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Chapter Eleven – Playing With Fire


Frank’s POV





Oh shit.

Really, if there is just one word that can sum up everything that I feel right now it would be that one; shit. Apart from everything is less than shit, is worse than terrible, is more threatening than the plague. My guts are bubbling away into an abyss of nervous anticipation, everything on my insides screaming in reluctant acceptance of what I know I’m probably going to find when I finally get out of this break time detention; in absolute horror at the thought that Mikes is getting hurt. Again.

And I‘m not protecting him. Again. Because I was too busy looking after a certain porcelain-skinned enchantment last night to do my algebra homework (not that I was planning on doing it anyway) and as a result I am now stuck in detention for the first ten minutes of break.

I’m definitely not a fan of detentions, that would just be weird, but they’ve always just felt like unfortunate and frustrating little annoyances; never like I’m stuck in purgatory even though I know that I’m going to fall into the deepest depths of hell. Because without me there to protect him my ‘friends’ are going to eat Mikes alive, they’re going to beat him up and call him names and make him cry and bleed and scream and…

And nobody is going to help him. Why? Because that’s just human nature; I know that better than anyone. People may very well feel sorry for him, for the bereaved little angel getting whatever happiness I had given to him pounded out of his shattered little heart, but nobody will help him because they would much rather it was some lanky emo-kid getting hurt than themselves. As much as I’d like to be disgusted at that idea, I just can’t bring myself to condemn those who will just look the other way.

I can’t because I am one of those people.

Was. I was one of those people. Not anymore. Never again. Not now that I know how much it can affect someone as genuinely nice and perfect as my little Mikey.

Mikes. My little ghostly angel; my courage and encouragement; my sunshine that blinds out all that my friends have made me be because Mikes seems to be able to see who it is that I want to be and that that person is really good, is good enough for him. And that’s all I need, all I want. All I care about is making Mikes happy, making him feel loved and safe and not alone because those are three things that he’ll always be as long as I’m alive. And even after I’m dead.

Because I’m in love with him. Not just fluttery heartbeats whenever I’m near him, not just relishing his appearance because of it’s enchanting frailty, not just thinking thoughts that would probably earn me some more minor explosions courtesy of Gerard; but proper love. The kind where I can’t get Mikes out of my head and nor do I want to because even every little thought of him is enough to make my insides melt like chocolate on a hot summer’s day.

I think that last night is the most content that the either of us has been for a very long time; I ended up sleeping in his bed with him, I just didn’t have the heart to leave him all alone when his arms were clinging to me like a new born baby clings to the fingers of it’s mother. I simply just held him close, letting my fingers twirl little bits of his angel-wing feathery hair and my legs intertwine with his own through their own accord. It was perfect. Really, just the most perfect night I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. And it wasn’t full of cheerleaders and booze and loud music and bitching about other people; it was just me holding my own little piece of heaven close to me like I can protect him.

But I can’t. Because right now I’m stuck in a motherfucking detention and I know that they’re going to hurt him. I’ve never felt like this before, so completely helpless to do something that means more than the world to me. It feels like I’ve got no control, like everything is going to fall to hell and I can’t do anything to stop it because of my own stupid mistakes. What if they do it as bad as they did yesterday?

I don’t think that Mikes can take that sort of abuse again, not so soon after yesterday’s atrocity. If they give it to him like they were more than willing to yesterday then I have no doubt that he’ll be leaving school on a stretcher. And I’ll be leaving school in a police car with multiple counts of murder being held against me. Because I will kill Liam if he hurts my Mikes again. Fuck the fact that he’s meant to be my best friend; Mikey is my love, is so much more to me than any of my ‘friends’ ever were, and just the fact that anyone could even think of hurting such a tortured yet kind soul makes me want to tear the sun from the sky just to show the world that it can’t fuck with Mikey Way because he is mine. All mine.

At least, I’m pretty sure that he is. When I woke up this morning he was already down stairs eating breakfast and ready to go; black eyeliner and leather jacket completing his look like the most tempting jigsaw puzzle to ever be created. We held hands under the table, my fingers running across his as I felt him start to shake as the seconds ticked on closer to what he was sure would be another beating from some mindless bastards who deserve to be kicked into a snake pit. I promised him there, one hand cupping his cheek and the other squeezing his own, that nothing was going to happen today because I wouldn’t let it. And he’d smiled at that, had made my heart glow like his eyes were at the prospect of having someone care enough to look out for him, but now that smile is mocking and making guilt flood me relentlessly.

Because I’m stuck in a motherfucking detention and unable to look after my poor little Mikey.

‘My’ being the key word. He is mine, my little tattered soul and my own little puzzle to piece back together like the challenge that I have set myself. Apart from I don’t just see him as a challenge for me to beat anymore; I see him as a stunning person, as an intricate artwork of bone china, as my own treasure that I have to protect from getting obliterated whilst he’s still so vulnerable.

He still hasn’t spoken to me all that much, but he’s definitely a lot more comfortable with me than he was; we just seem to click, like we were designed to fill each other out. Like he’s the gentle curve to all of my rough edges; the soft gaze to all of my harsh glares; the perfection to all of my imperfections; he just balances me out. He makes me feel like a better person and I make him feel safe.

Or at least, I think I do. No.

I hope with everything I have that I do. Because for him to go through something horrific as a fire, a fire which tore away everything from his innocent soul including all happiness, safety must be something that he finds hard to find, something that he needs to feel should he ever hope to feel normal again. He’s not normal, though, is he? Not at all. And I wouldn’t have him any other way because it’s his differences that make me want him, the way that his darker-than-night eyes stand out against his bleach-white skin, the way that I actually have to work to get his respect; the way that he is Mikey Way and that is more than enough to make me love him like the sun loves the sky.

Love.

I thought that love just meant thinking that someone looked good, hooking up and then doing whatever you want with them. That is what it meant to me. Until I met Mikes. Because Mikey Way, the meek little orphan with more insecurities than bruises, has shown me what real love is; real love is despising every waking second that isn’t spent with the object of your affection, yearning to make them smile like a farmer yearns for a good harvest, not caring about what anyone else thinks because as long as the one you love actually loves you back then that’s all that really matters to you. But above all else real love means a vow of care, a vow to protect your loved one to the best of your ability.

Which I can’t fucking do and I just know that he’s going to be getting hurt for it!

“Frank!”

Fucking hell. It’s Gerard, or rather the disembodied voice of Gerard, and he sounds so genuinely distraught that it makes me shudder in my seat; if I was panicking over Mikey’s well-being before, I’m now even more terrified than an atheist at the thought of death. I give a slight nod of my head to let him know that I heard him, that I’m desperate to hear what he has to say but that I can’t speak right now because I really don’t need my teacher thinking that I talk to myself.

“Frank, it’s Mikes! I think he’s gonna have another panic attack…. and, oh god, they won’t stop!” He lets out a broken sob so full of broken hope that it makes my own eyes water, not least because I know that it means that those beautifully soft lips of his are most likely bleeding and swollen by now.

What if he does have a panic attack? If they’re by the old bramble patch behind that odd little shed like I know that they probably are, then there’ll be nobody there to make the idiots stop; to make him calm again and stop him from leaving school in an ambulance. My heartbeat freezes as I think of that, the poor guy only just got out of hospital.

“One of them saw you two last night, they saw how scared Mikes is of fire and… fucking hell…” His raspy voice trails off, leaving nothing but a horrific abyss of dread in it’s merciless wake. “Frank! Frank, please, please for love of God, please help him! I don’t think he’s breathing right and they won’t stop. Shit, Frank!”

My blood boils in my livid veins, only serving to redden my face with my profound fury.

Calling someone names? That’s just kids being kids; mindless and cruel. Beating somebody up? That’s just how things work; harshly and unfairly. But knowing someone, especially a kid as fragile as Mikey Way, freaks out at just the thought of something and then using that against them as Gerard seems to be describing? That’s just fucked up. And Mikes isn’t breathing right, isn’t coping like I promised I would help him to.

What the fuck are they doing to him; what can they be doing to him that involves fire?

I don’t have a clue and I really don’t fucking care. A smoke alarm was, quite understandably, enough to send him into a frantic panic so whatever they’re doing to him is most likely the most inexcusably hideous and disgusting thing that they’ve ever made a poor kid go through.

Wait.

Someone saw us last night. That means that they saw me kiss Mikes, saw me hold him like a pirate holds his gold and gaze at him like a free spirit gazes at a sunset; they know that I’m in love with a freak. Which means that they’re probably giving him my share of the punishment too for corrupting one of their own.

But it also means that I’ve lost everything; that everything I fought so painstakingly hard to get has disappeared in a puff of ghostly smoke. Something which should be making me furious or frustrated with both myself and the younger Way brother, but right now I honestly couldn’t give a fuck about what they think of me. Why? Because they’re hurting my Mikey. And anyone who can even consider doing something like that ought to be shot.

Or at least punched, punched by the same hand that was caressing Mikey’s blush-hot cheek just this morning, a hand that is bound to protect the best thing to happen to me since being born.

So, without even thinking about the consequences because what might happen if I do nothing is far worse than any alternative, I shoot up from my seat and sprint out of the classroom like a machinegun’s deadly, precise ammo, ignoring the indignant protests of my teacher.

I run as though the ground is a thin ice that I could dissolve into nothing at any given second, the only thing matching the speed of my lightning-fast feet being my love-enhanced heart, and head towards the doors to the school field as though I’m being magnetized towards it. I guess I am; wherever Mikey Way is, my heart will always be dragging me there with or without the consent of my head. I burst out of the main building like a built shattering through bone and carry on to the far side of the field, to the dilapidated shed of a building that I know they’ll have Mikes cornered behind.

I’m gonna do it; I’m going to save, make up for all of the wrong that I have let myself do.

I’m going to ruin my life in order to save his. Both literally and metaphorically. Apart from it won’t really ruin my life; helping Mikey will be enough to make my life the best life that anyone has ever lived.

God, I sound lovesick.

No, not lovesick; love-cured. Because love has got rid of the sickness that being someone I don’t think that I really want to be has inflicted upon my stupid soul.

Shit, I can see them already, with their backs to me and forming a horseshoe shape around something that they’ve got pinned against the wall. There are six of them, six huge jocks against some helpless little mouse like Mikes; they really are motherfucking cowards, aren’t they?

And then I hear it. Mikey’s screaming, screaming like the world is ending and nobody will help him.

And then I see it. Just as I come up behind my group of enemies I catch sight of Liam pushing something right up into Mikey’s face, close enough for the poor angel’s skin to be turning a harsh shade of crispy red; Liam’s waving a lighter around the poor kid’s petrified features. Is making Mikes face the flames that still haunt his tortured soul.

And that is when I do it; I jump through the small crowd and punch Liam so hard that I hear his nose give way with a satisfying crack.

Nobody hurts Mikey. No-fucking-body.

Not unless they want to wind up deader than Gerard.





A/N: Thank you very much for reading; I hope that this is alright! Sorry if it seems rushed, but I really wanted to put a chapter up tonight because I’ve got loads of homework to do tomorrow and the day after that I’m going to see All Time Low so this is the only chance that I’ve got to update this fic until Friday. I would just like to say a huge THANK YOU to the lovely, kind, wonderful people who have read/reviewed/rated this story so far; it really does mean the world to me. Thanks for reading and please review! :)