Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > By the beating of our hearts is how we live. *Frikey*7 Reviews
Mikey hears Frank's story.
It was then, as Frank came to a stop on the bench near the rusting swings, Mikey noticed it was thundering. Every raindrop felt like hammers bruising and slapping his pale skin, a veil of white and indigo pummeling tears falling from the grey, frowning clouds, the concrete beneath Mikey's converse like ice: slippery and so frosty it stung. The bitter, crisp air ripped at his skin and tore at his clothes as he abruptly stopped in front of Frank, whose drenched, shivering figure was huddled into itself, tears falling like the rain around them, sobs as loud as the wet canopy of thundering claps.
He slowly and carefully sat down next to Frank, just staring at the distressed boy as he cried into his gloved hands, sobs racking and painful, stabbing at Mikey's pained heart.
The Stygian sky rumbled above them as the rain pelted down harder, seeping through the two, lone misfits' clothes and soaking their pale skin, causing the two misunderstood boys to shiver in unison as jagged lasers of silver light shot through the sky, inky clouds covering the sun. Crashing cymbals of thundrous paeans blasted through their hearing, almost disguising Frank's desperate cries but not quite, as a blinding liquid fog took over the school grounds and they couldn't see a meter in front of them.
Frank wasn't aware of Mikey sitting there next to him, looking at him like a trapped animal: upset, scared and pained. He was too caught up in the somberness of his heart to notice, too tired to care. But he did, anyway. He cared that Mikey didn't follow him - or so he thought.
But, as he felt a small tap on his shoulder, he knew he thought wrong, and he pushed his soaking body into Mikey's, who obliged and hugged him back, almost desperate, needing.
The stillicide, stupendously falling rain drenched the two boys who silently hugged each other for minutes, both knowing sorrow, but both strong as oak. It took a lot to brake them, but it looked like, for a second, that they were both broken toys, lying lonesomely on the carpet, abandoned by a child, too frail and battered to play with.
Finally, after what seemed like a dark, gloomy eternity, Mikey asked, "Are you okay?" His voice crackled and broke, his tone barely a whisper.
Frank pulled himself from Mikey's embrace, not daring to look into his eyes for two reasons: he was blushing and he couldn't bare to. Not now.
Fiddling with the ends of his fingerless gloves, Frank nodded. "I'm fine," he mumbled.
Silence occupied the space as Frank tried to find the words he needed to say, tried to find the words to explain his conflict with his sister.. But he couldn't. The howling wind blew through their ears in a hushed, breathy tone, speaking with the sorrow of weeping angels as they watched the scene, hearts bared to the world.
"D-do you remember," Frank started, voice shaking from his tears. "When I told you Lucy had done some bad things in her life?"
Mikey nodded, eyes meeting Frank's pained, hazel ones. The golden flecks in his eyes looked even brighter in the horrendous scene around them, though neither cared that they were cold and wet, and probably going to catch the flu. He presumed they were fighting about something Miss. Caines had done.
"Well," Frank continued. "I-it was about my older sister, not half-sister like Lucy, but a real sister, pure blood.." Frank smiled softly to himself then. "Like wizards off Harry Potter."
Mikey grinned then, too. Even if it was only a small smile, it was more than the two had done all day.
Frank cleared his throat and continued. "She was twenty, and her name was Laken.
"Laken suffered from acute paranoia, but she was normal. She acted normal, seemed normal. And she was. She was normal.. but Lucy obviously resented her.. and.. one day, she took it too far.
"Lucy started shouting at Laken at every opportunity, until, eventually, Laken decided not to speak. She turned mute."
Mikey's brown eyes widened, and he suddenly understood why Frank could read his lips so easily, why he felt the need to help Mikey so much, as he had said so as they parted ways the other night.
Tears started building in Frank's sorrow-drowned eyes again, and as they dripped off his face, Mikey couldn't distinguish his tears from the rain drops that fell from the heavens, from his ebony, drenched hair that was so wet it was flattened, water constantly dropping from each strand..
"Laken and I used to be really close, so, so close.. and.. when she turned mute.. she pushed everyone away. I talked to her, still, but no way near as often as I used to, because she pushed me away from her.. Lucy still shouted at her. I didn't know why - I still don't - but she didn't ease up, even though it was her fault Laken turned mute.
"I knew something was wrong with Laken, I just.. I knew it.. I could tell something changed in her. And when I went to speak to her one night.. I f-found her." Frank started to tremble by then, sobs leaking through and into each word, dipping each letter into his tears, letting his sorrow and formidable despair show through. "She was dead. Suicide," he whispered.
And then, all that Mikey could do, was relate to Laken.
And Frank obviously knew that, because he looked up to Mikey with anguish-stained, wide eyes, and said, "And you better not do that."
Mikey shook his head frantically as Frank collected Mikey into his strong arms, mumbling, "I think it was my fault.. I should've tried to talk with her again.. Why did Lucy have to do that? Why?"
Sat in the torrential rain, heartache and woe spilling out of their lonely, grieved souls, both drenched inside and out, the two stared up at the rough, coarse flashes of blinding light, shooting through the dark sky like rays of white, and listened to the torrential rain and thunderous claps. Both tried to find their souls, and both in denial.
"It wasn't your fault," Mikey whispered finally, looking over to Frank who was huddled into his wet hoodie, and Mikey's arms, trying to get warm. Their gazes locked as Frank slowly looked to his friend, contemplating his words.
Mikey realized he broke his 'no talking' rule. But did that matter at this moment? Frank was hurt. More than hurt - he was.. he looked.. almost hopeless.
"Maybe not," he uttered in reply, biting his lip. "But it feels like it."
Mikey shook his head softly, rain dripping of the edge of his soaked fringe. He didn't mind that it was going to be ruined, but he minded that Frank was ruined. Now he had Frank's attention, instead of speaking, he mouthed his next words. "You didn't push her to the edge. You were there for her. Lucy.. Miss. Caines.. she wasn't. She wasn't even nice to her. I don't think you can blame yourself for what Lucy did - hurt Laken."
Frank nodded softly, then sighed and slammed shut his eyes, trying to squeeze away the memories. The memories that haunted him at night, the memories that shattered his already-splintered heart, the memories he dreaded. The memory of Laken's white body..
A tear rolled softly down his face, sorrow blanketing his black, little heart.
And then, without even a moments notice, Frank felt a pair of lips connect with his.