Hand your life to me
Title: Hand your life to me
Author: creepylicious/alles_luege
Pairing: Mikey/Gerard
Rating: R
Summary: This is a story about loss and love and vampires.
Sometimes he wakes up from a dream, nightmare, dream - it's all the same these days - he wakes up and feels the ghost of a kiss to his wrist, on his forehead like a goodbye, like a hello, like something in between.
Warning(s): incest, vampires, blood, horror, sex, age issues (Mikey is 15)
Author’s Notes: Written for anon_lovefest. For this prompt. Title from 'The Wondersmith And His Sons '.
Word Count: 1.662
Beta: asm_z <3
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, not real
~+~
Mikey went missing when he was fifteen. Gerard was drunk that night and the night after that and that night after that because he couldn't deal. He stayed in Mikey's room lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling, and his parents (their parents) didn't say a thing for a week straight; no one made him do anything. He couldn't do anything. Helena came by once with food, but Gerard only took the cigarettes and the vodka (everyone in the house knew by then about the vodka). Gerard didn't, couldn't, wouldn't muster up the energy to lie about it. To hide it away - like he used to when Mikey was still...there. Still here.
Everyone knows what 'missing' meant in Jersey and after two days, but a week...and Gerard knew. Everyone knew that he wouldn't come back, because he was dead. Gerard made himself write it down on the wallpaper of Mikey's room. And after that sentence was there, in real life, black fineliner pen on pale wallpaper, after it was hated reality, he spent a whole night painting it on the wall. In big harsh letters. MIKEY IS DEAD. Over and over again. He fell asleep exhausted on the floor between the brushes and acrylics and woke up with his mind clear for once.
His mom took one look at him and then the wall and locked that room, hid the key and Gerard never saw it again.
~+~
Three years later and he still can't forget it. That room, that night. He was drunk, so, so drunk and he was bleeding (or was it red paint?), he remembers in flashes, surreal at best.
Sometimes he wakes up from a dream, nightmare, dream - it's all the same these days - he wakes up and feels the ghost of a kiss to his wrist, on his forehead like a goodbye, like a hello, like something in between.
He aches, his whole body aches with a need he doesn't know what to do with.
~+~
He paints Mikey in pale shades of grey. Pearly skin and wide bright eyes behind his glasses. Stormy hair, a small smile on his lips. Feral, he doesn't know why, but it seems fitting. These are the days it's so much harder to pretend he's okay now (he suspects he never will be alright again, because he lost a part of himself that day). He goes out on these nights. He goes out and takes strangers home and doesn't look at them when they fuck. Closes his eyes and tries to recapture that feeling (that maybe even wasn't real, made up in his desperation), that kiss, that touch from the night he painted MIKEY IS DEAD on the old wallpaper.
It doesn't work most of the time, but afterwards he always feels too tired to think and that has to count for something.
~+~
“You know, I really thought you would be alright....” Mikey says.
“How could you think I would be alright without you?” Gerard asks.
“Because you had plans and visions and ideas,” Mikey says, softly. He takes a drag of his cigarette and Gerard watches the smoke when he exhales. He's sitting on the windowsill, his legs dangling outside. His balance is perfect. Like he doesn't have to be afraid. Of anything.
“I don't have you,” Gerard whispers and then, “Am I drunk or dreaming?”
“Drunk,” Mikey answers, turning to smile at Gerard. “But it doesn't mean this isn't real.”
“You look the same. Like you looked at breakfast all those years ago,” Gerard says and doesn’t say when I saw you the last time.
Mikey sighs. Takes another drag, exhales, throws the butt outside the window onto the grass and hops down into the room.
“I'm not the same, Gee,” Mikey whispers. He sounds dangerous, but Gerard can't pinpoint why or why he should be afraid. This is Mikey, this is his brother.
“You didn't change,” he says.
“Oh, yes, I did...You know when I found you drunk that night before Mom made you leave my room, when I found you, you were so fucking beautiful and alive with pain and crushed with grief, glorious. Everything I wasn't anymore and never was. And I wanted you. Stupidly, wanted you so badly...” he turns to the window again. “It's nearly sunrise,” he adds softly.
“You're coming back, right?” Gerard asks and as Mikey doesn't answer he grabs Mikey's wrist and squeezes hard. “You're coming back.”
“Of course,” Mikey replies and turns their hands so he can kiss Gerard's wrist before he disappears.
~+~
There are two possibilities, Gerard tells himself, as he stares into the mirror. One, he is losing his mind, or two, Mikey isn't dead and Gerard actually saw him last night. He speculates on the first, if he’s honest. Mikey looked exactly the same. Paler maybe, frayed somehow around the edges, like…Gerard stares hard at his reflection: Like me, he thinks. He could’ve been a ghost or just a fragment of his imagination.
He stays sober that night and Mikey doesn’t come.
~+~
It’s been seven weeks and Gerard is thinking about checking himself in, or just going back to his old ways of vodka and one-night stands.
That night he goes out to get drunk and laid and doesn’t think (tries not to think) about how Mikey didn’t come back.
The boy he takes home that night is skinny and too young and wrong in all the right ways.
~+~
He wakes up in the middle of the night and at first doesn't know why. His hand touches something wet and when his eyes focus he can see a silhouette against the window. Smoking.
“You’re back,” Gerard says. He tries to get up and his hand slips on the sheets. “What…?” he reaches for the night lamp blindly and Mikey says: “Don’t.”
“What the hell is going on…something smells funny…” he still feels groggy because he just woke up. His hand feels wet and smears something on his skin when he runs it over his face.
“You don’t want to see, trust me, Gee,” Mikey answers, softly and there it is again, that dangerous edge to his voice.
“Okay…” he takes a deep breath, he’s shivering, but not from cold.
“You’re too trusting,” Mikey says, flipping the butt out of the window and coming closer.
“It’s you,” Gerard answers simply, grabbing the hem of Mikey’s shirt. His fingers slip on Mikey’s skin.
“Gee…” It’s only a sigh.
“It doesn’t matter if you’ve changed or if you haven’t,” Gerard says firmly.
“Doesn’t it?” Mikey asks and bends down to kiss his brother’s forehead. His lips feel chilly and wet. Mikey’s hand sneaks into his too long hair and his fingers tangle, he yanks a bit too hard to make Gerard look at him in the semi darkness. He kisses Gerard then, hard and fast and Gerard feels breathless with it, with the taste of it. “And if that’s what I want now?” he says.
Gerard isn’t sure if Mikey is talking about sex or blood, but it really doesn’t matter. His fingers tighten on Mikey’s skin.
“You can have it,” Gerard answers. He feels like he’s alive again for the first time in years and that’s better than pretending to live.
“You should be afraid. I’m a vicious creature of the night.”
“You’re my…you’re Mikey,” Gerard says and Mikey kisses him again. “You’re going to fuck me right?”
“Yeah…” Mikey replies his voice rough with desire and hunger.
“Shove the corpse aside, would you…” but it’s not really a question. Mikey laughs and does it. It falls with a soft sound to the floor on the other side of the bed. Gerard doesn’t need light to know that they are both leaving bloody smears and fingerprints on each other’s bodies. It should be more disturbing than it really is. It should feel more wrong.
~+~
Mikey is skinny and his skin feels chilly on top of Gerard, he’s licking Gerard’s skin, seeking the old dried blood. Kissing and biting, but not breaking skin yet. Gerard doesn’t know if Mikey will, it doesn’t really matter.
“You never stopped wanting me back,” he says into Gerard’s neck, close to his ear and Gerard shivers.
“No.” He couldn’t, it’s the simple truth. It was like missing a part of himself. Mikey sits up in Gerard’s lap, the friction on his cock feels delicious and like a soft form of torture, he pins Gerard down and just looks.
“You really don’t care if you’ll be alive when the morning comes, do you?”
“No,” Gerard answers, his hands stroking over Mike’s thighs, coming to rest on his hips and clutching hard.
~+~
Mikey fucks like the dangerous, feral creature he is. Hard and fast and with a hunger that just isn’t human and Gerard clutches at his brother’s body and tries to take it all in, to feel everything.
Mikey is much calmer when they’re lying side by side on the bloody sheets. He’s playing with Gerard’s hair and Gerard is stroking his hip; small and bony and boyish.
“You’ll never grow up…” he whispers.
“You know, you really do change from just one bite…that’s why you have to kill your victim if you don’t want it to become a vampire,” Mikey answers.
“That’s why you didn’t bite me…”
Mikey nods. “Yeah…” He lies down on the pillow and just looks at Gerard. “Sunrise isn’t far away.”
Gerard’s fingers tighten on his hip. “You’ll come back, right?”
“Yes, I’ll come back,” Mikey answers, but he doesn’t say when. He shuffles closer and let’s Gerard envelope him. Gerard can feel his breath on his own skin.
“Soon,” Gerard whispers.
“Tomorrow night,” Mikey promises.
~end~
Author: creepylicious/alles_luege
Pairing: Mikey/Gerard
Rating: R
Summary: This is a story about loss and love and vampires.
Sometimes he wakes up from a dream, nightmare, dream - it's all the same these days - he wakes up and feels the ghost of a kiss to his wrist, on his forehead like a goodbye, like a hello, like something in between.
Warning(s): incest, vampires, blood, horror, sex, age issues (Mikey is 15)
Author’s Notes: Written for anon_lovefest. For this prompt. Title from 'The Wondersmith And His Sons '.
Word Count: 1.662
Beta: asm_z <3
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, not real
~+~
Mikey went missing when he was fifteen. Gerard was drunk that night and the night after that and that night after that because he couldn't deal. He stayed in Mikey's room lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling, and his parents (their parents) didn't say a thing for a week straight; no one made him do anything. He couldn't do anything. Helena came by once with food, but Gerard only took the cigarettes and the vodka (everyone in the house knew by then about the vodka). Gerard didn't, couldn't, wouldn't muster up the energy to lie about it. To hide it away - like he used to when Mikey was still...there. Still here.
Everyone knows what 'missing' meant in Jersey and after two days, but a week...and Gerard knew. Everyone knew that he wouldn't come back, because he was dead. Gerard made himself write it down on the wallpaper of Mikey's room. And after that sentence was there, in real life, black fineliner pen on pale wallpaper, after it was hated reality, he spent a whole night painting it on the wall. In big harsh letters. MIKEY IS DEAD. Over and over again. He fell asleep exhausted on the floor between the brushes and acrylics and woke up with his mind clear for once.
His mom took one look at him and then the wall and locked that room, hid the key and Gerard never saw it again.
~+~
Three years later and he still can't forget it. That room, that night. He was drunk, so, so drunk and he was bleeding (or was it red paint?), he remembers in flashes, surreal at best.
Sometimes he wakes up from a dream, nightmare, dream - it's all the same these days - he wakes up and feels the ghost of a kiss to his wrist, on his forehead like a goodbye, like a hello, like something in between.
He aches, his whole body aches with a need he doesn't know what to do with.
~+~
He paints Mikey in pale shades of grey. Pearly skin and wide bright eyes behind his glasses. Stormy hair, a small smile on his lips. Feral, he doesn't know why, but it seems fitting. These are the days it's so much harder to pretend he's okay now (he suspects he never will be alright again, because he lost a part of himself that day). He goes out on these nights. He goes out and takes strangers home and doesn't look at them when they fuck. Closes his eyes and tries to recapture that feeling (that maybe even wasn't real, made up in his desperation), that kiss, that touch from the night he painted MIKEY IS DEAD on the old wallpaper.
It doesn't work most of the time, but afterwards he always feels too tired to think and that has to count for something.
~+~
“You know, I really thought you would be alright....” Mikey says.
“How could you think I would be alright without you?” Gerard asks.
“Because you had plans and visions and ideas,” Mikey says, softly. He takes a drag of his cigarette and Gerard watches the smoke when he exhales. He's sitting on the windowsill, his legs dangling outside. His balance is perfect. Like he doesn't have to be afraid. Of anything.
“I don't have you,” Gerard whispers and then, “Am I drunk or dreaming?”
“Drunk,” Mikey answers, turning to smile at Gerard. “But it doesn't mean this isn't real.”
“You look the same. Like you looked at breakfast all those years ago,” Gerard says and doesn’t say when I saw you the last time.
Mikey sighs. Takes another drag, exhales, throws the butt outside the window onto the grass and hops down into the room.
“I'm not the same, Gee,” Mikey whispers. He sounds dangerous, but Gerard can't pinpoint why or why he should be afraid. This is Mikey, this is his brother.
“You didn't change,” he says.
“Oh, yes, I did...You know when I found you drunk that night before Mom made you leave my room, when I found you, you were so fucking beautiful and alive with pain and crushed with grief, glorious. Everything I wasn't anymore and never was. And I wanted you. Stupidly, wanted you so badly...” he turns to the window again. “It's nearly sunrise,” he adds softly.
“You're coming back, right?” Gerard asks and as Mikey doesn't answer he grabs Mikey's wrist and squeezes hard. “You're coming back.”
“Of course,” Mikey replies and turns their hands so he can kiss Gerard's wrist before he disappears.
~+~
There are two possibilities, Gerard tells himself, as he stares into the mirror. One, he is losing his mind, or two, Mikey isn't dead and Gerard actually saw him last night. He speculates on the first, if he’s honest. Mikey looked exactly the same. Paler maybe, frayed somehow around the edges, like…Gerard stares hard at his reflection: Like me, he thinks. He could’ve been a ghost or just a fragment of his imagination.
He stays sober that night and Mikey doesn’t come.
~+~
It’s been seven weeks and Gerard is thinking about checking himself in, or just going back to his old ways of vodka and one-night stands.
That night he goes out to get drunk and laid and doesn’t think (tries not to think) about how Mikey didn’t come back.
The boy he takes home that night is skinny and too young and wrong in all the right ways.
~+~
He wakes up in the middle of the night and at first doesn't know why. His hand touches something wet and when his eyes focus he can see a silhouette against the window. Smoking.
“You’re back,” Gerard says. He tries to get up and his hand slips on the sheets. “What…?” he reaches for the night lamp blindly and Mikey says: “Don’t.”
“What the hell is going on…something smells funny…” he still feels groggy because he just woke up. His hand feels wet and smears something on his skin when he runs it over his face.
“You don’t want to see, trust me, Gee,” Mikey answers, softly and there it is again, that dangerous edge to his voice.
“Okay…” he takes a deep breath, he’s shivering, but not from cold.
“You’re too trusting,” Mikey says, flipping the butt out of the window and coming closer.
“It’s you,” Gerard answers simply, grabbing the hem of Mikey’s shirt. His fingers slip on Mikey’s skin.
“Gee…” It’s only a sigh.
“It doesn’t matter if you’ve changed or if you haven’t,” Gerard says firmly.
“Doesn’t it?” Mikey asks and bends down to kiss his brother’s forehead. His lips feel chilly and wet. Mikey’s hand sneaks into his too long hair and his fingers tangle, he yanks a bit too hard to make Gerard look at him in the semi darkness. He kisses Gerard then, hard and fast and Gerard feels breathless with it, with the taste of it. “And if that’s what I want now?” he says.
Gerard isn’t sure if Mikey is talking about sex or blood, but it really doesn’t matter. His fingers tighten on Mikey’s skin.
“You can have it,” Gerard answers. He feels like he’s alive again for the first time in years and that’s better than pretending to live.
“You should be afraid. I’m a vicious creature of the night.”
“You’re my…you’re Mikey,” Gerard says and Mikey kisses him again. “You’re going to fuck me right?”
“Yeah…” Mikey replies his voice rough with desire and hunger.
“Shove the corpse aside, would you…” but it’s not really a question. Mikey laughs and does it. It falls with a soft sound to the floor on the other side of the bed. Gerard doesn’t need light to know that they are both leaving bloody smears and fingerprints on each other’s bodies. It should be more disturbing than it really is. It should feel more wrong.
~+~
Mikey is skinny and his skin feels chilly on top of Gerard, he’s licking Gerard’s skin, seeking the old dried blood. Kissing and biting, but not breaking skin yet. Gerard doesn’t know if Mikey will, it doesn’t really matter.
“You never stopped wanting me back,” he says into Gerard’s neck, close to his ear and Gerard shivers.
“No.” He couldn’t, it’s the simple truth. It was like missing a part of himself. Mikey sits up in Gerard’s lap, the friction on his cock feels delicious and like a soft form of torture, he pins Gerard down and just looks.
“You really don’t care if you’ll be alive when the morning comes, do you?”
“No,” Gerard answers, his hands stroking over Mike’s thighs, coming to rest on his hips and clutching hard.
~+~
Mikey fucks like the dangerous, feral creature he is. Hard and fast and with a hunger that just isn’t human and Gerard clutches at his brother’s body and tries to take it all in, to feel everything.
Mikey is much calmer when they’re lying side by side on the bloody sheets. He’s playing with Gerard’s hair and Gerard is stroking his hip; small and bony and boyish.
“You’ll never grow up…” he whispers.
“You know, you really do change from just one bite…that’s why you have to kill your victim if you don’t want it to become a vampire,” Mikey answers.
“That’s why you didn’t bite me…”
Mikey nods. “Yeah…” He lies down on the pillow and just looks at Gerard. “Sunrise isn’t far away.”
Gerard’s fingers tighten on his hip. “You’ll come back, right?”
“Yes, I’ll come back,” Mikey answers, but he doesn’t say when. He shuffles closer and let’s Gerard envelope him. Gerard can feel his breath on his own skin.
“Soon,” Gerard whispers.
“Tomorrow night,” Mikey promises.
~end~