Do It Or Die
TITLE: Do It Or Die [Part 1/?]
AUTHOR: Me! X_the_ripper_X
Category: Slash
Pairings: Bob/Mikey, Gerard/Female.
Rating: PG-13.. Will go to NC-17
DISCLAIMER: Don't own, don't steal, and don’t sue. I just love MCR, I don't own them. All of these events are fiction, that's why it's called fan fiction.
FEEDBACK: This is my first submitted fanfic, so please be kind!
EMAIL: mychemicalromance636@hotmail.com
There he was, sitting on his bed, head held in his hands. I stood in the doorway, letting the midnight moon cast it's ghostly shadows across the carpet floor. My feet were guiding myself towards his sobbing form, as I sat beside him. His head lifted to look at me through his hazel eyes, those eyes, oh how I longed for years about them. My arms found their way around his small frame, and he leaned his head against my chest. "Bob," he said in between harsh gasps of breath. "Shh.. Shh.. It's okay," I said. I felt fatherly to him in a sense, and we both knew Gerard wouldn't be comforting his brother anytime soon. But somewhere deep down I wanted to be more than that to Mikey, much, much more. 'No! Banish the sick thoughts!' I mentally told myself. But here I was, holding him close, and my fingers found themselves upon Mikey's face, gently brushing away his tears and moving his hair out of the way. I looked down at him, and at that moment, he looked up at me. It was awkward; I didn't know what to say.
"Mikey, it's okay. Really," I said, trying to calm him down. His body shook, he was icy cold against me. I pulled him tighter towards me. His shirt was pressed against his skin, wet from the sweat and tears. "Bob," he said again, and I looked from his shirt to his face, eyes staring directly into mine. "Yes?" I asked softly, letting my voice trail at the end a bit. Mikey blinked for a moment before momentarily smiling, and his head sunk into my chest once more. "Thanks," he breathed.
Minutes passed. Slowly his sobs subsided into silence. His head lifted and he sat upright. Turning his body to face me, Mikey sighed. "Bob," he said once more. 'That's the third time, what's he trying to say?' I mentally pondered. "Yeah Mikey?" I asked nervously. "What is it?" His eyes met mine and I felt a shiver go down my spine. "I, I..." he stammered, sharp breaths breaking the silences. "I loved her.." he sobbed, his head crashing into my chest once more, arms wrapping themselves around me. "It's okay!" I said, somewhat louder than I had originally meant to. "No it's not!" he moaned, his head shaking. "It's not okay! She.. she.. she cheated!" he sobbed, and my shirt began to absorb his tears. "Oh Mikey," I said, stroking his head. His hair felt soft to the touch, and his bangs were damp. "It’ll be okay!" I said, a little louder than I meant to. Mikey flinched in my arms, and by instinct my hand grabbed his head softly. I lifted his face so he was looking straight at me. "I promise!" and I let go of his tender jaw, instead I hugged him tightly.
Mikey eyes locked onto mine. "How can you promise?” he asked. "You don't understand, I.. I loved Sera! And then she says it's over! And, and.." he stuttered. His voice became a harsh whisper, I had to strain to hear it. "I wanted to marry her one day!" My heart began to flutter. 'You never had a chance with him,' I told myself. 'It was all your imagination, he's just a friend! That's all!' "She wasn't good enough for you Mikey," I said, hoping it was the right thing to say. "If she left you, she didn't realize what a good thing she had, and she's not worth it. Remember that Mikey!" I said, my voice firm but quiet. My hand stroked his hair tenderly once more as he stood up. "Really? You think?" he asked, sincerity making his voice crackle. My head nodded firmly. "Positive." I said, standing up. His arms wrapped around my waist. "Thanks again Bob," he said, and turned to leave.
Watching Mikey leave, my heart was doing gymnastics in my chest. I put my hand over it to try to stop it, but nothing helped. I sat down firmly on Mikey's bed yet again. "Stupid!" I cursed under my breath. "He's not sick like you! God!" I muttered. "You don't deserve him anymore than Sera did!" I added for effect. My soul was now officially crushed and crumpled. I decided to sleep, and retreated to my bed, formally known as the couch.
I didn't technically live with Mikey and Frank, but I did call their small blue and green checked loveseat my home. "Irony," I said, flopping down on the bed. Frank was over at Gerard and Ray's, as they say, visiting. But he had been over there for a few days now, and knowing Frank and Gerard, there was some severe sex going on. I felt sorry for Ray, but right now my main concern was Mikey. Where was he? "Oh god!" I yelled, jolting up. I ran into the kitchen. No. His bedroom. No. There! The bathroom door was firmly shut, and as I pressed my ear against it, I heard small sobs. "Mikey?" I called. "Mikey!?" I yelped, desperation in my voice. He mumbled something I couldn't hear through the door. Pushing it open, I caught Mikey standing there, his glasses on the counter, and, a blade in his right hand. My arm immediately grabbed his and I wrenched it from his grip. He feebly attempted to get it back, but failed. "Bob," he moaned, his head hanging. "Please. I, I don't want to. I don't want to live.." he sighed. I felt my heart skip a beat. "No Mikey, you can't. I won't let you do this to yourself."
His head lifted from its view of a ceramic floor tile to my face. "Please," he cried softly, pain striking at me with his voice. "Bob, please," he cried once more, tears falling now from his face. I hated to see him cry. I felt my eyes begin to water as well. "Mikey, you can't do this. I couldn't.. I couldn't live without you. I, I love you." I stammered. 'Did I really just say that?' I worried. 'Oh no! Now what is he going to think of me?' As my mind raced, I looked at Mikey, but he was simply staring at me blankly. "Mikey, I, I mean," I started to stutter. Mikey giggled. I began to try to explain, but his index finger pressed against my lips. "Hmm?" I asked, completely confused. Slowly, his lips replaced his finger. 'Oh god!' I thought. I kissed him back, and slowly felt cool, soft hands begin to travel up my shirt and along my back. I moaned. This was better than I ever could have imagined.
I lifted Mikey up and sat him on the counter, so we were a little more level with each other. As our tongues began to explore each other's palates, Mikey stopped and pulled away. I exited my trance and shook. "Oh God, Bob, I, I never, Ohh.." he said, his face beginning to go red. I shushed him with my hand. "It's okay, really. I understand you’re not like me. We'll just be frie-" but Mikey cut me off. "No! It's not that at all Bob! I, I, kind of, love, you?" he said, the ending sounding more like a question than a statement.
I blinked. "Love me?" I responded in the same tone. "Mikey," I began, looking down at the tiles. "Very few people have told me they love, and, well, all of those people, no longer do. I don't want that to happen with, with us.." I said, my voice trailing a bit as I realized what I was saying. I was telling Mikey I didn't want to be with him, when all this time I did. Suddenly, his lips crashed into mine, sending a wave of self-doubt and pleasure and regret all washing over me. My knees almost gave way, and I reached out and pulled Mikey closer. His lips parted, tongue forcing it's way in. 'Wow! Who knew shy boy's tongue was like this?!' I thought, but my mind soon became concentrated on one thing. I could feel Mikey's arms doing something, and slowly, my torso began to become colder.
Mikey whipped off my shirt, the chest still moist from his tears. "Bob," he began, his voice low. "I promise you, promise, that when I say 'I love you,' I mean it, forever," he said, arms pulling my now exposed torso towards him. But I pushed myself away, my eyes resting on the black fabric of my shirt, now strewn over the bathtub's rim. "That's not what I mean!" I cried, tears now falling. I grasped my shirt in my hand, my eyes still down. "I'm always the one that messes things up! I don't want that! Not with you!" I sobbed, the tears falling into the clothing in my hands. I pulled the shirt over my head, looking down all the while. "Your perfect." I breathed. "I'm, I'm not good enough for you, Mikey Way," I said, and I turned and walked out, my heart torn into a million pieces.
Later that night, and into much of the early morning, I cried into my pillow as the events of the evening replaying in my head continuously. Why was I such a monster? Was I not meant for love? As I lay on the couch, blankets burying me in my shame, I heard faint footsteps come to my side. I knew who it was, and didn't bother to lift my head. I didn't want Mikey to see me like this, in my vulnerable state. I felt his presence, like a ghostly spirit looming over me as I sobbed. Slowly, I realized he was sitting on the couch next to me, his hand rubbing my back, comforting me like you would a small child. I stopped, my breathing still irregular, eyes sore and bloodshot. My mouth moved, my mind looking for words to say, but nothing was forming. His other hand reached for mine, the first still rubbing softly. I smiled. “Mikey,” I said, my voice crackling. I coughed, clearing my throat. “I, I know we’ve been friends, for, well, forever. And I’d never impose anything on you, I swear! It’s just, I’m, I’m,” I said, stuttering. Why? Why did this beautiful boy take all the words from me and leave me still gasping for air. “I’m a fucked up stupid faggot. I deserve to die!” I breathed, my voice a harsh whisper as my head found his lean shoulder.
Mikey gasped. “No, no, Bob, that’s..” he began to counter with words that made no sense. Finally he sighed, his head resting upon my chest as our bodies shifted to accommodate the both of us on a couch that I normally fall off of on a nightly basis. Soon Mikey was in a deep slumber, though I couldn’t get my mind to stop, well, thinking! My arms wrapped around his small frame, his chest lifting and falling with each breath. I tried to time my breathing with his, our bodies moving to an unheard rhythm. As the night progressed, I found myself becoming more and more emotional as the memories washed over me. Not only from the day, but from other times. Like when we were at the beach, and I wasn’t comfortable being there, but Mikey just said, ‘Ignore the other people Bob! It’s a day for you and me to have fun, remember?’ And I did. I blocked out the views I was getting from people, and just lost myself in that boy’s aura.
“Bob?” I heard, a hoarse and raspy voice calling to me. I shook, now awake and alert as my arms released Mikey. They might have done so too quickly, as within moments he was lying sprawled out on the carpet. “Oh my god! Mikey? Are you okay?” I asked, fear and shock in my voice. He laughed as he rolled over, his arms reaching for me and pulling me off the couch. I landed with a thud beside him, his giggling mouth mere inches from my ear. I turned to face him, his arms reaching around me, as mine found their way towards his hips. Pulled in close, we stayed silent and lay like that for what seemed like forever. Slowly, one face found it’s way closer to another, and we were slowly moving our lips and tongues around. I felt my teeth snag Mikey’s bottom lip, and he moaned as I gently tugged on it. Oh, how that boy’s voice could stop a thousand hearts.
Suddenly, the door crashed open, and standing in the doorway was the tall silouette of Ray. Mikey and I jolted up, our limbs untangling. Ray’s eyes burned into mine with an angry fire I hadn’t seen before. I stood up and brushed myself off. “Ray! What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice shrilly. “Well I was looking for a place to stay for a while, seeing as Frankie and Gerard haven’t let up on their love-making, but I see it’s no different here!” he yelled, his voice booming. I was suddenly, for the first time, afraid of Ray Toro.
I had known Ray’s feelings about Mikey for a long time, and he knew minimally of my own. But here I was, standing before him, with Mikey just hiding behind me, and I could tell what was going through Ray’s mind. How many times had I been in that position? Now I was viewing it from a whole new angle. Sure, Ray had said he thought Mikey was ‘fuck-able,’ but how was I supposed to know that meant he was in love with him? As I was slowly becoming trapped and entangled in my own web of thoughts, I wasn’t able to see Ray’s tall muscular form stepping towards us.
“Bob…? Mikey…?” he asked, his voice with a sinister twist to it that I hadn’t heard in a long time. “Ray,” I began. “No! No Bob, Shut up! I don’t want to hear what you have to say! You know! You know what I feel! And still, here you are with Mikey, making out like you don’t even care!” he screamed at me, tears streaming down his face. “Ray! I really, I mean, I can’t say I’m sorry ‘cause I’m not! But I can say that I know what your feeling! And I know how much pain your in, but-” I was abruptly cut off. “No! You know what Bob? Just shut up!” he screeched at me, now charging towards us. I don’t remember what he said next, just hearing Mikey’s scream and feeling a lot of pain, my closed eyes seeing red in the eyelids. Then, then, there was nothing.
“Bob? Bob? Oh god!” Mikey cried, his voice piercing the blackness of my slumber. “Wha?” I stirred, feeling quite light-headed. “BOB!” I heard him shrill, arms gripping tightly around me. Blinking, I fixed my eyes of their blurriness. Once the picture cleared, I took a long look around. I was still lying on the living room carpet, though Ray had disappeared. I was about to ask where he had gone to, but before my mouth opened, my eyes rested upon a large deep crimson stain, still pooled and liquid. Mikey must have seen my eyes widen, for his voice, so gentle and soft, told me what happened.
“Ray, he, he was really angry and I saw him come towards you, but I never, ever thought he’d hit you! Not Ray! He was so angry, and I was so scared, I should have done something.. stopped him. But I didn’t, I just cowered while he beat you. Oh Bob,” Mikey moaned, his head crashing into my torso. I grunted because the pain I felt was really quite surprising. I didn't think I was that bad. But I could tell something was wrong with me. “Where? Where did he hit me? Where did he go?” I asked, breathing deeply. “Oh, he, he ran off. I don’t know where.” his voice trailed a bit. Gently, his long soft fingertips rested upon my left forearm, a deep scratch indented. Another finger went to my chest, and all of a sudden, I had severe difficulty breathing. “Oh, oh, wow. Did he, he did that?!” I asked, my mind unable to comprehend. A jagged piece of glass, looking very similar to the beer bottle that was on the kitchen table from yesterday, was sticking out my sternum. “Bob? This needs to get looked at. You need to go to a hospital.” Mikey said, his voice still soft and whispering. I nodded. “I know, I know..” I said, and began to rise.
Mr. Bryar, with a few days rest and no more bottles to the chest, I’m sure you’ll be just fine.” The doctor told me, shaking my un-bandaged arm. I nodded, and smiled to Mikey, who was sitting in a chair nearby. He grinned back, and I watched a small rosy colour rise up his neck to his cheeks. I was better, though tight hospital cloth bandages were wrapped around my forearm and a large patch covered the wound in my chest. I blinked, the anaesthesia was wearing thin, but the difficulty to breathe had subsided. I guess it was not having a broken piece of a beer bottle in my body. As I shakily stood, my arms jittering to balance myself, I nodded. “No more chest bottling. Got it.” I was eager to get back home, and to figure out exactly why Ray hit me.
Mikey following close behind, I marched into the living room of ‘our’ house. There, sure enough, were Frank and Gerard, obviously come back to Frank’s for a little more sex. I sighed and ignored them as they made out, probably oblivious to Mikey and I entering. “Bob? Are you okay? You seem a little steamed.” Mikey said, as I sat in the basement on the dryer. Mikey then followed suit, hopping his slender body on top of the washing machine next to me. I heard it creak slightly as he shifted his weight. “Of course I’m steamed Mikes, Ray hit me.” I said flatly. “I know, I know. But Bob, you do you know why Ray attacked you?” he asked, his glasses slipping down his nose. I gently pushed them back up to the bridge, nodding as I did so. Mikey’s eyes looked straight into mine, their hazel hues seemed to be boring into my very soul.
“He what?!” Mikey asked, voice cracking. “He’s in love with you,” Even just saying those words make something in my chest hurt, and it wasn’t the gash. Mikey sighed, his eyes dropping to the puddle on the floor where the washing machine had leaked. “Oh,” he said. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Mikey?” I asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious of myself for no reason. His face stayed down, shadows from the one bare bulb cast across his cheekbones. My arms twitched, unaware of what they should do. “Mikey?” I asked again, calling his name louder. He made a noise. It was a sort of half-hearted grunt. “Look at me, please.” I pleaded. Suddenly, something clicked in my head, as the final puzzle piece was laid into place.
“You love him back, don’t you?” I asked, feeling my heart flutter. Finally, Mikey’s head rose, then it dropped back down, his chin digging into his chest. I took this as a nod, and sighed. “Oh.” I said, feeling quite blank and light-headed. “But, but,” I heard him stammer. I took a deep inhale as he spoke his next words. “I, I love you too! And I, I can’t decide. Please don’t make me choose. Please Bob,” he cried, and I saw tears welling in his lower lids. “Mikey please don’t cry, I, I hate to see you cry. It, hurts so, much,” I told him, taking my arms and wrapping them around him chilled body. His head tilted back so his hollow eyes were looking into mine. We stayed in silence for a while, eyes staring at each other. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, my eyes glanced away, over to a pile of towels on the floor. Mikey tore himself away and I knew. I knew. He got down off the washer silently. He almost floated to the stairs, where, as his foot touched the first wooden stair, he looked at me. “I don’t want to choose Bob. Please,” he said, and I saw a vulnerable and hurt look in his eyes.
Here I was, being completely hypocritical. I was standing in the empty driveway of Ray’s house, my heart going a million miles an hour. But I wasn’t here for Ray, or Gerard. I was here, for what was in Gerard’s closet. An old shoebox, but it no longer held footwear. No, now it held much more dangerous items. Looking behind me, I double-checked to see that Ray’s car wasn’t pulling up. My shoes crunched under the gravel as I stepped onto the porch. Diving under the ‘Welcome’ mat, I found a silver key, and used it to allow myself in. How many times had I used that when Ray called me to come over at 3am to comfort him? Or when Frank needed a ride home from Gerard’s. Or when Mikey had to go visit his brother after he got out of the hospital for attempting suicide.
Running up the stairs I turned into Gerard’s room, the bedspread thrown askew and I tried my hardest not to imagine what had gone on in here earlier today. I quickly grabbed the cardboard shoebox and walked into the bathroom. Setting it on the counter, I peeled off the lid. “Yes. There you are,” I said, a smile spreading across my face. Lying in there was a .33 calibre pistol and two bullets. I only needed one.
I set off for Gerard’s room, heading to the desk where a piece of scrap paper and a pen were lying innocently. I scrawled my message across it, one I had thought of for a long time. It looked really messy, and I probably spelled a few things wrong. I folded it in half, and drew a crooked heart on it. Stuffing it in my pocket, I returned to the bathroom. “I’m singing in the rain, oh singing in the rain,” my voice sung. Repeating it several times, I loaded one of the two bullets into the gun, the other a put into my pocket, my fingers gently touching the note. I walked to Gerard’s bedroom again, standing in the middle. A looked from my left to my right, letting the moment sink in. My phone was suddenly vibrating in my pocket. I ignored the call and smiled as I raised the gun.
AUTHOR: Me! X_the_ripper_X
Category: Slash
Pairings: Bob/Mikey, Gerard/Female.
Rating: PG-13.. Will go to NC-17
DISCLAIMER: Don't own, don't steal, and don’t sue. I just love MCR, I don't own them. All of these events are fiction, that's why it's called fan fiction.
FEEDBACK: This is my first submitted fanfic, so please be kind!
EMAIL: mychemicalromance636@hotmail.com
There he was, sitting on his bed, head held in his hands. I stood in the doorway, letting the midnight moon cast it's ghostly shadows across the carpet floor. My feet were guiding myself towards his sobbing form, as I sat beside him. His head lifted to look at me through his hazel eyes, those eyes, oh how I longed for years about them. My arms found their way around his small frame, and he leaned his head against my chest. "Bob," he said in between harsh gasps of breath. "Shh.. Shh.. It's okay," I said. I felt fatherly to him in a sense, and we both knew Gerard wouldn't be comforting his brother anytime soon. But somewhere deep down I wanted to be more than that to Mikey, much, much more. 'No! Banish the sick thoughts!' I mentally told myself. But here I was, holding him close, and my fingers found themselves upon Mikey's face, gently brushing away his tears and moving his hair out of the way. I looked down at him, and at that moment, he looked up at me. It was awkward; I didn't know what to say.
"Mikey, it's okay. Really," I said, trying to calm him down. His body shook, he was icy cold against me. I pulled him tighter towards me. His shirt was pressed against his skin, wet from the sweat and tears. "Bob," he said again, and I looked from his shirt to his face, eyes staring directly into mine. "Yes?" I asked softly, letting my voice trail at the end a bit. Mikey blinked for a moment before momentarily smiling, and his head sunk into my chest once more. "Thanks," he breathed.
Minutes passed. Slowly his sobs subsided into silence. His head lifted and he sat upright. Turning his body to face me, Mikey sighed. "Bob," he said once more. 'That's the third time, what's he trying to say?' I mentally pondered. "Yeah Mikey?" I asked nervously. "What is it?" His eyes met mine and I felt a shiver go down my spine. "I, I..." he stammered, sharp breaths breaking the silences. "I loved her.." he sobbed, his head crashing into my chest once more, arms wrapping themselves around me. "It's okay!" I said, somewhat louder than I had originally meant to. "No it's not!" he moaned, his head shaking. "It's not okay! She.. she.. she cheated!" he sobbed, and my shirt began to absorb his tears. "Oh Mikey," I said, stroking his head. His hair felt soft to the touch, and his bangs were damp. "It’ll be okay!" I said, a little louder than I meant to. Mikey flinched in my arms, and by instinct my hand grabbed his head softly. I lifted his face so he was looking straight at me. "I promise!" and I let go of his tender jaw, instead I hugged him tightly.
Mikey eyes locked onto mine. "How can you promise?” he asked. "You don't understand, I.. I loved Sera! And then she says it's over! And, and.." he stuttered. His voice became a harsh whisper, I had to strain to hear it. "I wanted to marry her one day!" My heart began to flutter. 'You never had a chance with him,' I told myself. 'It was all your imagination, he's just a friend! That's all!' "She wasn't good enough for you Mikey," I said, hoping it was the right thing to say. "If she left you, she didn't realize what a good thing she had, and she's not worth it. Remember that Mikey!" I said, my voice firm but quiet. My hand stroked his hair tenderly once more as he stood up. "Really? You think?" he asked, sincerity making his voice crackle. My head nodded firmly. "Positive." I said, standing up. His arms wrapped around my waist. "Thanks again Bob," he said, and turned to leave.
Watching Mikey leave, my heart was doing gymnastics in my chest. I put my hand over it to try to stop it, but nothing helped. I sat down firmly on Mikey's bed yet again. "Stupid!" I cursed under my breath. "He's not sick like you! God!" I muttered. "You don't deserve him anymore than Sera did!" I added for effect. My soul was now officially crushed and crumpled. I decided to sleep, and retreated to my bed, formally known as the couch.
I didn't technically live with Mikey and Frank, but I did call their small blue and green checked loveseat my home. "Irony," I said, flopping down on the bed. Frank was over at Gerard and Ray's, as they say, visiting. But he had been over there for a few days now, and knowing Frank and Gerard, there was some severe sex going on. I felt sorry for Ray, but right now my main concern was Mikey. Where was he? "Oh god!" I yelled, jolting up. I ran into the kitchen. No. His bedroom. No. There! The bathroom door was firmly shut, and as I pressed my ear against it, I heard small sobs. "Mikey?" I called. "Mikey!?" I yelped, desperation in my voice. He mumbled something I couldn't hear through the door. Pushing it open, I caught Mikey standing there, his glasses on the counter, and, a blade in his right hand. My arm immediately grabbed his and I wrenched it from his grip. He feebly attempted to get it back, but failed. "Bob," he moaned, his head hanging. "Please. I, I don't want to. I don't want to live.." he sighed. I felt my heart skip a beat. "No Mikey, you can't. I won't let you do this to yourself."
His head lifted from its view of a ceramic floor tile to my face. "Please," he cried softly, pain striking at me with his voice. "Bob, please," he cried once more, tears falling now from his face. I hated to see him cry. I felt my eyes begin to water as well. "Mikey, you can't do this. I couldn't.. I couldn't live without you. I, I love you." I stammered. 'Did I really just say that?' I worried. 'Oh no! Now what is he going to think of me?' As my mind raced, I looked at Mikey, but he was simply staring at me blankly. "Mikey, I, I mean," I started to stutter. Mikey giggled. I began to try to explain, but his index finger pressed against my lips. "Hmm?" I asked, completely confused. Slowly, his lips replaced his finger. 'Oh god!' I thought. I kissed him back, and slowly felt cool, soft hands begin to travel up my shirt and along my back. I moaned. This was better than I ever could have imagined.
I lifted Mikey up and sat him on the counter, so we were a little more level with each other. As our tongues began to explore each other's palates, Mikey stopped and pulled away. I exited my trance and shook. "Oh God, Bob, I, I never, Ohh.." he said, his face beginning to go red. I shushed him with my hand. "It's okay, really. I understand you’re not like me. We'll just be frie-" but Mikey cut me off. "No! It's not that at all Bob! I, I, kind of, love, you?" he said, the ending sounding more like a question than a statement.
I blinked. "Love me?" I responded in the same tone. "Mikey," I began, looking down at the tiles. "Very few people have told me they love, and, well, all of those people, no longer do. I don't want that to happen with, with us.." I said, my voice trailing a bit as I realized what I was saying. I was telling Mikey I didn't want to be with him, when all this time I did. Suddenly, his lips crashed into mine, sending a wave of self-doubt and pleasure and regret all washing over me. My knees almost gave way, and I reached out and pulled Mikey closer. His lips parted, tongue forcing it's way in. 'Wow! Who knew shy boy's tongue was like this?!' I thought, but my mind soon became concentrated on one thing. I could feel Mikey's arms doing something, and slowly, my torso began to become colder.
Mikey whipped off my shirt, the chest still moist from his tears. "Bob," he began, his voice low. "I promise you, promise, that when I say 'I love you,' I mean it, forever," he said, arms pulling my now exposed torso towards him. But I pushed myself away, my eyes resting on the black fabric of my shirt, now strewn over the bathtub's rim. "That's not what I mean!" I cried, tears now falling. I grasped my shirt in my hand, my eyes still down. "I'm always the one that messes things up! I don't want that! Not with you!" I sobbed, the tears falling into the clothing in my hands. I pulled the shirt over my head, looking down all the while. "Your perfect." I breathed. "I'm, I'm not good enough for you, Mikey Way," I said, and I turned and walked out, my heart torn into a million pieces.
Later that night, and into much of the early morning, I cried into my pillow as the events of the evening replaying in my head continuously. Why was I such a monster? Was I not meant for love? As I lay on the couch, blankets burying me in my shame, I heard faint footsteps come to my side. I knew who it was, and didn't bother to lift my head. I didn't want Mikey to see me like this, in my vulnerable state. I felt his presence, like a ghostly spirit looming over me as I sobbed. Slowly, I realized he was sitting on the couch next to me, his hand rubbing my back, comforting me like you would a small child. I stopped, my breathing still irregular, eyes sore and bloodshot. My mouth moved, my mind looking for words to say, but nothing was forming. His other hand reached for mine, the first still rubbing softly. I smiled. “Mikey,” I said, my voice crackling. I coughed, clearing my throat. “I, I know we’ve been friends, for, well, forever. And I’d never impose anything on you, I swear! It’s just, I’m, I’m,” I said, stuttering. Why? Why did this beautiful boy take all the words from me and leave me still gasping for air. “I’m a fucked up stupid faggot. I deserve to die!” I breathed, my voice a harsh whisper as my head found his lean shoulder.
Mikey gasped. “No, no, Bob, that’s..” he began to counter with words that made no sense. Finally he sighed, his head resting upon my chest as our bodies shifted to accommodate the both of us on a couch that I normally fall off of on a nightly basis. Soon Mikey was in a deep slumber, though I couldn’t get my mind to stop, well, thinking! My arms wrapped around his small frame, his chest lifting and falling with each breath. I tried to time my breathing with his, our bodies moving to an unheard rhythm. As the night progressed, I found myself becoming more and more emotional as the memories washed over me. Not only from the day, but from other times. Like when we were at the beach, and I wasn’t comfortable being there, but Mikey just said, ‘Ignore the other people Bob! It’s a day for you and me to have fun, remember?’ And I did. I blocked out the views I was getting from people, and just lost myself in that boy’s aura.
“Bob?” I heard, a hoarse and raspy voice calling to me. I shook, now awake and alert as my arms released Mikey. They might have done so too quickly, as within moments he was lying sprawled out on the carpet. “Oh my god! Mikey? Are you okay?” I asked, fear and shock in my voice. He laughed as he rolled over, his arms reaching for me and pulling me off the couch. I landed with a thud beside him, his giggling mouth mere inches from my ear. I turned to face him, his arms reaching around me, as mine found their way towards his hips. Pulled in close, we stayed silent and lay like that for what seemed like forever. Slowly, one face found it’s way closer to another, and we were slowly moving our lips and tongues around. I felt my teeth snag Mikey’s bottom lip, and he moaned as I gently tugged on it. Oh, how that boy’s voice could stop a thousand hearts.
Suddenly, the door crashed open, and standing in the doorway was the tall silouette of Ray. Mikey and I jolted up, our limbs untangling. Ray’s eyes burned into mine with an angry fire I hadn’t seen before. I stood up and brushed myself off. “Ray! What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice shrilly. “Well I was looking for a place to stay for a while, seeing as Frankie and Gerard haven’t let up on their love-making, but I see it’s no different here!” he yelled, his voice booming. I was suddenly, for the first time, afraid of Ray Toro.
I had known Ray’s feelings about Mikey for a long time, and he knew minimally of my own. But here I was, standing before him, with Mikey just hiding behind me, and I could tell what was going through Ray’s mind. How many times had I been in that position? Now I was viewing it from a whole new angle. Sure, Ray had said he thought Mikey was ‘fuck-able,’ but how was I supposed to know that meant he was in love with him? As I was slowly becoming trapped and entangled in my own web of thoughts, I wasn’t able to see Ray’s tall muscular form stepping towards us.
“Bob…? Mikey…?” he asked, his voice with a sinister twist to it that I hadn’t heard in a long time. “Ray,” I began. “No! No Bob, Shut up! I don’t want to hear what you have to say! You know! You know what I feel! And still, here you are with Mikey, making out like you don’t even care!” he screamed at me, tears streaming down his face. “Ray! I really, I mean, I can’t say I’m sorry ‘cause I’m not! But I can say that I know what your feeling! And I know how much pain your in, but-” I was abruptly cut off. “No! You know what Bob? Just shut up!” he screeched at me, now charging towards us. I don’t remember what he said next, just hearing Mikey’s scream and feeling a lot of pain, my closed eyes seeing red in the eyelids. Then, then, there was nothing.
“Bob? Bob? Oh god!” Mikey cried, his voice piercing the blackness of my slumber. “Wha?” I stirred, feeling quite light-headed. “BOB!” I heard him shrill, arms gripping tightly around me. Blinking, I fixed my eyes of their blurriness. Once the picture cleared, I took a long look around. I was still lying on the living room carpet, though Ray had disappeared. I was about to ask where he had gone to, but before my mouth opened, my eyes rested upon a large deep crimson stain, still pooled and liquid. Mikey must have seen my eyes widen, for his voice, so gentle and soft, told me what happened.
“Ray, he, he was really angry and I saw him come towards you, but I never, ever thought he’d hit you! Not Ray! He was so angry, and I was so scared, I should have done something.. stopped him. But I didn’t, I just cowered while he beat you. Oh Bob,” Mikey moaned, his head crashing into my torso. I grunted because the pain I felt was really quite surprising. I didn't think I was that bad. But I could tell something was wrong with me. “Where? Where did he hit me? Where did he go?” I asked, breathing deeply. “Oh, he, he ran off. I don’t know where.” his voice trailed a bit. Gently, his long soft fingertips rested upon my left forearm, a deep scratch indented. Another finger went to my chest, and all of a sudden, I had severe difficulty breathing. “Oh, oh, wow. Did he, he did that?!” I asked, my mind unable to comprehend. A jagged piece of glass, looking very similar to the beer bottle that was on the kitchen table from yesterday, was sticking out my sternum. “Bob? This needs to get looked at. You need to go to a hospital.” Mikey said, his voice still soft and whispering. I nodded. “I know, I know..” I said, and began to rise.
Mr. Bryar, with a few days rest and no more bottles to the chest, I’m sure you’ll be just fine.” The doctor told me, shaking my un-bandaged arm. I nodded, and smiled to Mikey, who was sitting in a chair nearby. He grinned back, and I watched a small rosy colour rise up his neck to his cheeks. I was better, though tight hospital cloth bandages were wrapped around my forearm and a large patch covered the wound in my chest. I blinked, the anaesthesia was wearing thin, but the difficulty to breathe had subsided. I guess it was not having a broken piece of a beer bottle in my body. As I shakily stood, my arms jittering to balance myself, I nodded. “No more chest bottling. Got it.” I was eager to get back home, and to figure out exactly why Ray hit me.
Mikey following close behind, I marched into the living room of ‘our’ house. There, sure enough, were Frank and Gerard, obviously come back to Frank’s for a little more sex. I sighed and ignored them as they made out, probably oblivious to Mikey and I entering. “Bob? Are you okay? You seem a little steamed.” Mikey said, as I sat in the basement on the dryer. Mikey then followed suit, hopping his slender body on top of the washing machine next to me. I heard it creak slightly as he shifted his weight. “Of course I’m steamed Mikes, Ray hit me.” I said flatly. “I know, I know. But Bob, you do you know why Ray attacked you?” he asked, his glasses slipping down his nose. I gently pushed them back up to the bridge, nodding as I did so. Mikey’s eyes looked straight into mine, their hazel hues seemed to be boring into my very soul.
“He what?!” Mikey asked, voice cracking. “He’s in love with you,” Even just saying those words make something in my chest hurt, and it wasn’t the gash. Mikey sighed, his eyes dropping to the puddle on the floor where the washing machine had leaked. “Oh,” he said. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Mikey?” I asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious of myself for no reason. His face stayed down, shadows from the one bare bulb cast across his cheekbones. My arms twitched, unaware of what they should do. “Mikey?” I asked again, calling his name louder. He made a noise. It was a sort of half-hearted grunt. “Look at me, please.” I pleaded. Suddenly, something clicked in my head, as the final puzzle piece was laid into place.
“You love him back, don’t you?” I asked, feeling my heart flutter. Finally, Mikey’s head rose, then it dropped back down, his chin digging into his chest. I took this as a nod, and sighed. “Oh.” I said, feeling quite blank and light-headed. “But, but,” I heard him stammer. I took a deep inhale as he spoke his next words. “I, I love you too! And I, I can’t decide. Please don’t make me choose. Please Bob,” he cried, and I saw tears welling in his lower lids. “Mikey please don’t cry, I, I hate to see you cry. It, hurts so, much,” I told him, taking my arms and wrapping them around him chilled body. His head tilted back so his hollow eyes were looking into mine. We stayed in silence for a while, eyes staring at each other. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, my eyes glanced away, over to a pile of towels on the floor. Mikey tore himself away and I knew. I knew. He got down off the washer silently. He almost floated to the stairs, where, as his foot touched the first wooden stair, he looked at me. “I don’t want to choose Bob. Please,” he said, and I saw a vulnerable and hurt look in his eyes.
Here I was, being completely hypocritical. I was standing in the empty driveway of Ray’s house, my heart going a million miles an hour. But I wasn’t here for Ray, or Gerard. I was here, for what was in Gerard’s closet. An old shoebox, but it no longer held footwear. No, now it held much more dangerous items. Looking behind me, I double-checked to see that Ray’s car wasn’t pulling up. My shoes crunched under the gravel as I stepped onto the porch. Diving under the ‘Welcome’ mat, I found a silver key, and used it to allow myself in. How many times had I used that when Ray called me to come over at 3am to comfort him? Or when Frank needed a ride home from Gerard’s. Or when Mikey had to go visit his brother after he got out of the hospital for attempting suicide.
Running up the stairs I turned into Gerard’s room, the bedspread thrown askew and I tried my hardest not to imagine what had gone on in here earlier today. I quickly grabbed the cardboard shoebox and walked into the bathroom. Setting it on the counter, I peeled off the lid. “Yes. There you are,” I said, a smile spreading across my face. Lying in there was a .33 calibre pistol and two bullets. I only needed one.
I set off for Gerard’s room, heading to the desk where a piece of scrap paper and a pen were lying innocently. I scrawled my message across it, one I had thought of for a long time. It looked really messy, and I probably spelled a few things wrong. I folded it in half, and drew a crooked heart on it. Stuffing it in my pocket, I returned to the bathroom. “I’m singing in the rain, oh singing in the rain,” my voice sung. Repeating it several times, I loaded one of the two bullets into the gun, the other a put into my pocket, my fingers gently touching the note. I walked to Gerard’s bedroom again, standing in the middle. A looked from my left to my right, letting the moment sink in. My phone was suddenly vibrating in my pocket. I ignored the call and smiled as I raised the gun.