The Fall and Rise of The Black Parade, 4/10
III.
IV.
Ray had been a teenager the first time he’d had a bout of really bad insomnia. Since then, it had happened on and off, usually lasting a few days to a week each time. He’d never been able to pinpoint what brought it on-it was just a thing that happened. Sometimes he could sleep, sometimes he couldn’t. Over time, he’d gotten used to dealing with it.
As a kid, he’d spent a lot of time watching TV when the insomnia hit, late-night movies and sitcom reruns and infomercials running together into a blur of sound and color that didn’t mean anything. Once he was living on his own, he’d mostly passed the time with his guitar. If there was one thing Ray didn’t mind saying he did well, it was play guitar. If there was another, it was dedicate himself single-mindedly to whatever held his attention. The insomnia gave him the time he needed to get pretty damn good, he’d say that much for it.
He was never sure where to put the blame for the fact that “pretty damn good” was never good enough: on himself, on the bands he’d played with, never sticking with any of them very long, or on a world where the fact of the matter was that having talent was rarely a guarantee of making it. He’d had a lot of time to mull that over on sleepless nights, could-haves, should-haves, and would-haves turning themselves over and over in his mind, but he’d never found an answer.
It didn’t really matter, in the end-whatever the reason was, the result was the same. And one night, at the end of a short life full of mundane disappointments, broken guitar strings and part time jobs and watching the sun come up with bleary, aching eyes, all he could think about, all he’d wanted to do, was sleep.
That problem, he had been able to find an answer to.
Since Ray’s been in the city, the insomnia still comes back sometimes-which is almost funny, considering how he got here. It was worst in his first week, during which Frank made a valiant effort to stay up and keep him company and usually ended up drooling on Ray’s shoulder when he crashed.
They don’t have a TV, so sometimes Ray reads when he can’t sleep-he didn’t used to be much of a reader, but he’s had enough time on his hands to look for new ways to fill it. A lot of the time, though, he just writes music in his head, scribbling down stuff to try playing sometime when there aren’t people who are successfully sleeping around.
Tonight, he checks on Mikey every once in a while. The first two times, Mikey’s sleeping pretty peacefully, knees tucked up, head pillowed on his arm, but the next time Ray wanders into the living room, he’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He hears Ray coming, and turns his head to look over at him.
“Hey,” he says, quietly. “Ray, right?”
“Yeah,” Ray says, coming further into the living room. “How’s it going?”
Mikey shrugs. He doesn’t seem like he’s in a hurry to give any answer besides that, and Ray’s about to head back into his own room when Mikey speaks again.
“Um. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” Ray walks over to the couch, perching on the arm as Mikey pushes himself into a sitting position. “Shoot.”
“Is Gerard-” Mikey begins hesitantly. “Has he been drinking or anything, since he’s been here?”
Ray presses his lips together for a moment, then answers carefully. “If you mean what I think you do by drinking…I haven’t seen him with anything but water or coffee. Even in the House.”
Mikey looks down quickly, swallowing hard. “I thought so,” he says after a moment. “He seemed-I haven’t seen him like that in a while.”
Ray eases himself from the arm to the seat of the couch. “He doesn’t really talk about it, and I don’t ask, but I kind of figured…I’ve known some former addicts before.”
“‘Former’,” Mikey echoes, like he can’t quite believe it yet. An edge of bitterness creeps into his voice as he adds, “Too bad it took him dying to make it happen.”
“Yeah, that kind of sucks,” Ray agrees.
They both fall silent for a few moments. Ray looks across at Mikey, but the younger Way’s expression isn’t giving much away. The impassive, composed look he has now is better than he looked earlier, but Ray’s not at all sure that it’s not just surface composure.
“Just so you know,” Ray tells him gently, “If there’s anything you want to talk about-”
Mikey doesn’t wait for him to finish. “What if I don’t?” He gives Ray an appraising look. “No offense, you seem like you do the sympathetic ear thing pretty well, but.”
Ray shrugs. “Then that’s cool, too. The offer’s open, is all. No skin off my nose if you don’t want to take it.”
Mikey holds his gaze a moment longer, then drops his eyes, looking down at his own upturned wrists.
“I just-” he begins.
Ray waits a moment, and then prompts, “Yeah?”
“What I did,” Mikey continues haltingly. “It made so much sense at the time, and now…”
“Now you’re not so sure?” Ray finishes, and Mikey nods.
“And it’s like…that ship has fucking sailed, and second thoughts aren’t gonna get me anywhere now, but-”
“But you’ve still got ‘em.” Ray shrugs again. “I know the feeling.”
Mikey’s head jerks up. “You-I didn’t-”
Ray smiles wryly. “That’s the thing about sleeping pills. They don’t leave scars.”
“Oh.” Mikey looks down again. “Um. Is it okay…can I ask why?”
“It was kind of stupid,” Ray tells him. “I mean, it’s not like I’m an expert on what is or isn’t a good reason for that, but-basically, my life wasn’t turning out the way I wanted it to. It wasn’t that bad, really, I just…I wanted to be a rock star, and it wasn’t happening. And I’d been having trouble sleeping for a long time, and I was so tired I could barely think. So…I did what I had to to go to sleep, and that was it.”
Mikey glances up at him. “So…if you could go back and do it differently, would you?”
“…Well,” Ray says. “Sometimes I think I would. But-okay, my life wasn’t so bad? But being here hasn’t been that bad either. And if I’d done differently, I’d never have met Frank or or anyone else I’ve known here.”
Mikey quirks an eyebrow at him. “So, what, I should just enjoy myself and make new friends in the afterlife?”
“Do whatever you want, Mikey Way,” Ray replies. “I’ve found that the afterlife is mostly what you make of it.”
What Mikey makes of his afterlife is, seemingly, not much. For weeks after his arrival, he mostly skulks around the apartment, or skulks around the House, or skulks through the streets on trips to the merchant district. If Ray or Frank or Gerard suggests they go anywhere, Mikey shrugs and goes along without either enthusiasm or unwillingness; when left to his own devices, he mostly hangs around working his way through the bookshelf. When another skirmish happens, about a week after Mikey shows up, his expression barely changes as Gerard herds him down to the basement.
Things between Mikey and Gerard seem…strained. Ray doesn’t know what they’ve talked about, when they’ve talked alone, but he knows that simply having Mikey here, let alone knowing how he got here, is hard for Gee to deal with. Mikey, in turn, seems to resent the fact that Gerard doesn’t want him here. He’s made mention of finding somewhere else to live, but Gerard won’t hear of that-if Mikey’s going to be in the city, he’s going to be where Gerard can keep an eye on him. The result is that they’re setting each other off as only close relatives with built-up bad feeling can, and conversations about everyday things leave Gerard storming off to brood in his and Frank’s room and Mikey huddled on the couch with a sullen, guarded look.
Frank and Mikey, meanwhile, seem to abiding by some unspoken truce by which they don’t get in each other’s way. Ray has an idea that it might just be weird for Mikey to see Gerard so close to someone he doesn’t know, but whatever the reason, Frank’s normally instant charm seems lost on him. Of course, Frank’s whole game seems a little thrown where Mikey’s concerned.
“I never had this problem with a girl, so I don’t know, but I still can’t look at him and not think ‘hi, I’m screwing your brother, how are you today?’” Frank confides to Ray. “And maybe I’m just being paranoid, but he always looks like he’s judging me. Like I’m not good enough for Gee or something.”
“No offense, man, but I think you might be projecting the fact that your family’d be judging you if they knew you were screwing a guy,” Ray tells him. “And…Mikey just sort of looks that way, I think. Don’t take it personally.”
With relations between Mikey and the other two less than ideal, Ray does his best to pick up the slack, draw Mikey out as much as he’s willing to be drawn. Mikey doesn’t seem to be resenting or judging him for any reason, so they get along okay, although after that first night they don’t often move beyond safe, neutral topics.
Two weeks in, Ray looks up from his guitar to find Mikey watching him play, an interested look on his face. Before now, Mikey hasn’t seemed interested in a lot.
“You play?” Ray asks, and Mikey shakes his head.
“Not really. I took some lessons a few years ago, but I didn’t stick with it.”
Ray considers, then wraps a hand around the neck of his guitar, holding it up. “Well, if you want to pick it up again, just let me know.”
Mikey’s eyebrows go up. “Seriously?”
“Sure. I used to give lessons, and it’s not like we haven’t got the free time.”
Ray’s pretty sure that’s the first time he’s ever seen Mikey Way smile. No, he’s definitely sure-he wouldn’t have forgotten seeing a smile like that.
“C’mere,” he says standing up, and when Mikey lets himself be coaxed into the chair Ray just vacated, Ray leans over him and sets his guitar in Mikey’s hands carefully. “Now, how about you show me what you remember?”
As time passes, Mikey starts seeming both a little more at ease and a little more animated. He doesn’t really go anywhere except the House of Wolves, but he starts going there more often, and of his own volition. The rest of the city seems to hold little interest for him, but a few times Ray finds him just hanging around outside, leaning against their building and looking out at the horizon, seeming to barely register the flashes of light and noise from the trenches.
He seems to share Gerard’s curiosity about what might be out there, besides the city. Most people Ray’s known ask the same sort of questions when they first get here, but once the situation with the wolves gets explained, they seem content enough to settle into the city and never look beyond its borders. The ones who don’t are usually the ones who try to leave.
Ray would rather not see that happen to either of the Way brothers, but so far, Gerard seems pretty comfortably ensconced where he is, and Mikey still shows no inclination to do anything but wander from the apartment to the club and back.
That changes one night when Gerard slips into the club shortly after the band finishes up, coming up to Frank and Ray while they’re packing up their guitars.
“Hey,” he says, and Ray can hear the tension in his voice right away. “Do you guys know where Mikey is?”
Ray pauses in the middle of settling his guitar in its case. “-Uh. He was in here earlier, and then he said he was gonna go back to the apartment.”
Gerard swallows hard. “He hasn’t. Been back, I mean.”
“…Shit,” Frank says.
The streets of the city are dark at night. There are streetlamps, but they’re widely spaced out, and more than a few are flickering or entirely unlit.
Gerard, Ray and Frank are trying to be systematic about their search, splitting up to cover as many streets as they can and meeting back up at intersections, but there’s no sign of Mikey anywhere, and Gerard is rapidly losing his battle against the urge to freak out.
It’s Frank who spots the twins, standing together under a streetlight up ahead. He doesn’t hesitate or question their showing up, just shouts to the others and tears down the street. When Ray and Gerard reach the little pool of light, Frank’s describing Mikey to the two girls-Ray can tell from his hand gestures even before he gets in earshot.
Regret looks as though she’s actually listening to Frank, but Fear looks straight past him and at Gerard, a tiny smirk quirking up one corner of her mouth.
“Hello again,” she says. “Lost something?”
“Have you seen him?” Gerard asks instantly, sounding as though he’s in no mood to play games. Fear only smiles wider.
“Of course I’ve seen him. Have I seen him tonight, is the question.”
“You’re being horrid again,” Regret informs her sister, and then turns her solemn eyes on Gerard. “You want him back?”
Gerard’s brow furrows. “Of course I do.”
“Truly?” she presses. “I know his presence here is a source of pain for you.”
That is, apparently, as much as Gerard can take. “I don’t fucking care about that, I want my brother back!”
Regret surveys him calmly for a moment, then nods. “He’s left the city. If you hurry, you can catch up to him.”
Fear giggles. It’s been a while since Ray heard that sound, but it still digs into him like an ice pick. “You truly ought to hurry, though,” she adds. “He’s gone to the true house of wolves, and you’ll want to get there before he gets inside.”
“The-oh, holy fuck. The mansion?” Gerard goes even paler than he already is, and looks from one twin to the other for confirmation. “The mansion on the hill?”
Ray freezes at those words, feeling like someone’s just punched him in the stomach, but Frank’s already running again, barely pausing to yell “Come the fuck on, motherfuckers!”, and a second later, Gerard and Ray are hurrying after him.
Outside the city proper, there’s no light but what comes in erratic bursts from the trenches. Combined with the noise of the fighting and the fact that they’re stumbling through the wreckage on the outskirts of the city, Ray feels like he’s heading into battle himself. Everything’s surreal and hectic at the same time, like a bad dream, or when he’s had insomnia for a week straight.
They clear the rubble and break into a run again. Gerard’s trailing behind a little and starting to pant, but still pushing forward on pure adrenaline, probably. Somewhere along the way, Frank’s picked up a metal bar, like if they run into the wolves he’s gonna try and start something, the crazy bastard.
There’s a smaller rise before the big hill, the one the mansion’s on. Frank crests it first, and he’s silhouetted in a burst of light as he shouts something that’s drowned out by the accompanying explosion before throwing himself down the slope. Ray hurries up the rise a moment later, and the next flash of light shows him the scene below like a diorama: a thin, gangly figure that Ray already thinks he’d recognize anywhere, frozen in place, Frank’s smaller shape hurrying toward Mikey, and six or seven wolves, ranged on the big hill’s slope in a semicircle and coming closer.
Ray turns and sees Gerard struggling up the rise after him, and reaches down; Gerard latches onto his wrist and Ray hauls him up the rest of the way. He doesn’t wait for Gerard to see what he’s seen, just shouts in his ear.
“Mikey’s down there and there’re wolves heading for him. Further away than us, but they’re moving fast.”
“I can’t-” Gerard’s completely out of breath now, one hand pressed to his side. “I won’t make it in time. Can you get him out of there?”
“I can try,” Ray says, and runs. Everything’s happening in stop-motion, it seems like. Mikey’s a little bit closer every time there’s light to see him by, and so is one wolf that’s outpacing the others, barreling towards him.
Ray sees the wolf spring, sees the dark shape that crosses his line of sight at the same moment, and hears Gerard scream, but he doesn’t realize what’s happening until the next burst of light reveals Frank on the ground, one arm clamped between the wolf’s jaws as he struggles with it bare-handed, the metal bar knocked out of his reach.
Ray freezes in panic for a moment, but Mikey’s right in front of him, stock-still. A single step forward and Ray’s able to grab him around the middle, hauling him backwards. He means to shove Mikey back in the direction they came and then try to help Frank, but in the time it takes him to get hold of Mikey, Gerard is there, throwing himself at the wolf with no more hesitation than Frank showed.
Gerard’s still screaming, but it’s not Frank’s name anymore. Ray’s pretty sure it’s something like “Get the fuck away from him,” which is an understandable but not very practical thing to scream at a wolf who’s chewing on your boyfriend.
Only here’s the thing: the next thing Ray can see is the wolf springing away before Gerard gets close enough touch it.
Gerard drops to one knee, bending over Frank, and then looks around, shouting, “Mikey? Ray?”
“Here,” Ray calls back, keeping one arm tight around Mikey, who offers no resistance.
“Get over here,” Gerard calls, and there’s an authority in his voice that Ray has never heard before. “Stay close to me.”
And what the hell, Ray goes, tugging Mikey with him. Gerard’s checking Frank over when they get there; Ray can’t tell how bad Frank’s hurt, but he’s sitting up, and Gerard is shouting at him. “Don’t you ever do anything that fucking stupid again, do you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, babe,” Frank replies, sounding dazed. “Uh, Gee? You want to tell us how long you’ve been able to boss the fucking wolves around?”
Ray looks around. The rest of the wolves have reached them by now, and they’re circling-but they’re also keeping their distance. Ray thinks he can spot the one who attacked: It’s bigger than the rest, and while it paces, its glowing eyes stay locked on Gerard.
Gerard stands up, helping Frank to his feet and supporting him with an arm around his waist. He looks out at the wolves, and says, calmly, “You didn’t touch me before. You couldn’t, could you? And you still can’t.”
The largest wolf stops moving right in front of Gerard, facing him unblinkingly as the others continue circling. Gerard goes on.
“I’m not for you. That’s what Regret said. And that’s what it means.”
Clever boy.
The wolf doesn’t move, doesn’t open its mouth like a talking wolf in a cartoon would. Ray still has absolutely no doubt where the voice he just heard came from, the same way he doesn’t doubt that they all heard it.
“Then these three aren’t for you, either,” Gerard says.
The wolf does move then, cocking its head to one side as if curious. Oh? And how is it you’re so certain of that?
“Because they’re mine,” Gerard replies steadily. “And because you’ll have to go through me to get to any one of them.”
The wolf snarls, and in the next flash of light it’s closer, barely a foot away. Ray tenses, tightening his grip on Mikey, but it stops there.
You’re very confident, boy. But I wonder if you have any idea what you’re involved in.
“What do you mean?” Gerard asks, voice tense but controlled.
If you’re not for us, then who are you for? The wolf’s tone is coldly mocking, and its yellow eyes seem almost amused. Think about that, Gerard Way. And if you would protect these three, then keep them close, and keep them out of our territory.
With that, the wolf turns, tail flicking around its haunches, the others falling into formation behind it. Ray, Gerard, Mikey, and Frank wait in tense silence as the wolves run back up the hill, heading for the big house.
Gerard is the first to speak. “Frank? How are you?”
“Surprisingly intact,” Frank replies. “Don’t think I’m bleeding anywhere but the arm.” He’s already trying to tug his shirt off with his good arm; Gerard helps him, and then wraps the shirt around the wound as best he can.
Ray looks at Mikey, who’s standing kind of limply in the circle of Ray’s arm, sagging against him a little.
“Are you okay?” Ray asks.
“Yeah,” Mikey says, and his tone is as flat and emotionless as it’s ever been. “I-I’m sorry, you guys, I didn’t mean for Frank to get hurt.”
“You didn’t-” Gerard begins, incredulous. “Mikey, what the fuck-”
“Later, please?” Ray interjects. “Let’s just get out of here.”
They don’t talk on the way back, concentrating on just getting there. Frank’s a little banged-up and shaky even if he’s not seriously hurt anywhere but his arm, and he and Gerard walk close together, arms around each other. Mikey seems to have snapped out of…whatever was going on with him, and doesn’t need to be herded, but Ray finds himself reluctant to let go entirely, and takes hold of his hand. Mikey doesn’t object, and when they get back to the wreckage, he seems glad enough of Ray’s help climbing over it.
Brian keeps a first-aid kit behind the bar in the House, so they stop off to borrow it (Frank also begging a half-empty bottle of whiskey off him “for the pain, man, and tomorrow I’m gonna have a story to tell that’ll make it completely worth your while”).
Gerard hasn’t said a word to Mikey the whole way back, and also hasn’t stopped glowering. When they get up to the apartment, Ray looks between the two brothers, and reluctantly lets go of Mikey’s hand.
“I’ll get Frankie cleaned up,” he says, and herds Frank into the bathroom, first aid kit, whiskey, and all.
“Man, what,” Frank protests weakly as Ray guides him to sit on the toilet lid and hold his arm out over the sink. “You don’t wanna know what the fuck Mikey was doing out there?”
“Sure I do,” Ray says, rifling through the kit for disinfectant and bandages. “Do I wanna be in the mix if those two start fighting? Not so much.”
Frank hefts the whiskey with his good arm, pulling the cork out with his teeth and drinking straight from the bottle. “You’re no fun,” he mutters, and then winces as Ray pours disinfectant over the bite on his arm. “Motherfucker. You don’t think my arm’s gonna be, like, fucked up, do you?”
“Should’ve thought of that before you fucking shoved it in a wolf’s mouth, huh?” Ray replies absently, concentrating on his work.
“Whatever, Toro. Long as I can still play, I don’t mind.” Frank takes a long drink, then adds, “I wrestled a giant wolf, I’ve got bragging rights until the end of fucking time.”
“You almost got eaten by a giant wolf,” Ray corrects. “If anyone here gets bragging rights, I’m pretty sure it’s Gerard.”
Gerard waits for Ray and Frank to go into the bathroom, waits for the door to close-and then steps toward Mikey, pulling him into a tight hug.
Mikey seems surprised, but hugs back after a moment. “You’re not mad at me?” he mumbles into Gerard’s shoulder.
“I’m fucking furious,” Gerard tells him calmly. “I’m so mad I can barely see straight. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I just-” Mikey pulls back, rubbing one hand over his face tiredly. “I didn’t mean to end up there, I just…felt like I had to get out of the city for a while. I wasn’t even paying attention to where I was going until I saw the wolves coming down the hill.”
“Why’d you leave without telling anyone?” Gerard asks.
Mikey shrugs. “I didn’t think it would matter that much.”
Gerard stares at him. “How could you think-”
Mikey folds his arms, his posture defensive. “I didn’t think you’d mind if I was gone, okay? Hell, I figured you might even be relieved.”
Gerard opens his mouth to object to that-and then stops, thinking about Regret asking him if he really wanted Mikey back.
“Mikey.” Gerard steps forward again, taking hold of Mikey’s shoulders. “The only way I’d want you gone would be if I could undo what both of us did. I won’t apologize for wishing you hadn’t died. But if that can’t be undone, I guess I could be dealing better with you being here. Give me another chance, and I’ll try.” He pulls Mikey into his arms again, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’m sorry.”
Mikey leans against him, falling quiet for a few moments. Eventually, he asks, “Gee? What the hell was that, back there with the wolves?”
Gerard shakes his head. “I don’t know. Yet.”
He says the same to Ray and Frank, when they emerge from the bathroom, the four of them sitting around the living room.
“Like the wolf said, I’m involved in something. I don’t know what or why, yet, but it’s time I start trying to figure it out.” Gerard looks around at the three of them. Back there among the wolves, he hadn’t felt any hesitation in laying claim to them, but now he’s left to wonder just what that means. “But if it means getting mixed up in dangerous stuff, I’ll do my best to keep it from affecting the rest of you, if I can.”
“Fuck that,” Frank replies instantly. “If you’re getting into something that might be dangerous, there’s no way I’m letting you do it alone.”
“What he said,” Ray says, and Mikey just nods.
Gerard ducks his head with a faint smile, touched by their support even if he still has misgivings. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll let you guys know if I figure any of it out.”
After that, things get a little better between Gerard and Mikey, if not completely without problems. They both avoid each other less and fight less, having more actual civil conversations instead. Unfortunately, a lot of those conversations seem to be the two of them trying to work through their issues, which results in brooding fits for both of them and headaches for Ray and Frank.
Case in point being the afternoon when Ray cuts a grocery run short due to a sudden rainstorm-it’s never seemed really fair to him that they get rain in the city even though nothing grows there-and rushes home to find Frank herding a soaking wet Gerard in from the balcony.
“So, hey,” Frank says by way of greeting, “Apparently these two literally don’t have the sense to come in out of the rain sometimes. Mikey’s still out there, I was gonna go back for him in a second…”
“I’ll get him,” Ray offers. He glances at Gerard, who’s looking down, eyes shadowed, expression definitely gloomy but not really angry. “You take care of that one.”
The rain’s tapering off a little already, but Mikey is well and truly soaked as he stands out there, hunched over with his arms wrapped around himself. Ray wants to just walk forward, take off his jacket, and drape it over Mikey’s shoulders-or just skip that and put his arms around him. Instead, he hangs back and, when a few moments pass in silence, says, “Hey.”
Mikey’s gaze flicks up, briefly, but he doesn’t reply, and Ray folds his own arms.
“Look, do me a favor and do this inside, at least? We don’t need you having a brooding fit and a cold.”
“Just leave me alone, Ray,” Mikey replies tonelessly.
“Inside,” Ray repeats, sternly. “I’ll leave you alone all you want once you’re out of the rain.”
“Why do you even care?” Mikey’s voice rises a little in volume, at least, though it stays pretty flat in tone. “Why can’t you just-”
“What?” Ray walks toward him, arms still folded. “Get off your back? Maybe if you didn’t pull stunts like this, I wouldn’t feel like I need to be on it.”
Mikey looks up again, hair dripping in his eyes, jaw clenched in a stubborn line. The expression brings out his resemblance to Gerard, oddly enough.
“I’ve got a big brother already, Toro,” he says. “I don’t need another one.”
Ray winces internally. This isn’t the first time Mikey’s said something to that effect, and every time, Ray wonders if Mikey actually thinks of Ray like a brother-or thinks Ray feels that way about him.
“I’ve never thought you did,” he says, and almost laughs, shoving a hand through his damp hair. “Trust me, Mikey Way, I don’t think of you like I would a brother.” And that just kind of slips out, because any time he’s thought about possibly declaring his feelings, he definitely hasn’t planned on doing it like this.
Mikey blinks at that, his sullen look replaced with mild surprise. “…You don’t?”
Ray bites his lip. This wasn’t how he planned it, but Mikey’s looking at him, all big eyes and parted lips, and he’s shivering a little, and Ray’s caught completely off-guard by how badly he wants to hold him right now.
“No,” Ray says. “I don’t.”
“But you’re all-no one but Gee’s ever looked after me like you do,” Mikey says uncertainly. “And if it’s not-Ray, why-”
Ray takes two steps forward and lifts his hands, cupping Mikey’s jaw in one, sliding the other around to the back of his head, and kisses him.
Mikey’s completely still, frozen in Ray’s hands, and Ray’s about to pull back when he finally moves. Just a little, tilting his head so that their noses fit better and opening his mouth. Ray takes that as permission, moving in closer, tracing Mikey’s bottom lip with his tongue. Mikey makes a noise at that, just a soft hum in the back of his throat, and Ray wants nothing more than to get him to make that noise again, only maybe a bit louder.
Mikey pulls back, and Ray lets him, but keeps a hand on the back of his neck.
“Oh,” Mikey says, low and a bit breathless. “You-”
“Yeah.” Ray moves in again-not for another kiss, not yet, but he tilts his head down until their foreheads touch. “Yeah, I.”
Mikey looks a little shell-shocked, but-Ray hopes, at least-in a good way. “How long?”
“Since I met you, pretty much,” Ray informs him.
Mikey says “Oh,” again, sounding kind of overwhelmed, and then he takes a step forward, putting his hands on Ray’s shoulders, and tips his head up in a clear invitation.
Ray kisses him again, deep and slow and open-mouthed, and lets the hand on Mikey’s neck slide up into his hair, his other moving around to the small of Mikey’s back, pressing him closer. Mikey closes his eyes and shivers a little, and Ray would like to think it’s his doing and not from the cold, but it still reminds him that they’re still standing out in the fucking rain.
He bends down and gets an arm under Mikey’s knees, swinging him up. It doesn’t come off as smoothly as it could, because Mikey looks like a sack of bones but is still kind of heavy, and Ray staggers a bit but then steadies himself, finding a hold that’s manageable.
Mikey grabs him around the neck in surprise when Ray lifts him, then breaks the kiss to mutter “Did you really just-”
“Yes, I did,” Ray says firmly, carrying Mikey towards the door, which isn’t shut, thankfully. “We’ve got the rain and the declarations and the kissing, okay, I figured I might as well go for broke.”
Mikey lets out a startled burst of laughter at that, ducking his head. “You haven’t technically declared anything yet,” he points out.
“Fine,” Ray replies as he gets them inside. He kicks the door shut, and then raises his voice. “Frank?”
Frank and Gerard’s door is shut; it cracks open after a brief pause, and Frank leans out. He is, predictably enough, shirtless already, bare except for the bandage that’s still on his left forearm. Sometimes Ray wonders why he bothers wearing shirts in the apartment at all.
“Yeah?” Frank asks, brow furrowing in faint concern when he sees Mikey being carried.
“Mikey’s inside, I’m taking him to my room to have my way with him, if Gerard wants to talk to him later about something that will not make either one of them go stand in the rain again, fine, but he might want to give us a while. And knock.” Ray keeps moving as he talks, because this is going to get a lot less romance novel and a lot more comedy of errors if he drops Mikey on the living room floor. He glances down at Mikey, and adds, “Declarative enough for you?”
Frank stares for a few seconds, and then cackles. Ray can hear a faint, confused “…what?” from Gerard through the door.
“Smooth, Toro,” Frank says, letting go of the doorjamb to flash Ray a thumbs up.
Ray’s first impulse when he gets Mikey into his room is to just turn around and shove him up against the door, but with an armful of Mikey like this, Ray can feel just how cold and soaked he is.
So the first thing Ray does is set Mikey on his feet and start pulling both their wet clothes off, and when Mikey tilts his head up, angling for another kiss, the second thing Ray does is break away towards the closet and come back with towels.
He gets one towel wrapped around Mikey’s waist and a second around his shoulders, and then does what he wanted to do out on the balcony, pulling Mikey in close and wrapping both arms around him. Mikey shivers again and burrows into the space between Ray’s neck and shoulder with his nose, and they stand like that for a minute, Ray rubbing Mikey’s back with one hand and dropping a kiss on his wet hair.
“I hope this wasn’t everything you meant by ‘have your way with me’,” Mikey says eventually, and Ray feels every word against the skin of his neck and grins at that as much as the words themselves.
“Not everything, no,” he says back, and tips Mikey’s chin up to kiss him.
It starts off slow and a little careful, and Ray might be content to keep it that way, because he’s kissing Mikey, and if he doesn’t take it slow, he’s not sure he won’t, like, explode. Mikey doesn’t seem so content, opening his mouth wider, pressing against Ray insistently and then grabbing both of his hands to tug him towards the bed, and Ray lets himself be led.
Mikey backs up until his legs hit the bed, then lets go of Ray’s hands, shoves the towels down and away, and scoots backwards, lowering himself onto his elbows. His knees are sprawled apart in a way that Ray’s seen a million times when Mikey was just sitting around the apartment, and usually it just looks gangly and awkward, like Mikey has more leg than he knows what to do with, but right now it looks like a totally intentional invitation.
“What?” Mikey says, a little self-consciously, when a second passes and Ray just stands at the foot of the bed. “This is where you were going, right?”
“Yeah.” Ray moves then, kneeling on the bed between Mikey’s knees and reaching for him, sliding his hands up Mikey’s arms to his shoulders. “Yeah, just…enjoying the view.”
Mikey blushes a little at that, which means Ray kind of has to kiss him, and when Mikey’s hands settle on his hips and tug insistently, Ray moves against him, bracing himself above Mikey as he rocks forward. Mikey pushes up to meet every thrust, and it barely feels like a minute before he comes, crying out into Ray’s mouth and still shaking when Ray follows a few seconds later.
Ray retrieves one of the damp towels from the floor to clean them up afterwards, and then pushes Mikey over on his side. Loose-limbed and sleepy, Mikey just lets himself be manhandled as Ray fits himself against Mikey’s back, wrapping his arms around Mikey’s waist. Mikey slips one hand over Ray’s, curling their fingers together, and Ray presses his lips against the back of Mikey’s neck and mutters, “Go to sleep.”
V.