Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Shattered Hearts
Il Peint Des Roses Sur Son Coeur
10 reviews“Would you give up your life for Michael James Way?” she asked, a cunning grin playing on her lips. Mikey’s eyes widened, and he shook his head feverishly. “No, Ryan, don’t…” “Yes. ...
2Original
Disclaimer: Hell yeah I own Mikey Way and his unicorns. NOT!
~~
Shattered Hearts ~ Chapter 4 ~ Il Peint Des Roses Sur Son Coeur
~Flashback~
The boy glanced behind him as he hurried through the long alleyway, passing several shops and houses. He knew there was no time to stop; he had to get home before it was too late for anything else. Fumbling with the small iron key in his pocket, he quickly opened the door and stepped in, wearily draping his coat and hat on the nail hangers tacked to the wall.
“Mikey!” he called out, hoping that his friend was still awake. “I’m back!” He waited for a second, and after receiving no answer, he dashed upstairs to the bedroom, fearing the worst.
Pushing open the door, he gasped at the sight of his bespectacled friend lying on the floor, glasses askew and breathing ragged and shallow. He skidded to his side, dropping the small rucksack in his hand and frantically looking for a pulse. There was a faint throbbing in his wrist, but still. He’s alive. And that’s all that mattered right then.
“Mikey,” whispered the boy, tears welling up in his eyes as Mikey slowly pulled his eyelids open. He looked at the boy and cracked a small grin. Mikey’s dark brown hair was sticking up at different angles, and his body was almost thinner than the boy’s.
“Ryan. You’re home,” he mumbled, still smiling awkwardly. Ryan sniffled and wiped away a tear on his cheek. He hugged Mikey tight, but not too tight, and burst into tears.
“D-Don’t scare me l-like t-that again!” he whimpered, feeling the calm touch of Mikey’s fingers running across his skin. “D-Don’t leave m-me. Please.”
Mikey patted his shoulder gently, wobbling as he pulled himself up with Ryan’s help. “You know it will happen one day. The illness won’t just disappear.” Ryan nodded slowly, not meeting Mikey’s eyes.
“I know. But, there has to be something we can do. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose you,” said Ryan sadly. He helped Mikey onto the bed as Mikey coughed horribly, clutching his chest in pain. Ryan walked to the bag on the floor, taking out a small bottle of medicine and pouring it in a glass for Mikey to drink. The doctor said it would help, but even countless glasses later, Mikey Way could not be cured of his unknown disease.
Suddenly, it struck him. The gypsies around Paris had a fair knowledge of Magik and maybe they could help Mikey. Ryan knew, he could go ask for their help, but would Mikey approve?
“Mikey. I could ask for help from the travelers,” Ryan began, but was cut off immediately.
“No. It’s really too dangerous.” Ryan frowned and took his hand, ignoring the shivers as he touched Mikey’s cold skin. The illness had affected him so badly, it made Ryan want to cry every time Mikey moaned in pain, or when he cried in his sleep from exhaustion. Ryan couldn’t take this much longer. He was his best friend, his brother, almost. He didn’t have anyone left.
“This could be our only chance to save you. My only chance,” said Ryan firmly, making sure that Mikey knew, knew that he had to do this. He had to.
Mikey finally sighed, looking at Ryan through thinly rimmed glasses, and muttering, “Fine. But I’m coming with you. I couldn’t bear to see you get lost or something.” Ryan chuckled lightly, and smiled.
“I’ve lived in the city my entire life. I couldn’t possibly get lost.”
~
The duo made their way through the busy and cautious streets of Paris, and headed for the bazaar in the county village, where travelers could be spotted alongside caravans and horses, wearing colorful clothes and bells on their hats. Ryan had often wondered what it would be like to live as a traveler, a gypsy, a performer. When he was young, he’d look at the entertainers on the sidewalks and think, one day, somehow, he’d do that. Live free. Be free. But now, he had more pressing matters at hand.
Noticing a young girl come over to them, Ryan tipped his page-boy hat and addressed her politely, like how he was taught. “Good evening, miss. Do you know of anyone who could help us? My friend here has an incurable illness, and we were wondering…”
“Aye, laddies. Follow me this a‘way now, and I shall take ‘ya to me quarters.”
The chimes in her left hand jingled with mirth as she skipped ahead of them, leading the way to a small, purple caravan covered in swirls and drapes of masks. Ryan paused for a moment, seeing a small heading above a small mask at the very corner of the caravan. It was gold, black and red, and spiraling across it were the words 'he paints roses on his heart’.
Ryan stared at it with confusion; he was sure that he’d seen that particular phrase before, but he merely shook his head, continuing into the caravan. It was dimly lit and rather big, considering how it looked on the outside. There were candles everywhere, and a cat meowed at them as they walked on to a small room, decorated in black and blue cloth. A small circular table was placed in the middle of the dark room; covered in symbols and patterns of what seemed to be Grecian and Hebrew alphabets.
There was a lone person seated at the table, a woman who made Ryan shiver just at the mere sight. She had long flowing blonde hair, smoky grey eyes, and a crooked smile, which made Ryan feel uneasy about coming. No. He had to do this. For Mikey.
“So… I hear you boys have a little, problem,” purred the woman, who stood up to show them to a chair each. She was wearing a long red dress, sequins and glitter shining all over the material. Ryan sat down with Mikey and the woman as the young girl from before left the room.
“We need help. My friend here has this illness which can’t be cured by any medicine, and we thought that maybe you could help,” explained Ryan, glancing at Mikey, who was looking paler than this morning.
“Oh, I can help alright. But, what would you do for Michael James Way?”
Mikey frowned, coughing slightly. “How do you know my name?” The woman smiled that crooked smile again, waving her hand over the two.
“I am The Mask. I know many things, Michael. As do I know, George Ryan Ross, that this boy is the only family you have left. What would you do to save him?” she smirked mischievously. Ryan gulped and looked at Mikey. She was right.
“I-I would do anything,”
“Would you give up your life for Michael James Way?” she asked, a cunning grin playing on her lips.
Mikey’s eyes widened, and he shook his head feverishly. “No, Ryan, don’t…”
“Yes. I would. I’d give up my life for him to live,” whispered Ryan.
The woman’s grin grew wider. “And would you be willing to give your soul to the spirits to save Michael Way, and let your body be changed to an unknown?”
Ryan nodded, shutting his eyes to prevent the tears from spilling. “Y-Yes.”
“Ryan! What… what are you saying?” asked Mikey hoarsely, not believing his ears.
Ryan didn’t answer. He merely opened his eyes and looked at the woman with fear and vulnerability in his eyes. “Do it. Now,” he whispered to her.
She laughed, striding across the room and reaching for a small velvet bag of what seemed to be dust, and threw it at Ryan, making him cough and splutter. He rubbed his eyes, and opened them to see more dust swirling around him. But, wait. The dust was moving on its own. There was no breeze inside the stuffy caravan. It was alive. The dust was alive. But, now, what was happening? Ryan felt strange, as if his insides were starting to shrink,
Ryan let out a whimper as he felt his limbs push against each other, hearing a sickening crack as the bones broke. He looked at Mikey with agony in his eyes as Mikey watched, horrified and speechless at what was happening to Ryan.
Ryan fell to the floor, moaning in pain, and looking at his skin, he yelled when he felt it harden and turn a milky-white colour, like the colour of porcelain.
“Mikey,” whispered Ryan as he lay slumped on the floor, the dust swirling faster now. “I… I… want y-you to…” He bit back a scream as his body became paralyzed, and the arm stretched out towards Mikey was frozen in place. “J-Just know… that I-I…”
“Ryan, oh Ryan,” cried Mikey in horror, curled up on the floor next to the still form of Ryan. “Please, no, you shouldn’t have done this…”
And, just as Ryan spoke his last words, he choked, and a shimmering, misty form came out from his eyes, floating down into Mikey’s chest. Mikey gasped, and clutched his arm, bending over in pain. But, as soon as it came, the pain was gone. He didn’t feel a thing. In fact, he didn’t feel remotely sick at all. He was cured.
Looking around, Mikey was shocked to see that he was not in a caravan, not lying next to a table, not in a room with a gypsy-woman who cursed his best friend. He was in the middle of the bedroom in his house.
But, looking down at Ryan again, Mikey broke down and wailed, not caring about who would hear his pitiful cries, or his screams in sorrow, because he knew that Ryan couldn’t be cured.
Ryan had been turned into a porcelain doll.
And, gently caressing the doll, he placed it on the table, where Ryan’s last cry for help was etched permanently onto his face. Mikey nodded, wiping away his tears. “I will help you. This time, it’s my turn to save you. I will. I have to. Ryan…” he murmured, and Ryan’s last words appeared before him.
I will never leave you.
~End Flashback~
~
Haiz. Sorry this was so late. Hope you still like this story enough to rate and review. Please & Thank you.
~Nick xxx
PS FicWad was being mean so I had to repost this like eight times. Be grateful this is here now. :P
PPS I'm really mad at FicWad dammit. I had to delete this chapter four times just to get it up. My fingers ache from typing and copying and typing again. Sigh. Rate! And review! Aye...
~~
Shattered Hearts ~ Chapter 4 ~ Il Peint Des Roses Sur Son Coeur
~Flashback~
The boy glanced behind him as he hurried through the long alleyway, passing several shops and houses. He knew there was no time to stop; he had to get home before it was too late for anything else. Fumbling with the small iron key in his pocket, he quickly opened the door and stepped in, wearily draping his coat and hat on the nail hangers tacked to the wall.
“Mikey!” he called out, hoping that his friend was still awake. “I’m back!” He waited for a second, and after receiving no answer, he dashed upstairs to the bedroom, fearing the worst.
Pushing open the door, he gasped at the sight of his bespectacled friend lying on the floor, glasses askew and breathing ragged and shallow. He skidded to his side, dropping the small rucksack in his hand and frantically looking for a pulse. There was a faint throbbing in his wrist, but still. He’s alive. And that’s all that mattered right then.
“Mikey,” whispered the boy, tears welling up in his eyes as Mikey slowly pulled his eyelids open. He looked at the boy and cracked a small grin. Mikey’s dark brown hair was sticking up at different angles, and his body was almost thinner than the boy’s.
“Ryan. You’re home,” he mumbled, still smiling awkwardly. Ryan sniffled and wiped away a tear on his cheek. He hugged Mikey tight, but not too tight, and burst into tears.
“D-Don’t scare me l-like t-that again!” he whimpered, feeling the calm touch of Mikey’s fingers running across his skin. “D-Don’t leave m-me. Please.”
Mikey patted his shoulder gently, wobbling as he pulled himself up with Ryan’s help. “You know it will happen one day. The illness won’t just disappear.” Ryan nodded slowly, not meeting Mikey’s eyes.
“I know. But, there has to be something we can do. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose you,” said Ryan sadly. He helped Mikey onto the bed as Mikey coughed horribly, clutching his chest in pain. Ryan walked to the bag on the floor, taking out a small bottle of medicine and pouring it in a glass for Mikey to drink. The doctor said it would help, but even countless glasses later, Mikey Way could not be cured of his unknown disease.
Suddenly, it struck him. The gypsies around Paris had a fair knowledge of Magik and maybe they could help Mikey. Ryan knew, he could go ask for their help, but would Mikey approve?
“Mikey. I could ask for help from the travelers,” Ryan began, but was cut off immediately.
“No. It’s really too dangerous.” Ryan frowned and took his hand, ignoring the shivers as he touched Mikey’s cold skin. The illness had affected him so badly, it made Ryan want to cry every time Mikey moaned in pain, or when he cried in his sleep from exhaustion. Ryan couldn’t take this much longer. He was his best friend, his brother, almost. He didn’t have anyone left.
“This could be our only chance to save you. My only chance,” said Ryan firmly, making sure that Mikey knew, knew that he had to do this. He had to.
Mikey finally sighed, looking at Ryan through thinly rimmed glasses, and muttering, “Fine. But I’m coming with you. I couldn’t bear to see you get lost or something.” Ryan chuckled lightly, and smiled.
“I’ve lived in the city my entire life. I couldn’t possibly get lost.”
~
The duo made their way through the busy and cautious streets of Paris, and headed for the bazaar in the county village, where travelers could be spotted alongside caravans and horses, wearing colorful clothes and bells on their hats. Ryan had often wondered what it would be like to live as a traveler, a gypsy, a performer. When he was young, he’d look at the entertainers on the sidewalks and think, one day, somehow, he’d do that. Live free. Be free. But now, he had more pressing matters at hand.
Noticing a young girl come over to them, Ryan tipped his page-boy hat and addressed her politely, like how he was taught. “Good evening, miss. Do you know of anyone who could help us? My friend here has an incurable illness, and we were wondering…”
“Aye, laddies. Follow me this a‘way now, and I shall take ‘ya to me quarters.”
The chimes in her left hand jingled with mirth as she skipped ahead of them, leading the way to a small, purple caravan covered in swirls and drapes of masks. Ryan paused for a moment, seeing a small heading above a small mask at the very corner of the caravan. It was gold, black and red, and spiraling across it were the words 'he paints roses on his heart’.
Ryan stared at it with confusion; he was sure that he’d seen that particular phrase before, but he merely shook his head, continuing into the caravan. It was dimly lit and rather big, considering how it looked on the outside. There were candles everywhere, and a cat meowed at them as they walked on to a small room, decorated in black and blue cloth. A small circular table was placed in the middle of the dark room; covered in symbols and patterns of what seemed to be Grecian and Hebrew alphabets.
There was a lone person seated at the table, a woman who made Ryan shiver just at the mere sight. She had long flowing blonde hair, smoky grey eyes, and a crooked smile, which made Ryan feel uneasy about coming. No. He had to do this. For Mikey.
“So… I hear you boys have a little, problem,” purred the woman, who stood up to show them to a chair each. She was wearing a long red dress, sequins and glitter shining all over the material. Ryan sat down with Mikey and the woman as the young girl from before left the room.
“We need help. My friend here has this illness which can’t be cured by any medicine, and we thought that maybe you could help,” explained Ryan, glancing at Mikey, who was looking paler than this morning.
“Oh, I can help alright. But, what would you do for Michael James Way?”
Mikey frowned, coughing slightly. “How do you know my name?” The woman smiled that crooked smile again, waving her hand over the two.
“I am The Mask. I know many things, Michael. As do I know, George Ryan Ross, that this boy is the only family you have left. What would you do to save him?” she smirked mischievously. Ryan gulped and looked at Mikey. She was right.
“I-I would do anything,”
“Would you give up your life for Michael James Way?” she asked, a cunning grin playing on her lips.
Mikey’s eyes widened, and he shook his head feverishly. “No, Ryan, don’t…”
“Yes. I would. I’d give up my life for him to live,” whispered Ryan.
The woman’s grin grew wider. “And would you be willing to give your soul to the spirits to save Michael Way, and let your body be changed to an unknown?”
Ryan nodded, shutting his eyes to prevent the tears from spilling. “Y-Yes.”
“Ryan! What… what are you saying?” asked Mikey hoarsely, not believing his ears.
Ryan didn’t answer. He merely opened his eyes and looked at the woman with fear and vulnerability in his eyes. “Do it. Now,” he whispered to her.
She laughed, striding across the room and reaching for a small velvet bag of what seemed to be dust, and threw it at Ryan, making him cough and splutter. He rubbed his eyes, and opened them to see more dust swirling around him. But, wait. The dust was moving on its own. There was no breeze inside the stuffy caravan. It was alive. The dust was alive. But, now, what was happening? Ryan felt strange, as if his insides were starting to shrink,
Ryan let out a whimper as he felt his limbs push against each other, hearing a sickening crack as the bones broke. He looked at Mikey with agony in his eyes as Mikey watched, horrified and speechless at what was happening to Ryan.
Ryan fell to the floor, moaning in pain, and looking at his skin, he yelled when he felt it harden and turn a milky-white colour, like the colour of porcelain.
“Mikey,” whispered Ryan as he lay slumped on the floor, the dust swirling faster now. “I… I… want y-you to…” He bit back a scream as his body became paralyzed, and the arm stretched out towards Mikey was frozen in place. “J-Just know… that I-I…”
“Ryan, oh Ryan,” cried Mikey in horror, curled up on the floor next to the still form of Ryan. “Please, no, you shouldn’t have done this…”
And, just as Ryan spoke his last words, he choked, and a shimmering, misty form came out from his eyes, floating down into Mikey’s chest. Mikey gasped, and clutched his arm, bending over in pain. But, as soon as it came, the pain was gone. He didn’t feel a thing. In fact, he didn’t feel remotely sick at all. He was cured.
Looking around, Mikey was shocked to see that he was not in a caravan, not lying next to a table, not in a room with a gypsy-woman who cursed his best friend. He was in the middle of the bedroom in his house.
But, looking down at Ryan again, Mikey broke down and wailed, not caring about who would hear his pitiful cries, or his screams in sorrow, because he knew that Ryan couldn’t be cured.
Ryan had been turned into a porcelain doll.
And, gently caressing the doll, he placed it on the table, where Ryan’s last cry for help was etched permanently onto his face. Mikey nodded, wiping away his tears. “I will help you. This time, it’s my turn to save you. I will. I have to. Ryan…” he murmured, and Ryan’s last words appeared before him.
I will never leave you.
~End Flashback~
~
Haiz. Sorry this was so late. Hope you still like this story enough to rate and review. Please & Thank you.
~Nick xxx
PS FicWad was being mean so I had to repost this like eight times. Be grateful this is here now. :P
PPS I'm really mad at FicWad dammit. I had to delete this chapter four times just to get it up. My fingers ache from typing and copying and typing again. Sigh. Rate! And review! Aye...
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