(no subject)
- Title: The Music (2/?)
- Author: _ohholyfoolsx
- Pairing: Mikey and Frankie
- Rating: R
- Summary: He walked into the music store and started browsing the CDs. Every Friday Mikey saw him and never knew his name, only the way he moved, the way he dressed, the 4 layers of shirts, all thread-bare, and the music he liked. It was always about the music.
- POV: Third Person.
- Authors Note: Written whilst listening to "A perfect Sonnet" by Bright Eyes.
- Disclaimer: AU. Completely and utterly untrue.
The walk home was about as tedious as the walk there. His scarf hardly gave him protection and as it was he had it pulled up to his glasses, hoping to block out some of the cold wind. The streets teemed with people running around on their cell phones carrying christmas bags, dressed in a myriad of colours, excitedly talking about their purchases and plans for the holidays. To him, it was just another day, colder and less important now as it used to be in his life, with his brother, his family, dressed in Ninja Turtle pajamas, holding out a new bag of socks to his mom to be admired. So naive and yet...he missed it. He was struggling.
This year his roommate William had decided to spend Christmas with each other, no different from last year but without the visiting relatives crammed in their tiny apartment asking why music sheets lay everywhere and why they didn't have any fruits and vegetables. "Why, William! That boy is skinny as a twig! Are you hogging all the food?" Pleasantries long gone, leaving them bewildered and left to wash the dishes. A month until Christmas and he still had no idea what to buy.
He turned up his street and quickened his step until he was on his doorstep, turning the key and breathing in the nice fire William must have had going. His ears picked up something as he dropped his bag to the floor and pulled off his scarf, hanging it on the moon-shaped hanger by the door. As he stepped into the living room and pulled his coat off, he heard William humming some new music he'd most likely written and playing his acoustic guitar. Upon further inspection, he noticed the slew of papers and picks and broken strings and dishes thrown all around the living room as if a tornado had hit, leaving William intact in the middle of the living room.
He took off his glasses as he entered his room, setting them on the floor and picking up his own acoustic. Soon William and he were playing and writing and singing to themselves, lost in the deep swirl of music flowing in their heads. It was how they'd first met; William was in high school and Mikey was a year younger. They'd both taken the same music class and William had stumbled upon Mikey hiding in the corner of the room, furiously writing. Without saying a word, William had sat down, Mikey slid him a copy of the music and they'd skipped the rest of their classes to play, lost in a torrent, so wrapped up in the melody, the feel of the strings on their fingers and the blisters forming on their fingers.
Long after, the sun was setting and Mikey sighed, laughing exhaustedly to himself as he broke his 3rd string. "Will, let's call it quits." he turned his head to his friend. "I think that's been our best session since that time we got caught in the music room and spent our whole detention figuring out quarter notes and sixteenths." he laughed again. William grinned.
"It's amazing to be back here, Mikes." he stood up and walked over to the sofa Mikey had claimed for his own. "Jersey was good, like it usually is, but I missed it here." he lay back on the couch, putting his arm around Mikey, as a friend would do. "He says hi and that he missed you." William said quietly and Mikey nodded; that was a subject they avoided so to not compromise their music. Mikey didn't often speak of the bond lost with his brother so many years ago.
William had called it a night shortly after cleaning up the living room. He'd been playing all day, writing chorus and verse, bar after bar, page after page, eighth after eighth. Mikey had looked over the sheet and laughed when he noticed it was written for a piano, not a guitar, though they could probably try it out later and see what it sounded like. William shook his head and climbed the ladder to his room. Well after that Mikey packed away his acoustic, Jiminey, and went to bed, his mind not able to shut out Gerard or the guy he'd seen today, like every friday.
Only today was different. Today he vowed to talk to him the next time he saw him.
The next day only brought more of the same. He woke up, William handed him a cup of tea, he picked up the new song William had written and walked to work. For some reason he had a feeling something was going to happen and he'd need his guitar, so he hoofed the case so work, secreting it in the back of the office until his break.
Bob wasn't working today and in a way he felt better because of this. Needless to say, his otherwise mundane day was no longer and issue because none other then Bert was starting his shift today. Mikey patted down his chocolate brown hair and wiped off his fogged glasses before he got hit with Bert-literally.
"Michael!" he squealed, his greasy, long hair falling all over Mikey's neck. Bert had a way with people. He could be solemn, respectable, clean, when he wanted to be, but the rest of the time Bert could be described in 3 works. Alcoholic Gay Man.
Back when Mikey first met Bert, he was sober, clean, perfect; the most respectable mormon son of the two perfect mormon parents. Not a bad thing about be said about Robert; he did everything right. Teachers never complained, he attended whatever charitable function when asked and combed his hair. Bert had some rough times when he discovered music and was soon sucked in by the high-maintenance life of rock and roll. He wanted to feel free like them, wanted to drink like them, dress like him, not wash his hair like them; Bert was too easy to influence back then; he hadn't been out in the real world and hadn't seen what drugs and alcohol could do to you. He'd been in the hospital and in jail by the age of 19. Barely legal.
Mikey had felt some sort of sympathy towards Bert and liked him enough to make sure he never got into any serious trouble at work, though what Bert considered trouble was completely different from Mikey's stand point.
"Ohhh, MikeyMikeyMikeyMikey!" he crooned in Mikey's ear, giving him a huge kiss as soon as he walked out of the office. Mikey laughed and pushed him off, walking towards the CD rack he'd seen Bob's Stranger at yesterday. He put his hands on the CD shelf, feeling the music under his hands and they itched to play that new song William had written the previous night. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bert pirouette around the store.
Hazel. Green. Chestnut, Orange and red. Mikey's breath caught in his throat and he took a step back, running right into a rack of albums. The stranger put out his hand in concern. A foot away, inches, centimeters, hestouchgingmehestouchingmeohnowhatdoido?!
Mikey could feel the mans' breath on his neck as he sunk to the floor, his legs finally giving out and leaving him desperate for Bert, for Bob, someone to save him. The room grew bright as though lights radiated from all around down on him. On him. Specifically.
"Hey." he whispered and all moisture dried up in Mikey's mouth. The stranger came closer and put his lips to Mikey's ear. "Calm down. Are you alright? I didn't mean to frighten you." He drew back and grinned.
Mikey knew he was out-matched.
- Author: _ohholyfoolsx
- Pairing: Mikey and Frankie
- Rating: R
- Summary: He walked into the music store and started browsing the CDs. Every Friday Mikey saw him and never knew his name, only the way he moved, the way he dressed, the 4 layers of shirts, all thread-bare, and the music he liked. It was always about the music.
- POV: Third Person.
- Authors Note: Written whilst listening to "A perfect Sonnet" by Bright Eyes.
- Disclaimer: AU. Completely and utterly untrue.
The walk home was about as tedious as the walk there. His scarf hardly gave him protection and as it was he had it pulled up to his glasses, hoping to block out some of the cold wind. The streets teemed with people running around on their cell phones carrying christmas bags, dressed in a myriad of colours, excitedly talking about their purchases and plans for the holidays. To him, it was just another day, colder and less important now as it used to be in his life, with his brother, his family, dressed in Ninja Turtle pajamas, holding out a new bag of socks to his mom to be admired. So naive and yet...he missed it. He was struggling.
This year his roommate William had decided to spend Christmas with each other, no different from last year but without the visiting relatives crammed in their tiny apartment asking why music sheets lay everywhere and why they didn't have any fruits and vegetables. "Why, William! That boy is skinny as a twig! Are you hogging all the food?" Pleasantries long gone, leaving them bewildered and left to wash the dishes. A month until Christmas and he still had no idea what to buy.
He turned up his street and quickened his step until he was on his doorstep, turning the key and breathing in the nice fire William must have had going. His ears picked up something as he dropped his bag to the floor and pulled off his scarf, hanging it on the moon-shaped hanger by the door. As he stepped into the living room and pulled his coat off, he heard William humming some new music he'd most likely written and playing his acoustic guitar. Upon further inspection, he noticed the slew of papers and picks and broken strings and dishes thrown all around the living room as if a tornado had hit, leaving William intact in the middle of the living room.
He took off his glasses as he entered his room, setting them on the floor and picking up his own acoustic. Soon William and he were playing and writing and singing to themselves, lost in the deep swirl of music flowing in their heads. It was how they'd first met; William was in high school and Mikey was a year younger. They'd both taken the same music class and William had stumbled upon Mikey hiding in the corner of the room, furiously writing. Without saying a word, William had sat down, Mikey slid him a copy of the music and they'd skipped the rest of their classes to play, lost in a torrent, so wrapped up in the melody, the feel of the strings on their fingers and the blisters forming on their fingers.
Long after, the sun was setting and Mikey sighed, laughing exhaustedly to himself as he broke his 3rd string. "Will, let's call it quits." he turned his head to his friend. "I think that's been our best session since that time we got caught in the music room and spent our whole detention figuring out quarter notes and sixteenths." he laughed again. William grinned.
"It's amazing to be back here, Mikes." he stood up and walked over to the sofa Mikey had claimed for his own. "Jersey was good, like it usually is, but I missed it here." he lay back on the couch, putting his arm around Mikey, as a friend would do. "He says hi and that he missed you." William said quietly and Mikey nodded; that was a subject they avoided so to not compromise their music. Mikey didn't often speak of the bond lost with his brother so many years ago.
William had called it a night shortly after cleaning up the living room. He'd been playing all day, writing chorus and verse, bar after bar, page after page, eighth after eighth. Mikey had looked over the sheet and laughed when he noticed it was written for a piano, not a guitar, though they could probably try it out later and see what it sounded like. William shook his head and climbed the ladder to his room. Well after that Mikey packed away his acoustic, Jiminey, and went to bed, his mind not able to shut out Gerard or the guy he'd seen today, like every friday.
Only today was different. Today he vowed to talk to him the next time he saw him.
The next day only brought more of the same. He woke up, William handed him a cup of tea, he picked up the new song William had written and walked to work. For some reason he had a feeling something was going to happen and he'd need his guitar, so he hoofed the case so work, secreting it in the back of the office until his break.
Bob wasn't working today and in a way he felt better because of this. Needless to say, his otherwise mundane day was no longer and issue because none other then Bert was starting his shift today. Mikey patted down his chocolate brown hair and wiped off his fogged glasses before he got hit with Bert-literally.
"Michael!" he squealed, his greasy, long hair falling all over Mikey's neck. Bert had a way with people. He could be solemn, respectable, clean, when he wanted to be, but the rest of the time Bert could be described in 3 works. Alcoholic Gay Man.
Back when Mikey first met Bert, he was sober, clean, perfect; the most respectable mormon son of the two perfect mormon parents. Not a bad thing about be said about Robert; he did everything right. Teachers never complained, he attended whatever charitable function when asked and combed his hair. Bert had some rough times when he discovered music and was soon sucked in by the high-maintenance life of rock and roll. He wanted to feel free like them, wanted to drink like them, dress like him, not wash his hair like them; Bert was too easy to influence back then; he hadn't been out in the real world and hadn't seen what drugs and alcohol could do to you. He'd been in the hospital and in jail by the age of 19. Barely legal.
Mikey had felt some sort of sympathy towards Bert and liked him enough to make sure he never got into any serious trouble at work, though what Bert considered trouble was completely different from Mikey's stand point.
"Ohhh, MikeyMikeyMikeyMikey!" he crooned in Mikey's ear, giving him a huge kiss as soon as he walked out of the office. Mikey laughed and pushed him off, walking towards the CD rack he'd seen Bob's Stranger at yesterday. He put his hands on the CD shelf, feeling the music under his hands and they itched to play that new song William had written the previous night. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bert pirouette around the store.
Hazel. Green. Chestnut, Orange and red. Mikey's breath caught in his throat and he took a step back, running right into a rack of albums. The stranger put out his hand in concern. A foot away, inches, centimeters, hestouchgingmehestouchingmeohnowhatdoido?!
Mikey could feel the mans' breath on his neck as he sunk to the floor, his legs finally giving out and leaving him desperate for Bert, for Bob, someone to save him. The room grew bright as though lights radiated from all around down on him. On him. Specifically.
"Hey." he whispered and all moisture dried up in Mikey's mouth. The stranger came closer and put his lips to Mikey's ear. "Calm down. Are you alright? I didn't mean to frighten you." He drew back and grinned.
Mikey knew he was out-matched.