Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Smiles Suit You
2 reviewsWe all deserve our turn at feeling special. And Frank thinks it's Mikey's turn. Short FRIKEY one-shot. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
0Unrated
Smiles Suit You
“Frank, say something. Please.”
I blink at my boyfriend’s frightened almost-whimper, taking in the full weight of the situation. A situation that couldn’t be more breathtakingly perfect if Kurt Cobain was to descend from the sky and give me tips on how to play my guitar.
“Mikes, I…” I let my words trail off, hoping that my adulated smirk speaks more than my voice ever could. After all, anything that I say to describe how I feel right now would be a lie and, being his boyfriend, I simply can’t lie to him.
Why would it be a lie? Because no words are strong enough to describe how fast my heart is being forced to beat at seeing him right now, no uttered syllable will ever cover how grateful and lucky I am to be taking this sweet, shy little angel to prom. When the tickets to the so-called ‘event of the year’ went on sale Mikey had flat out refused to go with me and I completely understood why; no kid wants to go to a dance with the monsters who beat him up every day, with the bastards who brush his deep brown eyes with their own violent brand of black eye shadow. Not to mention the fact that he hates being around people, but I guess that’s to be expected after getting his face smashed into the ground like a falling star landing in the pits of hell at least three times a week. It’s gotten to the point where it’s forced him to be scared of basically everyone, even flinching when his own big brother tickle-attacks him like he always does when I drop him off at his house after school.
Which is exactly why I’m forcing him into accompanying me to prom. Everyone deserves to have at least one night where they feel special simply because they are them, especially someone as gentle and caring as my Mikey; as my boyfriend.
My boyfriend who is fidgeting awkwardly at the foot of his staircase in his big brother’s hand-me-down suit, eyeliner and shadow expertly applied over his milky skin to disguise the hideous black eye lurking beneath like a serpent hiding in the murky depths of some great lake. He still looks stunning though, even more stunning than I thought he would do in the jet black shirt and blood-spattered-rose colour tie. It makes him look like some sort of gothic prince charming, ready for me to whisk him away in Dad’s Hummer that I somehow talked him into letting me commander for the night.
A slow thunder of applause erupts behind me, from Gerard’s proud hands, reminding me that I need to breathe no matter how breath-taking my Mikey might be.
“Jesus, Bro, you don’t scrub up half bad, do ya?” Although his words are playful and meant to make Mikey feel more comfortable than he obviously is, a deaf guy would be able to hear the complete and utter pride in Gerard’s voice. “Seriously, Kiddo, you look amazing. Frank’s a lucky guy.”
Mikey’s cheeks burn the same colour as a setting sun and he looks down, clearly unsure if he’s being made fun of or if his big brother is just being nice to spare his fractious feelings. It’s neither; it’s simple honesty. If anything, Gee’s played it down quite a bit. Lucky is winning a few bucks on the lottery or finding an escaped Skittle under the couch with almost no carpet fluff stuck to it, lucky doesn’t even begin to cover going to prom with a fallen angel.
“You bet I am.” I manage to find my voice when his painfully unsure eyes find the courage to look at me to lend him some of my seemingly endless confidence to his near non-existent spirit. I offer him a soft smile, the sparkle in his eyes at my confirmation of Gerard’s praise igniting his irises like popping candy. “We should force you into a suit more often.”
He blushes again, this time a sort of baby pink that reminds me of those strawberry and cream lollipops that I once had a shameless addiction to and I just want to scoop him up into my arms. Which I will be doing as soon as we’re out the door and out of Gerard’s protective line of sight. Not that I think the older Way would ever actually do something to me for being romantic with his little brother, Gee’s not stupid and he knows that we’re both sixteen-year-old boys, but it’s more for my own comfort than anyone else’s; I mean, who wants to nuzzle into their boyfriend’s neck in that special way that makes Mikes whimper like a puppy in front of a) their big brother and b) your best friend. Nobody. It would just be awkward.
“You really think I look alright, Frankie?” He squeaks at me like a mouse begging a cat not to rip it to shreds with it’s sadistically sharp claws, leaning into my chest when I walk up to him and encase his slender form in my strong arms. “You sure I don’t look stupid and ugly and freaky and worthless an-“
“No. Mikey, no.” I slice across his almost paranoid recollection of all of the things that people tell him he is, gripping him by the shoulders when I see that his eyes are clouding over with a film of panicked tears showing the world just how self-conscious my poor little boyfriend is. “You’re none of those things. Not now, not at school and not ever.” His eyelids bat up and down, forcing free a crystalline dagger that my gentle thumb catches before it can tear a hole in his perfectly applied make-up. “Fuck, I… Mikey, you’re so beautiful I don’t even know what to do with you. And right now, Honey, you look way better than any shining star up in the night sky. You’re gonna blind all those bastards at the prom and leave them wondering where the hell all this came from.”
I look up into the deep wells of his eyes, the brown surrounding his pupils looking almost black in the dim light of the Way family living room. The light may be dim, but it’s more than enough for me to see that he believes me, to see that I’ve earned enough of his trust for him to see, if only for tonight, exactly what I see. What those bullies at school would see if they’d just open their goddamn eyes. But no, they’re too stupid for that. So they make Mikes pay for their stupidity just because he’s smart enough to not let anyone else make him into someone that he doesn’t want to be.
God help any of them if they dare to bring my Mikey down tonight, after I’ve manage to coax that demon-rising and angel-magnetizing smile onto his soft, silken lips. Lips that are mine to cushion with my own whenever I please.
“Hey, guys, you gotta get going!” Gerard yells, making me realise that I’ve been gazing at my Mikey for nearly ten minutes, not that either of us minded, and even from a few metres away I can hear the brotherly smirk in Gerard’s voice.
I trail a hand down my boyfriend’s left arm, stopping at his hand and clutching it delicately in my own so that he knows I’m not about to leave him. Not now and not ever, not as long as he wants me by his side. I raise my eyebrows at him as though asking if he’s ready and, because we’re so in tune with one another, he replies with a semi-reluctant nod and cautious smile lighting up his defined features. I lead him past Gerard, who looks to be blinking back tears at seeing his ‘baby’ brother all grown up, and out of the front door when I feel something softly nudge into my side from one of the inside pockets of my suit jacket as though reminding me of something important.
Of course! How could I forget?
“Hey, Mikes, I, uh, got you something to pin on you suit.” I mumble as he waits for me to unlock the car, hands fumbling in my pocket to fish out the thing I saved up for through several months of car-washing and dish-cleaning. “You know, kinda like a corsage but less girly.”
He grins down at me, looking delighted by the fact that I’ve taken the time to both get him something to remember tonight by and by the fact that I’ve remembered his vehement dislike to being referred to as ‘girly’, no matter how effeminate he might be. It should sting me that he’s finding both of those things a surprise, after all nobody like Mikey Way, like my boyfriend, should ever be lacking in care and pleasure to find either a shock to the system. But right now nothing can bring me down because I know that what I’m about to give him will make him never doubt that I care about him again. Not that he ever should have doubted it in the first place.
“Close your eyes, Honey.”
He does as he’s told and I swiftly pin the tiny little brooch, which took me months to track down, onto his coal-coloured lapel, taking a moment to admire how the moonlight gleams off of the shiny surface of the object that is so Mikey that it almost makes me want to keep it. I lean forward and press a soft kiss onto the curved tip of his nose, my way of letting him know that he can open those starlit eyes of his. Starlit eyes that immediately fall to the new addition to his jacket lapel; a small bass guitar pin.
The neck and strings are made of almost blindingly polished silver that brings out the fragile paleness of his milky skin all the more, reminding me that nothing, not even fancy jewellery, can shine as brightly as my boyfriend. The body and head, however, is dark honey-like amber, kind of like the colour of his eyes. Everything about it is just so Mikey, from the slender neck that reminds me of his slender fingers to the honey of the amber that reminds me of his favourite food to have under the covers at my house (hot honey toast). And now it doesn’t look anywhere near good enough for him because, next to the adulated smile that he’s beaming in my direction in response to my small gift, the brooch looks ugly.
Which is absolutely fine. Because it’s made my Mikey happy.
“I love it, Frankie, I really do!” He cries as he crashes into me, his lips like tiny electrodes on my own as our arms wrap tightly around one another’s waist, simply finding joy in just being together next to the over-waxed body of my dad’s Hummer.
I swear I saw a shooting star litter the night sky above us with it’s blazing trail of hope, but right now there’s nothing for me to wish for because right now I’ve got my Mikey and he’s got me. And that’s all either of us will ever need.
“Not nearly as much as I love you.”
A/N: Thank you very much for reading, and I hope that it’s alright! If anyone’s interested, this is the brooch that Frank got Mikey in this story: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0071E13VS/ref=pd_lpo_k2_dp_sr_1?pf_rd_p=103612307&pf_rd_s=lpo-top-stripe&pf_rd_t=201&pf_rd_i=B001UXRDJC&pf_rd_m=A3P5ROKL5A1OLE&pf_rd_r=05W09FTGMK2VJ2DJG1GS Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)
“Frank, say something. Please.”
I blink at my boyfriend’s frightened almost-whimper, taking in the full weight of the situation. A situation that couldn’t be more breathtakingly perfect if Kurt Cobain was to descend from the sky and give me tips on how to play my guitar.
“Mikes, I…” I let my words trail off, hoping that my adulated smirk speaks more than my voice ever could. After all, anything that I say to describe how I feel right now would be a lie and, being his boyfriend, I simply can’t lie to him.
Why would it be a lie? Because no words are strong enough to describe how fast my heart is being forced to beat at seeing him right now, no uttered syllable will ever cover how grateful and lucky I am to be taking this sweet, shy little angel to prom. When the tickets to the so-called ‘event of the year’ went on sale Mikey had flat out refused to go with me and I completely understood why; no kid wants to go to a dance with the monsters who beat him up every day, with the bastards who brush his deep brown eyes with their own violent brand of black eye shadow. Not to mention the fact that he hates being around people, but I guess that’s to be expected after getting his face smashed into the ground like a falling star landing in the pits of hell at least three times a week. It’s gotten to the point where it’s forced him to be scared of basically everyone, even flinching when his own big brother tickle-attacks him like he always does when I drop him off at his house after school.
Which is exactly why I’m forcing him into accompanying me to prom. Everyone deserves to have at least one night where they feel special simply because they are them, especially someone as gentle and caring as my Mikey; as my boyfriend.
My boyfriend who is fidgeting awkwardly at the foot of his staircase in his big brother’s hand-me-down suit, eyeliner and shadow expertly applied over his milky skin to disguise the hideous black eye lurking beneath like a serpent hiding in the murky depths of some great lake. He still looks stunning though, even more stunning than I thought he would do in the jet black shirt and blood-spattered-rose colour tie. It makes him look like some sort of gothic prince charming, ready for me to whisk him away in Dad’s Hummer that I somehow talked him into letting me commander for the night.
A slow thunder of applause erupts behind me, from Gerard’s proud hands, reminding me that I need to breathe no matter how breath-taking my Mikey might be.
“Jesus, Bro, you don’t scrub up half bad, do ya?” Although his words are playful and meant to make Mikey feel more comfortable than he obviously is, a deaf guy would be able to hear the complete and utter pride in Gerard’s voice. “Seriously, Kiddo, you look amazing. Frank’s a lucky guy.”
Mikey’s cheeks burn the same colour as a setting sun and he looks down, clearly unsure if he’s being made fun of or if his big brother is just being nice to spare his fractious feelings. It’s neither; it’s simple honesty. If anything, Gee’s played it down quite a bit. Lucky is winning a few bucks on the lottery or finding an escaped Skittle under the couch with almost no carpet fluff stuck to it, lucky doesn’t even begin to cover going to prom with a fallen angel.
“You bet I am.” I manage to find my voice when his painfully unsure eyes find the courage to look at me to lend him some of my seemingly endless confidence to his near non-existent spirit. I offer him a soft smile, the sparkle in his eyes at my confirmation of Gerard’s praise igniting his irises like popping candy. “We should force you into a suit more often.”
He blushes again, this time a sort of baby pink that reminds me of those strawberry and cream lollipops that I once had a shameless addiction to and I just want to scoop him up into my arms. Which I will be doing as soon as we’re out the door and out of Gerard’s protective line of sight. Not that I think the older Way would ever actually do something to me for being romantic with his little brother, Gee’s not stupid and he knows that we’re both sixteen-year-old boys, but it’s more for my own comfort than anyone else’s; I mean, who wants to nuzzle into their boyfriend’s neck in that special way that makes Mikes whimper like a puppy in front of a) their big brother and b) your best friend. Nobody. It would just be awkward.
“You really think I look alright, Frankie?” He squeaks at me like a mouse begging a cat not to rip it to shreds with it’s sadistically sharp claws, leaning into my chest when I walk up to him and encase his slender form in my strong arms. “You sure I don’t look stupid and ugly and freaky and worthless an-“
“No. Mikey, no.” I slice across his almost paranoid recollection of all of the things that people tell him he is, gripping him by the shoulders when I see that his eyes are clouding over with a film of panicked tears showing the world just how self-conscious my poor little boyfriend is. “You’re none of those things. Not now, not at school and not ever.” His eyelids bat up and down, forcing free a crystalline dagger that my gentle thumb catches before it can tear a hole in his perfectly applied make-up. “Fuck, I… Mikey, you’re so beautiful I don’t even know what to do with you. And right now, Honey, you look way better than any shining star up in the night sky. You’re gonna blind all those bastards at the prom and leave them wondering where the hell all this came from.”
I look up into the deep wells of his eyes, the brown surrounding his pupils looking almost black in the dim light of the Way family living room. The light may be dim, but it’s more than enough for me to see that he believes me, to see that I’ve earned enough of his trust for him to see, if only for tonight, exactly what I see. What those bullies at school would see if they’d just open their goddamn eyes. But no, they’re too stupid for that. So they make Mikes pay for their stupidity just because he’s smart enough to not let anyone else make him into someone that he doesn’t want to be.
God help any of them if they dare to bring my Mikey down tonight, after I’ve manage to coax that demon-rising and angel-magnetizing smile onto his soft, silken lips. Lips that are mine to cushion with my own whenever I please.
“Hey, guys, you gotta get going!” Gerard yells, making me realise that I’ve been gazing at my Mikey for nearly ten minutes, not that either of us minded, and even from a few metres away I can hear the brotherly smirk in Gerard’s voice.
I trail a hand down my boyfriend’s left arm, stopping at his hand and clutching it delicately in my own so that he knows I’m not about to leave him. Not now and not ever, not as long as he wants me by his side. I raise my eyebrows at him as though asking if he’s ready and, because we’re so in tune with one another, he replies with a semi-reluctant nod and cautious smile lighting up his defined features. I lead him past Gerard, who looks to be blinking back tears at seeing his ‘baby’ brother all grown up, and out of the front door when I feel something softly nudge into my side from one of the inside pockets of my suit jacket as though reminding me of something important.
Of course! How could I forget?
“Hey, Mikes, I, uh, got you something to pin on you suit.” I mumble as he waits for me to unlock the car, hands fumbling in my pocket to fish out the thing I saved up for through several months of car-washing and dish-cleaning. “You know, kinda like a corsage but less girly.”
He grins down at me, looking delighted by the fact that I’ve taken the time to both get him something to remember tonight by and by the fact that I’ve remembered his vehement dislike to being referred to as ‘girly’, no matter how effeminate he might be. It should sting me that he’s finding both of those things a surprise, after all nobody like Mikey Way, like my boyfriend, should ever be lacking in care and pleasure to find either a shock to the system. But right now nothing can bring me down because I know that what I’m about to give him will make him never doubt that I care about him again. Not that he ever should have doubted it in the first place.
“Close your eyes, Honey.”
He does as he’s told and I swiftly pin the tiny little brooch, which took me months to track down, onto his coal-coloured lapel, taking a moment to admire how the moonlight gleams off of the shiny surface of the object that is so Mikey that it almost makes me want to keep it. I lean forward and press a soft kiss onto the curved tip of his nose, my way of letting him know that he can open those starlit eyes of his. Starlit eyes that immediately fall to the new addition to his jacket lapel; a small bass guitar pin.
The neck and strings are made of almost blindingly polished silver that brings out the fragile paleness of his milky skin all the more, reminding me that nothing, not even fancy jewellery, can shine as brightly as my boyfriend. The body and head, however, is dark honey-like amber, kind of like the colour of his eyes. Everything about it is just so Mikey, from the slender neck that reminds me of his slender fingers to the honey of the amber that reminds me of his favourite food to have under the covers at my house (hot honey toast). And now it doesn’t look anywhere near good enough for him because, next to the adulated smile that he’s beaming in my direction in response to my small gift, the brooch looks ugly.
Which is absolutely fine. Because it’s made my Mikey happy.
“I love it, Frankie, I really do!” He cries as he crashes into me, his lips like tiny electrodes on my own as our arms wrap tightly around one another’s waist, simply finding joy in just being together next to the over-waxed body of my dad’s Hummer.
I swear I saw a shooting star litter the night sky above us with it’s blazing trail of hope, but right now there’s nothing for me to wish for because right now I’ve got my Mikey and he’s got me. And that’s all either of us will ever need.
“Not nearly as much as I love you.”
A/N: Thank you very much for reading, and I hope that it’s alright! If anyone’s interested, this is the brooch that Frank got Mikey in this story: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0071E13VS/ref=pd_lpo_k2_dp_sr_1?pf_rd_p=103612307&pf_rd_s=lpo-top-stripe&pf_rd_t=201&pf_rd_i=B001UXRDJC&pf_rd_m=A3P5ROKL5A1OLE&pf_rd_r=05W09FTGMK2VJ2DJG1GS Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)
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