Blackbird [10a/?]
Title: Blackbird
Author: woebetidesweets (Emma) and cassie_roulette (Melanie)
Pairing: Frank (Melanie) / Mikey (Emma)
Rating: NC-17 for... many unspeakable things.
POV: Third-person omniscient
Summary:
Author Notes: This started off as an rp. Because we were bored. We tried to get each other off. And you hadn't had the Frank/Mikey in forevers. And no-one can resist a goddamn uniform. And we're both ex-Catholic Catholic fetishists something fierce. So we're aware that it's pretty damn cliche. But it got out of hand really fast and ended up being kind of epicly long. ...It's been two minutes and I can't think of anything else to reply with. END AUTHOR'S NOTE HERE.
Disclaimer: It's an epic gayass INO AU rp. Also, we don't know the My Chemical Romances. Nor do we own them.
x-posted lyk whoa
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Frank had been expelled. Stared at the headmaster with folded hands behind his desk in his office that smelled like cigar smoke, sat in the leather chair between his parents, who seemed to have overdressed for the occasion, like always. They hadn't really been upset that he'd gotten kicked out. They'd shown little remorse for his actions, and surprisingly minimal reactions at all over the fact that he'd been seen kissing a boy. Either they figured it was a phase or they simply didn't care.
Ironic, that this was something he'd been trying to accomplish for years now; you'd think Frank would be ecstatic. Except for the fact that the fucking school was the one connection he had to Mikey. And he'd spent the rest of the day of what he'd come to call "the incident" pacing and seething in his room, pointedly keeping his eyes away from his guitar sitting by itself in the corner. And by the end of that first night, running on no sleep and poorly brewed Roasted Hazelnut caffeine with grits in the bottom, he'd devised a plan to lurk the parking lot of the school near the end of the class day, trying to overhear any news that he could about Mikey without being seen by the teachers. Come Monday that was exactly what he did. It was tedious and boring and he ran out of cigarettes three hours in and just when he thought there'd be no pay off, he'd caught the faintest edge of conversation from that cheerleader named Susan and the phrase "-hurt pretty bad, I think he's in the hospital." Frank didn't even wait for the rest, he'd simply jumped in his car and drove, on a course for the hospital closest to Mikey's house.
Mikey was blinking in one of the rooms on the sixth floor of the building Frank was speeding towards, eyes trying to find patterns he hadn't seen yet in the stucco of the ceiling. Breathing was easier with the tube running underneath his nose and hooked behind his ears, though it didn't help much with the hurt in his ribs when his lungs expanded, and he tried to time his inhales with the beeps of the monitor just to keep himself occupied. In another time and place, he would have stumbled out a joke about sounding like Darth Vader, but. As it was, the nurses were the only ones to come in for the three days he'd been in the hospital so far, and they only came around twice a day to feed him and help him shower. He hated the fact that they saw him shower. And he hated that they wouldn't really tell him all the damage that was done, like he couldn't handle it, just because he wasn't 18. His arm was in a cast, and his ribs were horribly shades of green and yellow, he'd seen it in the mirror and didn't want to look again after that, so he assumed both were broken. Other than that, he just knew everything hurt. He didn't remember much about getting from his bed at home to the hospital. The details of how each bone had been broken were very clear in his mind, sometimes he dreamed about it and woke up in darkness and it was hard to breathe, but after that, in his mind. It was just being in his bed and feeling wet warmth under his back and vague pain in his arm, then a man with glasses and a face mask bending over him, a blurry ambulance ride with a swinging IV bag only half full with liquid, that confused him, and then- waking up here. He wondered what his dad told them so they wouldn't ask questions. Because no-one'd asked him. It hurt in some way, that no-one asked. Why didn't anyone ask. They seemed suspicious of him. They didn't bring him Jello in the little tray with portioned mashed potatoes and peas. Maybe his dad said he was in a gang. He smiled at the thought and gulped, looking back up to the ceiling and failing to find more designs. He knew even if they did he probably wouldn't- probably wouldn't tell the truth anyways.
Frank palmed a hand over his face as he waited in the hospital lobby to be helped at the desk. He was wearing ripped up old jeans and a faded Danzig shirt, holding his head high when he finally gave up waiting for the receptionist to get off the damn phone and approached a nurse in hopes that he'd be taken seriously. He swallowed and looked off to the side and explained that he was a friend from school and that he'd heard Mikey Way was here and he wanted to see him. Please. And with a charming smile that had worked on his mother countless times, he got a little visitor tag and was led down the white tiled hallway that reeked of hospital-clean, a smell that he hated; hated hospitals, hated everything about them, but if Mikey was here somewhere, then none of that even mattered. The elevator ride was interminable and each time they neared a room to pass his chest clenched up horribly and then a let-down when they kept going, though part of him was- not really sure what would happen when he got there. He kind of froze up when they eventually stopped, the nurse opened the door for him but did little else, turning to walk back to her post and leaving Frank to just- stumble and gasp aloud in shock and something close to utter fucking- at the sight of Mikey laid out on the bed with his arm in a sling and tubes in his nose and machines beeping all around and "What-what the fuck happened?" he whispered, walking over to grip the rail on the side of the bed.
Mikey's eyes ripped from the ceiling as soon as the door opened, automatically tensing a little just at the thought of someone else being in the room when they never said a fucking word to him, but when he saw who it was, his stomach took a nasty flip, the beeping immediately quickening considerably. He automatically wanted to curl in and cover up so Frank wouldn't see- and when it hurt too much and he couldn't manage, he just gave up and fell a little limp and gaped at him in disbelief, his mouth opening like he'd reply before he clamped it shut again when he realized it was open.
He'd thought his dad already got him.
Frank's chest tightened in physical pain, seeing Mikey struggle a bit and just seeing him; he reached out a hand to touch the other boy's face but didn't quite make it, inherently fearful that no matter what he did, it would just hurt him even more.
"Mikey," he whispered, tears stinging in his eyes that he would not fucking shed, dammit. "Mikey, what happened?" But he knew what happened. He fucking knew what happened and the hatred collided with the sorrow for dominance of his brain, hands trembling against the rail. He'd failed, somehow. All those promises he made and the things he said, the trust in Mikey's eyes. He'd failed him.
Mikey pulled back a little in his pillow when Frank reached out, eyes fixed on his hand, trying to stop himself from reaching up to grab it- he knew his arm wouldn't make it. His breathing was almost quick enough to qualify as a pant.
"H-he hit me," he sputtered simply, because it just came out and he didn't know what else to say.
Frank's body took in the fucking machinery, he heard the weird compressing thing that made Mikey's lungs inflate and saw the monitor with green scribbles on it out of the corner of his eye and the cast no-one had drawn on even though he wanted more than anything not to fucking- see those things, and all his life, he'd never felt anything quite like this. Concern for another person so strong that it overwhelmed him, hurt him by proxy, made him whimper in the barest voice.
"I'm- I'm sorry Mikey," he whispered, reaching out to brush at Mikey's hair, figuring it was the safest place on his body to touch at the moment. "Mikey I'm so- I'm so sorry." His fingers curled tighter on the metal, and somehow he managed to wrench up what was supposed to be a familiar smile and ended up being a completely pained and twisted up grimace- "I... I got kicked out of school, like, for good this time. So I can be here as long as you need me, right- here, they can get me a chair and I don't have anywhere else to go, it can be just the two of us Mikey, just like we- just like we said-" And he was rambling, scared by these feelings of concern of protective panic and completely overwhelmed with trying to fix something he knew, somehow, that he'd broken.
Mikey chest clenched in something that wasn't pain when Frank's fingers brushed his hair, and his lip trembled, his thoughts running at a hundred miles an hour on panic and pills, the IV in his arm that made him sleepy. If Mikey was so fucked up he couldn't shower on his own, and his dad said he'd do worse to Frank, said- went into detail about crowbars and no regrets- the decision was simple. And he desperately willed every inch of his being to savor Frank's touch, to memorize his face and gather in how he smelled and how he stood, the color of his eyes and the sound of his voice and wrenched his face into a slight frown of discomfort even though all he wanted was to put a smile up and reach out to touch Frank's hand, for Frank to sit with him, even if it was just for a little while, talk to him without even meaning anything at all- because if he had anything to say about it, this would be the last time Frank Iero would ever want to come see him.
"Th-that hurts, Frank." He fought down the prickling of tears and turned his head. "D-d-d-don't."
Wincing a little and pulling his hand back, Frank mouthed "sorry" again, going back to simply leaning on the rail for all that he ached to get closer. There was a silence in which the only sound was the ticking of the clinical black and white clock over the door before Frank had regathered himself enough to speak again.
"You know, Mikey... it's- it's gonna be okay. My... my dad's a lawyer," he said with some force, like feigning control and strength would maybe make Mikey think he could really lean on him, fool him into thinking he knew just what to do with the situation, just how to fix it and make it all better, like it never happened- "And I'm, I'm gonna figure out a way to help you. Your parents are fucking- fucked up and this shit isn't legal, and more than that..." He trailed off for a moment, moved by emotions that up until a few weeks ago, he hadn't known he could feel, his false bravado fading into something foreign and vulnerable. "It isn't right. I'm gonna fix this and then we're- we're gonna be able to be together-"
Mikey didn't look at him, instead watching the colored lines on the monitor jab up and down. It hurt to breathe, hurt more to hear the squeak of the rail as Frank desperately tried to be a little closer to him. He swallowed it and narrowed his eyes, because his dad used to say- his dad said he was a pussy, a weak pussy, and that might be true but he was strong enough now, he had to be, strong enough to protect the only person who ever really cared about him.
"Just. S-stop, Frank. Just stop." He rolled over as best he could and tried his best to keep his voice steady. He could actually hearing blood rushing in his ears, and he'd always thought that was just a cliché. "B-being with you, all it did- i-is- f-f-. F-fuck m-me up." His hand tightened in the sheets. "...L-look what you di-did. To m-me."
It took Frank a moment to process, just sort of staring silently at the sight of the abused, injured boy lying in front of him. And even as the fury rose within him at the words, he could only crumble back down on himself, because really, that was the first thing he'd thought when he'd entered the room. That this was his fault, his fucking fault, and Mikey didn't deserve any of it but he'd be fucked if he was gonna walk out without a fight.
"It's... Mikey... I'm- sorry," he breathed, searching Mikey's face for some kind of sign that he didn't mean it. "But it's gonna get better, I promise," his voice picked up with a kind of rushed optimism, "I'm- I'm gonna take care of you and you'll never have to see those people again, never-"
Mikey was dying. He couldn't ever remember hurting like this, like his insides were eating out, like his heart was imploding. And he suddenly realized his father had hurt him way worse than he ever had with a belt, because somehow, he'd managed to take Frank away from him. Frank, the only person he couldn't handle losing, the only person he doubted he could live without anymore. And just thinking that Frank was in anywhere near the amount of emotional pain he was right now was the only thing that motivated him, pushed him forward and screamed 'end it quickly'.
"'T-take care of me'?" His voice dripped with venomous sarcasm, more fury and taunting than he'd ever managed in his life. "Y-yeah, you're re-real good at that." His eyes were blank as he looked at the wall. "All I-I ever got from y-you was- guilt and m-more. B-bruises." His heart twisted up inside and his voice broke, "You're- Frank, you're just a stupid ri-rich kid who f-fucks up- fucks up everything he- g-gets- around. Take care of me- su-sure," He battered down and made his face go straight, though the heart monitor was beeping wildly, "I. I-I don't need you. Don't need you and y-your fucking-" Please stop trying, please go Frank or I'll- "Just. G-get out."
Frank was in shock, a slow and powerful pain swelling in his chest and devouring his heart, the likes of which he'd never felt before.
"Mikey," he whispered as icy, unimaginable fear gripped at him despite his attempts to shove it away. "You... you don't-" his face broke out in a stupid grin because he didn't know what else to do and this was such a stupid joke, "You don’t mean that. You can't." And for a moment he thought that maybe this was some sort of defense mechanism, that yeah, Mikey was hurting in every way possible, but that deep down past the anger at his injuries and the drugs in his veins and his brain, he couldn't possibly mean what he was saying-
"Mikey," he stated simply, naked. "I. I love you."
Hearing that killed something in Mikey. Before there'd been pain and tears and horror at what he was doing, what he had to do, but hearing Frank broken and more childlike than he'd ever thought possible, hearing the Frank that no-one else seemed to be able to see, the one who just wanted someone to love and be loved in return, blew him over and dulled him and he really, wasn't the same person anymore. He couldn't be, if he was going to say what he was about to whisper; so his eyes were dead as he turned over and towards Frank painfully in his sheets, bundled up in the starched white, face impassive-
"I never loved you."
Up until that point, Frank had been functioning under almost hysterical denial. That at any given moment, Mikey would laugh his stupid laugh and break down and say that it was all just a joke- that of course he didn't mean it, that he was just in a lot of pain and upset and of course he wanted Frank to take care of him, he wanted him to hold his hand and hook up his Gamecube to the hospital TV and let him win at Super Smash Brothers and- watch over him when he was sleeping and just- hold his hand. His whole reality was suddenly shattered, it felt like everything in his body just. Stopped. And while part of him was filled with the need to throw himself at Mikey's mercy, fucking beg him not to mean it, the rest burned with the anger and fear and despair of what was simply a teenager with a broken heart. It was like nothing he said mattered at all, like pouring his fucking heart and soul out didn't mean anything- that just when Frank had thought that maybe the world wasn't complete bullshit, that there was someone else in it who needed him... Frank's expression was blank as he slowly released his deathgrip on the rail, giving Mikey's abused body a long look over before turning towards the door. He stopped with his hand on the frame, turning his head like he'd glance back, but he didn't. And then he walked away.
Author: woebetidesweets (Emma) and cassie_roulette (Melanie)
Pairing: Frank (Melanie) / Mikey (Emma)
Rating: NC-17 for... many unspeakable things.
POV: Third-person omniscient
Summary:
Author Notes: This started off as an rp. Because we were bored. We tried to get each other off. And you hadn't had the Frank/Mikey in forevers. And no-one can resist a goddamn uniform. And we're both ex-Catholic Catholic fetishists something fierce. So we're aware that it's pretty damn cliche. But it got out of hand really fast and ended up being kind of epicly long. ...It's been two minutes and I can't think of anything else to reply with. END AUTHOR'S NOTE HERE.
Disclaimer: It's an epic gayass INO AU rp. Also, we don't know the My Chemical Romances. Nor do we own them.
x-posted lyk whoa
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Frank had been expelled. Stared at the headmaster with folded hands behind his desk in his office that smelled like cigar smoke, sat in the leather chair between his parents, who seemed to have overdressed for the occasion, like always. They hadn't really been upset that he'd gotten kicked out. They'd shown little remorse for his actions, and surprisingly minimal reactions at all over the fact that he'd been seen kissing a boy. Either they figured it was a phase or they simply didn't care.
Ironic, that this was something he'd been trying to accomplish for years now; you'd think Frank would be ecstatic. Except for the fact that the fucking school was the one connection he had to Mikey. And he'd spent the rest of the day of what he'd come to call "the incident" pacing and seething in his room, pointedly keeping his eyes away from his guitar sitting by itself in the corner. And by the end of that first night, running on no sleep and poorly brewed Roasted Hazelnut caffeine with grits in the bottom, he'd devised a plan to lurk the parking lot of the school near the end of the class day, trying to overhear any news that he could about Mikey without being seen by the teachers. Come Monday that was exactly what he did. It was tedious and boring and he ran out of cigarettes three hours in and just when he thought there'd be no pay off, he'd caught the faintest edge of conversation from that cheerleader named Susan and the phrase "-hurt pretty bad, I think he's in the hospital." Frank didn't even wait for the rest, he'd simply jumped in his car and drove, on a course for the hospital closest to Mikey's house.
Mikey was blinking in one of the rooms on the sixth floor of the building Frank was speeding towards, eyes trying to find patterns he hadn't seen yet in the stucco of the ceiling. Breathing was easier with the tube running underneath his nose and hooked behind his ears, though it didn't help much with the hurt in his ribs when his lungs expanded, and he tried to time his inhales with the beeps of the monitor just to keep himself occupied. In another time and place, he would have stumbled out a joke about sounding like Darth Vader, but. As it was, the nurses were the only ones to come in for the three days he'd been in the hospital so far, and they only came around twice a day to feed him and help him shower. He hated the fact that they saw him shower. And he hated that they wouldn't really tell him all the damage that was done, like he couldn't handle it, just because he wasn't 18. His arm was in a cast, and his ribs were horribly shades of green and yellow, he'd seen it in the mirror and didn't want to look again after that, so he assumed both were broken. Other than that, he just knew everything hurt. He didn't remember much about getting from his bed at home to the hospital. The details of how each bone had been broken were very clear in his mind, sometimes he dreamed about it and woke up in darkness and it was hard to breathe, but after that, in his mind. It was just being in his bed and feeling wet warmth under his back and vague pain in his arm, then a man with glasses and a face mask bending over him, a blurry ambulance ride with a swinging IV bag only half full with liquid, that confused him, and then- waking up here. He wondered what his dad told them so they wouldn't ask questions. Because no-one'd asked him. It hurt in some way, that no-one asked. Why didn't anyone ask. They seemed suspicious of him. They didn't bring him Jello in the little tray with portioned mashed potatoes and peas. Maybe his dad said he was in a gang. He smiled at the thought and gulped, looking back up to the ceiling and failing to find more designs. He knew even if they did he probably wouldn't- probably wouldn't tell the truth anyways.
Frank palmed a hand over his face as he waited in the hospital lobby to be helped at the desk. He was wearing ripped up old jeans and a faded Danzig shirt, holding his head high when he finally gave up waiting for the receptionist to get off the damn phone and approached a nurse in hopes that he'd be taken seriously. He swallowed and looked off to the side and explained that he was a friend from school and that he'd heard Mikey Way was here and he wanted to see him. Please. And with a charming smile that had worked on his mother countless times, he got a little visitor tag and was led down the white tiled hallway that reeked of hospital-clean, a smell that he hated; hated hospitals, hated everything about them, but if Mikey was here somewhere, then none of that even mattered. The elevator ride was interminable and each time they neared a room to pass his chest clenched up horribly and then a let-down when they kept going, though part of him was- not really sure what would happen when he got there. He kind of froze up when they eventually stopped, the nurse opened the door for him but did little else, turning to walk back to her post and leaving Frank to just- stumble and gasp aloud in shock and something close to utter fucking- at the sight of Mikey laid out on the bed with his arm in a sling and tubes in his nose and machines beeping all around and "What-what the fuck happened?" he whispered, walking over to grip the rail on the side of the bed.
Mikey's eyes ripped from the ceiling as soon as the door opened, automatically tensing a little just at the thought of someone else being in the room when they never said a fucking word to him, but when he saw who it was, his stomach took a nasty flip, the beeping immediately quickening considerably. He automatically wanted to curl in and cover up so Frank wouldn't see- and when it hurt too much and he couldn't manage, he just gave up and fell a little limp and gaped at him in disbelief, his mouth opening like he'd reply before he clamped it shut again when he realized it was open.
He'd thought his dad already got him.
Frank's chest tightened in physical pain, seeing Mikey struggle a bit and just seeing him; he reached out a hand to touch the other boy's face but didn't quite make it, inherently fearful that no matter what he did, it would just hurt him even more.
"Mikey," he whispered, tears stinging in his eyes that he would not fucking shed, dammit. "Mikey, what happened?" But he knew what happened. He fucking knew what happened and the hatred collided with the sorrow for dominance of his brain, hands trembling against the rail. He'd failed, somehow. All those promises he made and the things he said, the trust in Mikey's eyes. He'd failed him.
Mikey pulled back a little in his pillow when Frank reached out, eyes fixed on his hand, trying to stop himself from reaching up to grab it- he knew his arm wouldn't make it. His breathing was almost quick enough to qualify as a pant.
"H-he hit me," he sputtered simply, because it just came out and he didn't know what else to say.
Frank's body took in the fucking machinery, he heard the weird compressing thing that made Mikey's lungs inflate and saw the monitor with green scribbles on it out of the corner of his eye and the cast no-one had drawn on even though he wanted more than anything not to fucking- see those things, and all his life, he'd never felt anything quite like this. Concern for another person so strong that it overwhelmed him, hurt him by proxy, made him whimper in the barest voice.
"I'm- I'm sorry Mikey," he whispered, reaching out to brush at Mikey's hair, figuring it was the safest place on his body to touch at the moment. "Mikey I'm so- I'm so sorry." His fingers curled tighter on the metal, and somehow he managed to wrench up what was supposed to be a familiar smile and ended up being a completely pained and twisted up grimace- "I... I got kicked out of school, like, for good this time. So I can be here as long as you need me, right- here, they can get me a chair and I don't have anywhere else to go, it can be just the two of us Mikey, just like we- just like we said-" And he was rambling, scared by these feelings of concern of protective panic and completely overwhelmed with trying to fix something he knew, somehow, that he'd broken.
Mikey chest clenched in something that wasn't pain when Frank's fingers brushed his hair, and his lip trembled, his thoughts running at a hundred miles an hour on panic and pills, the IV in his arm that made him sleepy. If Mikey was so fucked up he couldn't shower on his own, and his dad said he'd do worse to Frank, said- went into detail about crowbars and no regrets- the decision was simple. And he desperately willed every inch of his being to savor Frank's touch, to memorize his face and gather in how he smelled and how he stood, the color of his eyes and the sound of his voice and wrenched his face into a slight frown of discomfort even though all he wanted was to put a smile up and reach out to touch Frank's hand, for Frank to sit with him, even if it was just for a little while, talk to him without even meaning anything at all- because if he had anything to say about it, this would be the last time Frank Iero would ever want to come see him.
"Th-that hurts, Frank." He fought down the prickling of tears and turned his head. "D-d-d-don't."
Wincing a little and pulling his hand back, Frank mouthed "sorry" again, going back to simply leaning on the rail for all that he ached to get closer. There was a silence in which the only sound was the ticking of the clinical black and white clock over the door before Frank had regathered himself enough to speak again.
"You know, Mikey... it's- it's gonna be okay. My... my dad's a lawyer," he said with some force, like feigning control and strength would maybe make Mikey think he could really lean on him, fool him into thinking he knew just what to do with the situation, just how to fix it and make it all better, like it never happened- "And I'm, I'm gonna figure out a way to help you. Your parents are fucking- fucked up and this shit isn't legal, and more than that..." He trailed off for a moment, moved by emotions that up until a few weeks ago, he hadn't known he could feel, his false bravado fading into something foreign and vulnerable. "It isn't right. I'm gonna fix this and then we're- we're gonna be able to be together-"
Mikey didn't look at him, instead watching the colored lines on the monitor jab up and down. It hurt to breathe, hurt more to hear the squeak of the rail as Frank desperately tried to be a little closer to him. He swallowed it and narrowed his eyes, because his dad used to say- his dad said he was a pussy, a weak pussy, and that might be true but he was strong enough now, he had to be, strong enough to protect the only person who ever really cared about him.
"Just. S-stop, Frank. Just stop." He rolled over as best he could and tried his best to keep his voice steady. He could actually hearing blood rushing in his ears, and he'd always thought that was just a cliché. "B-being with you, all it did- i-is- f-f-. F-fuck m-me up." His hand tightened in the sheets. "...L-look what you di-did. To m-me."
It took Frank a moment to process, just sort of staring silently at the sight of the abused, injured boy lying in front of him. And even as the fury rose within him at the words, he could only crumble back down on himself, because really, that was the first thing he'd thought when he'd entered the room. That this was his fault, his fucking fault, and Mikey didn't deserve any of it but he'd be fucked if he was gonna walk out without a fight.
"It's... Mikey... I'm- sorry," he breathed, searching Mikey's face for some kind of sign that he didn't mean it. "But it's gonna get better, I promise," his voice picked up with a kind of rushed optimism, "I'm- I'm gonna take care of you and you'll never have to see those people again, never-"
Mikey was dying. He couldn't ever remember hurting like this, like his insides were eating out, like his heart was imploding. And he suddenly realized his father had hurt him way worse than he ever had with a belt, because somehow, he'd managed to take Frank away from him. Frank, the only person he couldn't handle losing, the only person he doubted he could live without anymore. And just thinking that Frank was in anywhere near the amount of emotional pain he was right now was the only thing that motivated him, pushed him forward and screamed 'end it quickly'.
"'T-take care of me'?" His voice dripped with venomous sarcasm, more fury and taunting than he'd ever managed in his life. "Y-yeah, you're re-real good at that." His eyes were blank as he looked at the wall. "All I-I ever got from y-you was- guilt and m-more. B-bruises." His heart twisted up inside and his voice broke, "You're- Frank, you're just a stupid ri-rich kid who f-fucks up- fucks up everything he- g-gets- around. Take care of me- su-sure," He battered down and made his face go straight, though the heart monitor was beeping wildly, "I. I-I don't need you. Don't need you and y-your fucking-" Please stop trying, please go Frank or I'll- "Just. G-get out."
Frank was in shock, a slow and powerful pain swelling in his chest and devouring his heart, the likes of which he'd never felt before.
"Mikey," he whispered as icy, unimaginable fear gripped at him despite his attempts to shove it away. "You... you don't-" his face broke out in a stupid grin because he didn't know what else to do and this was such a stupid joke, "You don’t mean that. You can't." And for a moment he thought that maybe this was some sort of defense mechanism, that yeah, Mikey was hurting in every way possible, but that deep down past the anger at his injuries and the drugs in his veins and his brain, he couldn't possibly mean what he was saying-
"Mikey," he stated simply, naked. "I. I love you."
Hearing that killed something in Mikey. Before there'd been pain and tears and horror at what he was doing, what he had to do, but hearing Frank broken and more childlike than he'd ever thought possible, hearing the Frank that no-one else seemed to be able to see, the one who just wanted someone to love and be loved in return, blew him over and dulled him and he really, wasn't the same person anymore. He couldn't be, if he was going to say what he was about to whisper; so his eyes were dead as he turned over and towards Frank painfully in his sheets, bundled up in the starched white, face impassive-
"I never loved you."
Up until that point, Frank had been functioning under almost hysterical denial. That at any given moment, Mikey would laugh his stupid laugh and break down and say that it was all just a joke- that of course he didn't mean it, that he was just in a lot of pain and upset and of course he wanted Frank to take care of him, he wanted him to hold his hand and hook up his Gamecube to the hospital TV and let him win at Super Smash Brothers and- watch over him when he was sleeping and just- hold his hand. His whole reality was suddenly shattered, it felt like everything in his body just. Stopped. And while part of him was filled with the need to throw himself at Mikey's mercy, fucking beg him not to mean it, the rest burned with the anger and fear and despair of what was simply a teenager with a broken heart. It was like nothing he said mattered at all, like pouring his fucking heart and soul out didn't mean anything- that just when Frank had thought that maybe the world wasn't complete bullshit, that there was someone else in it who needed him... Frank's expression was blank as he slowly released his deathgrip on the rail, giving Mikey's abused body a long look over before turning towards the door. He stopped with his hand on the frame, turning his head like he'd glance back, but he didn't. And then he walked away.