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Mikey's life wouldve been alot better if he didnt have food infront of him right now. It also wouldve been alot better if it didnt feel like his poor body was being flipped inside out with panic. For a moment the boy was worried his body couldnt handle it and he would maybe explode. Hey, everythings possible, you cant blame the guy. Maybe you can blame the food though. And patricks hand on his back wasnt helping. Mikey took a deep breath. He shoveled the first bite into his mouth. It felt too hot and too icky and it was so... it was so... he spat it out into his napkin. Yeah, he gave up. Mikey could tough out the gutting hunger he felt at the moment. Maybe he had rabies or something. The phobia of food is a symptom, right? Or was that water...
Mikey missed the days when he could just eat. But at the same time he didnt. Maybe people had a reason to care about him now. Maybe he wouldnt be so invisiblw and worthless anymore. His friends would actually consider him as a person. His friends that were loud as fuck around him right now. The boy let out a shriek as he was tazed in the side. Fucking pete!
"Look at him! Whats wrong, mikes? Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?"
Pete seemed to get such a kick out of this mikey almost felt concerned. His laughter spread like dominos across all the dudes around him. Pete was just magnetic like that. People either loved him or hated him. He was just that type of guy. Mikey hated him.
"Nah, his momma probably just didnt hug him enough as a kid."
Another wave of laughter. Mikey scoffed at william. Who did this guy think he was? But he wouldnt let it get to him. Atleast it was a distraction from the doom and panic that seemed to eat away at him like a starving dog. Or maybe like a parasite. Probably both. Mikeys lack of response caused pete to dramatically wave his hand.
"Anyone home?"
"Fuck off, pete."
"Oh, touched a nerve on zombie boy,"
"Quit projecting peter. We all know about your mom. And youre purging."
Mikey bit out. He knew he had crossed a line. But he didnt give a shit. Pete deserved it, an asshole like him. The boy stood up, shoulders sagging with relief at the further proximity from his food. But his arm was practically locked in place as someone grabbed him. Patrick. Of course it was fucking patrick! The guy didnt do shit when mikeys buttons were pushed until he had a breakdown, but as soon as petes poor little feelings were even dented suddenly mikey was a monster.
"what the fuck is your problem? What is wrong with you? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
The taller guy promised he wouldnt let it get to him. But patricks words stung. He was like a snake, winding tighter around mikeys poor neck and shoving his venom into his throat. The boy just tugged. But patrick wasnt letting up. Everyone was staring at him. Mikey felt familiar panic tugging at his stomach.
"Fuckin- let go, let me go,"
Mikey looked up as pete stood. He looked so angry. So so angry. Like a predator that had no other intentions than to eat his prey and not feel bad about it. Mikey was almost worried pete would pounce. His whiskey eyes, usually teasing, were stone and cold. The boy let out a strangled grunt as pete punched him right in the nose.
"Fuck,"
Mikey choked out, holding his face and squeezing his eyes shut as his ears rung. He tasted the blood on his lips. Patricks grip loosened. Mikey heard shattering glass, a shout, and his ears were rushing and ringing like crazy and he was on the dirty floor and all he could feel was numb and thick syrup dripping down his head and neck. That wasnt syrup. That was blood. Pete had smashed a fuckin plate on his head. Mikeys vision was blurry and spinning as he tried to crack his eyes open. Some guys were holding the shorter back. He was spitting some angry shit that the bassist couldnt make out over his heartbeat in his ears.
mikey made a little noise of protest as arms unsteadily scooped him up. But he was in no place to do anything about it. The lanky dude let out a little whine before it all went black.
_______________________________
Mikey woke up in his bed in the hotel room he was staying in with william. He decided he hated bilvy the most. Of course the guy got stuck with him. Mikey bit his lip hard as splitting pain hit him. His poor fuckin head. The worst part was the dry blood was all crusted up all over him. And he was alone. Mikey was alone. They just fuckin dumped him here and left. Nobody waited for him. Nobody ever did. Nobody cared. He just got knocked out by a fuckin plate and nobody cared. He hadnt eaten in almost 2 days and nobody cared.
He hadnt felt this alone since his family forgot to invite him to the dinner. Everything hurt and his stomach was begging for food and his head was pounding and he felt as sweaty and crusty and gross and nobody gave two shits about him. The inevitable tears came. Mikeys chest stuttered as he let out little hiccups and sobs, lip quivering. Hot, satly tears poured down his face, mixing with the dried blood from his nose and head. Thats when he heard the door open. Fuckin william was in the bathroom.
Mikey felt himself tense involunarily as bilvy snorted. The lanky guy let out a shaky breath. He instinctively shoved his ruined face into his pillow.
"Youre seriously crying?"
William sounded pissed and exasperated. He hated mikeys presence and mikey hated his. He was the worst guy to be around ever. But clearly it was worse when you were crying. This guy has never heard of empathy. The cheap motel floor moaned as the taller man approached the bed. His malicious intent was clear. Mikey could practically smell it as william stepped into his blurry sight. He crouched down, the two locking eyes.
"Get- go away.. fuckin- fuckin leave.."
The crying boy forced out between hiccups and sniffles. He felt pathetic. He was pathetic. Clearly bilvy thought the same.
"The fuck you cryin for? You had that comin after the shit you said. Fuckin asshole. Do you ever learn, mikeyway?"
"Shut up.. shut- shut the fuck up.. go.."
Mikeys words were interupted by hiccups. He hated how small he sounded. His voice sounded all wrong, like it wasnt actually him talking. Bilvy scoffed and shook his head, staring at mikey in disbelief for a couple more seconds before pushing himself back to his feet.
"What the fuck ever."
"Very mature,"
Mikey mumbles before pressing wet face back into his pillow, letting out shaky breaths and sniffles. The door shut as william finally left. Mikey wished again that he wasnt so alone. The boy hugged his pillow tight to his chest with shaky hands. He felt like a kicked dog. He felt so dramatic. Each sniffle made his head pound. Mikey wished he was likeable. If he was likeable maybe he would have real friends. Maybe people would wanna be around him. Maybe he wouldnt have gotten punched in the face and a plate smashed on his head.
The boy being too caught up in his self pity didnt hear the door opening. He jerked away and his poor head snapped up as a handle fell heavily onto his shoulder. Vision blurred by tears, mikey made out the blob that was patrick. He groaned internally, stomach pooling with dread.
"Just.. just get it over with.."
Mikey mumbled. He was fully prepared for patricks venom. Just like at the table. But instead, soft arms enveloped his shivering frame. Mikey froze up. Then he broke down. His nails sunk into patricks back, making the shorter guy wince, but he didnt care. Mikey shoved his puffy face into trick's shoulder as sobs were ripped from him, chest heaving and tears soaking into patricks shirt. Gentle nothings were whispered into mikeys ear, a careful hand rubbing his tense back.
Why the fuck did patrick care?? Nobody ever cared. This whole situation was so alien to mikey that he cried even harder. Patricks hold on him tightened. Mikey felt so much affection and gratitude towards the guy right now he could kiss him. He shoved his face into patricks soft neck.
"Sorry... sorry.. 'm sorry... pete just- he just- i just cant- im-"
"Hey hey hey, shh,"
Patrick started,
"You gotta breath, mikes, you gotta breath,"
It felt like forever before mikeys lungs finally had the capacity to get a decent breath of air. Felt like forever until his salty tears stopped and the tear tracks dried on his miserable face.
"Gosh, bilvy really didnt clean you up? We told that bastard to. All that fuckin blood.. it was scary."
The taller boy just nuzzled further into patricks welcoming embrace. He felt warm all over. Mikey hadnt gotten genuine affection like this for years. Unless it was gerard. and even then it wasnt that often. The boy was still half convinced that this was all a joke, that patrick would shove him away and sink his fangs into mikeys neck, and then mikey would pretend he didnt care. He would pretend the venom hadnt mixed in with his blood. He would pretend like he always did.
But instead gentle hands guided him to his feet. He was lead to the bathroom. Blood stained clothes were peeled off of him and careful arms helped him into the warm shower. He watched the blood and water wash down the drain, red and pink swirling like a marble. It stung. But it wasnt too bad. he was glad to get the itchy feeling off of him. Patrick eventually helped him back out. He toweled mikey dry, being careful around his head and nose. Soon the boy was curled up in the motel bed, a delicate hand petting his damp hair as he drifted off into a well needed sleep. For the first time in ages, mikey felt like he just might be ok.