"I had let them hurt him too many times and now he was getting beaten up for trying to help me; it was too much, I just couldn’t take it!" FRIKEY
“C’mon short stuff, bring it!” A tall, muscular jock mocked, knowing that he was suckering me into a fight that I couldn’t possibly win.
“Look, just give me back my notebook and I won’t break your nose.” I snarled back, knowing full well that I’d never stand a chance against a huge guy like him. But what could I do? That notebook was my life; it had heard all of my feelings that no one else cared to listen to; held all of the pointless little tunes I had made up to play on my electric guitar; it held the secrets of my inner-most being and the name of the geeky god I had a crush on, Mikey Way.
Mikey was almost as hated as me but, unlike myself, I could never understand why. He’s so quiet and shy, it’s like he’s a walking mystery. Nobody really knows that much about him, other than the fact that his big brother is some vampire-wannabe alcoholic who draws cartoons. Gerard, I think his name is. I see Mikey looking around at everyone and everything, looking so inquisitive about it all but never quite daring to ask the questions that are so obviously burning behind those framed masterpieces we call eyes. He always looks so on edge, as though he expects everyone to hurt him, not that I can blame him; not after all of the times I’ve watched him have the shit kicked out of him by jocks. I remember once, when his big brother was still at Belleville High, Gerard had walked in on Mikey getting beaten up. Those particular jocks had been unable to hurt anyone for at least three weeks after that, and didn’t lay a hand on the pale boy until Gerard left school. When he did, those motherfuckers made up for lost time, tenfold. It burnt my eyes and scorched my soul to see such an innocent, meek guy get so hurt for no reason whatsoever. I can’t remember the exact moment I realised I was gay for Mikey Way; I think it was when his pain-stricken eyes had searched my own for help once when I walked past him getting beaten. I was going to help him, honest, I was. But then I looked at what they were doing to him, at how badly my angel’s body was bruised, at how big I was in comparison to them and, as much as it shames me to admit it, I walked on. And that’s why Mikey Way will never be mine; because I’m too god-damn cowardly to help the one I crave.
“Aww, look! The little faggot’s crying!” Another bully jeered, pulling me from reverie of thoughts to make me realise that my cheeks were indeed wet. That’s how deep my infatuation ran, I couldn’t even think about him without getting emotional. A group of three heartless bastards guffawed whilst an equal number of their “hot” girlfriends giggled sickeningly. They’re so hypercritical! I mean, I saw the one who just called me a faggot making out with some Goth boy earlier this year. Perhaps that’s why he’s so quick to be homophobic; so that none of his superficial, shallow “friends” will suspect anything. Who would choose a life and friends like that?
I found myself suddenly feeling sorry for him, being forced to make fun of the very thing that he is. That’s when I knew that no matter what he did to me, it’d hurt him ten times worse because one day he’ll look back, realise who he really is and then believe that he deserves to be treated how treats me now. Perhaps he’d have a wife, kids and a nice house in a posh suburbia, but he’d never actually be happy. Unlike me, I’m not afraid of who and what I am, I’m proud of it, just like everyone should be; even stupid bastards like him. But, like him, I’ll never be truly happy because I’ll never have Mikey Way.
“I pity you.” I stated calmly, my lips forming a sympathetic smile which quickly blossomed into a smirk at their shocked faces.
“I pity you. You’re all such liars! You don’t even know who you are, yet you act like you know enough about everyone else to be able to put them back in their place.” My momentary gall and bravado abandoned me when I looked up to see three glaring faces. But I still stood by what I said, if only I’d had that sort of courage at least one of the times I’ve seen Mikey in this situation.
I waited for the connection a fist or a foot, but it never happened.
“Hey! Leave him alone!” I’d know that voice anywhere!
“Mikey Way, you pathetic little emo-fag. Come to rescue your damsel in distress, have you?” Sniggered the homophobic homosexual.
I felt my face burn a bright red, I couldn’t let him see me like this, all teary-eyed and flustered. Fuck, he looked good; little tufts of his straightened hair sticking out at adorable angles from under his grey beanie and his eyes wide with semi-believing shock at what he’d just said. He looked nervously at me as the jocks dropped my notebook and started advancing towards him, like a group of starved lions closing in on a helpless little antelope.
“Your lucky day, Iero, looks like the emo-fag has had enough of hurting himself and wants someone else to do it for him!” Smirked a plastic cheerleader as her boyfriend backed Mikey into a dark corner.
I winced inwardly as the first punch rained down on my saviour. No. I wasn’t doing this again! I had let them hurt him too many times and now he was getting beaten up for trying to help me; it was too much, I just couldn’t take it! Before I could even consider the plan that my barely organized chaos of a mind had concocted, I sprung fiercely to my Converse covered feet and lunged at the ring leader; the one who had a thing for a Goth boy.
Before he knew what (or rather who) had hit him, I had him pinned to the floor and gasping for breath. His “friends” had stopped hurting my angel to observe the most unusual sight they had ever seen. I guess for them it was like seeing someone make-out with a monkey; it happens, just not publically or in front of your own eyes and when it does it’s a huge shock and you don’t know if it disgusts or amuses you.
I put my lips to his ear and whispered in a forceful, but not unkind, voice, “I know who you are, what you are. Don’t be ashamed of it.” Satisfied that my plan had worked, I climbed off of the trembling guy, who just got up and left, taking his ugly crew with him. I grinned smugly to myself, overjoyed that I’d finally sorted out my tormentor. My proud, self-congratulatory thoughts halted before they had even begun at the sound of broken sobs that shook my heart.
I looked over to where Mikey was, curled up into himself and sporting a bloody nose. I suddenly wished that I hadn’t been so nice to our attacker. Normally I loathe using violence, but seeing Mikey, a boy a didn’t even really know but was decidedly in love with, made me feel like I could kill. I heavily stood up and went to kneel next to him.
“Hey. It’s alright. They’re gone.” I whispered soothingly, smiling in what I hoped was a reassuring way when he looked up at me.
“But what about the next time?” He wept emptily, making me realise how broken he actually was.
“I won’t let it happen.” He looked at me in disbelief and, sadly, I can’t say that I blame him. “Look, I know that I haven’t been that great to you in the past, but you saved me, right?” He nodded shyly, blushing an adorable shade of scarlet. “Why’d you do that?”
“Because I know how it feels to have them slam you around and I know that you’re not a bad person, you just don’t want to get hurt in the crossfire. I guess I don’t want you to get hurt in the crossfire.” His voice was quiet and I had to lean right up close to him to hear, but I couldn’t mistake the sincerity in his caring tone.
“Exactly I don’t want you to get hurt, either.”
“Why?” It broke my heart to hear him ask that, like he truly believed that nobody other than his big brother cared about him. So, doing the only sensible thing I could do, I tilted his chin up and pecked his lips softly.
“Because I love you.”
A/N: If you were kind enough to read, please be lovely enough to review. :)