Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Hold My Hand
3 reviewsMikey's hurt. Frank just wants to heal him. Short FRIKEY one-shot. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
1Moving
Hold My Hand
“Please, Frankie, don’t make me do it. Please.”
My heart shatters like a glass ball in a volcano at the sound of my poor little boyfriend’s desperate mewl of complete and utter fear that I can do nothing to soothe away. I have to do this, I have to make him do the one thing he’s been avoiding like the plague for the past two weeks because, if I don’t make him do it now then I know I never will. Besides, this is for his own precious good, not to mention his big brother’s.
You see, Mikey was attacked little over two weeks ago. Would have gotten killed if I hadn’t have found him in time, in the iron grip of some pathetic lowlife and struggling against the wall of some dingy alleyway in the dodgy part of Belleville. Well, the dodgier part, anyway. The bastard had a knife, a deadly diamond encased in an ivory handle, and it’s that very knife that’s the cause of my problem today; the knife sliced violently down my boyfriend’s pale cheek, tearing open the skin and leaving a nasty looking red lightning-bolt for the rest of the world to see just how terrified this attack has left Mikey. The poor kid has been driving his big brother out of his mind with worry, what with Gerard being the only thing he has left by the way of family after a horrendous car crash last summer, and he’s finally enlisted me to help get Mikes outside and back into the real world.
Bringing me to where I am right now, standing in the doorway of the Way family home with one arm tightly around the shaking fifteen-year-old and the other outstretched to hold the door open for Mikey. He hasn’t left the house in two weeks, not that I can really blame my porcelain-skinned angel for being frightened like a baby bunny being caught in the burning light of a hunter’s headlights, but that ends today. I have to get him back outside and back to normal; for Gerard’s sanity, for my own selfish reasons and, above all else, for my Mikey.
“It’ll be alright, Mikes. It’s just a little stroll up to the park and back, that’s all, just to show me you can do it.” I smile sympathetically at him, my thumb rubbing a gentle circle on his bruised shoulder blade in a pitiful attempt at making him feel better like the simple gesture would have just two weeks ago.
But now he’s broken, both physically and mentally. More mentally than physically and it’s killing him inside, making him revert back to the quiet little mouse that I found bleeding in the toilets of Belleville High just under a year ago but much, much worse. Because now there’s all of the nightmares that nobody can wake him up from and all of the times he works himself into a panic at the memories of what happened to him, only to let out a scream whenever Gerard or I force him into a firm hug.
Poor baby.
“I can’t do it though, Frankie! I can’t, I just… Please.” He sobs at me in a voice that makes white noise sound beautiful because any noise is better than hearing such pure, unbridled suffering and terror coming from such innocent lips.
Lips that are soft and silky and gentle and mine.
Which is exactly why I have to make him do this; if I don’t then I know he’ll only get worse, only get trapped even further into his head and into what that bastard did to him in the godforsaken alleyway. I know that I might seem cold, ignoring the heartfelt pleas of the broken, but his whimpers are hurting me a hell of a lot more than I’m letting on. No, not hurting me, dragging me through some kind of agonizing hell because I know that there is absolutely nothing I can do to make it all better for the boy that I’ve always sworn to protect and love until the world implodes upon itself.
Apart from I didn’t protect him, not nearly as well as I should have done, and now I’m paying the price of watching a star fall to the ground as nothing but a lump of dull lead.
“Yes, Mikey, yes you can. I know you can.” I whisper to him, close enough for my lips to nip softly at his ear and loosen some of the tension in his rigid shoulders. “I believe in you.”
My honest sincerity must get through to him because he buries his delicate little head into my warm, accepting shoulder where he clings onto me like a lifeline, like I’m the only thing separating his fragile form from Hell. I feel his fingers dig urgently into my back with the same kind of wild panic that his breathing is starting to indicate, and it’s the least I can do not to hug him tight enough for all his bones to break in my protective arms. Instead I just stroke his back, savouring the way I can feel his tears starting to slowly dry against my chest, and press softly forceful kisses to his forehead.
After a few minutes of us being like this, me the treasure chest and him the delicate jewels, I hold him an arm’s distance away from me, taking in his tear-reddened eyes with a deadweight heart. He should never feel this alone, this without hope.
“What is it you’re scared of, Honey?” I ask with all the gentleness of a dog nuzzling her new-born puppy.
“W-what if he sees me? What if people want to hurt me?” He stutters fearfully, eyes welling up once more as he falls forward into his previous position nestled into my side, making my faith in the good of the world evaporate completely. “What if people stare at my face? I’m a freak. I’m disgusting. I’m ugly.”
My arms tighten even harder around my poor little baby, my diamond in the rough, at his shudder of disgust at his own appearance. An appearance that matches his mind and insides; beautiful. Big, brown eyes that are constantly darting around like a minnow; a flop of sandy hair that feels like the purest silk whenever I have the pleasure of running my hands through it; long legs that remind me of ivy with the way that they wrap around the trunk of my body whenever we share a bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world; and lips that I won’t even attempt to describe because the word perfection doesn’t even come close. The freshly scabbed scar may obstruct his milky features like oil on a beach, but it certainly doesn’t make him any less beautiful. Nothing could ever make Mikey Way any less beautiful. Not unless he changed his personality on the inside to that of a monster as opposed to his sweet, introverted self.
“Oh, Mikey. You’re not ugly. I know you won’t believe me, but you’re the most beautiful person I know. And that has nothing to do with your adorable little face; it’s all about who you are on the inside.” I grin down at him when he looks up at me, eyes searching for any sign of dishonesty or flawed logic. I give him none. Instead, I deliver a fleeting peck to the tip of his iceberg nose, making his cheeks burn like a sunset sky. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you either. They won’t want to and I won’t let them. You’re safe. Know why?”
I have to smirk a little at the way he shakes his head, no matter how heart-breaking it may be, with all the bewilderment of a toddler being a told that cute little pigs go into their beloved ham sandwiches. My hand trails down his arm, fingers fluttering against his skin like butterfly wings, and comes to a stop at his trembling paw, nails a complete mess from being chewed and picked at for the past few weeks in anxiety. I gently grip his hand in my own, relishing the way he squeezes tightly on it as though he can’t quite believe that I’m still here with him after all he’s been through.
“Because I’m holding your hand, I’ll keep you safe.”
He blinks innocently up at me, his slender digits curling around my own with such strength that it makes my eyes widen a little in surprise at how much fear and love can empower someone.
“Promise?”
“Forever and always, Mikes. I’m never letting go.”
A/N: Just a little idea I had tumble-weeding around in my mind, hope you liked it! :)
“Please, Frankie, don’t make me do it. Please.”
My heart shatters like a glass ball in a volcano at the sound of my poor little boyfriend’s desperate mewl of complete and utter fear that I can do nothing to soothe away. I have to do this, I have to make him do the one thing he’s been avoiding like the plague for the past two weeks because, if I don’t make him do it now then I know I never will. Besides, this is for his own precious good, not to mention his big brother’s.
You see, Mikey was attacked little over two weeks ago. Would have gotten killed if I hadn’t have found him in time, in the iron grip of some pathetic lowlife and struggling against the wall of some dingy alleyway in the dodgy part of Belleville. Well, the dodgier part, anyway. The bastard had a knife, a deadly diamond encased in an ivory handle, and it’s that very knife that’s the cause of my problem today; the knife sliced violently down my boyfriend’s pale cheek, tearing open the skin and leaving a nasty looking red lightning-bolt for the rest of the world to see just how terrified this attack has left Mikey. The poor kid has been driving his big brother out of his mind with worry, what with Gerard being the only thing he has left by the way of family after a horrendous car crash last summer, and he’s finally enlisted me to help get Mikes outside and back into the real world.
Bringing me to where I am right now, standing in the doorway of the Way family home with one arm tightly around the shaking fifteen-year-old and the other outstretched to hold the door open for Mikey. He hasn’t left the house in two weeks, not that I can really blame my porcelain-skinned angel for being frightened like a baby bunny being caught in the burning light of a hunter’s headlights, but that ends today. I have to get him back outside and back to normal; for Gerard’s sanity, for my own selfish reasons and, above all else, for my Mikey.
“It’ll be alright, Mikes. It’s just a little stroll up to the park and back, that’s all, just to show me you can do it.” I smile sympathetically at him, my thumb rubbing a gentle circle on his bruised shoulder blade in a pitiful attempt at making him feel better like the simple gesture would have just two weeks ago.
But now he’s broken, both physically and mentally. More mentally than physically and it’s killing him inside, making him revert back to the quiet little mouse that I found bleeding in the toilets of Belleville High just under a year ago but much, much worse. Because now there’s all of the nightmares that nobody can wake him up from and all of the times he works himself into a panic at the memories of what happened to him, only to let out a scream whenever Gerard or I force him into a firm hug.
Poor baby.
“I can’t do it though, Frankie! I can’t, I just… Please.” He sobs at me in a voice that makes white noise sound beautiful because any noise is better than hearing such pure, unbridled suffering and terror coming from such innocent lips.
Lips that are soft and silky and gentle and mine.
Which is exactly why I have to make him do this; if I don’t then I know he’ll only get worse, only get trapped even further into his head and into what that bastard did to him in the godforsaken alleyway. I know that I might seem cold, ignoring the heartfelt pleas of the broken, but his whimpers are hurting me a hell of a lot more than I’m letting on. No, not hurting me, dragging me through some kind of agonizing hell because I know that there is absolutely nothing I can do to make it all better for the boy that I’ve always sworn to protect and love until the world implodes upon itself.
Apart from I didn’t protect him, not nearly as well as I should have done, and now I’m paying the price of watching a star fall to the ground as nothing but a lump of dull lead.
“Yes, Mikey, yes you can. I know you can.” I whisper to him, close enough for my lips to nip softly at his ear and loosen some of the tension in his rigid shoulders. “I believe in you.”
My honest sincerity must get through to him because he buries his delicate little head into my warm, accepting shoulder where he clings onto me like a lifeline, like I’m the only thing separating his fragile form from Hell. I feel his fingers dig urgently into my back with the same kind of wild panic that his breathing is starting to indicate, and it’s the least I can do not to hug him tight enough for all his bones to break in my protective arms. Instead I just stroke his back, savouring the way I can feel his tears starting to slowly dry against my chest, and press softly forceful kisses to his forehead.
After a few minutes of us being like this, me the treasure chest and him the delicate jewels, I hold him an arm’s distance away from me, taking in his tear-reddened eyes with a deadweight heart. He should never feel this alone, this without hope.
“What is it you’re scared of, Honey?” I ask with all the gentleness of a dog nuzzling her new-born puppy.
“W-what if he sees me? What if people want to hurt me?” He stutters fearfully, eyes welling up once more as he falls forward into his previous position nestled into my side, making my faith in the good of the world evaporate completely. “What if people stare at my face? I’m a freak. I’m disgusting. I’m ugly.”
My arms tighten even harder around my poor little baby, my diamond in the rough, at his shudder of disgust at his own appearance. An appearance that matches his mind and insides; beautiful. Big, brown eyes that are constantly darting around like a minnow; a flop of sandy hair that feels like the purest silk whenever I have the pleasure of running my hands through it; long legs that remind me of ivy with the way that they wrap around the trunk of my body whenever we share a bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world; and lips that I won’t even attempt to describe because the word perfection doesn’t even come close. The freshly scabbed scar may obstruct his milky features like oil on a beach, but it certainly doesn’t make him any less beautiful. Nothing could ever make Mikey Way any less beautiful. Not unless he changed his personality on the inside to that of a monster as opposed to his sweet, introverted self.
“Oh, Mikey. You’re not ugly. I know you won’t believe me, but you’re the most beautiful person I know. And that has nothing to do with your adorable little face; it’s all about who you are on the inside.” I grin down at him when he looks up at me, eyes searching for any sign of dishonesty or flawed logic. I give him none. Instead, I deliver a fleeting peck to the tip of his iceberg nose, making his cheeks burn like a sunset sky. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you either. They won’t want to and I won’t let them. You’re safe. Know why?”
I have to smirk a little at the way he shakes his head, no matter how heart-breaking it may be, with all the bewilderment of a toddler being a told that cute little pigs go into their beloved ham sandwiches. My hand trails down his arm, fingers fluttering against his skin like butterfly wings, and comes to a stop at his trembling paw, nails a complete mess from being chewed and picked at for the past few weeks in anxiety. I gently grip his hand in my own, relishing the way he squeezes tightly on it as though he can’t quite believe that I’m still here with him after all he’s been through.
“Because I’m holding your hand, I’ll keep you safe.”
He blinks innocently up at me, his slender digits curling around my own with such strength that it makes my eyes widen a little in surprise at how much fear and love can empower someone.
“Promise?”
“Forever and always, Mikes. I’m never letting go.”
A/N: Just a little idea I had tumble-weeding around in my mind, hope you liked it! :)
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