FicWad

Moth and Flame




Sharing a tour bus with the guy you’ve had a crush on for the past two years sounds pretty sweet, right? Especially when the bunks are laid out so that yours is opposite his, so that you can watch him sleep every night and be the first port of call whenever a thunderstorm is raging outside. Especially when your crush is the most adorable little bassist to ever grace your ears with his impeccable strumming, all wide brown eyes and soft, sandy hair.

Perfect, right?

No.

It’s about as far from perfect as Mikey Way is from imperfection. Because everyone knows Mikey’s big brother, Gerard, is extremely protective over the kid. Everyone knows what happened to the last guy who kissed Mikey when Gerard saw how he had his baby brother pinned roughly against a wall in an almost threatening manner. The poor guy, who’d been drunk at the time, too drunk to notice Mikey’s frightened whimpers of non-consent and Gerard’s angry footsteps, ended up in hospital for a week.

That sort of thing, defending his little brother from creeps at record label parties, is something that I fully support. Encourage and help with, even. But Gee’s like it with every guy who looks at his eighteen-year-old brother for longer than twenty seconds at a time. He kind of runs on the principle that Mikey needs protecting (which he does) and that the best way to protect him is by not giving anyone a chance at all because that chance could work out terribly just as easily as it could work out well.

I guess I’ll just have to be extra careful not to get caught staring.

Yeah.


********************************


“Morning, Frankie.”

I look up from my crossword book to see Ray Toro, genius and all round nice guy of the group, stumbling sleepily out of the bunk area towards the couch where he slumps down next to me, collecting a juicy-looking apple on his way through the small kitchenette area. I’ve been sat here all night, unable to stand looking at Mikes smile in his sleep like I would be if I were in his bunk with him, just holding him close like I’ve wanted to ever since I met him.

“Good morning, Toro.” I smile at him as I throw my book on the floor, deciding that there are more important things in life than figuring out a ten-letter word that means unconditional or decisive. “Sleep well?”

He bites into the apple and shrugs, making a small spit of exhaustion-fuelled envy flare up within me; this is our third night on tour and so far I’ve had about three hours of sleep. Why? Every time I fall asleep I end up moaning Mikey’s name, something that could easily cost me a black eye if Gerard ever heard.

Ray narrows his eyes at me, making me squirm awkwardly and shiver inwardly at the way he seems to be analysing every part of my being. Kind of like he’s trying to decide something.

“You fancy Mikey.”

I choke on the stagnant air that dwells on the bus, hands flailing wildly to the side as though denying his accusation that is nothing but an understatement of what I feel for the younger Way brother. And that’s exactly the problem; he’s the younger brother. To both Gerard and Ray, two people who’d quite happily kill me if I were to ever break that kid’s heart. Not that I ever would. Not that I can risk Ray knowing my true feelings.

I can hide this, I’m cool.

“What? Me? Fancy Mikes? Nah, no way. Never.”

He gives me one last look up and down, eyes dwelling on the bright blush scorching my cheeks, before letting out a knowing chuckle.

“You fancy Mikey.”


********************************


This is harder than I thought, the whole being-in-love-with-the-bassist thing. A hell of a lot harder, actually. To the point where I have to basically blank Mikes completely unless I absolutely have to talk to him. Something that breaks my heart because I only ever feel truly content when I’m making him smile and giggle and blush like only I know how. But it’s for the good of the band; in-band relationships never work, only cause drama and tension and everything else that we don’t need right now.

It’s for the good of the band, it has to be. It’s the only thing holding me back from scooping Mikey up and kissing him until my lips bleed or until the sun goes black, whatever happens last.

I think Ray might have said something though, Gee’s been looking at me funny for the past week and Mikey’s starting to steer clear of me just as much I am him. And it really fucking hurts. I thought he enjoyed spending time with me, like all of those times we had tickle-wars on his living room carpet before tour started. Apparently not.

Or perhaps he’s got the message that I can’t be around him right now. Yeah, that must be it!

It has to stay that way though. I mean, Ray already knows and I think Gerard’s getting suspicious. Our drummer, Matt, seems as clueless as ever though.

Let’s keep it that way.


********************************


“Wow, Iero.”

“Shut up, Matt.” I snap back, picking up my book of half-finished crosswords and flicking angrily through the pages until I find one on music. “Seriously, not a word.”

The tension in the living area has been tangible for the past half an hour in which Gerard has yelled at me about I-don’t-know-what, stormed off with Ray following him in hopes of stopping him from getting too wasted and Mikey bursting into tears before running to his bunk. I would have followed him, sat with him, stroked his downy hair behind his ears and whispered soothing placations to him until he told me what’s wrong. Would have but I didn’t. Because Gee’s pissed with me enough without Matt spotting my crush on Mikey and reporting back to the frontman.

“What have you done to get Way One pissed off then?” He carries on, pouring some boiled water into a coffee-dusted mug and wincing at the sound of one of Mikey’s more violent sobs. “Because I’m guessing that it probably wasn’t about your allergy to using coasters.”

I flinch at the memory of Gerard just exploding in my face like some sort of unexploded mine, blaming it on the fact that I don’t do my fair share of cleaning around the tour bus for someone who makes more than half of the mess.

Of course I know what it was really about; he’s twigged that I’ve got a thing for Mikey, or Ray’s told him. Or maybe my untidiness really does piss him off enough to make him storm out, even ignoring his little brother’s innocent whimpers that I still have yet to get to the root of.

“Oh, I think I know what did it, Frank!” He exclaims happily, looking into the bunk area at the noise of Mikey’s soft snores finally announcing an end to his sob-fest.

I can’t help but smile at the thought of Mikes resting peacefully in his bunk, thumb tucked loosely into his feathery lips and knees tucked into his chest like his own personal comfort object. All cute and sweet and innocent and everything else that means Gee would most likely rip my balls off should he find out that I want to be Mikey’s personal comfort object.

“I bet it’s because you fancy Way Two!”

“I don’t fucking fancy Mikey fucking Way!”

“You love him, Iero. Admit it.” He smirks at me, looking very much like the retarded school kid who finally managed to get an algebraic equation correct before everyone else. “Frank and Mikey sitting in a bunk, F-U-C-K-I-N-“

Clunk!

He never gets to finish because I’ve thrown a cushion at him, forcing his boiling hot coffee from his hands and straight down his Taking Back Sunday t-shirt. Serves the cocky bastard right.

“Yep, you love him.”


********************************


I’m really worried about Mikey.

Scratch that.

I’m really worried about both Way brothers. Gerard because he looks like he’s about to snap at any moment like he did a few days back when Matt discovered my secret, Mikey because he looks so sullen all of the time now. It’s been his turn at not sleeping, as I can tell from the deep purple hollows surrounding his eyes, and he’s barely eaten anything for the past few days.

I’ve noticed Gerard giving him little pep talks on the side every now and then, even Matt’s starting to notice how much Mikey’s falling apart, but nothing’s working. He’s breaking down and it’s breaking my heart. Or rather, I’m pretty sure it’s breaking my heart. I can’t really tell, what with it being encased in Mikey’s eyes all the time.

Ray told me to talk to Mikes, that I’m the kid’s best friend and that he needs me to pull myself together and pull him out of this slumping depression. But I can’t. Because I’ll end up doing something stupid like telling him that I love him or kissing him or nuzzling him. And then where would I be?

Up shit creek without a paddle, that’s where.


********************************


“Do you know what, Frank?” I snap my head up at Gerard’s fierce bark, his voice commanding my attention as always. “I’ve had e-fucking-nough of this bullshit.”

I try to look back at my trusty crossword book, but the glowing glare in his eyes puts that idea straight to the back of my mind. An angry Gerard is a dangerous thing, an angry and annoyed Gerard is damn near deadly.

“Why are you ignoring Mikey?”

I gawp at him in shock. A somewhat pleasant shock that he wants me to spend more time with his baby brother, but shock all the same. Shock that quickly mutates into guilt at the realisation hits me of what I have actually been doing; ignoring my old best friend. We used to tell each other everything, Mikey and me, for a time I was even closer to him than Gee is. But now he’s fading away and I don’t even know why.

Apparently Gerard does, though.

“What has that poor kid ever done to you? He thinks that he’s done something wrong, that you hate him and it’s tearing him apart!” He pauses to huffily inhale his cigarette, blowing out the smoke into the crisp night air of whatever town we’ve stopped in this time. They all meld into one after a while. “Honestly, he had to fall in love with you, didn’t he? Fucking idiot. And now you’re acting like you don’t even wanna know him!”

Through all of the grumbling and shouting and angry hand movements to animate his frustrated shot of rage, there’s only one thing that really matters to me out of all of that. One thing that makes my heart soar with joy and then fall to hell at the thought of how I’ve been treating the poor little bassist.

My poor little bassist.

“He what?”

My hopeless stutter is soon erased from the atmosphere with Gerard’s millionth frustrated sigh this evening, doubling my guilt at how tough I’ve been on not only Mikey, but on Gee too.

“He’s in fucking love with you!” He tosses his cigarette to the ground and quickly stamps out it’s dwindling ember with enough force to make me flinch through my paralysing surprise. “And I told him to go for it, that you’re a nice a guy and you’ll take good care of him. Ha fucking ha.”

“I… I…” I gasp, searching desperately for the right words to fix the situation that I’ve turned into a train wreck. “Gerard, I’m in love with your little brother.”

He blinks at me, a small smile starting to ghost across his pale features.

“I’m in love with Mikey fucking Way.”

“Well, thank fuck for that. Or I’d have to break your legs.”


********************************


The rest of the evening passed in a blur, Gerard joking around like he should have been throughout this whole ordeal, Ray strumming restlessly on his guitar before heading to bed early and Matt just listening contently to his iPod, volume up loud enough for me to be able to hear it from the other side of the bus.

Then there was Mikey. All skin, barely wide enough for there to be any bone and certainly not enough energy or motivation for him to join in with me and his big brother, no matter how much we tried to include him. Eventually the poor kid fell asleep on the bus couch, curled right up into Gee like a toddler hiding from the threat of a nightmare in the soft fabric of the stronger and older sibling.

Matt left soon after Mikey went to sleep, yawning and stumbling to the bunks like a zombie.

And then, in a bout of genius that could only ever come from the mind of Gerard Way, Gee shifted Mikes to be nestled into my lap as opposed to his, then sauntered off to bed with a satisfied smirk on his face. Leaving me with a lapful of angel.

An angel with wings that I broke myself.


********************************


“Hey, Mikey, it’s alright. I’m here, I gotcha.” I whisper down at the shaking boy in my lap, my hands rubbing over him with the speed of a racing car and with the gentleness of a falling feather.

A shaking boy who’s sobbing and shuddering and clinging onto me as though he’ll get sucked into hell if he ever lets go. Not that I’d let him, not whilst he’s like this. Not whilst he’s having a nightmare that nobody as innocent and pure as him should ever have.

Maybe I should get Gerard?

No. This is my chance, I can’t blow it.

“Mikes, wake up. It’s only a dream, Sweetie, it’s not real.” My words sprinkle down on him like stars are sprinkling the outside sky; making his eyes slowly flicker open and his arms fasten even tighter around my waist. “Easy there, Mikes. You alright?”

He jumps a little at hearing my voice where he obviously expected to hear the soothing tones of his big brother, but does something that surprises me even more than Gerard’s cigarette-break outburst. He snuggles even further into the protection of my chest, the feeling of his tears seeping through the fabric making me hold him like I’ve been dying to for the entirety of this torturous tour.

Speaking of this tour, now’s a good a time as any for me to apologize for my inexcusable behaviour.

“Um, Mikes, I…” I take in a deep breathe to collect my thoughts and latch onto the bright brown irises that are looking expectantly up at me. “Look, I know I’ve been a dick to you this tour and I get it if you hate me, but I-“

“I couldn’t ever hate you, Frankie.” He thinks for a moment, the two of us just enjoying looking at one another as opposed to me going out of my way to evade his line of sight. “You’re my best friend, right?”

There’s a hint of desperation in his voice that, as clichéd as it may sound, makes my heart break. Break and then race because this really is my chance. A chance that I’m going to take because I’m armed with the knowledge that Gerard won’t kill me for kissing his brother and with the certainty that Mikes feels the same way. Gee said so.

I pull his head up with my hand and lower my own so that we can feel one another’s hot breath drifting dreamily onto our faces.

“No, I think you mean boyfriend.”

The immediate glow in his eyes and sun-belittling beam makes the past few weeks all worth it because his happiness and adulation are all that I really need to find my own joy. Which I am most definitely finding right now; it’s lying in my arms, after all.

“I love you, Frankie.”


“I love you too, Mikey fucking Way.”







A/N: So this is my attempt at doing something a little less depressing than what I normally write, sorry if it was an epic failure. Please let me know what you think! :)