27 days [gerard/mikey/frank][s/a]
Title: 27 Days
Pairing/Character(s): Gerard Way/Mikey Way/Frank Iero
Rating: R
Summary: Frank is momentarily quiet. “Out of sight, out of mind,” he sighs, and his tone is so similar to Gerard’s that Mikey feels his chest tighten and he sobs harder than before, and everything in his body hurts. “I’m so sorry,” Frank says, “I wish I was there, too.”
Warning: Incest, possible claustrophobia triggers? Better safe than sorry.
Beta: N/A
Word Count: 1,010
A/N: for camatie, based on the song 27 Days by The Like. Well, sort of. It kind of deviates from what the song actually means...a lot. BUT I really liked it, heh.
Mikey feels small and lonely, which, realistically isn’t all that different to how he normally feels. But this is true loneliness, true fear, and he’s truly fearful.
He breathes and sets the tip of the pen on the notebook paper in front of him, sitting on the wooden desk. His hands are shaking as he begins to write, and it’s not a letter, it’s not a song, it’s not a poem or a story. It’s just words - he writes down his thoughts, incomprehensible run-ons begging for someone to listen. Somewhere halfway down the page his hand begins to cry. Despite the quivering of his body, the pain in his muscles, he keeps writing, some words too small to read and others dipping off onto the next line - he tries to straighten them on occasion but usually just lets them continue on a downhill slope.
-
“Wish that you were here,” Mikey whispers into his phone. He can hear Gerard breathing on the other end, a short swear under his breath. “Miss you, miss you so much.”
“Oh, Mikey,” Gerard murmurs, and Mikey curls up on the bed and folds his knees to his chest, making himself as small as possible. “I miss you too, I really do.”
-
Mikey calls Frank at three in the morning, two hours after he calls Gerard. “I’m going out of my mind,” is how he starts the conversation, followed by the dry heave of a sob.
Frank is momentarily quiet. “Out of sight, out of mind,” he sighs, and his tone is so similar to Gerard’s that Mikey feels his chest tighten and he sobs harder than before, and everything in his body hurts. “I’m so sorry,” Frank says, “I wish I was there, too.”
-
Mikey crosses off each day at midnight on the calendar. It feels good, the only release he receives every day. He starts talking to himself, saying, “Only seventeen more days,” “Only nine more days.”
He’s desperate to go home. He’s desperate to be with the two people who have never hurt him (purposely) in his life, to be between them and to have Gerard sing to him and Frank hum along. He’s desperate to see them touch each other and for them to touch him. He closes his eyes as tight as possible and tries to remember what Frank looks like, all of the details. Each and every tattoo - he writes them down, because it makes them easier to keep track of - he recalls every tattoo Frank has ever gotten, the day (or at the very least, the month) and why. After he lists the tattoos, he begins to pace in the bedroom (he would call it his except it just isn’t, and it never will be), trying to distract himself.
It’s harder than he thought it would be.
-
Gerard picks up on the second ring.
“Two days.” Mikey is proud of himself, and it’s evident in his voice, despite how weak it is from not talking in those two days. “And I only have three left.”
“Yeah, I’ve been marking them down, too. Only three more.” Gerard’s voice is tired, and Mikey feels a tinge of guilt, knowing he’s got Gerard up around the clock, up at all hours so he doesn’t miss Mikey’s call. Phone in his pocket, on the highest setting just in case, and it’s probably a good thing otherwise Mikey would go seriously insane. More insane than he already is.
“You don’t have to do this, you know? You could leave that room right now and come home. Frank was crying yesterday, he was worried about you.”
Mikey stands up and begins to pace again, phone in hand. “I know,” he whispers, staring at the desk, with its stacks of paper thoughts and doodles that kept him busy. He sleeps, mostly. Cries. “I know you don’t think I have to do this, but I do. I have to. If I don’t, then…” He hesitates. “If I don’t, I think I’ll be worse.”
Gerard sighs, very quietly, as if he doesn’t want Mikey to hear him. Mikey tries to ignore it. He’s feeling more human with each day, and he doesn’t want to let it be ruined by something so simple as a sigh, an automatic reaction. “Okay. But - you’re not staying past twenty seven days, right? You’ll be home on Wednesday, right?”
“Yeah,” Mikey promises, staring at the wall. “Yeah.”
-
Mikey lets Frankie run his hands up his chest, kiss over his skin. Gerard’s hands on his bare hips feel good too, more real than any of his recent fantasies. He leans his head back and lets out a breathy moan, and Frank dips closer and mouths hungrily at his throat. “Missed you, needed you,” Frank mumbles against Mikey’s skin before pushing their chests together and kissing Gerard over Mikey’s shoulder. Mikey doesn’t watch, but he listens to them, listens to their mouths colliding together, the soft moans and breaths.
Mikey pushes back against Gerard, his heart pounding and his body pulsing, tangling his fingers into his brother’s hair. Gerard and Frank separate, Frank going back to touching Mikey up and down and Gerard kissing Mikey roughly.
Mikey’s missed this. Missed the feeling of them both against him, of Gerard’s tongue and Frank’s lip ring, of their warm skin against his and Gerard’s spindly arms wrapped around him. He doesn’t miss being lonely, the fear and the estrangement from the real world that being alone had brought him. Only voices on the lines of phones to keep him from finding some clever way to disappear. He had challenged himself and he had made it, and this was his reward. What he had had before his decision to hide for almost a month, except intensified. One hundred times more real, more pulsating, hotter.
And when Gerard says, “I love you,” his voice raw, Mikey can tell that he’s about to cry. It feels good, so he kisses Gerard back.
“I know,” he whispers.
It brings back an entirely new type of ‘alive’.
Pairing/Character(s): Gerard Way/Mikey Way/Frank Iero
Rating: R
Summary: Frank is momentarily quiet. “Out of sight, out of mind,” he sighs, and his tone is so similar to Gerard’s that Mikey feels his chest tighten and he sobs harder than before, and everything in his body hurts. “I’m so sorry,” Frank says, “I wish I was there, too.”
Warning: Incest, possible claustrophobia triggers? Better safe than sorry.
Beta: N/A
Word Count: 1,010
A/N: for camatie, based on the song 27 Days by The Like. Well, sort of. It kind of deviates from what the song actually means...a lot. BUT I really liked it, heh.
Mikey feels small and lonely, which, realistically isn’t all that different to how he normally feels. But this is true loneliness, true fear, and he’s truly fearful.
He breathes and sets the tip of the pen on the notebook paper in front of him, sitting on the wooden desk. His hands are shaking as he begins to write, and it’s not a letter, it’s not a song, it’s not a poem or a story. It’s just words - he writes down his thoughts, incomprehensible run-ons begging for someone to listen. Somewhere halfway down the page his hand begins to cry. Despite the quivering of his body, the pain in his muscles, he keeps writing, some words too small to read and others dipping off onto the next line - he tries to straighten them on occasion but usually just lets them continue on a downhill slope.
-
“Wish that you were here,” Mikey whispers into his phone. He can hear Gerard breathing on the other end, a short swear under his breath. “Miss you, miss you so much.”
“Oh, Mikey,” Gerard murmurs, and Mikey curls up on the bed and folds his knees to his chest, making himself as small as possible. “I miss you too, I really do.”
-
Mikey calls Frank at three in the morning, two hours after he calls Gerard. “I’m going out of my mind,” is how he starts the conversation, followed by the dry heave of a sob.
Frank is momentarily quiet. “Out of sight, out of mind,” he sighs, and his tone is so similar to Gerard’s that Mikey feels his chest tighten and he sobs harder than before, and everything in his body hurts. “I’m so sorry,” Frank says, “I wish I was there, too.”
-
Mikey crosses off each day at midnight on the calendar. It feels good, the only release he receives every day. He starts talking to himself, saying, “Only seventeen more days,” “Only nine more days.”
He’s desperate to go home. He’s desperate to be with the two people who have never hurt him (purposely) in his life, to be between them and to have Gerard sing to him and Frank hum along. He’s desperate to see them touch each other and for them to touch him. He closes his eyes as tight as possible and tries to remember what Frank looks like, all of the details. Each and every tattoo - he writes them down, because it makes them easier to keep track of - he recalls every tattoo Frank has ever gotten, the day (or at the very least, the month) and why. After he lists the tattoos, he begins to pace in the bedroom (he would call it his except it just isn’t, and it never will be), trying to distract himself.
It’s harder than he thought it would be.
-
Gerard picks up on the second ring.
“Two days.” Mikey is proud of himself, and it’s evident in his voice, despite how weak it is from not talking in those two days. “And I only have three left.”
“Yeah, I’ve been marking them down, too. Only three more.” Gerard’s voice is tired, and Mikey feels a tinge of guilt, knowing he’s got Gerard up around the clock, up at all hours so he doesn’t miss Mikey’s call. Phone in his pocket, on the highest setting just in case, and it’s probably a good thing otherwise Mikey would go seriously insane. More insane than he already is.
“You don’t have to do this, you know? You could leave that room right now and come home. Frank was crying yesterday, he was worried about you.”
Mikey stands up and begins to pace again, phone in hand. “I know,” he whispers, staring at the desk, with its stacks of paper thoughts and doodles that kept him busy. He sleeps, mostly. Cries. “I know you don’t think I have to do this, but I do. I have to. If I don’t, then…” He hesitates. “If I don’t, I think I’ll be worse.”
Gerard sighs, very quietly, as if he doesn’t want Mikey to hear him. Mikey tries to ignore it. He’s feeling more human with each day, and he doesn’t want to let it be ruined by something so simple as a sigh, an automatic reaction. “Okay. But - you’re not staying past twenty seven days, right? You’ll be home on Wednesday, right?”
“Yeah,” Mikey promises, staring at the wall. “Yeah.”
-
Mikey lets Frankie run his hands up his chest, kiss over his skin. Gerard’s hands on his bare hips feel good too, more real than any of his recent fantasies. He leans his head back and lets out a breathy moan, and Frank dips closer and mouths hungrily at his throat. “Missed you, needed you,” Frank mumbles against Mikey’s skin before pushing their chests together and kissing Gerard over Mikey’s shoulder. Mikey doesn’t watch, but he listens to them, listens to their mouths colliding together, the soft moans and breaths.
Mikey pushes back against Gerard, his heart pounding and his body pulsing, tangling his fingers into his brother’s hair. Gerard and Frank separate, Frank going back to touching Mikey up and down and Gerard kissing Mikey roughly.
Mikey’s missed this. Missed the feeling of them both against him, of Gerard’s tongue and Frank’s lip ring, of their warm skin against his and Gerard’s spindly arms wrapped around him. He doesn’t miss being lonely, the fear and the estrangement from the real world that being alone had brought him. Only voices on the lines of phones to keep him from finding some clever way to disappear. He had challenged himself and he had made it, and this was his reward. What he had had before his decision to hide for almost a month, except intensified. One hundred times more real, more pulsating, hotter.
And when Gerard says, “I love you,” his voice raw, Mikey can tell that he’s about to cry. It feels good, so he kisses Gerard back.
“I know,” he whispers.
It brings back an entirely new type of ‘alive’.