Mikey was always scared of cemeteries. Until Frank came along. FRIKEY. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
This night walk the dead, in a solitary style.
I can remember the first time we kissed; it was watching one of those cheesy zombie movies that you insist you love almost, but nowhere near, as much as I love you.
The two of us, Frankie, the two of us sat in front of the television screen like two sinners in the presence of an angel and doused in the sirens of Gerard’s snores. It was one of our regular movie nights, apart from that particular night in mid-February you seemed to be in a more… solitary mood than normal. Turned out you were scared of the film that you had insisted upon watching and, as much as I hate to admit it, I was scared too. So we huddled up together, you melting into me like a sugar on a pancake; the small, sweet kid getting under my dull, thin skin.
And then, just as a zombie jumped out at the camera, you jumped up. Resulting in your lips capturing my own. The only thing we had to be afraid of at that moment in time was Gerard waking up to find us making out in the same room as him, something which I highly doubt my big brother would have appreciated.
And crash the cemetery gates.
I still can’t believe that you talked me into it, Frankie. But then again, how could anyone say no to your smile, the smile that makes honey sour with it’s breath-snatching sweetness.
It was my sixteenth birthday, eight months after the first time your lips ignited my heart, and you told me that you had a surprise for me; that you were going to take me to a place that’s your heaven when everything falls to hell. You made me close my eyes as you led me like a shepherd down the pavements of Belleville, my complete trust in you making it easy for me to be guided, and I only opened them when I heard you cuss out as though you were physically pained by whatever it was that I couldn’t see. So I opened my eyes, gave them a few speedy seconds to adjust to the glare of the moonlight, and saw what was wrong; the gates were locked.
And, to be perfectly honest, I was glad.
Because you took me to the motherfucking cemetery, Frankie! A place that I was always taught to fear and hate and pity.
But for you, your grin mischievous when you realised that I could help you over the ivy-embraced gates, I did it. Between the two of us, sinner and saint, we crashed through those stiff cemetery gates. And, as we snuggled closer than the earth around the coffins, we watched the stars; none of them shone as bright as you though, Frankie.
In the dress your husband hates.
It was your birthday next; Halloween. Or Ieroween as Gerard dubbed it all of those years ago back when I still believed in unicorns and your idea of heavy music was Bon Jovi.
We, Ray and Gee and me and you, had all decided to give one another a theme to dress to; Ray gave Dracula to Gerard considering that he didn’t really need to dress up at all, we gave Ray Frankenstein’s Monster and Gee, because me and you apparently counted as one person, gave us the best of all. A married zombie couple.
You, being the shortest, had to be the wife and so it happened that we walked the streets of Belleville as a crazy-haired monster, a big brother who hadn’t really dressed-up at all, a lanky zombie boy and you, something of a zombie hooker; high heels and all. I, personally, hated the ripped-up dress that showed off every muscle contour like the brushstrokes of a masterpiece. It made you look too perfect, too beautiful to be dating someone like me, someone like silly little Mikey Way.
You saw it in my eyes, the rampant fear of losing you, so you just planted a huge kiss on my forehead; leaving me branded as yours by your blood-red lipstick.
Way down, mark the grave where the searchlights found us drinking by the mausoleum door.
By December the cracks had started to show like someone’s crimson life-force splattered across the white tiles of a bathroom wall.
Not the cracks in our relationship, that’s something that can never be broken no matter what, but rather the cracks in you; in your optimism; in the smile that I hadn’t even noticed you were faking.
Then, on Christmas Eve, you ran away. And I ran after you; straight to the place that you told me yourself can make hell seem like heaven; to the cemetery.
We went there a lot after my birthday, just to gaze aimlessly at the stars that you easily dwarfed, so it wasn’t such a big deal you heading there once more. What was more the big deal was the fact that you’d ran there with rope, with burning eyes and an intent to throw your life-saving soul into the bin of life like a failed poetry attempt into an angst-ridden teen’s waste paper basket.
You’re mom, tears clotting her throat like blood congealing on an open wound, told me that you were gone; that I was her only hope of finding you. And I did, just in the nick of time. What hurt the most, more than seeing you fasten the rope around your precious neck, was the fact that you just wouldn’t tell me why; just that it was alright, that it had been a momentary lapse of judgement due to the hysteria that your soul was drowning in for reasons I still don’t understand.
You were exhausted, my poor little baby, so I carried you to our favourite spot next to the old mausoleum door, the one you said reminded you of Spike’s crypt in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and we just sat; drinking hope from one another’s lips until the frantic headlights of your mother’s car drenched us to take you away from the place that you very almost paid the ultimate price for residency at.
And they found you on the bathroom floor.
You lied to me, Frankie.
You told me I’d never be alone again.
You fucking lied!
I miss you!
You did it anyway, blood all over the place from what I heard.
Gerard was the one to tell me, just a day after I thought you were cool Frankie; the day after you told me you were okay! When Gerard told me I actually laughed, said it was a joke. He started crying. I started screaming.
Screaming and sobbing and running.
To our cemetery; to the place that was once a heaven and is now a hell. I kept running even when Gee yelled at me to stop, tried to keep me from going to the one thing that I have left of you; the rope.
I miss you!
Hence where I am now; tears down my face and the tree where you were going to end it in sight.
I wish I had let you hang yourself here; at least that way you would have died how and where you really wanted to as opposed to in a crumpled heap on your bathroom floor.
And now you’re so far away, Frankie. A sky’s distance.
But that’s okay; I’ll be seeing you soon enough.
And the collision of your kiss that made it so hard.
Maybe if we’d just been best friends this wouldn’t have hurt so much, maybe you wouldn’t have managed to kill me with what you did.
But I wouldn’t take back your kisses for the world. The world that’s too dull; frightening; empty; cruel without you.
My Frankie, here I come.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading this; I've never done a songfic before, so sorry if it's truly terrible. Please let me know what you think/how to improve! :)