"In short, Ryan Ross is my cocaine. And I’m Mikey Way, a hopeless addict." MIRO one-shot. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
There’s this boy, a skinny boy with caramel hair and snowy skin, in the grade below me at high school. All offset smirk lopping over his pink lips and bright, bunny-rabbit eyes. The kind of eyes that just pull you in until you can’t look away and the second you do is the second you start obsessing about them; their glow, their sheer innocence and, well, the way that they should be looking straight into yours. If I could sum up this boy in one word, it would be this; cocaine. He’s an addiction, the kind that just can’t be forgotten or given up because the high he gives is just too wonderful to want to go without.
In short, Ryan Ross is my cocaine. And I’m Mikey Way, a hopeless addict to a drug that doesn’t even know my name. If he did, I doubt he’d much care for it.
Sad, isn’t it? The way I’m obsessing over some kid in the grade below me like he’s some sort of rock star. Well, he does play guitar. Very well, from what I hear. Not that I would know. In fact, I don’t know anything about him other than what I can piece together myself, something that I hate myself for because I know full well that it’s my fault. We’re too alike in the respect that we’re both far too shy for own good. Apart from he’s always daydreaming and I’m always paying attention to the slightest little thing. Hence me knowing about him and him not having a clue who I am.
For example, I know he plays guitar because one day my brother and I were picking Frank up from his guitar lesson from the stoner across the street, just as Ryan arrived. To anyone else he would have been a mere shadow, unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking. But I was; I saw him with a guitar bag hung over his back, a soft smile painted onto his face at the thought of learning some new ways to rock the world.
So I asked Frank if he was friends with Ryan, thus opening myself up for endless taunts of “Mikey and Ryan sitting in a tree” and “Mikey loves Ryan” from both my big brother and best friend. I think they got the point when I burst into tears, telling them that it wasn’t my fault I fell in love with some boy I barely knew. To which Frank just apologized as though he’d tried to kill me and Gerard held me close, telling me that Ryan would be mad not to like me.
That’s another thing that I’ve noticed I have in common with Ryan Ross; we’re both over-sensitive and freak out over the smallest things, especially when it comes to other kids at school. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen him blow up in his best friend’s face, a boy by the name of Brendon, over some small thing such as being teased for wearing a little too much eye-liner.
Not that I can call him out on it. I’m exactly the same, after all.
As was Frank’s reasoning for us having the potential to get along, the fact that we’re so similar that we could well be the same person to a blind man. So, Frank being Frank and Gerard being Gerard, my best friend and brother have both forced me into talking to him. Today.
They said they’d ban me from Gerard’s coffee machine if I didn’t.
Thus meaning that I’m stood here right now, in the bustling corridors of Belleville High, next to the locker that I’ve seen Ryan open many times before. I can see Frank hiding behind the corner, grinning like an idiot on weed and giving me a huge thumbs-up when he spots me looking at him for encouragement. I know the real reason he’s spying on me; he wants to make sure that I don’t back out. He’s guarding me, just like Gee told him to.
I love those guys to pieces, don’t get me wrong, but they’re always treating me like a baby, like I won’t ever get anything done and get it done right if I’m left to my own devices. They’re probably right thoug., I mean, I’ve been watching Ryan for nearly two years now and I haven’t even tried to talk to him until now, because I’m being forced to. Frank told me everything he knows about him; that he loves The Beatles and Green Day, that he can write his own songs whenever their guitar teacher wants him to. Then Gee told me all he knows about getting someone to like you in that way; be confident, be kind and be yourself.
I guess I’m screwed then.
“Hey, um, can I get to my locker please?”
My heart drops through my ribcage and into my stomach at the chocolatey-smooth voice that pulls me from my thoughts, my head swinging to the left to see him. Ryan Ross is stood next to me, a light blush washing over his cheeks as I gawp at him like the idiot that I am. Because I am an idiot. A stupid idiot. The kind of idiot that will never wind up with someone as nice and sweet and beautiful as Ryan Ross.
But I can try. Gerard told me I can.
“I like Green Day.” The words spurt from my mouth before I have time to process and vet them, leaving me looking like a weird punk-rock fan with Tourette’s.
I look over to Frank, looking for some way to make myself look like less of a freak. All I get in return is the image of Frank grabbing onto the nearest locker in a vain attempt to hold himself upright amidst his guffawing laughter. Great.
I quickly turn back to Ryan, searching for something I can use to salvage the already dead situation. He’s just staring at me, eyebrows arched adorably and a soft smirk playing on his features at my flustered face. I scan his clothes; red converse, black skinny jeans that do nothing for my spinning head and a worn-out old Fall Out Boy t-shirt. Nothing I can use to rescue my stupidity.
Hang on! He’s got the Green Day logo, the heart grenade one, doodled on the back of his left hand in scruffy blue biro. Perfect!
“Your hand.” I stumble over the words, pointing to the doodle as my head drops to the floor in an attempt to hide the obvious shame on my face. “I like Green Day too.”
I hear him giggle, a sound that sends me on a sugar-high because it’s just like a sweet symphony of sherbet and bubble-gum and all of the other sweet things that I’ve seen Ryan munching on at break time. I lift my head back up to see that he’s full-out smiling at me. Not just smirking, but smiling. At me; at pathetic little Mikey Way. And that thought makes my heart race because, unlike most people who smile at me, he’s being nice to me for being me. Not getting ready to take the piss out of my awkwardness like so many others do.
“Sweet.” He looks me over, eyes lingering on the lapel of my old leather jacket that used to be Gerard’s. “Nice pin-badge collection.” He says, leaning to closer to the lapel and inspect my much-loved collection of badges. “Nirvana rock.”
“Yep. Not just Teen Spirit, but their other songs too.” I think for a minute, trying to gauge if I’m boring him or if he’s genuinely interested in talking to me. He offers me a nod, a grin on his lips telling me to carry on. “My favourite’s probably Aneurysm from Insecticide.”
“Love that song! I prefer Come As You Are, though.” He reaches out and tickles a hand through my hair, making me jolt back in surprise at the lightning strike of his touch. “Sorry, I just… It looked so soft. I like soft things.” He rubs behind his neck, something that I’ve often seen him do when nervous or embarrassed. Just like I know that he likes soft things; he’s always fiddling with Brendon’s hair like it’s a puppy. “Sorry if I freaked you out, Mikey.”
“How do you know my name?”
I can’t help the exalted tone that filters into my voice when it hits me that I’m not as invisible as I had thought. Or rather, that Ryan Ross actually knows who I am despite the fact that most of the people in my own grade know nothing more of me than that I’m the kid who makes an awesome punching bag.
Ryan flushes an even brighter red, chewing on his lip and looking at me with wide, semi-frightened eyes. The eyes of a teddy bear in need of a good hugging.
“I… um, I kinda…” He takes a deep breath, looking at the ground and scuffing his right shoe against the linoleum floor. “I watch you.”
“Me too, Ryan.”
I smile at him as he slowly looks back up, both of us practically glowing in a glorious cocktail or relief and complete disbelieving bliss. Because we’re two invisible boys, discovering for the first time that we might not be as worthless as we once thought.
“Hey, do you want to hang after school? My best friend works part-time in Starbucks and he can get us free drinks.” His words are rushed and sound almost like a plea, something that makes me want to dance around like nothing this fantastic has ever happened to me before. “If you want, I mean.”
“Yeah. I’d like that very much, Ryan. Very much.”
A/N: Just me wasting time with one of my favourite, yet underused, pairings of all time; Miro. Hope that you liked it and please let me know what you think! :D