FicWad

It started out as a rumor, a fervent whisper passed through the lips of the chaotic crowded masses who had nothing better to say. Simply a string of useless words that had no attachment to the user, no ties to validate why, exactly, anyone should care. It was a rumor that had no plausible proof, a mere observation of two people who chose to be around each other. It was a rumor that no one chose to believe.

It was a simple question asked outside between two scorned girls, sitting and watching two boys together at lunch as they discussed loudly whether Halo was worth giving a damn.

"Do you think Frank and the goth kid...?"

Of course, Wendy had broken the news days ago, not that anyone believed her. All her friends knew she was obsessed with Mikeyway--she'd started to run his first and last names together, to make him a real person and not just another name--with his clothes, his makeup, his attitude. She'd picked up smoking just because she saw him doing it every day before school. She watched in the mornings as he waited for Frank to lumber up to him in an obnoxious way and hug him. It had taken days for her to realize that burning pain in her abdomen was hate. She hated the way he ruled the school and had his secret life on the side, hated the way he didn't make Mikey happy like she knew she could. She wanted Frank gone. Not dead, necessarily--unless that would make Mikey even gother--just gone.

So of course everyone knew she would start rumors about Frank.

They would see Frank and Mikey walk together, eat together, leave school together in Mikey's car, but that didn't mean anything. They were friends. Friends do that kind of shit, they spend time with each other without trying to sabotage each other. Friendship like their's was rare.

That's all they had, Friendship. It was idiotic to entertain the idea that Frank Iero,--adorable, loving, cuddly Frankie who demanded attention in the sweetest way possible--could ever fall for the weird goth kid who would probably die soon of lung cancer. No one was even sure that Mikey had feelings. He surely couldn't reciprocate love.

*

Frank sat limply in his desk, fingers printing small drawings of dinosaurs that were only visible when the light shined on the table top, silently moping over the fact that Ms. Jameson hadn't let them have partners for weeks. How is he supposed to just sit there, listening to their never-ending lectures droning on and on, each word turning into a mess of fuzz and static as soon as they his his ears? He didn't hear anything that came from his math teacher, yet he was now making an A in this class. Completely courtesy of Mikey, though. Mikey would always stop at Frank's house after school and help him with his homework if he needed it.

Normally, that was all that went on when Frank and Mikey were alone in his room, much to Frank's despair. A whole week of dating and they hadn't kissed on the mouth once, just quick rare pecks here and there from Frank, always from Frank. But it didn't bother him, he liked just being with Mikey. He felt lucky just to get a hug from Mikey everyday, that's how pathetically in love he'd fallen. It was the best feeling in the world, in his opinion, to look at his boyfriend every morning when they met up at school, to lean up against the wall next to him and knot their fingers together just because he could.

Even Mikey couldn't focus on Ms. Jameson's lackluster description of what they were going to be doing with the jumble of numbers scribbled sloppily across the chalkboard. It was Friday, for God's sake! No one cares about school on Friday, everyone just wants to get the fuck out of school and get on with their weekend.

Mikey was more excited than he normally would be on a Friday--since they meant that he wouldn't see Frank until Monday, and he spends two days going out of his mind with loneliness and that empty feeling--but he was staying over at Frank's house for the weekend. None of their parents knew that the two were dating, didn't even know that they were gay, but they decided that they were going to start with Frank's mom this weekend. She was the nicest and most accepting of the three. Not to mention that they wanted to be able to act cuddly while Mikey was staying over.

The bell rang, and most of the students jumped out of their seats, running past others to get to lunch before all the good food was taken. Frank didn't blame them, the cold leftover pizzas were pretty nasty, a right travesty in his mind that the poor innocents of the school should be subjected to eat that shit, but he stayed in his seat, gathering his stuff up slowly. It was his inconspicuous way of waiting for Mikey so they could walk together. It wasn't that he cared if people saw him with Mikey--even if he did know about the rumors from his reliable sources--but he knew that it made Mikey uncomfortable for whatever reasons he had, so he waited with the infinite patience that he only reserved for his boyfriend.

Ah, he just fucking loves that word, boyfriend. It was so...campy.

"You ready to go, Frank?" Mikey asked as he made his way between the rows of empty desks. Frank nodded and stood up, grabbing his book bag and slinging it over his shoulders.

"Yeah, but it takes you forever back there, Mikey, geez," Frank joked. He slipped his arm around Mikey's waist and hooked his thumb around the belt loop on his pants. Mikey slung his arm around Frank's shoulders, drawing him to his own body possessively.

"Hey, I can't help it, I'm old," Mikey retorted as Frank began to pull him out into the empty halls, silent and void and brimming with non-existent life left over from the chaos that was here only moments ago, bouncing off the white tiles and cold metal lockers like the soft wash of artificial light from the fluorescent fixtures in the ceiling. Frank laid his head back on Mikey's shoulder as they walked, rolling his eyes over-dramatically so Mikey was sure to see.

"Mhm, cause we both know that 17 is ancient. You're pretty decrepit, Mikey. Maybe I should go find myself a nice thirteen-year old boyfriend."

"Yeah, maybe you should, you pedophile." Mikey laughed and squeezed Frank tighter so he knew it was a joke. He didn't want Frank to be mad at him.

Frank huffed and jabbed Mikey in the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?" Mikey asked, retracting his arm and twisting it around, examining it like it was a serious injury, poking it experimentally. Nope, no red mark.

Frank giggled and grabbed Mikey's arm. He ran his thumb softly over the spot then leaned down to kiss it.

"So I could do that, of course." Frank took Mikey's arm and guided it back around his shoulders so they were still walking all wrapped up in each other.

*

Frank and Mikey sat in the shade underneath their big oak tree at lunch, a plate of french fries balanced precariously on Frank's knee. Mikey's arm was slung over Frank's shoulder, his face hiding in the crook of his neck because he didn't want to look over and see Bob. He could pretend that it didn't bother him, but it did, it fucking terrified him sometimes. In the beginning, he didn't care. Bob didn't have a reason to hate him, God wouldn't let Bob kill him for no reason, right? That's how the world worked, be nice and don't make yourself noticed and no one will try to hurt you?

No, Mikey wasn't stupid, he knew God was dead. He knew people could hate him even as the shadow on the wall that he was, the inkblot on the world that needed to be wiped up before it left a stain. He knew that bad things could and probably would happen to him before the world left him for dead and he was left to pick himself up and go on with what was left of his existence. But it all meant more now, if he let the world beat him down, it would hurt his Frank too, and for that reason alone, he cared a little. He cared just enough to save himself at the gates of desolation, to pull himself out of this self-destruction he'd created for himself and just...live. For once, it was okay that he wasn't pretty, that he hated his nose and his glasses and his body, that he wasn't famous and rich and he couldn't ever imagine leaving New Jersey. It was okay that Wendy was still looking at him with those love-sick eyes every time they passed in the halls, it was okay that he'd never made lower than an A- in his life. Yeah, okay.

Frank was happily oblivious to all glares directed at him as he was too busy lathering fries in ketchup and forcing them into Mikey's mouth, concerned that his boyfriend was too skinny. The bones peeking out of his wrist and shoulders were very unsettling and mildly uncomfortable when Frank forced Mikey to cuddle with him while they watched DBZ together at his house in the evenings.

"Fraaaank, I appreciate your concern, but I can't eat any more," Mikey groaned, wiping the ketchup covering his mouth off on Frank's white sleeve. Then he glanced up hesitantly at Frank to make sure he wouldn't get mad at him for staining his shirt. Frank was giving him a look--one corner of his mouth turned up in a smile and one of his eyebrows arched delicately--but it wasn't the angry look.

"Michael, you dork..." Frank ducked down to press a soft kiss to Mikey's forehead, successfully blocking out all rays of hate aimed their way from Bob and Wendy. It was dumb, he thought, that they still tried. Even after he told Bob he loved Mikey, even after he made it clear that Mikey was his, they still thought they could make a difference. He understood that Bob was stubborn, and he didn't know her well enough, but Wendy seemed similar, but this was a lost cause. Despite being the 'nice guy' that he was, he was ready to tell them to just fuck off.

He set the plate of fries on the ground next to him, all desire to eat gone a long time ago (which was part of the reason why he was feeding Mikey). He curled arms around Mikey's thin frame and pulled him into his lap in one fluid motion, so fast that Mikey didn't even register it, just worked to get comfortable, to tuck his elbows in and find that nice dip in Frank's shoulder that he liked. This was normal to them, now. The warmth that spread through their chests in branches pressed up against one another, the combative pounds as their hearts battled for dominance of the sound spectrum.

Hidden by folds of a white oxford button up shirt, Mikey's voice was hardly audible as he asked the question that had been on his mind for a good chunk of the day. "Hey, what do you think your mom will say about us?"

Frank shrugged. "Don't worry about what she says, Mikey. We're going out and there's nothing our parents can do to stop us," Frank reassured him, firmly believing in his own optimistic and punk-inspired words.

This time, Mikey couldn't let himself believe Frank. He knew that there was a lot their parents could do to stop them. Mikey's parents could take away his car and make him go back to school in Bellville, or worse, ship him off to boarding school to deal with the fucked-up brats there. He'd didn't want to go, he liked being with Frank too much, and he even liked this school a little. He didn't know what would happen if he was taken away from all this, but he could guarantee it would be millions of times worse than his brother's breakdown. They would probably have to institutionalize him just so he wouldn't do something stupid, like hang himself on a tie, or take an electrical appliance in the shower.

He groaned at the thoughts going to work on his brain like some kind of nucleiotic tapeworm, eating away all the happy. Why doesn't the world like two boys together? Why don't they see that it just happens that way sometimes? Sometimes two people are great for each other, they care so much about each other but they happen to be of the same gender. It wasn't fair. Yeah, everyone had heard the pessimistic saying that Life isn't fair, but this was because of ignorance, not some simple perchance of Life like cancer or a broken arm.

Mikey shook his head angrily, his eyebrows knitting together in the middle of his forehead and his hand tightening into a fist.

"S'not fair though. We aren't different from other couples, right?" he asked innocently. He needed Frank to say that what they were doing wasn't bad. He knew this was good, what they had, but he wanted to hear it out loud, because Frank always knew better about life and relationships and what went with them. Mikey didn't know shit about any of this. The whole kissing deal--which he really liked, by the way--was so new to him. Before he met Frank, he didn't know what the big deal was. It was just touching lips and it always looked gross and slimy when he saw two people kissing on in the mall or at school or on TV. He and Frank hadn't kissed on the lips yet, Frank was being really sweet and patient about it, but Mikey thought he would like it. He liked Frank's lips. They felt warm and smooth against his cheek, not crinkly and filled with dips and cracks like some people's lips. And they were such a pretty colour, almost unreal. It was almost like he wore lipstick. A yummy dark strawberry or raspberry colour. It made him wonder again how Frank's mouth would taste.

Frank didn't miss Mikey's stare fixated on his lips and purposefully flicked his tongue out to the edge of his bottom lip, running it slowly from one end to another. Mikey gulped and looked down shyly, a pink tint just barely showing through his face powder. Frank reached out to tuck Mikey's hair behind his ear before answering.

"Of course we're different, Mikey. Just look around at all the other couples," Frank said, flicking his hand at a random direction. Mikey twisted around to observe what couples Frank were talking about. They were sitting together, eating, talking, some of them kissing. They weren't doing anything more than Frank and Mikey were, so what is he supposed to be looking for? He didn't know, so he focused on one couple in particular. A boy sat on the steps of the school with a big hamburger grasped in both of his meaty hands. A girl sat beside him with her head laid on his shoulder. She wasn't eating, instead inspecting her long nails and looking utterly bored with life--and her preoccupied boyfriend--at the moment. Mikey also noticed that her lip colour was fake, he could see the red marks smudged on her teeth when she opened her mouth.

"I don't get it, Frankie."

"Well, do you see me ever ignoring you for a hamburger?" Frank asked, picking out the same couple Mikey did.

"No. You're a vegetarian. You wouldn't do that."

Frank smiled, shaking his head. Mikey was kind of missing the point. "Do you see me finding my nails more important than you?"

Mikey smirked. "No, boys don't do that."

Frank giggled and leaned up to kiss Mikey's cheek. Because, as annoyed as he could get over this, he just found Mikey cuter and more human for it. "Okay. Do you think any of those boys care about their girlfriends as much as I care about you?"

Mikey shrugged.

"Well, they don't. I know they don't because I'll bet that two weeks from now that boy over there with the hamburger has a different girlfriend that he can ignore. That's why we're different. Not because we're boys, but because we actually like each other," Frank said, spreading his palms out in a 'well there it is' way.

Mikey liked that answer. It was way better than his theory of being the same as the others. He grinned broadly and leaned in to peck Frank's lips. It wasn't anything, just a closed-mouth, opened-eyed kiss that lasted all of a second, but it meant so much coming from Mikey.

Thinking back, kissing Frank outside in plain view of everyone probably was a mistake. As soon as they parted, Mikey darted his head around the grounds quickly, eyes setting on anyone who might have seen, anyone whose gaze seemed to be lingering on him more than warranted. His heart sped up when two girls and a quite feminine boy with a white shirt proclaiming that he loved Kurt Cobain situated in between the two came bouncing up to them, bumping each other playfully in the way you think people do when they try too hard to look like they are having a better time than everyone else. Mikey told himself that noticing the boy's studded belt and the way it hung off his hips was nothing, shaking his head and letting his gaze land on Frank's chin.

"Er, hi." The boy leaned down and waved a gloved hand at the two of them, noticing but not caring that the goth one didn't seemed too thrilled by his presence.

"Hello," Frank attemted to greet warmly as this kid invaded Mikey's personal space by plopping down on the cold ground under the tree. Frank moved his hand further up Mikey's back to rest at his shoulders, adjusting his legs so Mikey fell deeper into his lap and maybe would feel a little more comfortable.

"I--, uh, me and Jessica and Sher saw you two...well, okay, they saw you, and are being too girly to ask it themselves when I told them it's probably be okay, as long as...shit, I keep messing up. Start over. Okay. They were wonderi--"

Mikey let out a loud annoyed noise through his nose, not able to take this kid's rambling anymore. He already knew what the first question would be. Was he and Frank dating, and once that was confirmed, the questions would no doubt get more and more uncomfortable, maybe sexual because this kid looked like the kind without shame, and Mikey wasn't about to discuss anything like that. He hardly believed that he kissed Frank moments ago, it felt like one of the fantasies he has during study hall that he wanted to do but never found the spine to go through with. But he did and he liked it, and he wanted these people gone because they were wasting his time with questions that were obvious. He kissed Frank, so obviously they were dating, why would anyone waste breath asking about it?

As the boy's mouth opened again to ask the inevitable question, Mikey cut him off.

"Before you even ask, decide whether it's worth me cutting you open and using your blood as paint." His voice was even and promising, the threat just coming to him naturally. They often do when he finds himself communicating with anyone else other than Frank.

The boy blinked, not sure whether to laugh or get the hell away. "What?"

Mikey squirmed around in Frank's lap a little, un-tucking his head from where it had previously been pressed up against Frank's neck. "You know the water tower downtown right next to the factory that makes all those little paper leaflets they throw around everywhere that people just end up tossing away anyway?"

"Water tower? Yeah..."

"Well," Mikey's smile grew thinking of the best possible way to eloquate himself. "I've always wanted to write my name up there. It'd look nice, maybe someone will read it and wonder which 'Mikey' wrote it, whether it was someone they know. That's the trouble with spray paint, it's so readily available that anyone can go up and write their names. But blood...is a bit more rare, and I know if my name is up there in that pretty red-maroon shit dripping down the side, they'll know it's me. Not that guy down the street who works at the grocery store, not their cousin.

"Only, it's awfully hard to find that much blood." Mikey delighted in watching the boy's adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed whatever reply he might have given if Mikey didn't look so serious. Frank hid his giggle in Mikey's collar at the horrified looks on the girls' faces as they started to inch away slowly, motioning for the boy to do the same. He was so used to his timid, shy, sweet little Mikey that seeing his anti-social behavior now was just kind of funny.

"If you want to follow through with asking an obvious question like the one I know you were hinting at, I might make you help me write my name up there."

The boy's cornflower eyes widened for a moment, lighting up with some emotion Mikey didn't recognize. A little smile broke out on his face as he barked out a laugh. He clapped Mikey on the back and pushed himself to his feet.

"You're a feisty one, kid. Luck, Iero." He nodded to Frank, winking non-descreetly as he turned to walk away and looped both his arms around his female companions.

Frank leaned up to kiss the ridge of Mikey's ear, feeling a sudden burst of pride at the way Mikey wasn't afraid to be hated by everyone. Frank had spent his life causing as little waves as he could, engaging himself in subjects he didn't give a shit about--like football, what the hell was up with that over-hyped sport? What the hell was a 'line drive'?--just to fit in and seem like an all-around nice guy. He wasn't, really. Sometimes he wished he could just let his rage build up more and more until he had another outburst like the one no one ever wants to talk about. He wanted to fucking bash someone's brains in, utterly destroy the beauty of a human life, watch as it seeps down out of sight into the ground and dissolves. It wasn't healthy to keep all that bottled up all the time.

But Mikey--his wonderful, perfect Mikey, his last hold onto sanity--didn't care about pleasing others. He didn't expect anyone other than Frank to treat him like he matters--no one had in the past.

Frank let his head dip down to Mikey's jaw, softly planting his lips there as well before tracing the sharp line with his nose. He pressed his smile against the throbbing pulse in Mikey's neck and sighed, dragging out the long breath and making Mikey shiver under him.

"That was pretty mean, Mikey."

Mikey mumbled out a tiny 'sorry' before tucking his head into his favorite spot in the crook of Frank's neck. It was warm and he was able to feel Frank's heartbeat through the thin layer of skin that covered his veins and arteries. The little dip was his spot, and no one else could touch it. Just like Frank's hips, those were his too.

"Are you mad?" Mikey asked softly, not even bothering to move his head the neccessary two inches to see Frank's face.

Frank giggled at Mikey's abrupt change back to his shy self and gave him a quick little hug.

"No. It was mean, but damn funny. You're adorable," he added.

Mikey lifted his head and cocked an eyebrow directed at Frank from behind his glasses. The side of his mouth was tipped up in a half-smile, the kind you'd give after someone says something dumb but sweet, like the sky was pretty of the air smelled nice.

"How am I scary, mean, and adorable all at the same time?" he asked, on the verge of laughing at how happy he was. He thought at first that Frank was annoyed at him for being mean to those girls, and he didn't want that. If he wanted to annoy Frank he'd make a smart-ass comment.

Frank leaned up to touch the tip of his nose to Mikey's, his eyes crossing themselves painfully as he tried his best to look at Mikey's face.

"Cause I say you are, duh."

Mikey made a little 'oh' sound, raising both his eyebrows and grinning. He curled his arm around Frank's shoulders, ghosting his fingers along the back of his neck, and pressed their mouths together, for a second time. He watched as Frank's heavy-lidded eyes fluttered shut, his eyelashes trailing softly down Mikey's glasses. Their lips didn't move, lazily resting upon one another's, not really kissing and content with just that.

*

Just as Mikey was leaning over the cracked porcelain sink staring into the dirty mirror with a stick of eyeliner in his hand and his mouth in a open O (obviously that is the only way to do it), Bob walked in to the boys' bathroom, fury from seeing Mikey and Frank together still with him. He'd known all along that he couldn't have Frank, and that was bad enough without having to see him kissing the goth fuck. Fists clenched at his sides, he smiled to himself as he thought of what to make of Mikey bent over like that, not paying any attention to the other boy who was giving him death rays. There were so many possibilities. He could rip his pointy spine right out of his little body, then Frank wouldn't want him. Who wants a paralyzed boyfriend?

Mikey glanced past his own reflection in the mirror to see Bob behind him, cracking his knuckles and smirking. Right about then, the gripping panic set in and he fumbled the eyeliner, dropping it to land on the floor beside the rubber soles of his Doc Martins, a long dark streak of Kohl adorning the ground.

"Bob," Mikey whispered reverently, heart suddenly deciding that a better place for it to call home was in his brain where it could give him massive headaches all the time.

Bob smiled pleasantly and raised his hand up to Mikey's reflection, greeting the fake Mikey kindly. "Mikey." He took a step forward and was delighted to see Mikey inch forward over the sink ever so slightly, the veins on the undersides of his arms sticking out of his skin from the force he was using to keep himself glued to the porcelain veneer. Bob's head poked out over his shoulder as his chest pressed up against Mikey's shaking back.

"You know, Mikey, you're a lot less cocky without Frankie around." Each of Bob's hands wrapped around Mikey's wrists and held him there. Mikey could only whimper and curse the sudden loss of his vocal chords. He knew they were in his lungs somewhere, unless they ran away with his heart to his head. Well, it felt more like they went straight to his stomach to keep his liver company.

He slipped his eyes shut when Bob's beard came in contact with his cheek, tilting his head away from the prickling and burning. But he couldn't, and soon he felt the warm skin of Bob's neck on his, and thought he would just puke his guts up right there and then, that way Bob wouldn't even have to kill him, his job would be done. "Stop it."

"Stop it." Bob played his favorite role, the Mimic. It was still the best proven way to grind down someone's nerves.

"Really, stop it."

"Really."

"Bob!"

Bob heard the crack in Mikey's voice and spun him around forcefully, turning them face to face. For a moment, everything stopped, Mikey's heart, Bob's rage, the world itself stopped spinning on its axis and wobbled, threats to fall off futile because less than a millisecond later it was going again at full speed, and Bob's fist was connecting with Mikey's hip bone, shattering glass and bright spurts of pain cascading through his leg. He only punched once, only enough to make Mikey hunch over and wheeze before standing up somewhat straight again.

"Hey, Mikey?"

Mikey didn't have to answer for Bob to go on, so he didn't. His organs officially were missing. He was surprised when Bob asked a legitimate question, even more surprised when he found himself answering.

"Do you think you deserve Frankie?"

"...Hell no."

Bob nodded and stepped back, smiling because this was going to be easier than he thought. He expected Mikey to put up just a little of a fight. "Then why are you with him? What does he see in you?"

Mikey shrugged and looked down at his own hands toying with the end of his black shirt that didn't come down low enough to cover that stretch of skin between where the shirt ended and his pants began.

"You never even wonder? When he could have any boy or girl in the school he picks the loser? You wanna know what I think?"

No.

"I think that he just does it out of pity. The boy cares too much about the under dog. He wants to travel to Africa with the cure for AIDS, he wants to convert everyone to veganism to save the cows and pigs and shit. Ever think that the only reason he wants you is because you so obviously need to be fixed?"

Mikey frowned and thought. He didn't want to ever consider anything that came out of Bob's mouth the truth, but what was it that Wendy told him while she was pinning him to the lockers? He scrunched up his nose and suddenly he was re-living it with impeccable clarity, smelling her perfume, tasting her lipstick, awkwardly fumbling his way through an excuse that never came out.

Oh, baby, you make people want to fix you...
"That's not why..." he whispered against the air pressing into his lungs. He shook his head and let his body go limp against the wall. He wanted to sink to the floor, but Bob was still holding him up, so he just crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yeah it is. It's the only reason why anyone likes you. They think that if they just wipe all that shit off of your face and get you into some tight jeans that you'll bloom into a perfect fucking butterfly and rub in everyone's faces that they liked you from the start. Mikey, they think you're a caterpillar. But really, you're just a fucking worm, right? Nothing under that chrysalis but bones and a shitty personality."

Bob figured it was time to stop when the third gray tear slipped down Mikey's cheek, but this was just too fuckin' fun.

*

Mikey flicked the air conditioner on in his car as he waited for Frank. The autumn wind outside was cool, he could see several people shivering and burying their pink noses into cozy knitted scarves, but he liked the cold weather. He liked to turn the air way up and snuggle down in his oversize jacket that used to be Gerard's, especially if he'd washed it the day before and it still had the clean smell of fabric softener. No one got it but him, his mom always told him that he was cold-blooded to be able to stand it, but that wasn't it.

Frank was walking through the parking lot with his beanie pulled down over his chapped ears, hands thrust in his pockets. He saw Mikey's car and picked up his pace a bit, reaching the passenger side door in record time. Inside the car wasn't any warmer than outside, to his despair. He was desperately hoping for a warm ride because he knew Mikey had a heater in his car, and why would Mikey put Frank through this--

Wait.

"Mikey, you have the air conditioner on!" Frank squealed indignantly, burrowing into Mikey's side, seeking out all the body heat he could. Mikey's jacket wasn't really doing much for Frank, the material on the outside was too cold and plastic-y, so he slid into Mikey's lap without warning, unzipped his coat, and wrapped his arms around Mikey's waist, knotting his fingers together at the back.

Mikey smiled and reached behind Frank to re-zip the jacket over both of them, settling back into his seat comfortably. Frank made a happy sound as the warmth finally began to coarse through his body, seeping out from his chest to fly through his frozen limbs. This was a whole new kind of warm, it was being warm to the bone and nearly melting while the whole world around them was encased with ice. Frank liked the contrast, it was like watching a storm from the safety of his bedroom, where it couldn't touch him. Chaos was all around but he was comfortable hidden down in Mikey's coat.

"Oh." Was all he said. He understood why Mikey had the air conditioner on now.

Mikey smiled--finally someone understood!--and nodded. "Yeah, oh."

Frank nodded back, curling deeper into Mikey's coat and tucked his head under his chin, pressing a cold nose into Mikey's neck. He breathed a low sigh and tilted his face up, seeking out any skin he could plant kisses along. The ridges of Mikey's throat, his Adam's apple, that sweet patch of soft skin where his jaw connects to his neck. Frank found a weak spot right on the ridge of his collarbone, earning himself a low moan and a, "Frank, we're in the parking lot."

He ignored it, not giving a fuck who saw them. They would talk, yeah, but he didn't care much anymore what anyone said about him. He used to care if he heard his name among the rumors being passed along from person to person like an STD. Last year he probably would have kicked someone's ass for starting rumors that he was gay, but now it was true and he wanted people to know that this pretty boy perched under him belonged to him, and messing with him meant evoking the wrath of Frank fucking Iero, which was something no one wanted.

He pulled away from Mikey's neck and looked down at him, adjusting his askew glasses.

"You don't want people to know, do you?" He didn't let the disappointment show in his voice, but he was silently crushed. Mikey quickly worked to backtrack his words, speaking frantically and pulling Frank closer to him like he was afraid he'd go away if he made one mistake.

"I didn't mean that, Frankie, I--it's not that I don't want people to know, but...um, just don't think that cause it's not true, okay, I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks--"

Frank smiled down at Mikey, cupping his face gently in both hands to quell the babbling he never thought he'd hear out of Mikey. Mikey's mouth snapped shut as he realized Frank wasn't mad. He was--he was smiling?

"Mikey." Frank traced the edge of his sharp jaw with his thumbs, running them in circles right under his ears. "It's okay. If you don't feel comfortable with me kissing you in public, just tell me and I'll stop."

Mikey's eyelids drooped when Frank started to massage the skin beneath his ears, leaning into the caress wistfully. No one ever touched him like this, ever. Intimate, innocent, caring, human. Frank's deep voice broke through the silence. snapping Mikey out of his blissful trance.

"No, Frank, don't stop kissing me." His voice came out muffled as he nudged Frank's still hand, just wanting to be petted again. "I like it when you kiss me, it's the only time I ever feel like I matter." He glanced down at the door lock on his door that was currently in the unlocked position. He hadn't meant the last part to slip out, but now that it was, what the hell. "But I don't, I'm nothing, and if people see you kissing me..." He knew he didn't have to go on for Frank to understand.

Frank barely managed not to roll his eyes. "You think it'll rub off?" He raised and eyebrow when Mikey nodded, looking down at his hands, busily chipping away black nailpolish and watching as it crumbled to the floor and the true color of his fingernails began peeking through.

"Mikey...honey..." He was at a loss for words trying to understand what was going through his boyfriend's head. He thought he understood Mikey a little bit, but this...this was a whole new layer of unbreached and underlying self-doubt that he was just beginning to see. A festering, boiling acid corroding beneath his skin like a pestilence, like some god awful disease neither of them could see, named Anti-social and Frank wanted to stomp its fucking brains in. He leaned in to press a wet kiss to Mikey's jaw, breathing out condensation on his glasses.

"Mikey-" he sighed onto Mikey's flushed cheek. "I honestly couldn't give a fuck if everyone in the world suddenly thought I was a freak, you know. I don't care about my social standing--it's never been about that, I just wanted to be a nice guy, but--you're a hell of a lot more important to me than any of that shit can ever be. I--I don't think you hear it enough, but you're beautiful, and I still can't believe that you're my boyfriend, as cliche as that sounds." He smiled down at his beaming boyfriend and leaned in to smush their noses together.

*

Frank grinned like he used to when his mother claimed he was up to no good--and that usually meant something breaking/being glued to his cousin's face--as he stepped up to his front door, dragging Mikey along behind him. By some miracle he avoided making both of them trip as he ran up the porch steps. He stopped abruptly at the door,but his arms were working slower than the rest of his body, resulting in Mikey being pulled uncomfortably close to his chest. He quickly spat out an apology and went to work digging around in his pockets for his keys, jumping up and down and standing on tip-toe like it would help his hand squeeze into the too-small and over crowded space.

He pulled out an assortment of items--change, two Dunlop picks, a half-eaten packet of peanut butter crackers (Mikey's favorite, just in case in the middle of the day he decided that Mikey was looking a bit peakish)--until his finger looped around his keychain and he yanked it out with a triumphant cry.

"You know, this means that you'll get to see my baby," he said conversationally, slipping the key into the lock. Ignoring Mikey's raised eyebrow, he went on. "She's usually asleep this time of day--that's why you haven't seen her before. She's so lazy." The lock clicked, and Frank was pulling Mikey into the house eagerly, bumping into walls and not caring as he scurried into the laundry room. He let go of Mikey's hand in the kitchen when he realized that he was still dragging the poor boy around.

Mikey leaned against the counter in Frank's kitchen, watching Frank disappear into the adjoining laundry room, biting his lip fretfully and expecting the worst. It was the words 'baby' and 'her' and the look of adoration Frank had on his face as he spoked about her that had him worried. He knew 16 year olds that had babies...but Frank couldn't be one of them. It doesn't work like that. Those were the kind of things like rape and murder that happened to a friend of a distant relative, not to his boyfriend. He heard Frank groan and straightened up a bit, pulling down his shirt where it had risen above the waist band of his boxers, visible under the loose pants he wore. Frank stumbled out in his clumsy-graceful way with a little moving bundle pressed closely to his chest, giggling as he hid it from Mikey with his sleeve.

"Close your eyes," he instructed. Mikey smirked, thinking how dorky this was, but humored Frank anyway.

He heard Frank creep closer, the weak points of his linoleum floor creaking under his feet, heard the thin strain Frank was putting on himself not to laugh, then--

"Holy shit, what was that?" Mikey squealed, jumping back until the counter dug into his back, scrubbing furiously at his nose. He opened his eyes to see Frank beaming, cradling a small black and white dog in his arms that was trying against all things holy to break free and sniff at the stranger in the kitchen.

"Isn't she adorable, Mikey?" Frank bowed his head to kiss the top of the puppy's head, giggling when she pawed at his chin.

Mikey smiled down at his boyfriend, torn between feeling jealous of a fucking dog and wanting to push Frank up against the wall and kiss him. He reached out a hand nervously to scratch at the puppy's perky ears, hoping that he didn't get his hand bitten off. He was really more of a cat person, but Frank obviously loved her, so he wasn't about to make Frank feel bad. She actually was kind of cute, some kind of mini-bulldog with a stubby little nose and wide set dark eyes that reflected Frank's in a way.

"Yeah, almost as cute as you, Frankie," he mumbled fondly, smiling and re-thinking his stance on puppies when she raised her head to lick at his fingers.

Frank blushed shyly and looked down in a way that tugged at Mikey's heart, giggling softly. Instead of acknowledging the compliment, he went on.

"Her name's Bella, and I wuv her to death. Mom says it's unhealthy--but oh well. I can't help it, she's too sweet. She never bites people, ever, she's actually quite cuddly, and she's always trying to crawl into my lap when I'm watching TV...heh, kinda like you, Mikey." Frank set Bella down on the kitchen counter, where she immediately padded noisily over to Mikey and began sniffing at his jacket, pressing a cold wet nose into his hand. Frank watched the exchange quietly, smiling inwardly at the two best things in his life. It made him feel like such a fucking girl--fawning over a little dog and his boyfriend--but they were his, and he loved them. It was really amazing, he thought, that he was really to this point in his life, completely happy and in love at just 16. But then again, he always loved so readily, it wasn't surprising. He could love everyone, no matter how evil they were, he always just wanted to give them chances and hug them better.

"Aw, she likes you, Mikey," Frank cooed as Bella started pawing at Mikey's arm, wanting to be picked up and knowing that it'll happen because Frank had her spoiled. Mikey put his arms around the puppy and hoisted her up to rest against his chest, scrunching his nose at the way she licked at his ear. He didn't miss the look Frank was giving him. It was the same look he gave when Mikey started rambling about whether The Incredible Hulk was really all that incredible (pft, not really. Superman could knock him on his ass.), or when he compared Pop Tarts to other, less appetizing foods (like honey buns, eww).

"What, Frank?" Mikey hid his smile by pressing his nose to one of Bella's ears.

Frank shook his head and smiled, leaning his weight on the kitchen counter. "Nuthin', you just look so sweet." He slinked forward to carefully lift Bella out of Mikey's arms and put her on the floor. She immediately bolted for the living room, yipping in the way that puppies do when they haven't learned to properly bark yet. Frank took a moment to watch her before turning back to Mikey and throwing his arms around his stiff shoulders, pressing their stomachs together. He pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to Mikey's cheek and giggled at the sounds of protest his boyfriend made. His hands played at the back of Mikey's shirt, tracing circles on his shoulder blades, and his lips continued to make messy wet spots on Mikey's face until he had the good sense to kiss back.

The sound of the door opening broke them apart quickly, both assuming innocent poses with their hands clasped primly behind their backs. Linda Iero walked into the kitchen with her bag of groceries and looked at the two boys suspiciously, setting the bag on the counter.

"Hello, Mikey dear," she greeted as she took the bag of chips and assorted cans of soup out and put them in their rightful places in the cabinets.

Mikey looked down shyly and murmured, "Hi," quietly. No one would ever have guessed that Mikey spent every afternoon here, with the way he was still so uncomfortable around Frank's mom. He was still hesitant about what she wanted to be called--he knew that Frank's mom and dad were divorced, so he wasn't sure if she still went by 'Mrs. Iero', and didn't want to offend her if she didn't.

"So, what were you two doing before I got here? You both look pretty suspicious." She had a feeling that she knew exactly what they were doing. insert childish laughter Frank didn't get so flustered over just anything, and right now his face was burning a bright red and his eyes seemed glued to the floor.

Frank gasped at the upturned note in his mother's voice. "You know!"

She smiled condescendingly and reached out to tuck Frank's hair behind his ear. "No offense, but Mikey, sweetie...you wear too much make up to be straight."

Frank couldn't help but laugh and look over at Mikey apologetically. He slipped his hand into Mikey's and swung their hands between them. "Yeah, but it makes him really pretty." He stood on tip toe to kiss Mikey's forehead, then turned back to his mother, slightly put out that he couldn't make a dramatic announcement at dinner that he was gay. He'd really been looking forward to shocking his mom. "So, you're not even surprised that your only son is dating a boy?"

She smiled and shrugged, handing Frank the pack of Oreos she knew he would soon be looking for. Once, he'd trashed the whole kitchen looking for cookies until she had to tell him that she forgot to buy any.

"Yay, Oreos," he gushed, hugging the box to his chest, distress over his mother's lack of emotion gone. A quick glance over at Mikey told Frank that it was time to go up to his room so his boyfriend wouldn't hyperventilate. He tugged on Mikey's hand. "C'mon, I want to show you the newest issue of Shojo Beat! I got."

*

The sky hung suspended over their heads aquamarine and clear, host for a sun that was shining much too brightly for Mikey's tastes but he didn't mind, really. Not when he had the heavy, dead peace lurking around the slab of granite he was leaned up against, not when he could watch his boyfriend hunch down close to the earth and carry on a conversation with a snail

Frank rested comfortably on his stomach in the cool grass, arms supporting his head as he chatted away with the mollusk he named Ramona about the sky.

"It's very pretty today, don't you think? Yeah. And there's no clouds, which is something of an anomaly for Jersey, what with all the pollution--have you ever left the state? I went to New York once, it was nice. Not as good as here, but nice. The vendors had tofu burgers, and that was nice. What do you eat, Ramona? Grass? Flies?"

"They eat plants and algae," Mikey supplied quietly, toying with a button on his jacket. He almost felt bad for disrupting their conversation, for all he knew that Frank was talking to a snail, it still felt like a private conversation.

Frank smiled and crawled over to Mikey, curling up in his lap. He took Mikey's arms and folded them around himself. "You're kind of a nerd, Mikey."

He could almost hear Mikey's self-esteem being crushed as he let out a gloomy, "I know," and laid his head on Frank's shoulder. Frank twisted his head to softly peck Mikey's temple, silently apologizing because he knew he was treading on depths of water best left undisturbed.

"But you are also my unbelievably hot and gothy boyfriend, and I reserve the rights to call you a nerd. If anyone else tries that shit, I'm bashing their face into a wall." He saw Mikey's tiny smile, leaned forward, and kissed him flush on the mouth. "Besides," he breathed out against the corner of Mikey's mouth. He pulled back and grinned. "I love the fact that you know all the stuff I wonder about. You're amazing. Even if you do drag me to graveyards."

Mikey tightened his hold on Frank and pouted. "You don't like graveyards?"

Frank shook his head and closed his eyes, using Mikey as a pillow. "Nah. I don't like to think about death. I don't like mortality. I don't think anyone should have to die," he murmured, spilling more of his good natured naivety and general love for life and all its inhabitants.

"I don't think dying is scary. Death is beautiful." And necessary, Mikey thought, but he knew that focusing more on the beauty than the practicality was the best way to go with Frank. If he said that the earth needed death, Frank wouldn't like it, no matter if it was logical or not.

Frank frowned and kissed the nearest patch of skin, not prompting Mikey to go on but not stopping him either. If Mikey wanted to talk, Frank wanted to listen.

"Death...is comfortable. It's the moment that you're reunited with all the people you lost during your life, and you know that the people you leave behind will join you soon. It's a new start...I don't see it as the end. I think people are afraid of it because it's such a big change, leaving all their possessions behind and just...not being able to hide anymore. The Egyptians actually embraced death, you know, they buried their dead with their possessions and thought they could take them into the afterlife so they won't be so naked. They weren't afraid because they didn't look at it like we do. It's just...a different plane, that's all."

He glanced down to see Frank just...fuck, dreamy eyed, like he was just reciting 17th century poetry instead of talking about dying like the goth boy that he was.

"You make everything sound so beautiful, Mikey...but I still can't think of you, you know. You can't go, you're mine." Frank punctuated his point by slipping his arms around Mikey's waist and kissing his shoulder through the layers of black clothes.

"I know, Frankie. But, y'know, like the song goes, Who wants to live forever? While everyone around you dies? Honestly, sometimes I think it's scarier to live than to die. Like, if I ever got in an accident and was in a coma or paralyzed, I'd rather just let go instead of letting some machine run my life. I don't want my parents to have to take care of me for the rest of their life, or my brother. That's just not fair to them."

Frank nodded, but he knew that if anything like that did happen (hell no it won't, Frank'll make sure of it even if he has to wrap Mikey in a plastic bubble) he wasn't letting anyone pull the plug on him. Fuck that, Frank still needed Mikey too much. He needed about...80 more years of being with Mikey, at the very least.

"I get that, that you don't want to be a burden, but..." Frank sniffed a little, because, hell, he didn't mean to think about this but now the fear was set and it wasn't going away. And now he didn't really know how to end the sentence rather than saying, but I love you and you're not going to die even if I have to make Superman fly around the world backwards to reverse time to stop it. So he didn't, and let Mikey interpret it however.

Mikey just nodded kissed the top of Frank's head. "I know. And...really, the reason I like to come here is to look at the gravestones. Not the death part. And I also like to imagine how their funerals went, if that doesn't sound too demented."

"What do you mean? Aren't all funerals the same?" Lots of crying people and a dead body?

"Not always. Sometimes they aren't a sob-fest, sometimes they get it right and it really is honoring the dead. I like those. Like, it's not about the flowers and the eulogies and how many people are crying, it's just the fact that so many people were affected by this person's death, that's how many people loved them, and therefore their life had meaning. I don't want mine to be a downer. Oh, and also, I want to be buried with my Smashing Pumpkins shirt, cause I got it at their concert."

Frank cracked a little smile and sighed. "Okay. Now, we talk about something different."

"Like?"

"Like, did you read the new issue of Loveless? Seimei might not be dead! This is epic!"

Mikey didn't point out the fact that, no, he didn't read it, and let Frank go on about how cute Ritsuka and Soubi were together, and how he wanted cat ears. Even though even if he was in the Loveless universe, he still wouldn't have ears.