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The Day After
Mikey spent the whole day in a weird kind of daze; his body was still humming with arousal and his dick was kinda sore and there was this bruise on his neck where Gee had bit him. He kept touching the spot, pressing on it to make it ache, which woke a flood of memories.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw flashes from last night, Gee's mouth, the way he looked when Mikey touched him, flushed and lost, how good Gee's hand felt on his dick, touching him, pulling desperate sounds out of his throat. He raised his hand to get a bathroom pass and once he locked himself in a stall and made sure he was alone, he pressed down on his dick, feeling how hard he was, and how goodbad it felt.
They'd never done anything like that before, and Mikey wanted to do it again. And again.
The day crawled by and by the time the final bell rang, Mikey was ready to scream. He just wanted to get back home to Gee and peel off his clothes and explore with his hands and his mouth. . .
His thoughts came to a screeching halt when he clomped down the basements stairs and saw the somber look on Gee's face, the ashtray overflowing with butts. Even from across the room Mikey could tell that Gee had been drinking; there was a characteristic looseness to the way his hand moved as he smoked his cigarette that was a dead givaway. "Gee?"
Gee wouldn't look at him, just stubbed out the cigarette before lighting another one, blowing out a stream of smoke and looking at a spot beyond Mikey's shoulder. "We—what we did last night—" His eyes darted around the room, meeting Mikey's for a split second before dropping to the bare concrete floor. "It was wrong," he said quietly. "We can't do that again. Ever."
Mikey studied Gee. "Why?"
Sputtering, Gee pushed his hair out of his face. "Because—because it's wrong, Mikey, Jesus Christ, you know it's wrong. It's so wrong it'll get me thrown into jail and you sent off to a foster home if we ever fucking get caught—"
"We won't," he said with certainty. "We'll make sure, be extra careful, always lock the doors—"
"No. You're missing the point. It's wrong, it's bad and—"
"No, Gee. You're missing the point." Mikey felt strongly about this, strong enough to fight for it. "It's not wrong, and it's not bad, because I love you."
"Mikey—"
Mikey could tell that Gee was starting to give in. He kept pushing, because to lose this now was too fucking awful to contemplate. "I love you, Gee. All of you, with all of me. I've wanted you like that—" he waved his hand toward Gee's rumpled bed, "—for a while now."
"You're fucking fourteen—"
"It doesn't matter!" Mikey raised his voice, which he rarely did. "It doesn't matter," he repeated more calmly. "I know what I want, and now or two years down the line, that's not going to change."
"You're not thinking clearly. You're so fucking young." That was Gee's rational voice, the one he used when he was trying to do the right thing, even if it was killing him. "This is legally wrong, morally wrong—"
"No. No. It's consensual—" Mikey stumbled to a stop at the look on Gee's face. "Oh, Gee, no, no." He knelt down in front of Gee, hands on his knees. "You didn't think you'd forced me, did you?" He looked into Gee's pale face. "I wanted it," he said fiercely. "I started it, remember? I was the one who kissed you—"
Gee drew in a shaky breath. "I thought, maybe because I wanted it so badly, that somehow—you—"
"You're stupid."
Gee blinked. "Fuck you," he returned automatically.
"No, really, Gee," Mikey said. "I want this."
"Mikey—"
He'd won; Gee just didn't realize it yet. "It'll be okay, I promise."
Gee just sighed and reached out, cupping Mikey's face in his hands. "Love you." He leaned down and kissed Mikey, and Mikey let out the breath he'd been holding.
The Day The Lock Broke
They don't normally do this. They don't usually duck into skanky bathrooms in questionable bars and fumble with buttons and zippers until they can touch skin. But Gee's been going to school in the city and he doesn't come home most weekends and Mikey's lonely without him and—
Gee's dick is hard and it feels perfect in Mikey's hand and Christ, it's been too long. Gee's fighting with Mikey's underwear, cursing against the angle of Mikey's jaw as he struggles and Mikey doesn't give him a chance to catch up, starts jerking him off, fast and rough and Gee's making these sounds that Mikey just has to swallow with his mouth—
The door rattles and they jump and pull away as the door flies open with a loud bang. Drunken punks stagger in, mohawks and combat boots, totally ignoring Mikey and Gerard as they slink away.
Gee sneaks back to the city before Mikey can stop him, and Mikey doesn't see him for almost a month.
ur stl a minor, Gee texts, and Mikey knows Gee well enough to wait him out. He comes home Friday and Mikey spends the whole weekend holding Gee tight, memorizing the way he tastes.
The Day After, Again
He couldn't bring himself to even look at Gee, he was so fucking pissed. Gee had tried to leave him and that tore something loose inside of Mikey, something vital.
As the tour stumbled through the Midwest, slowly heading east toward the SummerSonic dates in Japan, the tension grew unbearable. Otter was sullen and argumentative, Frank was hanging out with other bands as much as possible, Ray was worrying so much he probably had an ulcer and Mikey—Mikey was pretending that Gee didn't exist.
Not that Gee noticed, because he was busy drinking himself into a grave.
"We're done," he said to Gee's unconcious body, sprawled on the floor of the lounge. "I can't take this any more." Mikey had to sit on his hands to keep from reaching out to touch. Mikey prodded at Gee's limp body with his foot, pushing until Gee was on his side, just to be safe. Didn't want him to pull a Jimi Hendrix. "Fucker. I hate you." Mikey leaned down and pushed the hair out of Gee's face. He looked terrible, sallow and pasty, face bloated with too much alcohol.
Gee staggered through Japan, puked his guts up, passed out in the gutter and then finally—fucking finally admitted that he'd had enough.
The plane ride home was miserable, Gee shivering and restless, refusing to let Mikey leave his sight for even a moment. He spent most of the trip covered with cheap airline blankets, face burrowed against Mikey's neck, mumbling and whispering. Sometimes Mikey could make out the words, but mainly, he held Gee close and tried not to feel hopeful.
He'd been disappointed too many times before.
The Day The Lock Didn't Break
Mikey hated the Paramour and he would swear that the Paramour hated him back. The place was nothing but negative energy and darkness and Gee didn't seem to notice, caught up and swallowed by his vision.
Bob was the only other one who felt it, and his solution was to sleep as much as humanly possible and avoid everyone. Frank was having his own issues and Ray dealt with the stress by become hypercritical of everything. Mikey stayed in his room as much as possible.
Mikey thought that just maybe, the Paramour was driving him crazy.
The only thing keeping Mikey sane were the pills, and most days those weren't working well at all. Everything was either too sharp or too dull. Sleep was an impossibility.
Gee hadn't touched him in weeks. "There's too many people around, Mikey, don't be an idiot," he'd hissed, and looked around furtively.
No one here but the ghosts. And— "—the ghosts don't care if we're fucking," he'd said, and Gee had paled and flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Gee hadn't really talked to him in weeks, either. He walked around with his shorn blond hair, humming under his breath and mumbling about Death-with-a-capital-D. It made Mikey's brain hurt.
It made him feel lonely and unwanted.
Mikey sat cross-legged on his bed, his collection of pretty pills in front of him and wondered what would happen if he took them all, washed them down with the vodka and whiskey and rum that he'd hidden in his luggage. Flipping open his phone, he scrolled through his contacts, looking for someone he could call. When he looked down again, it seemed like some pills were missing.
"Stacy?" His voice sounded strange to his own ears. "I think—"
"Mikeyway? What's wrong?" There was no judgement in her tone.
"I think—there were a lot of pills, but I—"
"Did you take the pills, Mikey?"
"I—I don't know." His face was wet and he couldn't see. . .
"Stay on the phone with me, Mikey. Can you do that?"
"Yeah, I think so." But suddenly, he wasn't so sure. "Maybe?"
Stacy kept talking to him, telling him stories about clients she'd had. He felt fuzzy and light-headed and her voice was fading in and out.
There was knocking at his door, then pounding, and words that weren't making any sense. Someone kicked at the door, and Mikey wondered if he had the energy to get up and let them in.
It turned out that the lock held, this time.
After The Dust Settled
It'd been hard, but nothing worthwhile was easy. Mikey knew that now.
The album was finished and really, he couldn't be prouder of what they'd done. The music was honest and true to their hearts and there were no regrets. Losing Bob had hurt, sharp and cutting like glass, but somewhere along the way Bob had lost faith in the band, and in himself.
And Bob would have to find his way back, if that's what he wanted. They could be there for him, support him as best they could, but he had to take the journey on his own. He had to have to strength to take the first step. And Bob was one strong motherfucker.
"Mikey?"
Mikey looked up, jolted again by the redredred of Gee's hair. It was still a surprise, just like catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror and seeing blond. Gee dropped down next to him on the couch, leaning in for a kiss.
"I have a present for you," he said, squirming to get his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Unless I've managed to lose them," he muttered. "Ah, here." He stuck out his hand. Nestled in the center of his palm were two rings, plain gold bands.
"Seriously? Gee, we fucking can't—"
"No, we can't. Not officially. But—" Gee looked at him and Mikey had to swallow hard. "Think about it, Mikey. '. . .for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.' We've been through all of that already. We're already married, we just never realized it."
"Worse husband ever," Mikey murmured, slipping the ring on. Gee just laughed and kissed him.
-fin-