FicWad

Frank only lives about four blocks away, so Mikey was there in ten minutes or so. Killing the engine, he got out and slammed the door shut then walked up to the slightly dilapidated bungalow. Mikey knocked a couple of times and some more red paint flaked off the wood. He didn't have to wait long for the door to open and be greeted by Frank wearing ripped jeans and a dirty khaki tshirt that had 'cunt' written on it in permanent marker.

Frank is Mikey's best friend, and he's the coolest guy Mikey knows. He's the frontman of a band, about five foot four, and despite having a total punk attitude, is one of the nicest people Mikey's ever met. His hair's a short and dirty bleached blonde - Mikey advised him against it at the time - that sticks up messily at all angles, he has a silver lip ring and his left arm is progressively filling with tattoos, just a couple on his right, and not to mention the big black one beneath his ear. If he wasn't so small, he could probably look threatening.

"Alright Mikes?" Frank said, nodding upwards as he stepped to the side and pulled the door open.

"Cheers." Mikey muttered, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him, following Frank through to his bedroom. The bedroom was the biggest room in the small house, so it makes sense that they always hung out there.

As usual Mikey walked straight to the bed and sat down, crossing his legs, though Frank being Frank, he didn't have a proper bed, instead he had two king size mattresses stacked up against the middle of one wall with mismatched sheets and pillows covering them. Comfier, apparently. And also Frank being Frank had observed that it was quieter too - Mikey had rolled his eyes at that and smirked.

Frank flopped down next to him and slumped his shoulders against the wall, knees bent up in front of him, then reached for a packet of cigarettes off the floor. He tipped it sideways and flicked the bottom of the box a couple of times until one poked out and he took it between his teeth, discarding the box and lighting it.

"So, talk to me dude, what's up?" he asked, lifting his head back to blow out a jet of smoke and looking sideways at Mikey with raised eyebrows.

For a simple question, Mikey had trouble answering it at first; he shuffled further onto the bed and tucked his legs beneath him, holding onto his calves to stop his hands fidgeting.

Watching him silently, Frank's eyes narrowed. "It's a relationship thing then?"

"I, er, well - yeah." Mikey laughed once. Frank has a way of judging the nature of a problem purely by observing Mikey's body language. It's a handy trick, as Mikey doesn't have to stutter his way through explaining an uncomfortable topic, but it can be the most annoying thing when you're trying to hide something.

"So..."

"Right, well, see there's this girl," Sometimes there's a limit to what you can bring yourself to share. A metaphor is the best place to hide. Or a lie, they both work the same. "I've... kinda been seeing her for a while, but not really. Like, she's a friend, but for ages, whenever she's drank she comes to me, and it's not for friendship."

"Fuckbuddies." Frank nodded knowingly.

Mikey sighed at the ease with which his situation could apparently be surmised in one word. "Kinda, yeah, but the thing is I don't wanna be her fuckbuddy, I... I want more from her."

Frank nodded again, slowly, vacant eyes on Mikey's knee thoughtfully. "How does she feel about that? Does she want more or is she happy with just the physicalities?"

"She doesn't even know."

"Know about what?" Frank screwed his face up, the statement thoroughly confusing him.

"The physicalities - any of it."

Frank's face remained screwed with disbelief and a hell of a lot of confusion. "How the hell can she not know? What d'you do, drug her and fuck her? 'Cause I love you Mikes, but I think that's classed as rape, and I ain't gonna defend you in court if you're out Jack the Rippering bitches-"

"No no no," Mikey interrupted quickly, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alcohol pretty much wipes her memory, so she never remembers. She has no idea we even have a physical relationship, she thinks we're just friends, so if I start talking about an emotional relationship she'll freak the fuck out."

"Hey Iero, you seen my work shirt?"

Mikey and Frank both looked up as the door opened and Jamia walked in frowning at her tshirt as she wiped a dribble of milk off, crunching on a mouthful of cereal.

Jamia is Frank's girlfriend and she has been since they were at high school. They live together, but luckily they haven't become suburban or 'settled down' - they're still Mikey's best friends and his second family. Jamia's roughly the same height as Frank with a slim, womanly body and a pointy little pixie face, framed with cropped and dyed deep red hair that's almost as messy as Frank's. She is, by anyone's standards, extremely attractive. She has a tendency, as with this instance, to walk around in just a tshirt and occasionally Frank's boxers, but no one tends to complain about that. She's totally down to earth, has a wicked sense of humour and can beat Mikey's ass into the ground on COD. Her and Frank are the coolest, most comfortable and best matched couple imaginable.

Jealous isn't the right word to describe how Mikey's feels when he sees them together, it's more of a yearning to have the same thing with someone. With his brother to be exact. It's sometimes twinged with sadness when he thinks how much more complicated his own situation is and how it may not be possible, but he couldn't ever resent them or begrudge their relationship - he just appreciates how right it is and imagines what it would feel like to experience.

Jamia looked up for an answer and smiled in surprise at Mikey.

"Y'alright Mikes? Where'd you come from?"

"My place?" he replied.

"Good answer." she laughed, shrugging, and padded over to the dresser on Frank's side of the bed. "So what are you guys talking about, am I interrupting a little heart-to-heart?" she asked, rifling through a drawer.

"Some chick keeps getting drunk and fucking Mikey then not remembering but he likes her and doesn't know what to do about it." Frank informed her, tapping some ash into an ashtray next to the bed. Absentmindedly, he stroked her bare ankle with his fingertips as she was searching.

"No way." Her eyes widened and she turned around, holding a black shirt in her hand, staring at Mikey for confirmation.

"That's the gist of it, yeah." he sighed, nodding weakly.

Jamia frowned and leaned against the draw, shutting it and leaning against the dresser. "So how long's this been going on?"

"Errh, like eleven months, give or take a few."

"Jesus, man! Is she really important to you, you really like her?"

Mikey's heart felt all heavy and dull, arteries choked up as he nodded, a sad smile on his face. "More than like. She's so important to me, but it... well it kills me every time she wakes up at mine and asks how she got there, and I have to lie and say I gave her a lift back from some bar and looked after her."

Frank and Jamia both nodded sympathetically, and Jamia walked over, giving Mikey a hug. He pressed his face in her shoulder and sighed as she rubbed his back.

"Fuck her Mikes, just fucking fuck her." she said as she pulled away, smiling before turning around and quickly changing her shirt.

Mikey peaked an eyebrow, deliberately not looking. "Physically or sentimentally?"

Jamia turned back around as she pulled it down over her head and ruffled her hair back into place. "Both. Physically then sentimentally. Like, fuck 'em and leave 'em." She stepped into a pair of jeans as she spoke and threaded her arms into a jacket. "She don't deserve you."

Mikey smiled at her, then turned to Frank for his take.

"She don't man, even if you really like her, she's not worth being dragged through all that crap for." he stated, taking a final drag of his cigarette and stubbing it out in the ashtray, looking at Mikey earnestly.

"Tell her to fuck right off, ignorant whore." Jamia reiterated.

Frank raised one eyebrow up at her. "Shouldn't you be going to work already?"

She smirked and rolled her eyes, grabbing her keys and bag off the floor. "I suppose." She leant down and kissed Frank goodbye then walked around the bed to the door. "Good luck with the fucking Mikes, s'later." she called as she went into the hallway.

"Thank you, Jam." he called back, laughing.

The front door closed a few seconds later and silence settled briefly. Frank stared at Mikey with his eyes narrowed thoughtfully and Mikey felt that he was reading him again. But just as he was about to protest to the staring, Frank spoke first.

"Dude, I know it'll hurt, and I know it won't be easy, but for your own sake, you need to put a stop to this thing. I know you, you need to be loved. You need all or nothing, a relationship without love is a relationship not worth having. And it'll take its toll on you, it'll rip you apart, so for your sanity you need to end it before that happens."

Of course, Frank was right. He almost always is with relationships, he has some sort of inner psychologist that makes him unfeasibly wise. And Mikey knew it's what he would say, because he knew it's what would be the rational thing. But there is no place for rationality in love. Love makes fools out of the best of us, and it throws your sense of judgement and self-preservation out of the window. Mikey expected to hear it, but he didn't exactly want to. Though he was so far gone that the words sounded somewhat devoid of meaning, distant and separate from him, and he couldn't relate to them or feel that they were linked to him. This made it easy to nod in agreement whilst remaining mentally unchanged.

Mikey looked at his lap and chewed his lip for a moment, opening and closing his mouth a few times but no words coming out. Frank watched him intently. "Thing is, I don't know how to let go. And I'm not sure I want to."