(no subject)
Title: Lessons Learned
Rating: PG
Pairing: Mick/Keith
Word Count: 1,205
Disclaimer: Nope; don’t own the Stones, and, of course, this story is fiction.
Ok, so my internet has been down for the last two days, otherwise I would’ve done this sooner. First post of a story I’ve written myself. Don’t go easy on the criticism, tell me how to improve. And, once again, the last story I posted belongs to anyone who wants to add to it. Please do! :)
Mick was tired. Not angry; not sad. Just so, so tired. As of late, that’s what these fights with Keith did to him. The singer sighed as he stared at the hotel room door Keith had walked out of just minutes ago, remembering a time when their heated arguments lit a fire in him, an anger he only seemed to posses around his dark haired childhood friend. Mick never thought he’d long for the days when he actually felt angry at Keith afterwards, but at least then he felt something. Now, he just felt drained. And it wasn’t just the actual arguing this time that sapped Mick of his energy and will.
“Are you ever sober anymore, Keith?” Mick asked, running a hand exasperatedly through his unruly mop of hair. Keith calmly eyed his friend through eyes glazed with God- knows- what and lit a cigarette.
“Why do you care?” He asked coolly. And Keith was serious; he was honestly intrigued by the fact that Mick was still here, still a part of his life.
“What do you mean, why do I care?” Mick sighed, growing more and more frustrated.
Keith took a pull of his cig before answering. “Well, He said thoughtfully, “It’s not like it’s really affecting us. I mean The Rolling Stones. Our music,” Keith elaborated when Mick looked ready to protest. He shrugged. “We still make music and money just fine. Isn’t that what really matters?” And then Keith smiled. But not the easy, mischievous grin that was so rare these days, the one that let Mick know the real Keith, his friend, was still in there somewhere. This smile sent shivers up Mick’s spine.
“And your image, Michael,” Keith said, his voice sickly sweet. “Let’s not forget your image. Well don’t worry,” he said, grinding out his cigarette. “I’m sure no one thinks less of you because of me. You’ve done your good deed. You’ve preached to the broken junkie. Now you can say you tried without feeling guilty.” The singer flinched at this biting, sarcastic remark and the use of his real name. Mick took a ragged breath.
“You’re my friend, Keith. My best friend.” Mick’s voice took on a pleading tone. With each fight, Mick never stopped hoping that his words would somehow miraculously get through to Keith. But there’s a new urgency to these fights for Mick, because he can also feel something else, something much scarier. He can feel their bond, their unbreakable, brotherly-like bond slipping. Mick became desperate for Keith the minute he felt a shift in their chemistry, the minute he felt himself slowly start to give up on this man, the other half who’d always been such a strong force in his life. Keith’s next question pulled Mick from his thoughts and momentarily left him in shock.
“But why”? Keith whispered. It was something Keith had wondered several times himself. Because, despite everything, Keith did not actually enjoy taking the laughter and energy out of his friend’s ocean-blue eyes or the impish grin off his cherubic face. But he did; he did hurt Mick, he did do those things, yet Mick kept coming back. Keith thought they’d put it off long enough; it was time they stopped and asked themselves why they were doing this to themselves and each other.
Mick stared at Keith, trying to come up with something plausible. He couldn’t. The days when Keith was actually himself, and gave Mick that hope, were becoming too rare, and were not enough to sustain him. He loved Keith; his “significant other” had been one of the most important things in his life for so long, that it left Mick feeling cold and incomplete to even think that Keith might not be a part of his world anymore-even with the way Keith was now. But Mick couldn’t deny the fact that he was exhausted-they both were just exhausted.
“I don’t know.” Mick answered, meeting Keith’s eyes. They were devoid of any anger, hate, or vindictiveness. Mick saw a weary sadness there as they stared at each other, summing up every emotion, every laugh, every song, every fight, every year they’d known each other. They could see their life together play out in one another’s eyes. Deep inside, Keith felt betrayed. Mick always came back when Keith pushed him away, always found a reason for them to keep going. But not this time. This time, Mick didn’t have an answer.
Keith simply got up and slipped out of the room with a finality that made Mick feel empty.
Mick leaned back in a chair and closed his eyes as his mind formed another memory of fights and slamming doors. But it wasn’t Keith. This was a forgotten image of a golden haired boy he knew long ago. The boy who pulled their group together, and taught Keith to play guitar, and Mick the harmonica. A boy who’s face would light up when he picked up an instrument. A boy who’s once kind eyes became clouded with distrust and hate, who’s once playful, witty personality turned manipulative and paranoid with each passing, drug filled year.
Mick put his face in his hands and thought of his lost friend. Mick had loved Brian too. But he hadn’t known what to do for their troubled guitarist. So he’d let him go; he’d let Brian walk out of his life, neither one knowing how limited the boy’s time was. Now, five years later-God, Mick thought, has it really been five years?-Mick was letting history repeat itself, and a stubborn, determined part of him awakened. It was true that Brian had caused most of his own problems, but Mick could not forget the dead, abandoned look in his eyes when Mick spoke his last words to Brian. “Just leave, yeah? I’m tired of ya. There’s nothin’ else I can do.” The singer’s legs felt numb as he stepped out into the hallway. If he hurried, he could catch the guitarist. Down the stairs, out the front door, and Mick saw him, heading down the street, getting further and further away. From this distance, Mick could see Brian’s figure disappearing, and Mick sped up. As he got closer, Mick urged himself to say it, say it quick before he was filled with regret and sorrow. “I’m sorry I gave up on you. I’m sorry you gave up on yourself. I’m sorry I stopped believing in you.
With this, Mick felt a great weight lifted off his shoulders, and a calming peace came over him. He knew then that he was doing the right thing. The figure in front of him got taller, and blonde hair became longer, thicker, and darker. A few steps behind him, Mick said his name.
“Keith.”
Yeah, so, hope you enjoyed it; I know it’s not the best in the world, but I’ll get better:) And thanks for reading!!