How I Disappear - Standalone
Title: How I Disappear
Rating: R
Pairing: Frank/Mikey
Summary: He lost himself, or was it that he gave himself away, he wasn't sure, couldn't be sure, not without him there. Him. It was all about him; needing him, wanting him, craving him. And feeling that same needing and wanting right back. It's why he let it happen, didn't mind each degree as he felt it suffocate him.
Warnings: Depiction of an extremely unhealthy relationship
Disclaimer: This is fictional.
Beta:: xsilverxlightx
Author Note: This was based off a prompt from anon_lovefest from forever ago. Also based off Pet by A Perfect Circle. Title from MCR
It happened by degrees. If there was anything to be learned from all of what had happened, Mikey was certain that was it. But then again, he wasn't certain of much anymore, he hadn't been in such a long time. And it had happened in degrees. He lost himself, or was it that he gave himself away, he wasn't sure, couldn't be sure, not without him there. Him. It was all about him; needing him, wanting him, craving him. And feeling that same needing and wanting right back. It's why he let it happen, didn't mind each degree as he felt it suffocate him. He didn't need air, didn't need food, or water. He no longer needed anything other than what was offered. And so it happened in degrees.
He picked up a pen from off the kitchen table, using it to scratch out the letters '1 and ½ cups of cereal. 1 cup of milk' in his messy handwriting. Pages of the notebook were filled with similar notations, detailing in shorthand what he ate for each meal, for each snack. Anything that went in his mouth went in the notebook. The beginning of the notebook held more ink than the later pages. A full meal became a snack, then it became nothing. He already felt full even though he'd been eating less. Soon Mikey figured there'd be nothing left but empty space for each day. And what a day that would be. But Frank wouldn't allow it, least he assumed as much. That was why the notebook was there. To make sure that Mikey was eating right, even when Frank was gone, even when Frank couldn't keep a watchful eye. Three square meals a day, Frank said, that's what Mikey was supposed to be eating. Only the best for you Mikey, Frank said, and Mikey believed it.
Standing, Mikey disposed of 1 cup of cereal and half a cup of milk. He'd lied in the notebook, and Frank would find out. Frank always found out. The cameras in each room insured that. He remembered when they were brand new, when Frank had come home one day with a bag in his hands, saying he'd found the answer. Every morning Frank left, and it hurt them both, Mikey could tell by the look in Frank's eyes when he walked out the front door. He never wanted to leave Mikey, Mikey knew that, but sometimes Frank had to and Mikey was left alone. Scared and alone. But then Frank bought cameras, and installed them in each room. The smile on Frank's face as he twisted in each screw and turned each camera on made Mikey smile too. He liked being able to make Frank smile like that. You'll never be out of my sight, Frank boasted. The red light that meant the camera was on shined like a beacon in the dark, it meant that he was still safe. What had Mikey done to deserve that?
He moved over to the window, looking out over the apartment's view of an empty alleyway. Without thinking, he reached his hand out, pressing his fingertips against the thick glass. Bullet proof, if Frank was to be believed, and Mikey always believed him. Someone had been shot six blocks away over seven months ago, Frank didn't want that to happen to Mikey, he didn't want to take the chance. Nothing was too cautious, not for his Mikey. Anything to keep him safe. Mikey wondered idly when the iron grill bars had shown up, interrupting the vanilla view with angry dark stripes across the sill. He didn't remember Frank putting them there, but it must have been Frank's doing. Nails were pounded into the frame, making the window nothing more than a silly decoration, unable to open, not even to let in a nice breeze. Mikey's fingers curled around the bars, his eyes going unfocused as he stared at the outside world much like an observer in a zoo; close to the animals, but not considered a part of their world.
He heard the door open, but he didn't move. He knew who it was, the only person it could possibly be. The twist of the key in the lock made him sure of it, not that anyone else knew about him, knew where he was. Frank was the only one. He had the only key, not even Mikey had a copy. Mikey was okay with that, he didn't want that responsibility and burden anyway.
"What are you doing at the window?" The question didn't surprise Mikey, but he still didn't move. He stood there, staring at the outside until a gentle hand came and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him away. "You know you shouldn't be near there," Frank tutted, a marker of his concern, of his love, "Someone could see you. You could get hurt."
Mikey nodded in response, he didn't have much to say. He didn't know when words had suddenly become a loss to him, but it had been that way for a while. Paragraphs turned into sentences, turned into words, turned into jerks of his head and vague hand motions that only Frank understood. There was no one but Frank who needed to understand. He remembered his brother still, all the others in his life who'd grown so far out of his reach that they couldn't comprehend. He used to see them, used to have to tell him that he was fine, until Frank saw what a toll the visits were taking on him. He didn't want Mikey to worry, and so he made the problem go away. Then there were phone calls; conversations of increased agitation, Gerard telling him he had to leave. Mikey hadn't wanted to leave, he didn't know why Gerard didn't accept that, why he kept insisting. Then the phones were gone too, and there was nothing left to bother him. That's when Mikey started to conserve his words to the point of silence. There wasn't anything to say anyway.
"I'll have to board them up over the weekend," Frank murmured, but he wasn't talking to himself and so Mikey said nothing, simply let himself be led into the bathroom.
The silence was thick but comfortable and familiar to Mikey as the bathroom door shut with a soft click. The rustle of clothes took over, Frank running his hands across soft skin as he undressed his boyfriend. His lover. His touch was gentle as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Mikey's only to pull away a moment later to fold Mikey's clothes and set them aside. His actions were completed with a sense of unbridled reverence that even Mikey couldn't understand, even if he'd come to expect it.
After drawing a warm bath, Frank took Mikey's hand and helped him into the tub. Mikey's eyes slipped closed, his breath even as he felt a sponge dip over the curves and angles of his bones and skin, such a fragile body. Warm water to the perfect degree trickled over him, but he dared not to open his eyes. Frank warned him against it. "The soap," he chided, his tone soft and sweet, just like him, "Don't let it get in your eyes. I won't let it sting you." The sentiment dissolved slowly into single words that Frank cooed over him; beautiful, perfect, mine.
When the water chilled, Frank took his hand again, his other hand at the small of Mikey's back to help him up. He didn't have to move, waiting for Frank to tell him when to step out of tub, then wait for Frank to dry him off with the towel. He took his time, making sure each inch of skin was dry, before he redressed him. Mikey's limbs were limp, his body as pliant as a ragdoll's as Frank maneuvered around him. The complaints from long before --the remarks that Mikey could do it himself, that he didn't need help-- they'd all faded away.
Soft sheets and blankets were cocooned around him, his eyes still closed. His breathing slowed as Frank rested on the bed next to him. Arms wrapped around him, grip tight, just like a cage, he'd never be able to escape.
"I'm all you need," Frank whispered, and Mikey cringed when he realized it was true.
Rating: R
Pairing: Frank/Mikey
Summary: He lost himself, or was it that he gave himself away, he wasn't sure, couldn't be sure, not without him there. Him. It was all about him; needing him, wanting him, craving him. And feeling that same needing and wanting right back. It's why he let it happen, didn't mind each degree as he felt it suffocate him.
Warnings: Depiction of an extremely unhealthy relationship
Disclaimer: This is fictional.
Beta:: xsilverxlightx
Author Note: This was based off a prompt from anon_lovefest from forever ago. Also based off Pet by A Perfect Circle. Title from MCR
It happened by degrees. If there was anything to be learned from all of what had happened, Mikey was certain that was it. But then again, he wasn't certain of much anymore, he hadn't been in such a long time. And it had happened in degrees. He lost himself, or was it that he gave himself away, he wasn't sure, couldn't be sure, not without him there. Him. It was all about him; needing him, wanting him, craving him. And feeling that same needing and wanting right back. It's why he let it happen, didn't mind each degree as he felt it suffocate him. He didn't need air, didn't need food, or water. He no longer needed anything other than what was offered. And so it happened in degrees.
He picked up a pen from off the kitchen table, using it to scratch out the letters '1 and ½ cups of cereal. 1 cup of milk' in his messy handwriting. Pages of the notebook were filled with similar notations, detailing in shorthand what he ate for each meal, for each snack. Anything that went in his mouth went in the notebook. The beginning of the notebook held more ink than the later pages. A full meal became a snack, then it became nothing. He already felt full even though he'd been eating less. Soon Mikey figured there'd be nothing left but empty space for each day. And what a day that would be. But Frank wouldn't allow it, least he assumed as much. That was why the notebook was there. To make sure that Mikey was eating right, even when Frank was gone, even when Frank couldn't keep a watchful eye. Three square meals a day, Frank said, that's what Mikey was supposed to be eating. Only the best for you Mikey, Frank said, and Mikey believed it.
Standing, Mikey disposed of 1 cup of cereal and half a cup of milk. He'd lied in the notebook, and Frank would find out. Frank always found out. The cameras in each room insured that. He remembered when they were brand new, when Frank had come home one day with a bag in his hands, saying he'd found the answer. Every morning Frank left, and it hurt them both, Mikey could tell by the look in Frank's eyes when he walked out the front door. He never wanted to leave Mikey, Mikey knew that, but sometimes Frank had to and Mikey was left alone. Scared and alone. But then Frank bought cameras, and installed them in each room. The smile on Frank's face as he twisted in each screw and turned each camera on made Mikey smile too. He liked being able to make Frank smile like that. You'll never be out of my sight, Frank boasted. The red light that meant the camera was on shined like a beacon in the dark, it meant that he was still safe. What had Mikey done to deserve that?
He moved over to the window, looking out over the apartment's view of an empty alleyway. Without thinking, he reached his hand out, pressing his fingertips against the thick glass. Bullet proof, if Frank was to be believed, and Mikey always believed him. Someone had been shot six blocks away over seven months ago, Frank didn't want that to happen to Mikey, he didn't want to take the chance. Nothing was too cautious, not for his Mikey. Anything to keep him safe. Mikey wondered idly when the iron grill bars had shown up, interrupting the vanilla view with angry dark stripes across the sill. He didn't remember Frank putting them there, but it must have been Frank's doing. Nails were pounded into the frame, making the window nothing more than a silly decoration, unable to open, not even to let in a nice breeze. Mikey's fingers curled around the bars, his eyes going unfocused as he stared at the outside world much like an observer in a zoo; close to the animals, but not considered a part of their world.
He heard the door open, but he didn't move. He knew who it was, the only person it could possibly be. The twist of the key in the lock made him sure of it, not that anyone else knew about him, knew where he was. Frank was the only one. He had the only key, not even Mikey had a copy. Mikey was okay with that, he didn't want that responsibility and burden anyway.
"What are you doing at the window?" The question didn't surprise Mikey, but he still didn't move. He stood there, staring at the outside until a gentle hand came and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him away. "You know you shouldn't be near there," Frank tutted, a marker of his concern, of his love, "Someone could see you. You could get hurt."
Mikey nodded in response, he didn't have much to say. He didn't know when words had suddenly become a loss to him, but it had been that way for a while. Paragraphs turned into sentences, turned into words, turned into jerks of his head and vague hand motions that only Frank understood. There was no one but Frank who needed to understand. He remembered his brother still, all the others in his life who'd grown so far out of his reach that they couldn't comprehend. He used to see them, used to have to tell him that he was fine, until Frank saw what a toll the visits were taking on him. He didn't want Mikey to worry, and so he made the problem go away. Then there were phone calls; conversations of increased agitation, Gerard telling him he had to leave. Mikey hadn't wanted to leave, he didn't know why Gerard didn't accept that, why he kept insisting. Then the phones were gone too, and there was nothing left to bother him. That's when Mikey started to conserve his words to the point of silence. There wasn't anything to say anyway.
"I'll have to board them up over the weekend," Frank murmured, but he wasn't talking to himself and so Mikey said nothing, simply let himself be led into the bathroom.
The silence was thick but comfortable and familiar to Mikey as the bathroom door shut with a soft click. The rustle of clothes took over, Frank running his hands across soft skin as he undressed his boyfriend. His lover. His touch was gentle as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Mikey's only to pull away a moment later to fold Mikey's clothes and set them aside. His actions were completed with a sense of unbridled reverence that even Mikey couldn't understand, even if he'd come to expect it.
After drawing a warm bath, Frank took Mikey's hand and helped him into the tub. Mikey's eyes slipped closed, his breath even as he felt a sponge dip over the curves and angles of his bones and skin, such a fragile body. Warm water to the perfect degree trickled over him, but he dared not to open his eyes. Frank warned him against it. "The soap," he chided, his tone soft and sweet, just like him, "Don't let it get in your eyes. I won't let it sting you." The sentiment dissolved slowly into single words that Frank cooed over him; beautiful, perfect, mine.
When the water chilled, Frank took his hand again, his other hand at the small of Mikey's back to help him up. He didn't have to move, waiting for Frank to tell him when to step out of tub, then wait for Frank to dry him off with the towel. He took his time, making sure each inch of skin was dry, before he redressed him. Mikey's limbs were limp, his body as pliant as a ragdoll's as Frank maneuvered around him. The complaints from long before --the remarks that Mikey could do it himself, that he didn't need help-- they'd all faded away.
Soft sheets and blankets were cocooned around him, his eyes still closed. His breathing slowed as Frank rested on the bed next to him. Arms wrapped around him, grip tight, just like a cage, he'd never be able to escape.
"I'm all you need," Frank whispered, and Mikey cringed when he realized it was true.