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Just A Fan - Frikey - Chapter 13 - p.1

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The  past few weeks have been great.

Day in and day out—all spent alongside of Frank. Mikey enjoyed the days that have passed. Spending time with Frank made him happy, to say the least. Mostly because he finally knows what he's feeling towards Frank.

It's weird. Just a few weeks ago, he was confused. Mikey didn't know what that feeling was—it was bewildering, and everything pleasant. All he knew was that it was a form of liking, though something stronger and gratifying. Not once did he actually feel something like that—well, besides the love he has for his friends and family. But, with Frank, it's different. It's just something more.

Would it be appropriate to say that Mikey loves him?

Mikey hadn't even known Frank for a year, and yet he feels this way about him. The past few months were probably the most eventful in his entire life. Before, his life was like a routine—and nothing ever happens. But when he met Frank, his life began to take turns and went into a spiraling path. Not that it wasn't welcome, or anything of the sort. Call it an upwards spiral. Meeting Frank, being in the band and spending all this time with Frank—it's the most fun Mikey's ever had.

That week in Italy was an eyeopener.

His feelings became somewhat heavier, over the time they've spent there. It's true that when that waiter came and talked to Frank like he wasn't just there sitting with him—it disturbed him. Made him jealous, even. Jealous because Frank was actually talking to that waiter. It made him know that something inside him is forming. His suspicions deepened on their last night, and confirmed. From then on, Mikey felt as if a certain level of intimacy had been reached. It was just them, at the time.

And when Frank told Mikey to meet him back at Frank's room, it would just be them, too.

Mikey's heart is jumping in his chest. He admits it. He has deep feelings for Frank. He likes him. He likes him a lot. He loves him. Is now the appropriate time to tell Frank how he feels? Frank likes him, right? Is it okay to tell Frank that he loves him? Is it too soon? How will he tell him? Mikey's mind is running far...

The way Frank told him to meet him in his room wasn't in any way seductive. It was serious, but nothing to be nervous about. Maybe. It makes Mikey think that maybe it really is time he'd say it. Maybe it's okay to tell Frank that he loves him. The tingling of his lips from when their lips brushed is enough encouragement.

Frank had to wait, unfortunately. Shaun and Nikita had occupied him with conversations. Honestly, Mikey didn't quite understand a word they said. It all seemed like a slew of drunken words—well, except for Nikita. Nikita just talked a little too fast, and used a few terms in Russian. It took a while before Mikey found an opening to excuse himself, and then he's making his way up to Frank's room.

How will he go about on telling Frank about his feeling? It's not like he can just come right out and say it. Well, it came across Mikey's mind as one of the plans, but Mikey deemed it inappropriate. It's not like something like this has happened before. This is the first time Mikey's ever felt like this, so confessing is one tough cookie.

Mikey decides to leave it to his lips. He would listen to what Frank has to say, see what Frank has to show, and if the time calls for it, then Mikey will tell him.

In no way does that sound like it's from a girl—shut up.

The time it took for him to climb the stairs seemed like an eternity, but Mikey is finally there. He's standing by the door to Frank's bedroom, his heart thrumming in his chest. Whatever happens, he'll go through with it. With a soft yet heavy heave of breath, Mikey nods to himself and turns the knob, the door squeaking open.

"Frank, are you here?" Mikey calls in a murmur, into the darkness of the room. Rather, it was dimly lit. The only light that entered the room is the barely-existent light from the outside and the stripe of light that entered the room from where Mikey's standing.

"Frank, are you—?" Mikey's second call is cut off. He can hear the faint squeaking of mattress springs, harsh breaths and soft groans. The room has this strange and embarrassingly familiar scent, as well. Mikey lifts his eyes and spots something he hadn't ever expected.

Even from where he's standing, and even when it's dark, Mikey can see them. He's pretty sure that one of them is Frank—he's completely certain that it is. With Frank is another man—another man that Mikey just can't figure out. All he knows is that Frank and that other man are practically attached, their bodies moving against each other. Shock washes over Mikey for a moment, and something else.

A harsh pang of hurt.

The hand wrapped around the knob is loosening its hold, fingers shaking against the cold metal. Mikey's lips tremble and he's just frozen into place. He's watching them have sex and Mikey doesn't know what to feel. Inside his chest, his heart is twinging with hurt. It's as if it were squeezed, beaten and thrown. It hurts.

Swallowing thickly and dropping his eyes, he pulls his hand back and slams the door closed. He doesn't want to see any more than he already had. Mikey sucks on his lip and stays there, standing still, for a brief moment. And his mind starts running over the thoughts on his head; Frank is having sex with someone else. Mikey had set his hopes too high. The hurt he's feeling is probably that of his heart breaking.

I'm so stupid.

Mikey takes a few steps back and it's as if his vision is blanking. When he walks down the stairs, he bumps into people. He can't even apologize. It's as if he'd lost his voice. Words escaped him, and he was left as a mess.

His mind's running, and then he notices it... He can't be here. He has to leave.

It doesn't take long when almost every light is out. Everyone is passed out on the couch—the floor, even. With a deep heave of a breath, Mikey nods to himself and moves from his seat. He really does need to leave, and Mikey decides that it's the right thing to do. Because he wouldn't be able to face Frank after seeing that. He doesn't even know what he's feeling, right now.

Can you say that Frank cheated on him? They're boyfriends, Frank and Mikey. That's true. But had that even been something serious? Did Frank take that seriously? Mikey has. The feelings he has for Frank are enough to prove it. The fact that Mikey loves Frank is enough to prove that Mikey took things seriously. Thinking back, when Frank had first proposed the idea, he said that it was for publicity. Isn't it stupid for Mikey to even believe that this relationship was something serious? It is stupid. No doubt about it that it is. Mikey's stupid.

It had been for publicity all along. Frank took Mikey back because the band needs him, because he's the bassist and a missing member would make the band seem handicapped. But, then, otherwise... could you say that Mikey was being used?

Mikey grabs his bags after fixing himself up. He has to leave. He has to get back to New York, and just leave altogether. All he knows is that he just can't be here, so he has to go. So he takes silent steps towards the door, dragging his bags with him. Just a few steps more.

Dragging the bags and sucking his lip, Mikey feels that sense of loneliness. It's something he ignored completely during the whole ordeal. He probably wasn't even fit to be in this place. He had absolutely no place in such a life, and he doesn't know how or why he's there in the first place. Leaving would push the questions away. Leaving would be helpful, because he just wants to forget. Mikey walks out, but stops at the doorway. He listens to his thoughts; even though he wasn't exactly fitting for a life like that, he had enjoyed it. He made friends and enjoyed his time. He took wrong turns, like that purely platonic relationship which he actually believed was real and meaningful. But that doesn't mean that he didn't enjoy it.

Thinking about it makes Mikey's eyes sting—as if he's about to cry. Platonic as it is, it was still serious for him. Falling in love is no joke—being cheated on isn't a joke, either. Maybe it was because he believed in what Frank told Gerard. He believed it a little too much. Frank is a man who needs more than just one to be satisfied, right? Gerard said so. Frank had other relationships, prior to meeting and getting with Mikey. In a way, Mikey shouldn't have been surprised.

But it still hurt!

A pale and shaky hand reaches up to wipe nonexistent tears from under his eyes. He's not crying, but it sure feels like he will. "...stupid," Mikey mumbles. "I'm so stupid," he mumbles while taking shaky breaths. He drops his hand and throws a bag over his back. From behind him, he can hear a faint hum. Mikey's staring at the ground in attempts to clear his thoughts—but, surely, that wouldn't work. His head is buzzing quite annoyingly. The image flies over and again, behind his eyes. Honestly, it doesn't help at all. The only thing it does is cause this tearing pain inside his chest.

There's a shuffling sound behind him, but his thoughts are ringing too loud for Mikey to notice. Before he knows it, a familiar voice is calling his name. "Mikey?," the voice calls, but Mikey's still bordering actual consciousness. "Mikey? Where are you going?" The voice asks and Mikey's still a little out of it. "Where are you going?" Footsteps can be heard, making their way closer to Mikey. Mikey doesn't say anything. He just stares blankly at the ground. "Why do you have your bags?" It's when a hand is placed on his shoulder that he begins to be attentive of his surroundings.

His eyes open wide and a soft gasp escapes him. He turns his head to look at the person behind him, and just prays that it's not Frank. Fortunately, it isn't. It's Nikita. Mikey's eyes are stinging when he looks at him. He's not crying yet, but he sure as hell feels like doing so. "H-Huh? Oh, Nikita..." His voice is breaking, and—yes, he's about to cry. Why? "Um," he clears his throat. He doesn't want Nikita to notice it. Mikey's sucking his lip and shutting his eyes. Tears are actually forming, and his breath is shaky.

Mikey looks at Nikita and pulls a smile on is face. It's small, and mostly forced, but he hopes it's enough to convince Nikita that nothing's going on. Nikita gasps, but Mikey doesn't know why. Nikita is looking at his eyes, though. "Mikey?" Nikita calls, questioning, but Mikey doesn't respond to that. "I'm heading home. I need to go home. So, um." Mikey clears his throat and shrugs. "Yeah. Just... I can't say goodbye to everybody ." Mikey looks down and drops the smile. Even smiling hurts.

"What happened?" Nikita asks softly, reaching up to cup Mikey's cheeks and tilting his chin up. Mikey looks at Nikita and bites his lip. His eyes are stinging so badly. "Mikey Way, tell me what's wrong." Nikita says with a frown. "It's not like you to pack up and leave without saying anything." He says, dropping his hands.

Mikey shakes his head, denying it. "N-No. Nothing happened. I just... I just need to go home. I—."

"Did Shaun do something? Did I? Did Frank?" Nikita asks.

Frank...

"Frank," Mikey murmurs, and he knows Nikita can see the sadness in his eyes. Because Nikita's looking more and more worried. "Frank, he..." The words die on his lips. Mikey can't tell Nikita. It would only cause problems. It's enough that Mikey knows—he can't let anybody else know about it. Mikey heaves a heavy sigh and—shit, his eyes are wet. "Nothing." Mikey says, swallowing a sudden sob that just bubbled up. "I just need to get back home." He says, shutting his eyes. "Sorry."

There's no way Nikita didn't notice it. No matter how much Mikey hoped.

"Mikey..." Nikita calls softly, lifting a hand to run his fingers through Mikey's honey auburn hair gently.  He brushes Mikey's hair out of his face. Mikey's afraid to look at him. Nikita frowns. "Oh, Mikey..." Nikita murmurs, pulling Mikey into a hug—and he just knows. Nikita knows, but Mikey can't cry. Nikita pulls away to look at Mikey's face, Mikey's eyes avoiding Nikita's. He reaches for Mikey's hand and just grabs it. "Do you have a ride home?" Nikita asks. Silently, Mikey shakes his head. Nikita nods his head gently and squeezes Mikey's hand. "Come on, I-I'll take you home..."

Mikey doesn't lift his gaze. He just stares at whatever it is below his sight. His eyes are only half open, but when he does move his eyelids, a tear escapes his eye. A tear. Mikey reaches up to wipe it away. He raises his head and keeps his gaze away. "Thank you," Mikey mumbles. "Sorry for bothering you," Mikey pulls another smile, and it's obviously fake. He swallows another sob.

"No, no, it's okay." Nikita says, pulling away from Mikey. "Just let me—," Nikita trails off and clears his throat. He turns around and walks away, shuffling around to get the keys to his car. Once he has them in his hand, he moves away from the table and takes the briefest moment to fix his hair. He turns to Mikey and stares at him for a minute or two, blinking rapidly. "Let's go..." He says with a frown. When Nikita moves over to his car, Mikey follows in silence.

Nikita opens the trunk of his car and steps aside to let Mikey put his bags inside. For a moment, both of them were silent. Once Mikey's bags are all in, Nikita closes the trunk and opens his car. Mikey slowly and quietly slips into the passenger's seat. Mikey's head is hanging, and his gaze is fixed on his lap. Nikita slips into the driver's seat, but he doesn't say anything, even though he's worried about whatever is running in Mikey's head at the moment. Mikey would say something, if he truly wanted to. A point of view, perhaps.

When a certain amount of time has passed in silence, Nikita decides it's about time he got driving. He pulls his car out of where it was parked, but doesn't move as much. "Where am I going?" Nikita asks in a mumble, and he hears Mikey speak. But not to answer his question.

"I'm so stupid," is the only thing that Mikey can manage out—a soft, discouraging mumble. Nikita frowns and turns to look at him, swallowing thickly. He takes a pause—a few seconds to think of what to say. Even Nikita knows that this is Mikey's first actual relationship. "I am so sorry." It must be hard on him—he just knows that. "No, you aren't stupid," Nikita says with a shake of his head.

From the looks of it, Mikey didn't even consider the thought. But it's still a wonder to Nikita. "No, I don't— I didn't think that he'd—," Nikita stops. What didn't he think of? He knows Frank longer that Mikey has, that's for sure. But this isn't what he would do. Especially when he knows what Mikey is to him.

"Where am I going?" Nikita asks again, taking a slow breath and steering the wheel, trying to get out of sight of Frank's property without getting lost.

"New York. Please just take me back to New York." Mikey mumbles with a shaky sigh. "I can't be here." It just occurs to Mikey—it hurts to talk. He brings a hand up to run his fingers through the locks of his honey auburn hair, fingers tangling and gently tugging. Suddenly, it's like he couldn't take it anymore; he lets the tears that's stinging his eyes fall. "I know how he was... But I'm stupid," Mikey says weakly, letting tears roll down his cheeks. "I didn't think he'd do that," Mikey says, because he really didn't. "After what he said, I didn't—I didn't think he'd do that," Mikey says a little quieter, and he's letting out small sobs.

Frank had promised Gerard, in front of Mikey, that he wouldn't do anything with anybody because of Mikey. That Mikey would be the only one. But, what is this? Obviously, that promise was broken in only a few weeks. That promise didn't even mean a thing, did it?

"Oh, Mikey, I'm so sorry," Nikita says softly, looking at him briefly. He reaches over to Mikey, placing his hand on Mikey's thigh and rubbing soothingly. "It's strange, though," Nikita says, and Mikey's sobbing a little more. "Frank's always—," he cuts himself off with a shake of his head. Mikey says nothing. "Are you sure it was Frank?" Nikita asks and Mikey swallows.

He was certain.

"I'm sure," Mikey starts in a near broken mumble. "I heard him. I saw him." Mikey's been with Frank, of course he's sure it's him, and without a doubt. He heaves a sigh and shakes his head when more tears fall. Mikey lifts his hands and wipes the streaming tears away, trying to stop them, in a way. Nikita bites his lip and nods, briefly rubbing Mikey's thigh.

"Who are you going to stay with once we get there, if you don't, um, mind me asking?" Nikita asks, removing his hand. Mikey lifts his head from his hands and thinks for a moment.

He hadn't gotten that far into thought—he didn't even stop to think. All Mikey knew was that he had to get out. But now that he thinks about it, there might be a problem or two once he's home. If he goes back to his place, with Gerard and Lindsey, they would ask questions. Lindsey had absolutely no problems with Frank, Mikey knew that much, but what if she finds out? What will she do? What's worse is when Gerard does. His brother had just recently let Mikey into Frank's care. What will he do?

The possibilities are scaring Mikey, and stressing him out even more.

"I-I can't stay with my brother," he begins. "He can't know about this. He and Lindsey can't know about this..." Those two are always trying to look after Mikey, especially Gerard. Gerard had already thought that Frank was the same—Mikey can only imagine what Gerard might do. So, where is he going? And it occurs to him; Mikey has friends that he can trust. Some who'd be willing to help—and some who care enough not to tell Gerard.

He thinks of the people who, at some point, had a problem like this—or something close.

"I have a friend that I can stay with," Mikey says with a quiet sniffle, thinking about it. They don't live that far, but far enough that he wouldn't have to see Gerard, nor Frank, if he tried. "I-I'll just stay at his place, for a while." Mikey says weakly, tears never ceasing from bursting out of his eyes. Nikita frowns as he looks over Mikey for another time, never seeing Mikey cry this much. Or cry, at all.

With a nod, Nikita speaks. "Alright," is what he says, and after a short moment, he speaks again. "Hey," Nikita calls to catch Mikey's attention. Mikey lifts his head, but just a slight. "Things are going to get better. I promise." Mikey doesn't know about that, and can't ensure himself, either. He swallows a sob and looks down at his lap. Nikita clears his throat. "There are tissues in the glove compartment," he says helpfully and Mikey nods, shuffling around for a tissue. All the while, Nikita continues to speak.

"Shit," he curses. "I swore you guys were close." Nikita says, raising his free hand to bite at a finger. Mikey stays silent, a sheet of tissue in hand, wiping the almost-dried tears on his cheeks. "It's going to get better. I promise." Nikita says through gritted teeth. "I'll speak with him when I get back. You—You just focus on yourself, okay?"

Mikey nods, but shakes his head after a while. "You don't have to talk to him about this. I don't know why he did it—but he did, " his throat feels  dry and strange. He swallows thickly. "I don't want to think about it," Mikey mumbles weakly. "I don't want to care about it, either. I just don't know what to do." As Mikey wipes his tears away, Nikita starts to frown once more.

"Alright, then. I'll stop talking about it," he says. Nikita pauses to think to himself, unknown thoughts passing through his head. A second or two later, he shakes his head and continues to talk. He smiles in Mikey's direction. "It'll get better, I promise," he says with a tap of his finger against the steering wheel. "I don't know... You can go back to your old life, and come back." Nikita says helpfully. "Or not," when he says that, there's a tiny bit of tension present. He shakes it off. "Either way, we'll understand. You just need to get yourself together."

Staring off the window and swallowing thickly, Mikey nods. He smiles sadly. "My old life," he starts with a mumble, thinking back. Yeah, he can go back to his old life; working at a bookstore, living with his brother and always in the company of his friends. However, will it still feel normal? After everything that's happened? "Yeah, I can just go back to that. I won't have to worry about anything." What's more... "And he won't be around..." Mikey trails off and bites his lip. He squeezes his eyes shut to keep the tears from falling.

"Hey, we aren't going to think, talk or call him. The only one you talk to, from the band, is me." Nikita says and breathes in a little nervously. "And keep this, well, under wraps. Only tell your close friends." At that, Mikey lifts his gaze and looks at Nikita. "You're famous, now. If you don't come back, we'll just make an announcement." Nikita says, maybe with the intention to ease Mikey. But it really doesn't. "But you don't have to think about it. You just focus on getting yourself together, okay? You can make your own decisions." Nikita's warm and  friendly smile makes things even the tiniest bit of comfortable, right now.

"You can sleep, if you want," and that's it. Maybe that's what he needs, at the moment. His mind is running too much and the stress had built up, over the past few minutes.

Mikey sleeps through the ride back to New York.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Mikey asked Nikita to drop him off a few blocks far from where he lived. Well, far enough that Gerard won't know he's in the city. After being helped with his bags, Mikey waves a goodbye to Nikita and watches as he drives into the remains of the night. He looks forward and up at the duplex in front of him.

After dragging his bags up the steps, Mikey takes a moment to try and clear his mind—and make himself look a little less miserable. He doesn't know if his eyes look puffy from all that crying, but he's hoping that they don't. Heaving a heavy sigh, Mikey lifts a hand and presses on the doorbell. One, maybe two times, and then he hears someone's quick footsteps from behind the door.

"I'm coming!" The voice says, and then a light flickers on as Mikey can see in the small gap between the door and the door frame. A second or two later, probably after being seen through the spy hole, the door is being unlocked and opened.

Green eyes, filled with worry and confusion, stared at Mikey's form. "Hey, Mikey."

Mikey lifts his eyes and stares at the blond, who opens the door even wider. "Hey, Patrick," he greets back, both nodding at each other. "This isn't a bad time, is it?"

"I should be the one asking you that," Patrick says with a frown and, by the look Patrick's giving him, it really must be obvious that he'd been crying. "What's wrong?"

"I, uh, kind of have a problem. And I just didn't know who to run to." Mikey says in a weak mumble. Patrick pouts and looks over at Mikey's bags. He seems to understand the situation, from the nod that he's giving. Patrick reaches out to grab at Mikey's arm, tugging him inside.

Once Mikey and his bags are inside, Patrick closes the door behind him. "Make yourself at home. Just let me get you a cup of coffee. You look like you need it." Patrick says and Mikey nods. "Just go sit on the couch. I'll be back in a minute, the new can talk." He says, leading Mikey over to the living room before going to the kitchen by himself. Mikey does as told and looks around.

It's been a while since he'd been at Patrick's, and it's nothing like how he remembered it being. He remembers the neat and simple furnishing and decorations. Now, it seems like someone tripped over buckets of bright paint and had it spill on every corner of the room. It's not like Patrick to do that. Unless...

...oh.

Well, finally.

"Hey, Way!" A voice Mikey was only half expecting calls out and he turns to look at the person. "So I did hear the doorbell just now. I thought I was dreaming."

"Nice to see you, too, Pete," Mikey pulls a small, strained smile. Pete looks Mikey over and frowns. He can see Mikey's red eyes, his insincere smile and tired face. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that something's gone wrong with him. "What's with the face, Way? Something went wrong?" Pete asks as he takes a seat next to him.

"Um, kind of," Mikey answers, nodding a little.

"What kind of problem? Do you need someone's ass kicked? If you do, I swear, I'll—,"

"No. There's no need for that. Really. It's just—,"

"I insist—!"

"Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the third, you leave Mikey alone right this instant." Mikey and Pete turn their heads to look at Patrick, who had two cups of coffee in his hands. Pete gets up and pulls a not-so-guilty smile. "I was just trying to help him, angel. Honest!"

"Well, seems to me that you were harassing him," Patrick snorts, walking closer and placing the cups on the coffee table. "Go back to your cave and let me deal with this, okay? You're no good at it."

"Will do, Trick." Pete smiles and leans over to peck Patrick's  cheek. Mikey smiles a little, at the sight of it. Patrick blushes and flips Pete off. When Pete walks away, Patrick takes a seat next to Mikey.

"I see you two finally decided to get together," Mikey smiles, looking over at Patrick. Patrick hides a blush and waves his hand at Mikey.

Mikey always knew those two had something going on. They were always so close, despite their completely opposing personalities. When one of them has a problem, the other has his back. They're almost always together, as if they were joined to the hip—and so in sync with each other. Pete and Patrick claimed that they were just the typical pair of best friends, but that's not how it looked like. Especially not with that time when they were practically sharing breaths. Mikey knew that much.

So did everybody else.

"Took a lot of my guts, too. But, in the end, I couldn't help it. As moronic as he is, Pete's still..." Patrick trails off and looks at Mikey. He pouts, lifting a hand and flicking his fingers against Mikey's forehead. Mikey winces slightly. "I'm not the one who's supposed to be talking—you are. Don't you turn the tables on me." Patrick pouts again and turns to face Mikey. "What's wrong? You look like you've been crying streams..."

Mikey looks down, fidgeting with his fingers. He stays silent for a moment, worrying Patrick. But, that's the thing. How can Mikey go about this situation? He knows he can trust Patrick with something like this, because he's more calm and mature than most of their friends. It isn't like Patrick's gone through this kind of situation—and even if he has, it might not have been this complicated.

But Mikey figured he'd take the risk and throw it out there, anyway.

Mikey reaches out for the cup of coffee and takes a sip. He breathes in small intakes of air, trying to calm himself. After the sip, he places the cup down and finds his voice. "I, uh, fell in love with my boyfriend," Mikey starts and looks up at Patrick.

Patrick smiles. "That's great, isn't it? It's nice to be in love with somebody. And, when you're together, it makes it even better, right?"

When Mikey shakes his head, Patrick pouts. But that's fine, he didn't understand. Mikey hadn't finished. "No, it's not. It's not great, it's not nice—it isn't," Mikey bites his lip at the confused expression Patrick has on. Mikey shakes his head and sighs. Patrick keeps silent for him to continue. And that he did; "I was cheated on."

"You were...what?" Patrick ask, his fingers shaking slightly against the cup of coffee he now has in his hands.

Mikey shrugs and looks at his cup, only blanking out for a mere second. "He cheated on me. I-I saw him sleeping with somebody else. It—it hurt, you know?" Mikey turns to glance at Patrick, who seems to be shocked at Mikey's words. Both of them looked at the floor for a moment, in silence.

"Did he know?" Patrick asks, breaking the silence. Mikey understood the message hidden within the question, and the answer that was true. Mikey shakes his head.

Because Frank didn't. He didn't know the feelings Mikey has for him. He would have told him, if it weren't for what he'd seen.

"I was going to tell him. I thought that was why he asked for me. But—But, I guess, it wasn't." Mikey shrugs and feels his throat run dry. Yet again, it feels uncomfortable to speak. "I shouldn't have let thing go this far. I shouldn't have had these feelings for him—especially since we don't really have a relationship. Boyfriend? Sure, but after all that, in the end, it was just for publicity."

"I'd be lying if I said I knew how it's like. Because its never happened to me, and I've never gone out with a celebrity before, but I do know this," Patrick turns to look at Mikey, who still refuses to meet his eyes. Patrick, nevertheless, spoke. "You're hurt, because you were—and still are—head over heels in love with him, right?" The nod Mikey gives Patrick urges him to go on. "Can I ask you something, then?" Patrick starts and Mikey lifts his eyes to look at him. "Can you remember the times when you felt that those feelings had a significance? Or anything like that? At all?"

Mikey looks down at the floor, thinking back. Their time at Italy had been perfectly intimate, and the time after that, when they arrived back to the country.  They were so close—however, did that really mean anything? All he knew about it was that Frank wanted him alone, but did that mean anything else? Or was Mikey reading things too deeply, and had been over thinking things?

"I don't know," Mikey answers, hesitantly. He doesn't quite remember if Frank had showed him actual affection. "He had been so nice to me. But I guess it's all been for something else."

"Then it's pointless to think about it, and about him." Patrick sighs, reaching over to Mikey and patting his shoulder. "Forget about everything and just move on. Concentrate on yourself and your life—you don't need some jackass cheating on you." Patrick says and shrugs. "Even if you love him, if he's that type of guy, then you certainly don't need him in your life."

"So, what should I do...?" Mikey asks, looking at Patrick.

"Let him go, and let yourself go." Patrick says calmly. "You're going to have to forget that you know him. As hard as it may be—it's what you have to do."

Mikey frowns a little at Patrick's words. Can... Can he really do that? Just forget that he even knows Frank? Forget that he fell in love with him? He sure as hell wants to forget that he'd been cheated on, but, after everything that they've been through and after everything that had happened between them—is it really okay to just forget about all of that?

Sure. He had to. If he didn't, it would only hurt.

He has to start anew.

"I guess I can do that..." Mikey mumbles and Patrick smiles, getting up and picking up the cups of coffee left cold on the table. "Maybe it really is what I have to do. So, I'll do it."

"That's the spirit, Way." Patrick says. "You can have a new life, and you can forget about having a heartbreak. You miss New York, don't you? Well, then, I suggest you just stay here and go back to how your life was like before you met that Iero guy." Mikey looks down at the floor with a small pout. "I know that this is something that you can't really talk to your brother about, so you can stay here for as long as you'd like. We have a guestroom, so you can stay there." Patrick pauses and looks back at Mikey. "Mikey, when you're ready..."

Mikey nods. "I know. This is something I can't hide. Especially not from him." Mikey nods and Patrick smiles.

"That's good... That's really good." He says. And with an even wider smile, Patrick says; "Ricardo would be more than glad to take you back. You're always welcome at the bookstore."

Mikey smiles, a little sadly. "Back to my old life, huh?" He mumbles, closing his eyes and sighing.

That doesn't sound bad...
it's almost been two months, i think.
you know, since the last chapter? chapter twelve?
yeah, a lot's been going on, and i've been distracted.
firstly, spencer, my laptop, keeps eating my work.
secondly, i've been having the worst mood swings in foreverland. (granted, depression sucks)
thirdly, i have anger issues so whenever i'm frustrated, i tend to rage more than i write.
three point one; in that same spirit, i spread the hate like a motherfucking gnome and become the great ignoramus.
three point two; the past month had been my worst, and i was and still am emotionally sensitive.
fourthly, i've been suffering the worst cases of writer's block, and the only creative outlet i have was my drawing.
fifthly, schoolwork is asswork.
lastly, i just lost confidence over writing.

but, thankfully, there were people who got me through that all.
you know who you are, you wonderful bundles of joy and happiness, you! :dummy:

sad to say that this is the second-to-the-last chapter.
but that's fine, right?

i hope you enjoyed the first part!
now, onwards to the second!

:bulletblack:Previous Chapters:bulletblack:
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven (1) | Chapter Seven (2) | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine (1) | Chapter Nine (2) | Chapter Ten (1) | Chapter Ten (2) | Chapter Ten (3) | Chapter Eleven (1) | Chapter Eleven (2) | Chapter Eleven (3) | Chapter Twelve (1) | Chapter Twelve (2) | Chapter Twelve (3) | Chapter Thirteen (1) | Chapter Thirteen (2) | Chapter Thirteen (3)

Mikey Way (c) Himself, Brangelina
Frank Iero (c) Himself
Shaun Simon & Tim Hagevik (c) Themselves
Nikita (c) =L0ST-IN-DR3AMS
Gerard Way (c) Himself, LynZ Way, Bandit Way
Gabe Saporta & Pete Wentz & Patrick Stump (c) Themselves
Even Chapters, Story Plot (c) =L0ST-IN-DR3AMS
Odd Chapters (c) =GacktFan227
© 2012 - 2024 lynzii
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kaymirtas's avatar
YUSH!!!! I am SO reading this when I get home from school!! <3 U!