Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Live For The Now, Live For You
3 reviewsMikey Way loves Billie Joe. Gerard? Not so much. MIKLLIE one-shot. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
2Moving
Live For The Now, Live For You
That crazy, toddler-scribble haired bastard got me banned from Starbucks; from the one place that I had for refuge.
I don’t care though, I still love him.
In all fairness it wasn’t even him that got me banned and the ban isn’t even official, it’s more of a threat that if I ever step foot in that temple of perfection ever again that we will both, me and him, die of immediate asphyxiation. Courtesy of my big brother. The motherfucker who can’t handle that everything’s going so perfectly with me for once when things regarding him and Frankie are falling to hell.
Yeah, he’s just jealous when he screams at me that Billie is a good-for-nothing-cradle-snatching-freak. And he’s miserable whenever I burst into tears like some sort of hormonal hurricane at his harsh words. Words that should never be said about Billie, my Billie; the guy who made me realise that I’m gay, who helped me out when some of my tormentors followed me into Starbucks and has been helping me ever since by the way of being there whenever I want to talk and using his staff discount to make me not have to pay for my large double-mochas with whipped cream and flake.
Apart from I can’t have that anymore. Why? Because Gee’s got friends who work in Starbucks, friends who aren’t so fond of Billie for reasons that I can’t begin to fathom but I imagine could well have something to do with his unforgettable energy and enthusiasm, who are all too willing to tell my big brother the split second I walk in there to see the one person I have left who actually understands me as well as I thought Gerard did. But apparently he doesn’t.
Because he can’t see that Billie Joe Armstrong is the best person to ever waltz into my pathetic excuse of a life.
Gerard says that it’s because he thinks that Billie’s using me, stringing me along because I’m young and, subsequently must be, stupid. He says that Billie, my Billie, is perverted for being with someone as young as me. It’s only a six-year age gap, him being twenty-two and me being sixteen. Don’t get me wrong, I can absolutely see why Gee might feel strongly against it, even I will admit that BJ can come across as extremely protective and fawning over me, and I appreciate Gerard’s concern but he should have dropped it the split second that I told him I was happy.
Instead we got into the biggest argument that we’ve ever been in, one that smashed my soul and broke every vital organ that my worthless body contains; he screamed some of the things that the bullies say, all about me being a “four-eyed freak” who needs to “get a life” rather than “wrecking every-fucking-one else’s”. Then, with a deafening thud, he punched me clean across the jaw. Punched me with the strength of a bull seeing red, with the all of the rage of an over-protective father meeting his daughter’s prom date only to find that he’s some sort of junkie. Punched me hard enough to make me see spots dancing menacingly in front of my tear-fogged eyes as though making fun of me for being stupid enough to think that my big brother and best friend would simply be happy for me.
That’s what hurt the most, actually, not the punch nor the snide remarks nor even the way that he tried to act like the punch resolved it all; the thing that got to me like a hellhound gnawing at the fragmented remains of my aching heart was the fact that he was the first person I told about me and Billie because I was scared of what everyone else would think. Everyone else, not him. Not my big brother who has always supported me no matter how crazy my ambitions, who has always told me to do whatever it takes to make me happy. So I did. And all I got for it was stinging face with a heart to match.
Of course doing the only sensible thing that I could do, my nose sprouting rubies and my head telling me a tornado of different solutions, I ran straight to where I know Billie always goes after work to think about things and to just look at the stars with those endless fields of playful summer days that are his breath-taking eyes, eyes that I have drowned in too many times to even try to count; I ran straight to the local park.
He was sat, as always, on the leftmost swing, his Converse-robed feet planted firmly on the ground as though keeping him anchored to the Earth when he should be in heaven with all of the other angels, and a cigarette lolling lazily out of his lusciously lavish lips. Lips that were all over my bruised face and dribbling nose the split-second that he saw me stumbling towards him like a zombie, drained of all inner-life by the fact that my big brother hated me for falling in love with the “wrong” person. Billie had spread his torn, faux-leather jacket out on the damp grass beneath us, the jacket that feels more like home to me than my own bedroom does because it is everything that reminds me of the one person that I need, and told me to lay down before I passed out from crying so hard. So I did, not once questioning him because of the trust that I have gained in him like a bank collecting golden coins, and then he laid down next to me, the two of us snuggled so tightly together that we both managed to fit onto the small surface area of his worn-out old jacket.
Then he told me to just look up at the stars; at those glinting gems that are only beaten in their majesty and enchantment by my Billie, by the impeccable guitar-playing god who has saved me from the thoughts that used to drown out all hope. Thoughts that now seem like stupid impossibilities because Billie makes life seem like the sort of pleasure that I once believed death might possibly be. That night, the night that we stargazed for the first time out of hundreds, was the night that I opened up to him even more than I’ve ever even opened up to Gee. I told him everything; about the bullies at school, about the thoughts that scared even me, about the feelings I get that just don’t feel right, about the way thar the blade slices across my skin is the only thing that makes me feel good anymore. Other than him.
He had actually cried at my shameful confessions. Cried like shooting stars were bleeding from his omnipotent eyes that beseeched me to just trust him and tell him everything that I had been keeping bottled up like an out-of-date poison. So, without questioning the older boy, I did. I let him suck out all of the venom of my snakebites and from that moment onward everything seemed to be a little less bleak; like a huge weight had been halved, not gone completely, but at least shared with someone who cares. I still get bullied, I occasionally still have the repulsive thoughts of ending it all and, due to my own personal weaknesses, I still do cut from time to time. But I always tell Billie, always let him disinfect everyone wound I get; be it a gash above the eye from the bullies, a new ribbon of shame around my wrist or a new puncture within my heart, he always makes it better. Because he loves me and I love him. No matter what Gee thinks.
Gerard apologized about punching me, acted like he had torn the wings off of an angel, and I forgave him. Forgave him because I know that he was only trying to look out for me, that he will never lay a finger on me again. And also because I realised that something Billie had told me is true; “It’s a free for all, so fuck ‘em all!” He’s always coming out with things like that, things that make everything else seem much more manageable because his view on life is a wonderfully simple one, one that makes every second spent with him feel like an adventure; live in the now and live for you, not for what everyone else wants you to be.
It’s a view that’s almost identical to Gee’s, perhaps that’s why they can’t stand each other; they’re so similar, so headstrong and protective that they repel like two super-charged magnets.
Which is why I’m sat, completely numb to the biting wind, on the swing adjacent to my boyfriend’s signature one, waiting for him to turn up like he always does, with a cocky spring in his step and a swoon-worthy smirk tugging at his lips, as opposed to being sat inside trying to heal the rift that this whole thing has opened up between the ‘unbeatable’ Way brothers. I still love Gee, just like he still loves me, but I’ve got to live in the now, live for me and not care that my big brother doesn’t want me to be with someone who’s a few years older than me.
“Hey there, Mymikey!” I spin around excitedly at my affectionate nickname, to see Billie slouched restlessly against the open gate of the park; our secret little heaven.
Instead of waiting for him to come to me, like he always does with that swagger which seems to ooze the confidence that being around him appears to install within me whenever I need it the most, I shoot up and sprint to him as though the ground is falling away from beneath my feet; I’ve had a rough day, slammed into three lockers and more flying fists than I care to recall, and I just want to feel his fingers rubbing it all away. I storm straight into him, catching him off-guard before he adjusts to my non-existent weight and swoops me upwards in a hug that makes me forget everything else.
Why?
Because I’m living in the now as opposed to what’s happened to me in the past, living for me as opposed to according to what their words tell me I am worth, and not caring that the two of us have enemies because we both know that we both have each other.
Forever.
“Happy to see me, Mymikey?”
“Always.”
A/N: Thank you very much for reading; I hope that this was okay! I wanted to experiment with a pairing that I haven’t really heard much of and this impeccably adorable drawing (http://disenchanteddestroya.deviantart.com/favourites/#/d4gezg5) was the perfect inspiration that made me want to write this, trust me when I say that the drawing is a hell of a lot better than this one-shot! Thanks for reading and please review! :)
That crazy, toddler-scribble haired bastard got me banned from Starbucks; from the one place that I had for refuge.
I don’t care though, I still love him.
In all fairness it wasn’t even him that got me banned and the ban isn’t even official, it’s more of a threat that if I ever step foot in that temple of perfection ever again that we will both, me and him, die of immediate asphyxiation. Courtesy of my big brother. The motherfucker who can’t handle that everything’s going so perfectly with me for once when things regarding him and Frankie are falling to hell.
Yeah, he’s just jealous when he screams at me that Billie is a good-for-nothing-cradle-snatching-freak. And he’s miserable whenever I burst into tears like some sort of hormonal hurricane at his harsh words. Words that should never be said about Billie, my Billie; the guy who made me realise that I’m gay, who helped me out when some of my tormentors followed me into Starbucks and has been helping me ever since by the way of being there whenever I want to talk and using his staff discount to make me not have to pay for my large double-mochas with whipped cream and flake.
Apart from I can’t have that anymore. Why? Because Gee’s got friends who work in Starbucks, friends who aren’t so fond of Billie for reasons that I can’t begin to fathom but I imagine could well have something to do with his unforgettable energy and enthusiasm, who are all too willing to tell my big brother the split second I walk in there to see the one person I have left who actually understands me as well as I thought Gerard did. But apparently he doesn’t.
Because he can’t see that Billie Joe Armstrong is the best person to ever waltz into my pathetic excuse of a life.
Gerard says that it’s because he thinks that Billie’s using me, stringing me along because I’m young and, subsequently must be, stupid. He says that Billie, my Billie, is perverted for being with someone as young as me. It’s only a six-year age gap, him being twenty-two and me being sixteen. Don’t get me wrong, I can absolutely see why Gee might feel strongly against it, even I will admit that BJ can come across as extremely protective and fawning over me, and I appreciate Gerard’s concern but he should have dropped it the split second that I told him I was happy.
Instead we got into the biggest argument that we’ve ever been in, one that smashed my soul and broke every vital organ that my worthless body contains; he screamed some of the things that the bullies say, all about me being a “four-eyed freak” who needs to “get a life” rather than “wrecking every-fucking-one else’s”. Then, with a deafening thud, he punched me clean across the jaw. Punched me with the strength of a bull seeing red, with the all of the rage of an over-protective father meeting his daughter’s prom date only to find that he’s some sort of junkie. Punched me hard enough to make me see spots dancing menacingly in front of my tear-fogged eyes as though making fun of me for being stupid enough to think that my big brother and best friend would simply be happy for me.
That’s what hurt the most, actually, not the punch nor the snide remarks nor even the way that he tried to act like the punch resolved it all; the thing that got to me like a hellhound gnawing at the fragmented remains of my aching heart was the fact that he was the first person I told about me and Billie because I was scared of what everyone else would think. Everyone else, not him. Not my big brother who has always supported me no matter how crazy my ambitions, who has always told me to do whatever it takes to make me happy. So I did. And all I got for it was stinging face with a heart to match.
Of course doing the only sensible thing that I could do, my nose sprouting rubies and my head telling me a tornado of different solutions, I ran straight to where I know Billie always goes after work to think about things and to just look at the stars with those endless fields of playful summer days that are his breath-taking eyes, eyes that I have drowned in too many times to even try to count; I ran straight to the local park.
He was sat, as always, on the leftmost swing, his Converse-robed feet planted firmly on the ground as though keeping him anchored to the Earth when he should be in heaven with all of the other angels, and a cigarette lolling lazily out of his lusciously lavish lips. Lips that were all over my bruised face and dribbling nose the split-second that he saw me stumbling towards him like a zombie, drained of all inner-life by the fact that my big brother hated me for falling in love with the “wrong” person. Billie had spread his torn, faux-leather jacket out on the damp grass beneath us, the jacket that feels more like home to me than my own bedroom does because it is everything that reminds me of the one person that I need, and told me to lay down before I passed out from crying so hard. So I did, not once questioning him because of the trust that I have gained in him like a bank collecting golden coins, and then he laid down next to me, the two of us snuggled so tightly together that we both managed to fit onto the small surface area of his worn-out old jacket.
Then he told me to just look up at the stars; at those glinting gems that are only beaten in their majesty and enchantment by my Billie, by the impeccable guitar-playing god who has saved me from the thoughts that used to drown out all hope. Thoughts that now seem like stupid impossibilities because Billie makes life seem like the sort of pleasure that I once believed death might possibly be. That night, the night that we stargazed for the first time out of hundreds, was the night that I opened up to him even more than I’ve ever even opened up to Gee. I told him everything; about the bullies at school, about the thoughts that scared even me, about the feelings I get that just don’t feel right, about the way thar the blade slices across my skin is the only thing that makes me feel good anymore. Other than him.
He had actually cried at my shameful confessions. Cried like shooting stars were bleeding from his omnipotent eyes that beseeched me to just trust him and tell him everything that I had been keeping bottled up like an out-of-date poison. So, without questioning the older boy, I did. I let him suck out all of the venom of my snakebites and from that moment onward everything seemed to be a little less bleak; like a huge weight had been halved, not gone completely, but at least shared with someone who cares. I still get bullied, I occasionally still have the repulsive thoughts of ending it all and, due to my own personal weaknesses, I still do cut from time to time. But I always tell Billie, always let him disinfect everyone wound I get; be it a gash above the eye from the bullies, a new ribbon of shame around my wrist or a new puncture within my heart, he always makes it better. Because he loves me and I love him. No matter what Gee thinks.
Gerard apologized about punching me, acted like he had torn the wings off of an angel, and I forgave him. Forgave him because I know that he was only trying to look out for me, that he will never lay a finger on me again. And also because I realised that something Billie had told me is true; “It’s a free for all, so fuck ‘em all!” He’s always coming out with things like that, things that make everything else seem much more manageable because his view on life is a wonderfully simple one, one that makes every second spent with him feel like an adventure; live in the now and live for you, not for what everyone else wants you to be.
It’s a view that’s almost identical to Gee’s, perhaps that’s why they can’t stand each other; they’re so similar, so headstrong and protective that they repel like two super-charged magnets.
Which is why I’m sat, completely numb to the biting wind, on the swing adjacent to my boyfriend’s signature one, waiting for him to turn up like he always does, with a cocky spring in his step and a swoon-worthy smirk tugging at his lips, as opposed to being sat inside trying to heal the rift that this whole thing has opened up between the ‘unbeatable’ Way brothers. I still love Gee, just like he still loves me, but I’ve got to live in the now, live for me and not care that my big brother doesn’t want me to be with someone who’s a few years older than me.
“Hey there, Mymikey!” I spin around excitedly at my affectionate nickname, to see Billie slouched restlessly against the open gate of the park; our secret little heaven.
Instead of waiting for him to come to me, like he always does with that swagger which seems to ooze the confidence that being around him appears to install within me whenever I need it the most, I shoot up and sprint to him as though the ground is falling away from beneath my feet; I’ve had a rough day, slammed into three lockers and more flying fists than I care to recall, and I just want to feel his fingers rubbing it all away. I storm straight into him, catching him off-guard before he adjusts to my non-existent weight and swoops me upwards in a hug that makes me forget everything else.
Why?
Because I’m living in the now as opposed to what’s happened to me in the past, living for me as opposed to according to what their words tell me I am worth, and not caring that the two of us have enemies because we both know that we both have each other.
Forever.
“Happy to see me, Mymikey?”
“Always.”
A/N: Thank you very much for reading; I hope that this was okay! I wanted to experiment with a pairing that I haven’t really heard much of and this impeccably adorable drawing (http://disenchanteddestroya.deviantart.com/favourites/#/d4gezg5) was the perfect inspiration that made me want to write this, trust me when I say that the drawing is a hell of a lot better than this one-shot! Thanks for reading and please review! :)
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