm his nerves.
God, this was still one hundred percent his Ray even if it was a different time period.
“Hey. Look at me.”
Ray did. Gerard suddenly flung both hands to cup the taller man’s cheeks.
“Ugh?!”
“You don’t screw up,” Future Gerard said softly. “You’re brave. Braver than you think. And when the moment comes… you’ll be more ready than either of us have been our entire lives.”
Ray, who was still squished between Gerard’s two hands, felt the cool sensation of the ring on his cheek. It was always shocking how much Gerard— no matter if it was the Gerard of his time or not— could calm him down. The sensation of the ring no longer burns into Ray with intimidation. This rather feels like a promise and he melts into the sensation of Gerard’s heat on his skin, leaning into the hands cupping his cheeks.
The building shook— Frank yelping about “An earthquake?!” —- shattered the moment.
Static rang through all of their ears. Ray instinctively clasped his hands over his ears to block out the sound. He could feel the low-frequency hum of the shake in his teeth. An amplifier from a different timeline was calling for the return of their respective Gerard.
“Shit, other me figured it out faster than I thought I would’ve,” Gerard laughed. “I guess this is a see-you-later.” He was gripping the table as the edges of his figure flickered in and out of existence.
“Wait, you never answered us! Were you lying about the fact we were able to play on stage with Brian May?” Frank yelled.
“I guess you’ll have to find out!” Future Gerard’s voice echoed with amusement, layered with a dozen different timelines. “Just keep writing ! And Mikey—invest in Apple stock!”
Then, with the sound of a rewinding record, future Gerard vanished and timeline appropriate Gerard collapsed onto the basement floor, coughing up 2003 air.
“What the actual fuck ,” he rasped out.
Ray stared at him— his Gerard, sweaty and wide-eyed. His face back with elasticity and hair slicked with grease. In his fists clenched a crumpled sketch of… him ?
“Are you—?” Ray began outstretching his hand to help Gerard off the floor. Gerard interrupted him by scrambling up, gripping Ray’s outstretched hand like a lifeline.
His eyes were fierce. He was fired up. “We need to finish Demolition Lovers. Now.”
“Wait, what— hold up what just happened,” Ray tried to backtrack. He was confused how they got to this step. It was like some weird course of memories just escaped him and he couldn’t remember how they had gotten into this situation. Also why was Gerard on the floor?
“Also what the hell are the Demolition Lovers? ” Ray didn’t understand if this was just a comic book reference he didn’t get—that would be embarrassing as hell.
“Also why do we need to finish it?” Mikey chimed in, overhearing the conversation.
“Because…” Gerard’s gaze locked onto Ray’s, blazing with a certainty he’d borrowed from the future. “Because it’s really important.”
2025
Gerard popped back into Ray’s arms as he returned. Ray’s face glowed with smug pride and looked at Gerard expectantly.
“So you were obsessed with me way before I even knew, huh?” A surprise laugh was pushed through Gerard’s lungs.
“Wow, that’s the first thing you say to me after my inter-dimensional journey?” Gerard jokingly pushes his husband off him but Ray just holds on tighter with a shit-eating smile.
“Ugh, I’ve had it with your sappy couple stuff. Get in a room or something.” Mikey leaves the bus with a shake of his head. Frank who was continuing his knitting nodded in agreement, eyes not leaving his needles.
Gerard gazed at Mikey’s leaving figure fondly. It was a little strange to think that they used to be so young and have gone through so much.
Ray loved every version of Gerard but he was glad his version of him returned. Planting a solid kiss on his forehead, the taller man finally relinquished his hold on his husband.
“I still don’t know how you guys switched places. That was only a one time thing right? I don’t think the butterfly effect did anything,” Ray looked around at the photos on the bus; nothing had changed, no one had disappeared from them like in the movies. “I don’t remember seeing an older version of you in the past or anything. I’m sure I’d remember that.”
Gerard thought about it for a moment before he pulled out a crumpled sketch from his hoodie pocket. The paper looked ancient and the writing was unmistakably Gerard’s.
Ray caught his breath because he actually does remember the image. It was a drawing of himself he remembered from years ago. Essentially an historical artifact at this point but Ray remembered it specifically because it was the page in Gerard’s notebook next to where they had written Demolition Lovers .
The old graphite, soft and smudged with age was crumpled which made the ink look hauntingly beautiful. Scrawled in Gerard’s frantic hand: Love runs straight through bent time.
“That’s the title of our next album,” Ray looked shocked. “You wrote that all the way back then…?”
Gerard’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I didn’t know why you guys never remembered what happened,” His fingers traced the crumpled paper with adoration. “I thought that maybe I just dreamed it but I’d never want to forget it.”
He smiled at Ray, “I’m glad I kept it all these years because here we are.”
Ray couldn’t help himself from laughing and pulling Gerard in for another kiss. Mouths meeting in half moons from grinning.
“Gee, you dingus, you wrote a time-traveling album!”
“Artistic integrity!” Gerard laughed into Ray’s breath as timelines snapped shut.
2003
Back in 2003, the rest of the band were messing around with chords and riffs to best match the lyrics of Demolition Lovers that Gerard just dropped on them. Frank had been stoked with how it sounded and Mikey had punched Gerard’s arm for hiding this masterpiece from them.
Ray’s brows were knitted together in focus while he pieced notes together with his fingers. Gerard blinked at the figure of him and opened his sketchbook back up to his drawing of Ray. His pen lifted and he wrote down an album title that wouldn’t be used until 2025.
Next to it he added a new drawing: two rings tangled in guitar strings.