Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > By the beating of our hearts is how we live. *Frikey*6 Reviews
Frank tries to protect himself... and Mikey.
Then, Mikey's subconscious mind sucked up all it's uncertainty and he delicately brushed his lips with Frank's, an electric shock pulsing softly through his body as he sighed, relieved as Frank, once motionless in shock, started to tentatively, hesitantly, kiss him back.
Mikey's mind whirled nonsensically, her heart thumping in time with Frank's erratically thumping chest. He was afraid he could feel it - see how much he loved him, loved this, only to abandon and break his heart, shoot down the dove and leave him lying, bleeding, begging..
Their palms started to sweat as Frank hesitantly wrapped his arms around Mikey's waist, butterflies swirling in their stomachs, making them feeling dizzy with guilt, need, lust, love and pleasure, drifting from one reality to the next, one emotion to the other. Mikey knew Frank was probably thinking, "What the fuck is Mikey doing?" and Mikey actually didn't know himself.
What the fuck was he doing?
Still though, Mikey's eyes fluttered closed contentedly as his senses focused on Frank's sweet, minty breath as it stroked his skin, his hair brushing softly against Mikey's cheek as he shivered faintly, running his trembling hands anxiously up Frank's back as a small, effervescent smile crept onto his face. His cold, shaking lips swept against Frank's salty, damp ones in a gentle, rhythmic pattern, lust filled eyes still closed, unease lingering in the air as the rain pounded down on the couple. He trembled uncontrollably beside Frank, hair wet from the rain, cheeks pink from the cold as the soft glow of the streetlamps filtered through the trees, illuminating the wondrous moment and the slashing rain, the loud pang of each tear as they exploded on the floor, shaking hands and frozen fingers curling round each other, wide eyes and frantic hearts, eyes flooded with anxious uncertainty.
The rain crashed around the two, lone misfits, two broken souls searching for something - anything - to tell them who they were, what to do. The air was still icy and bitter, the wind howling on, thunder clapping dangerously and intensifying the moment, but they stood still in time, lost in their own world of shaky hearts and wide eyes, lips touching softly, sweetly, uncertainly, hearts melted.
It was blissfully, beautifully real; the raindrop coated, uncertain lips, the trembling hands, the fluttery, erratically thumping hearts and tentative breaths. Just two, broken misfits with shaking hearts and tremblingly clasped hands finally lived the world they'd been too scared to step into for so long, too scared to even acknowledge, care for. Their lips were cool and soft from the rain, salty with tears and hurt as they finally pulled back, still trembling, breathing unevenly into the bitter air, rain smashing down onto them, both staring at each other with wide eyes and thumping hearts.
Mikey's eyes were especially wide as he stared at Frank, scared of what he'd just done, what'd he just experienced, let Frank know. He didn't want to be hurt, shot down like a dove, bleeding out pain and suffering, sorrow leaking from his already wounded heart and soul. Hands shaky, uncertain, tentative, Mikey carefully ripped himself from Frank, panting as his heart exploded, desperate for the boy to say something, anything, as long as it didn't damage him.
Mikey wiped frosty raindrops from his face as Frank's gingerly insecure and hesitant eyes, large with ambivalently dubious and ambiguously judicious emotions, stared back at him, shocked and scared, innocently pleading him to understand his next words.
"I can't," Frank whispered, shaking his head, hazy eyes closed, faced riddled with pain and flushed with tenebrous self-hate. "I-I.. Mikey.. I'm seeing s-someone."
Mikey's heart dropped through his rib cage, shattering into a thousand lost, broken pieces, like his misfitted and abandoned soul, clutching on for dear life as he shook his head, shakily standing up on uncertain feet and walking out into the mist and rain, tears rolling steadily down his face, indigo and white raindrops acting as his tears as Frank sat alone, crunching up into a ball and cursing what he just said, lied about, and fell deeper into his despair.
He wasn't seeing someone, really. He went on one date with them - nothing past that. They grew close as friends, and that's all they were.
But Frank didn't want to go to that place with Mikey, he couldn't go there, because honestly, was it actually what Mikey had wanted? Was it what Frank had wanted? Or was it simply in the moment?
Frank didn't really care - couldn't really decide - as he pledged to himself not to get involved with Mikey. Not now. Instead, he wiped away the last of his tears from his red eyes and decided on what he was going to do, where he was going to go.
And there was only one person that he could think of who could help him.
Mikey sat still as his brother wrapped a blanket around him and forced a cup of coffee into his frost-bitten and stiff hands, before crouching in front of him, eyes profound and worried. Worried, because Mikey had just shown up, drenched and crying, and forced himself at Gerard, muttering and mumbling.
That really got Gerard.
He actually talked.
For three years, he hadn't said a word, but then, at that moment, he did. He spoke. And when he did, it wasn't happy or full of life, it was dull and drab, crackly, broken, searching for the right words but never finding them, stumbling over himself.
Gerard examined Mikey as he sipped at his coffee, red eyes still leaking tears. "What's happened?" he asked softly, frowning slightly and waiting for Mikey to speak. But he didn't. He handed him a pen and pad, and Mikey only wrote down three words, but Gerard understood completely.
I kissed Frank was unattractively scrawled down on the paper, ink blotched from Mikey's tears and wet, shaking hands.
Gerard sighed. "I'm so sorry, Mikey," he whispered softly, taking away the pad and pen and pulling Mikey into a hug, making sure Mikey's lukewarm, toasty coffee was placed safely on the table, because he didn't want to be burned, no matter how joyous that would be.
Suddenly, just as Gerard pulled away, the doorbell rang. He told Mikey he'd be back in a second and left to answer it, leaving Mikey with his thoughts.
What the fuck was he doing? What the fuck did he do? He freaking talked - actually spoke a few words - to Frank, his first in years, and now, he's probably not even going to act like he's alive.
Mikey was suddenly not upset, but angry, very, very angry. His blood boiled with fury, contrasting with the cold, frostiness of his pale skin, and his head started spinning, outrage, indignation and annoyance whirling and twirling through his head, thoughts becoming jumbled as his fists clenched, frown growing heavy, yet his heart still weighed down with pain.
Then, as he got up and went to stomp up the stairs, he saw an agonizingly familiar, and a very wet, red-eyed face, staring at Mikey with a look of pure horror.
Okay, I don't like this chapter very much, but I have no idea why. Still, I hope you like it:)