I told him he could come in. Of course I fucking did, how could I not?
His big brother may have beaten me up to the point where I started seeing spots just two days ago purely because I was dating Mikes, but it’s impossible to tell that poor kid to find somewhere else to go when he shows up on your doorstep in the middle of the night. All wide, terrified eyes and trembling, startled lips begging for forgiveness at something that wasn’t even his fault. Not really. That’d be like saying that it’s the sky’s fault whenever it rains. Just one look at those stunning eyes, eyes that I’ve only ever seen light up when locked onto my own, and I immediately took him back.
Took him back and took him straight up to my bedroom, wrapping him up tightly in my blankets in an attempt to combat the effects of the freezing two mile walk from his house to mine in the pouring rain, poor kid.
That’s where he is right now, cocooned in three blankets and in my arms but still shivering like a mouse in a blizzard. I mean, he was only wearing a flimsy little t-shirt, for fuck’s sake! I know that this might sound kind of dull and parental coming from the mouth of an eighteen-year-old, but he really should have wrapped up a lot more than this for such a trek on such a horrific night.
I’m surprised Gerard didn’t force him into a raincoat or into staying at home altogether.
Gerard. Gerard Arthur Way, the bastard who made my Mikey cry even though all I was doing with the little Way brother was kissing him; nothing like what we were doing before his big brother got in from work. I can sort of see why Gerard was so upset; I am three years older than Mikes, a hell of a lot more muscular and have a reputation to go with my looks. But I’m not at all like what the rumours depict me to be, not where my Mikey’s concerned anyway. I probably would have respected Gerard’s protectiveness had it been somewhat more rational than beating me to a bloody pulp in front of his “baby” brother, respected it enough to believe that he wouldn’t let Mikes head out into the night in nothing but a t-shirt and pyjama shorts.
But he did let him out like that and now my poor boyfriend is trembling against my chest in a deadly cocktail of both being frozen and sobbing his heart out.
And that’s what’s scaring me the most; he’s sobbing like someone’s just destroyed his beloved bass guitar in front of his very eyes and I don’t know why. He just won’t tell me. But now, with his breathing nearing the point of hyperventilation, I have to ask. I can’t let him suffer in silence. What sort of boyfriend would I be then?
“Hey, it’s alright, Baby. Tell me what’s got you all upset, yeah? I’ll make it all better.” I hush down at him, planting a butterfly kiss to his lips to seal his trust.
Only to find a coppery taste in place of his normal peanut-butter-and-raspberry-jelly flavour. Blood. Someone’s given him a split lip and I didn’t even notice.
Great boyfriend material, Petey, you didn’t even notice he’s hurt. Really, well fucking done.
“Mikey, who did that to you, Baby?” He shakes his head, making my heart shatter at the thought that he doesn’t trust me enough to let me help him. Hell, he didn’t even tell me that he’s hurt beyond being frozen half to death. “No, Baby, you’ve gotta tell me if someone’s hurt you. Is that why you came over?” My voice is dripping with well-justified concern; he’s just a skinny little fifteen-year-old, a kid, it’s important if someone’s hurt him to the point of making him run away.
“Doesn’t matter, please, just leave it. Leave it, Peterpanda.” He whimpers quietly, almost like his tears have watered down his shaky little voice, and just buries himself even further into me, thus smearing blood onto my bear chest.
My heart all but stops as I realise that there’s more damage than just his silken lips, there’s a small cut across his pale forehead that’s pooling blood too.
Nobody can hurt my Mikey like this, nobody is allowed to make him cry and bleed and run to a boy who yelled at him the last time that they saw each other. He must be so frightened, my poor little Mikey. So frightened and he won’t even tell me what happened. But that just makes it all the more important that I find out.
“No, Mikey, I can’t leave it. Someone’s hurt you and as your boyfriend it’s my job to make it better.” I lean down and peck his lips again, ignoring the flavour of the blood of my beloved because his happiness and comfort is far more important than my own right now. “So tell me, Baby, who hurt you?”
He looks like he’s about to shake his head and carry on the rest of the night in heart-wrenching denial, but just before he does he looks searchingly into my eyes, finding in them nothing but love and sincerity and care and a desperate longing to help. He splutters out another choked sob, clutching onto me tight enough for it to hurt but nowhere near tight enough to make me push him away. I could never do that, not whilst he’s crying and not whilst he wants me.
“I-I… Gerard got mad at me.” His quiet little mewl of shame is so close to silence that I have to play it back a few times in my head to make sure that I’ve heard him correctly, to make sure that my mind isn’t playing tricks on me.
I wish it were.
Gerard means the world to my Mikey; amidst alcoholic parents they’re all each other really have. So why the fuck would Gerard hurt the kid he fights to defend from everything, even love? What’s more, how did he do it? A quick punch or shove could be put down to harmless brotherly squabble, but a gashed forehead and split lip is a sure sign of something a hell of a lot more violent. As in properly dangerous violent. As in the kind of violent that means I won’t be letting my Mikey go home until I know that Gerard’s not going to do it again.
“Oh, Mikey. Shush, c’mere, Baby. I got you, I’m not gonna let anything hurt you.” I coo as I cradle him to me, rocking back and forth gently like a mother rocking her fragile little new born. “What happened?”
He swallows, looking out of the window with horribly haunted eyes and I know that whatever it was must have been truly traumatising to spook Mikey this much. There’s no way that I’m letting him go home anytime soon if his big brother treats him like shit.
“He… Gerard kissed me.” He exhales, eyes closed to spare himself from the disgusted look that infects my eyes; disgust at his incestuous freak of a brother for ruining things for Mikey yet again. “He wanted more, but I told him no and…”
His words tail off, leaving nothing but his whimpers and my appalled gasps at how damaged my poor little baby is. All because of his bastard big brother who needs locking up.
“And then he did that to you.” I point at his face and he nods. And he bursts into a fresh wave of tears. “Okay, Baby, it’s all okay. Let it all out, it’ll all work out in the end.”
He pulls out from my chest, his big and beautiful eyes batting up at me slowly as though he’s trying to suss out my motives. Something that breaks my heart, but is really to be expected after all that he’s been through tonight. At the hands of his big brother, too.
I’m going to kill that bastard.
In reply to his little squeak of desperation there’s only one thing that I can think to say, even if I don’t know how yet I know that I will fix this and protect him until the world burns black. He’s my boyfriend, it’s what I’m meant to do.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading, sorry about this. It definitely isn’t my best and I really don’t like it, but I hope that it was alright. :)