TS: Goes the Tick-Tock Bang, [Mikey Way]
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~~~~
Gerard has been sober for a week when Mikey decides he’s going insane and then realizes he can’t say anything about it to anyone.
Bob is too new, still trying to find his place. Frank is almost as bad as Gerard. Mikey knows his bad dreams are back - yeah, Frank thinks he hides that shit, but you can’t hide anything when you tour with the same people for years - and he’s wound so tight Mikey is surprised that he hasn’t sprained something onstage. Out of all of them, Ray would be the best bet… but Ray and Brian are struggling to keep the band from imploding.
Gerard has his own problems, of course.
So Mikey keeps silent.
He doesn’t tell anyone about his own fucked-up dreams - dreams that prove to be true he discovers, when he stumbles into a dim-lit corridor in a stadium in Newark, and manages to rescue a couple of scene girls from a dude he’d dreamt about the night before. Yeah, he hadn’t seen the guy’s face in his dream, but Mikey was absolutely sure that it was the dude from his dream. The tentacles had been a dead giveaway. And the pink-haired girl’s arm tattoo was pretty distinctive too.
So yeah, he might be losing his fucking mind, but Mikey is used to following the path of least resistance. After Newark, he just listened to his dreams, and found himself in alleys, behind concrete walls- in all sorts of shadowy, half abandoned places where people needed his help. He listened to his dreams and found the weapons he needed, where he could. It’s not like he can carry them with him. Close quarters means zero secrecy and he really can’t explain any of this shit to his band.
It's hard enough hiding his injuries.
And he's beginning to think that Bob's noticed something's going on. It certainly seems like he's watching Mikey more, most often with this expression that Mikey couldn’t quite decipher. It's almost like Bob recognizes something about Mikey, but can’t quite place what that something is, exactly. He stops worrying about it though, when his distraction comes close to getting his ass killed in a filthy alley after their Cleveland show.
But two days later, he has to pay attention.
~~~
Mikey isn’t sure why Jon Walker is hanging around the venue. The grapevine had placed him on the opposite side of the country, playing bass for that band out of Vegas. But here he is, leaning shoulder to shoulder next to Andy Hurley against Fall Out Boy’s bus, the two of them in intense conversation. They glance his way, and the weight of their collective stare causes Mikey to forget to breathe.
They know!
The wound in his side throbs with his sudden fear, with the certainty that he’d been found out, somehow. Mikey wants to hide. He longs for something chemical to take the edge off, but shies away from that thought. He knows better now; that was how he got the goddamned gut wound. Gerard solidarity be damned, he’d needed to shut down his brain or get a little distance. Instead he'd come close to getting skewered by some fucked-up crab-bull hybrid, because his reflexes had been dulled by vodka. Mikey drains the bottled water in his hand and moves away from the two musicians after waving listlessly at the duo. He hopes it's dark enough that they can’t see how much his hands tremble.
Five minutes later, Mikey’s not thinking about Hurley or Jon Walker or much of anything. He's too busy fighting the pair of misshapen wolf creatures out in the shadows at the edge of the buses. Pure outrage has him darting in, punching the larger of the beasts in the muzzle. A fang grazes his wrist, but Mikey just snarls back at the beast. This is his home - the nightmares weren’t supposed to get this close. He purposefully refuses to think about the vampire he’d staked out past The Used’s bus two venues ago. After all, that was an understandable mistake. The bloodsucker probably thought Jepha was kin.
But then Mikey feels sudden twin thrums of stability and the hound rolls away from him, headless. Falling into an unconscious ready stance - and who knew that all of those late night kung fu films would be so handy?-, he turns and stares at Hurley and Jon Walker. Then he stares at the swords they're carrying - Hurley with pair of katana style blades, Walker with a short sword straight out of a Ren faire -and scowled.
“Fuckers. You can’t share you weapons?” He says. He wants to say more, but the world fades around him.
~~~~
Gerard has been sober for a week when Mikey decides he’s going insane and then realizes he can’t say anything about it to anyone.
Bob is too new, still trying to find his place. Frank is almost as bad as Gerard. Mikey knows his bad dreams are back - yeah, Frank thinks he hides that shit, but you can’t hide anything when you tour with the same people for years - and he’s wound so tight Mikey is surprised that he hasn’t sprained something onstage. Out of all of them, Ray would be the best bet… but Ray and Brian are struggling to keep the band from imploding.
Gerard has his own problems, of course.
So Mikey keeps silent.
He doesn’t tell anyone about his own fucked-up dreams - dreams that prove to be true he discovers, when he stumbles into a dim-lit corridor in a stadium in Newark, and manages to rescue a couple of scene girls from a dude he’d dreamt about the night before. Yeah, he hadn’t seen the guy’s face in his dream, but Mikey was absolutely sure that it was the dude from his dream. The tentacles had been a dead giveaway. And the pink-haired girl’s arm tattoo was pretty distinctive too.
So yeah, he might be losing his fucking mind, but Mikey is used to following the path of least resistance. After Newark, he just listened to his dreams, and found himself in alleys, behind concrete walls- in all sorts of shadowy, half abandoned places where people needed his help. He listened to his dreams and found the weapons he needed, where he could. It’s not like he can carry them with him. Close quarters means zero secrecy and he really can’t explain any of this shit to his band.
It's hard enough hiding his injuries.
And he's beginning to think that Bob's noticed something's going on. It certainly seems like he's watching Mikey more, most often with this expression that Mikey couldn’t quite decipher. It's almost like Bob recognizes something about Mikey, but can’t quite place what that something is, exactly. He stops worrying about it though, when his distraction comes close to getting his ass killed in a filthy alley after their Cleveland show.
But two days later, he has to pay attention.
~~~
Mikey isn’t sure why Jon Walker is hanging around the venue. The grapevine had placed him on the opposite side of the country, playing bass for that band out of Vegas. But here he is, leaning shoulder to shoulder next to Andy Hurley against Fall Out Boy’s bus, the two of them in intense conversation. They glance his way, and the weight of their collective stare causes Mikey to forget to breathe.
They know!
The wound in his side throbs with his sudden fear, with the certainty that he’d been found out, somehow. Mikey wants to hide. He longs for something chemical to take the edge off, but shies away from that thought. He knows better now; that was how he got the goddamned gut wound. Gerard solidarity be damned, he’d needed to shut down his brain or get a little distance. Instead he'd come close to getting skewered by some fucked-up crab-bull hybrid, because his reflexes had been dulled by vodka. Mikey drains the bottled water in his hand and moves away from the two musicians after waving listlessly at the duo. He hopes it's dark enough that they can’t see how much his hands tremble.
Five minutes later, Mikey’s not thinking about Hurley or Jon Walker or much of anything. He's too busy fighting the pair of misshapen wolf creatures out in the shadows at the edge of the buses. Pure outrage has him darting in, punching the larger of the beasts in the muzzle. A fang grazes his wrist, but Mikey just snarls back at the beast. This is his home - the nightmares weren’t supposed to get this close. He purposefully refuses to think about the vampire he’d staked out past The Used’s bus two venues ago. After all, that was an understandable mistake. The bloodsucker probably thought Jepha was kin.
But then Mikey feels sudden twin thrums of stability and the hound rolls away from him, headless. Falling into an unconscious ready stance - and who knew that all of those late night kung fu films would be so handy?-, he turns and stares at Hurley and Jon Walker. Then he stares at the swords they're carrying - Hurley with pair of katana style blades, Walker with a short sword straight out of a Ren faire -and scowled.
“Fuckers. You can’t share you weapons?” He says. He wants to say more, but the world fades around him.