FicWad

Chapter Nine – Soothing the Storm

Frank’s POV



He felt so nice in my hold, like he was meant to slot into my arms in the same way that a teddy bear is meant to slot into the heart of a small child and I had, if I’m going to be completely honest with myself, been enjoying the way he was leaning against me through his tears as though he trusts me. Maybe he does trust me, I would like to think that he does because then that at least makes us equal in the respect that we both really only trust one person.

But surely if he trusts me then he would have told me why he just burst into tears like I’d just added to his vast collection of bruises.

I know what made him cry though, an idiot would be able to piece that much together; he misses his big brother as much as Gerard misses him, maybe even more. The idea of both me calling him by his nickname and asking about who Mikey Way is must have triggered something. It did, it really fucking did and the result of that made me want to gouge out my eyes just so I never have to see Mikes, the kid that I think I might just be falling in love with at the same velocity as a sinner falling from heaven, cry like that again.

But if I gouge my eyes out I’ll never be able to see his ghostly, enchanting face again; never be able to show him how much the real me really does care with my wide-eyed gazes.

So I simply settled for doing this; just sliding in next to him and holding him like I can imagine Gerard probably did back when he was still alive. My arms did that of their own accord, apparently being magnetized by concern towards the poor, shaking wreck of a boy. When I held him like that, completely in awe at how melodically beautiful his sobs are, everything just fell into place for me in my head; I have to be who I am, be the person that I know I prefer being and just take whatever comes with it because one day I’ll be gone and I want people to remember me, not the fakery that I put on at school. I want to be me because that seems to be the person that Mikey likes the most out of anyone.

And that aspect of things really is breathtakingly important to me.

Because Mikey Way will end up being my boyfriend.

I can guarantee it; he’s my own adorable little challenge and I am not going to back down until my heart is beating in time with his and I can check that it is because I’ll be able to feel the pounding against his ribcage which I’ll have pressed against my own before long. Because I will have him like my soul is crying for me to, I will have him but in order to do so I have to understand him. And right now I understand that I can’t just use the charm that has gotten me many places before; because Mikey Way isn’t the sort to fall for cheesy chat-up lines and cheap compliments, he’s the sort who needs to know that he really is loved.

But how do you convince someone like Mikes, someone who has been abandoned by all benevolence, that someone really does care; how do I convince him that he can trust me with his heart because I know for a fact that I’ll never let it’s fragmented little pieces get stamped into dust, that I’ll only glue it back together with sloppy kisses and crushing hugs.

Sloppy kisses…

God, those lips look like they were made for kissing; they’re just so soft-looking and enticing, like they could have any mouth that he wants on top of them but I know Mikey well enough to know that he’d never make the first move with something like a kiss because he really is that shy.

No, not shy; traumatised.

As our current predicament will prove.

The fucking fire alarm went off, something to do with a smoking faulty toaster or whatever, just as I’d managed to get him halfway calm from his breakdown and of course to Mikey Way, a kid who lost everything to a viciously cruel fire just two weeks ago, fire holds something deeply traumatising and disturbing within his mind that I don’t think I even want to understand.

But I do understand it though; with the thought of fire he most likely thinks of his big brother, of how his big brother died with him clutched to his chest and with flames engulfing everything, eventually snuffing out the life in Gerard. Apart from Gerard didn’t really die because he is still here mentally, is still just as much of a person as I am; it was Mikes who died in that fire, mentally and emotionally anyway.

He’s hyperventilating erratically as though all of the air around him his being sucked away and I’m really fucking scared because, for once in my life, I just don’t know what to do. Sure, I know basic first aid but I don’t know anything about panic attacks; I don’t know how to stop his almost spasming body from thrashing like a panicking fish out of water, I don’t know how to make him breathe properly again and I don’t know how to make it all stop. How to make everything better for the boy who has nothing. And that really does strike a sense of utter hopelessness into my throbbing heart, I have to redeem myself for what happened at school and yet I can’t even make him stop panicking like he is. Like he’s going through that night two weeks ago all over again because, mentally, I think that he is.

The smoke alarm, quite understandably, set this into motion and now I don’t know how to stop it. But I have to try; I have to show him that I care because I know that no-one else will. I thought that some responsible adult would at least come over and ask if we need help, if Mikes needs an ambulance or something equally as sickening to picture him needing, but no; nobody’s even taking notice of his frantic thrashing in my arms.

Bu what should I expect? I doubt that I’d be helping him if it weren’t for the fact that I’m falling in love with him.

Which is why seeing him like this, so terrified and helpless, is making me feel like I’m the one who practically go attacked by a group of huge jocks instead of him. Do you know what? I wish it had been me, at least then he wouldn’t have bruises adding to the burns and fear adding to his trauma like some deadly cocktail of every flavour of anguish.

I’ve got to get him to just breathe properly; if I don’t, by the looks of his contorting face, he’ll be passed out before long. So I swallow past my own panic and rub my hands over his stomach in soothingly slow circles intended to comfort him into calmness.

“Mikes, I need you to breath for me, just think about breathing and nothing else.” My voice surprises me with the parent-like authority that it contains because I know that I’m starting to feel almost as hysterical as Mikey is.

No. I don’t think that I’ll ever feel like Mikes is right now and nor do I ever want to; nobody deserves to be going through this kind of shit. Going through not only losing his home but his entire family too, especially his best friend and big brother. He’s completely alone in the world, isn’t he?

No.

Not anymore; now he has me. Because looking at him right now I can’t imagine not being nice to him, not trying to help him no matter how much of a challenge he may make it. Because, like I’ve said before, I like a challenge.

But I despise seeing Mikes suffer like this. Despise it almost as much as I despise the thought that I as good as caused his split lip, the agonizing scratches that litter his face through being caressed by the teeth of some barbaric brambles. I did this and only I can fix it; I see that now. See it just like I saw how sincere Gerard was when he practically begged me to take care of the panicking kid in my arms.

So I pull Mikes up by under his arms, position him so that he’s sat on my lap with his bony back to chest, and I start exaggerating my breaths to make them easy to follow like he needs to if he doesn’t want to end up in the ambulance that I’m seriously thinking about calling for. His flailing legs kick into my shin and for a moment I nearly loosen my grip but then I catch sight of all of his bruises, his burns; he took much more than a frightened kick to the shin because of me so I think I can stand a fuck of a lot more for him. His sobs are spluttering out all over the place like the sound of a broken engine and the glazed-over look of horror that has infiltrated his enchanting eyes is heartbreakingly excruciating for me to see. It’s like every bad thing that I’ve ever had happen to me has suddenly become like a beautiful dream of tranquillity purely because the suffering currently reflected in Mikey Way’s eyes is a million times worse than anything that I’ve ever even thought of, let alone felt.

I’m going to make the suffering stop. For my own sense of atonement, for the desperate big brother who has been begging me to and, above all else, for Mikes because there’s something about him that makes me just want to make everything better. And I think that something is love; pure, true love. The kind of love that has made me into the person that I am right now as opposed to the person that I was last night.

“It’s okay, Mikey; I’ve got you. You’re safe, there’s no fire. I promise.” I whisper softly into his ear, pulling him close enough for my lips to rub softly against it compassionately with my caring words, something that makes me blush in a way that makes my heart burn like Mikey literally thinks that he is. “I know that I haven’t been the best person to you, but that’s gonna change and I’m gonna keep you safe. And there’s nothing dangerous here, I promise.”

Much to my blessed relief his thrashing starts to die down into shuddering and his sobs dampen into sniffles, his breathing still worryingly erratic but a lot better than it was.

Everything within me soars like a firework; I’ve done something good for the kid who gets everything bad. I’ve started to redeem myself and get my way into Mikey’s head, but I’ve still got a long way to go before I can expect to be considered as the sort of person that Gerard seems to think that I can be, that I want to be because that’s the sort of person that Mikes needs right now.

“There we go, it’s all alright, you’re safe now.” I hush into his ear, savouring the way he’s leaning back against me like I’m the one thing stopping him from falling apart again.

I am the one thing stopping him from falling apart again because through this horrific little episode I believe that we’ve bonded; he trusts me and I trust him. I love him and the glinting, desperate look in his lost eyes tells me that he thinks something of me that is beyond a shaky friendship.

But before I can carry on with that line of thought I realise that he’s probably twenty times as shaken up by this whole thing as I am, poor, adorable little Mikey Way.

“Fire, Frankie, there was fire and I… I couldn’t get…. And Gee…” He starts babbling out a flurry of broken words, words that break me inside with every lost little syllable.

So I do the one thing that I know will keep him quiet; I kiss him.

I softly press my lips to his own, bruised ones and just let them linger there like moonlight on a rose; just taking in his warmth, the salty tinge to his taste from where his tears are still adorning those soft pink cushions of cuteness. Everything on the inside of me is aching with adulation, just completely in awe of how delicate he feels underneath me, how utterly loveable and protectable he is in my arms; how I’m all his now even if he doesn’t want to be all mine. It’s nothing beyond a gentle peck of the lips, but the way that it’s prolonged in the most perfect way possible makes it twenty times as loving as any other kiss that I’ve ever experienced; any other kiss compared to this loving and nowhere near lusty peck seems like a vampire’s harsh bite because nothing will ever feel as loving as this does, as in need of me as he is.

Is this right? I mean, the poor kid has still got residue tears running down his cheeks and so is it really fair of me to push my lips to his like this?

Well, he doesn’t seem to be minding it, if anything I think that he’s like it more than I am, this feeling of being needed, of being loved purely because he is who he is and I am who I am.

A crystal of liquid sorrow shatters onto my nose, shattering my longing to believe that this is a normal first kiss and so I gently pull my lips from his with the reluctance of a small child being dragged away from their favourite zoo animal.

Holy fuck; he’s smiling!

Mikey Way is actually smiling at me like I’ve helped him as much I think I have. And I’ve never felt better, not when I’m making other people hurt and not when I’m pretending to be someone else in order to get more friends; nothing can ever compare to how perfect, for lack of a truer word, I feel right now.

“C’mon, Mikey Mouse, I think it’s time we got you home before you end up blinding someone with that smile of yours.”

I smile at him and, if just for a moment, everything is alright.

Because I just kissed Mikey fucking Way.





A/N: Thank you very much for reading, I hope that this chapter was okay!