(no subject)
Title: Arch Nemesis
Pairing: Mikey/Pete
Rating: gen
Wordcount: 1731
Summary: To say that Mikey's experience with an endangered animal went poorly is an understatement.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Mikey knows he’s not high when he sees the unicorn. Yes, he takes a variety of stimulants, depressants, and hallucinogens as often as he showers. Oftener. Gerard might be on a sober living kick now, but Mikey isn’t. But he’s not high now. He hasn’t even downed a beer in a few hours, never mind dropped acid. He’s not seeing things, it’s definitely really there. Nor is he mistaking something else for a unicorn. It’s only a bus length away. Glasses or not, he’s not that blind.
Mikey doesn’t want to spook the unicorn. If it bolted he’d probably fucking kill himself over the missed opportunity. There’s no telling how sensitive the animal is to movement, but Mikey would guess very, considering it’s the symbol of purity and beauty and mystery. He stays perfectly still, barely daring to blink. The only exception is his right thumb, which composes a text on the cellphone that was already in his hand. ILU2 THNX.
It’s a short text, but one he desperately needs to send to Pete. After all, Mom raised him and Gerard to thank people for gifts. Even slightly illegal ones. It’s obvious Pete found the endangered animal somewhere and had it brought here. He would have needed help, but not a lot of people say no to rockstars. Maybe it’s even a fan that’s seen the unicorn theme they’ve had and approves. As far as Mikey knows there’s no picture proof of their relationship, but if there’s one thing he’s learned being in a band it’s that the fans will always know more than you think they could.
Mikey can’t help himself. He wants to pet it more than he’s ever wanted to pet something in his life. Including other people when he was going through puberty. Against his logical brain’s better judgement Mikey slowly starts moving towards the beautiful creature. Each step is calm and deliberate. The last thing he needs is to kicks a soda can that he didn’t notice was in his way.
By the time he’s beside the animal he’s stiff with nervous anticipation. Everyone has their favourite animal. Some are easily accessed, like Frank and dogs. Gerard on the other hand is no more likely to see a gazelle in real life than Brian a tiger. Mikey always knew he’d never have a face to face encounter with a unicorn. Except here he is, holding out his hand for the unicorn to sniff like it’s a golden retriever. His next move will be to go for the flank. Horses like being rubbed down, surely unicorns feel the same? Or at least that’s what’s on Mikey’s mind when the unicorn bites him.
Mikey flinches automatically, flesh tearing as he takes back his hand. The blood is upsetting, but most of his brain stuck on a loop of what the fuck because what the fuck! Since when are unicorns violent? And then with blood on its teeth it scampers away. Mikey doesn’t chase it, choosing instead to stand there and swear. Which of course is when Pete’s reply comes. Mikey does the awkward dance of getting his phone out of his right pocket with his left hand, a process made all the harder by the tightness of his jeans.
UR W/CME. 4 WUT?
So it’s not even a distempered unicorn Pete got him, not realising it would attack. It’s a rogue unicorn. Fuck knows how it got to the middle of a parking lot at Warped, but his hand is proof Mikey wasn’t tripping. Which, really, he should get patched up before My Chem is due on stage.
Thankfully med services doesn’t ask questions. When the band asks what happened he says Devon challenged him to a box cutter catching contest. All four then treat him the way someone that juggles open blades should be treated; like a moron. It still seems like a better prospect than telling them a unicorn bit him. Mikey can only stand so much mockery.
Double thankfully he can still play. It’s a bit of a pain in the ass, but far better than if his left hand was bitten. His hand aches afterwards their set so he washes down some tylenol codeine with a beer then crawls into his bunk to sleep.
*
The downside of falling asleep early is leaving yourself open to pranks. When Mikey wakes up someone has painted his nails. They’ve done a really shit job of it. Basically just smeared silver paint all across his fingers. Mikey would guess it was a whipped cream in the hand feather tickle sort of prank, if it wasn’t for the facts that the paint is completely dry and he hasn’t hit himself in the face. Mikey’s more concerned that someone, possibly the same person, has stolen his book. If they dog-ear his pages Mikey will garrote them. That shit is not acceptable.
He doesn’t think much of his silver right hand until a week later. They’re in Toronto and it’s rained all through their opening show, and all afternoon. By the time it clears up it’s nearly dark. Mikey doesn’t even see the rainbow. But the rainbow sees him. One second he’s fine, the next he’s got four legs, and hooves, and a sparkling white mane. He immediately tries to put his face in his hands. He ends up prancing.
It’s at least fifteen minutes before the rainbow dissipates and Mikey is human again. There’s no blaming this on hallucinogens either. The only thing he is is hungover from last night’s party. It’s possible he’s crazy, but considering he’s not Pete it’s really more likely that seeing a rainbow turned him into a unicorn.
*
A year later and Mikey has learned some things about himself. The first is that flings don’t have to end if you don’t want them to, and he’s bad at wanting things to end. The second is that he’s as crazy as his boyfriend is, and pretty soon he’s going to have to acknowledge it. The third is he’s exceptionally good at keeping secrets.
All of these explode into common knowledge post-Paramour. He’s officially diagnosed, a check on line two. Pete very publicly helps him deal, a check on line one.
And then the guys visit as a group, once Stacey says that kind of thing is okay. Ray, the one of them with a laptop basically glued to his fingers, wants to cheer him up with a meme. Mikey agrees and peers over his shoulder. He barely has time to register it’s rainbows puking more rainbows before the emergency protocol part of his brain kicks in and screams at him to get to where the rainbows can’t see him. Faster than anything he’s rounding the arm of the couch and hiding behind it.
The results are immediate. Bob goes quiet in a brooding way, Ray swears through a confused apology and Gerard follows him behind the couch, though he stays a few feet away. Unchanged, Mikey mutters “rainbows”, which makes Ray close the lid of the laptop with a thunk.
Gerard smiles in a way that borders on condescending. “Did you talk to Erica about your phobias?”
“It’s not a phobia.” Or at least if it is, it’s justified like amputation victims having a tractor phobia.
“Okay. Um. Do you want to talk to-”
Bob interrupts Gerard. “Do you want us to get out of your face?”
“No. I just. Rainbows are my natural enemy now. I never told you guys, but at Warped, in Cleveland, there was this random unicorn in the parking lot.”
“Really?”
It doesn’t surprise Mikey that Ray’s so interested. Ever since Frank saw that griffin Ray’s wanted to have his own encounter with an endangered animal.
“It bit me and I. Well fuck. I’m a wereicorn.” The silence that falls after the statement is the silence of four men that think he’s full of shit but have too much respect to condescend to him the way you normally would to crazy people. Eventually Mikey breaks it with a sigh. “Fine. Whatever. I didn’t tell you because I thought you were going to mock me, not because you were going to think I was crazy. But fine.”
Gerard reacts with pity, which is annoying as hell. “Mikey, it’s not your fault you’re type one bipolar. Seeing things is per-”
Ray shakes his head. “No, actually. There was a unicorn there. The fans think it’s proof of Pikey, or whatever. They’re gonna shit when they find out, by the way. Though I guess that depends on what Stacey-”
Gerard growls. “Fuck Stacey. You wanna come out and My Chem comes out.”
“Me and Ray have nothing to come out about, remember? Not all of us have dressed up like a girl to fuck dudes.” Bob doesn’t say it in a way that hints he thinks something’s wrong with that. Bob’s not a jerk. Mikey wouldn’t have asked him to do sound if he thought Bob was going to be a jerk. He just says it because it’s true. Gerard did some experimenting when he was passing as a woman, Frank’s bi leaning towards straight, Mikey’s bi leaning towards gay, and Ray and Bob are both Kinsey One straight.
“Okay, but my point is yes, there was a unicorn. But I’ve never heard of a wereicorn, and I really don’t think-”
Ray’s cut off by Frank coming back into the living room. He’s not an idiot, it only takes him a second to scan the room and see something’s up. “What did I miss?”
“Mikey thinks he’s a wereicorn.”
“Oh, well, yeah, ‘cause he is.”
“What?”
“I saw him change. At the last Jersey show. I figured he’d tell us when he wanted to.”
“That was nearly a year ago.”
“I figured he’d tell us when he was ready,” Frank repeats.
“Sorry,” Gerard says a second later, volume low so it doesn’t burst Mikey’s eardrum where Gerard’s face is nestled. Mikey appreciates the words, but he likes the hug more. Lately he’s been getting only pity hugs. An apology hug is a nice switch-up.
Once Gerard pulls away, Mikey shrugs, emphatically enough that everyone can see. “So this is me, with an all flight no fight reaction to rainbows. Even funny meme ones.”
“We’ll be on the lookout.” Gerard says it so seriously Mikey has to laugh.