"I’d pushed my broken-winged angel over the edge."
Fuck. He was really going to do it. And I had more or less let him. Well I had, hadn’t I? Who’d upset him? Me and Gerard. Who’d confused him? Me. Who’d taken advantage of him? Me. Who’d let him run off again? Me. It was all entirely my fault; I’d pushed my broken-winged angel over the edge.
It broke me inside to know that he’d be prepared to do something like that, that he felt so bad about himself and life in general that he was willing to forbid me from ever seeing his perfect face again. It made my soul cry that he would rather be six feet under than try to fix the numerous problems that he was obviously too ashamed to talk about. It obliterated my heart that the one I loved had tried to rob the world of a work of art. I should have gone after him! I shouldn’t have kissed him! I could have helped him, stopped him before his desperateness got the better of him, but no; I had let him go, let him run to that damned cemetery and cry, all on his own instead of with me. No one should ever have to cry alone, especially not someone as sweet as Mikey Way. By the time Gerard and I had reached that dark, desolate place, Mikes had been in a sobbing heap on the ground and he had something in his trembling hand. Something that had made me let out a silent scream of pure sorrow and distress; he had been clutching some sort of switchblade. And then there was the note; that horrific chicken-scratch whose heart-breaking message bled from the page like cyanide. How could he honestly believe that he’d screwed up so bad that life wasn’t an option? How had I let him feel like that? Gerard had knocked the blade clean from his brother’s hand upon seeing it, leaving a very hopeless, yet very adorable, looking Mikey staring up at us, deep eyes lost in panic and sorrow. None of us had said anything, nobody sure how to start a conversation about all of the shit that had happened that afternoon; neither Gerard nor I entirely sure of how to comfort such a broken wreckage of person. I felt a yearning in my heart to help the beautiful boy whose lips I could still taste upon my own. But I can’t have that again, not after the way I treated him, the way I left him to his heartbreak and sorrows.
I looked at his semi-peaceful and pale face, properly taking in for the first, fearful time that he could actually be dead instead of just safely asleep in Gee’s brotherly arms. Oh God. Dead. Six-feet-under. Gone. Never coming back. Deceased. Cold. I couldn’t let that happen, not to Mikey. He may be an angel, but he’s my angel and Heaven can’t have him! I won’t allow it! If he falls that low, so low that he can’t take it anymore, again, I’ll pick him up even if no one else will; I swear it.
“Fucking hell, Frankie.” Gee’s broken-sounding voice sighed from his bed, stirring me from my thoughts. He was cradling Mikey’s exhausted body and was looking at him with such strong guilt and a hunger to protect his baby brother in his eyes that I could almost feel it; looking at his morose eyes, I doubted that I would want to. I almost felt sorry for him; almost. I couldn’t completely feel sorry for purely because I’d seen him yelling at Mikes just over two hours ago, I knew he felt bad about it and I wanted to forgive him for it, but honestly; I was so caught up on how strongly I felt about Mikey that anyone who dared hurt him in anyway instantly pissed me off. If he wasn’t my best friend, he’d probably be sporting a bloody nose and black eyes instead of just a slightly red face from where my fist had collided with his cheek.
“I can’t believe I did this. I fucked up big time.” As much as I wanted to shout and scream at Gerard in agreement, I couldn’t. Yeah, he’d been a shit to Mikes but it wasn’t like I’d been any better. I guess you could say that I’m loyal to a fault, no matter what Gerard had done and who to, he was still my best friend; I couldn’t let him beat himself up over something that wasn’t entirely down to him, that wouldn’t be fair.
I looked up from the overturned box that I was perched on, my black hair hiding my ashamed eyes and the tears locked up within them. I had to say something; I couldn’t let him live with the guilt of believing he’d almost caused the death of his brother. My head told me that I appreciate breathing and should therefore not mention my fuck up to my best friend; he would undoubtedly be beyond pissed off that I’d hurt his precious little brother, the one he’d normally be willing to kill for in order to protect. My heart demanded that I told him everything; he’s my best friend and he spends way more time with Mikey than me, he should know everything so that he can help Mikes.
“No. We both did. We both fucked up.” I mumbled, deciding to listen to my heart rather than my head, risking a furious Gerard pelting me for fucking things up for his beloved brother even more; but I just couldn’t take it anymore! Gee’s a good guy and he was beating himself up over something that wasn’t even his fault, not entirely. I had epically failed at helping the one I love with all of my black heart, so maybe I could help his big brother out instead.
“What did you do, Frank?” He asked in puzzlement, finally tearing his loving and concerned gaze from Mikes so that he could train it steadily on me.
The vicious look in his, suddenly cold, eyes made my guilty stomach churn in fear; he valued Mikey higher than anything in this world (despite what his earlier actions may have suggested), much like I found myself doing, so my next words could be the difference between my life and my very slow, very painful one-way trip to hell. I took a deep breath and shut my eyes to find solace from his iron stare; I could tell that this wasn’t going to go well. Oh well, I’d picked the record and now I had to listen to it.
“I did catch up to him and I fucked up mega-time.” I slowly inhaled, fully appreciating that it could easily be the last breath to ever grace my lungs, and continued, casting my shameful eyes to the floor. “He ran off again and I could have gone after him, but I didn’t because it was my fault.” My words came out in an almost frenzied rush and my pathetic attempt at a confession lingered in the air for a few seconds before I nervously looked up to see what my fate was to be.
Gerard’s, normally pale, face was burning with Devil’s fury and the hand that wasn’t gently soothing Mikes through a sudden stir in his otherwise, surprisingly, peaceful sleep (a state which made him like the innocent, adorable child that had died a long time ago, perhaps even before the death of his grandma), balled into a strong fist.
“What the fuck do you mean, Iero?” He snarled, using a deadly tone that he usually reserved for anyone who dared (and there was a surprisingly high number of people that did) to hurt Mikes. And he’d used my last name. Not a good sign.
“He was running because I sort of… kissed him?” I hurried the words out like a murderer hurrying to hide a body, knowing that the confession was vital but also knowing that I would wimp out if I didn’t confess quick enough. After a full minute of deafening silence, I fearfully looked up to see him staring at me in pure shock and disgust. I immediately knew that it wasn’t the fact that I’d kissed a boy, Gee was far from homophobic, but rather the fact that the boy I had kissed was his fragile and, as much as it kills me to admit it, depressed little brother, someone whom we both loved dearly. Then, like someone had pulled a grenade pin, all hell broke loose.
“You stupid motherfucker! What the fuck were you thinking, Iero?!” Gerard yelled ferociously, causing Mikes to flinch in his deep sleep which in turn caused Gee to thankfully divert his suddenly softened gaze back to his brother and wash his hands over him once more. I longed to join Gee in comforting Mikes, but I couldn’t for two reasons; a) Gee was still angry with me so there was no way I was going anywhere near him and b) as much as I hate to admit it, this was one of those situations where Mikes needed his brother, not some guy that had kissed him. Fuck, he looked so weak, so helpless, so adorable and in need of love, something that kid like Mikey should have in endless quantities. Gerard glared at me, clearly seething at me and more than willing to use me as some sort of scapegoat to banish all of his guilt. Fury suddenly burnt within me; he couldn’t try to pin all of this on me! It was just as much his fault as it was mine; not to mention the large portion of the blame that resided with Mikey’s heartless tormentors.
My eyes met his, I breathed in tensely, realising that his question hadn’t been at all rhetorical and that he actually wanted some sort of answer out of me.
“He thought you hated him and I wanted to make him feel less alone because of something that you had done!” I screamed back the stress of the day finally getting to me properly. I immediately felt bad because my raised and heated voice had regrettably caused Mikes to flinch in Gee’s arms once more. Why do I only ever cause him more hurt?
Gerard sighed, apparently admitting blessed defeat.
“Okay, we’ll talk about this when Mikey’s awake. Now shut the fuck up, Frankie, I’ve got a motherfucking headache.”
A/N: Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you like/dislike about this. Thanks to the awesomely epic people who have reviewed this story so far! Please review :)