Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Right Now
Oh God. What the fuck have those bastards done to him now? What the hell have those demons done to a perfectly sweet little angel?
All Mikey ever does is try to be nice to them, try to make friends in the hopes that exactly what has just happened won’t, but all they ever do is throw it right back in his pretty little face. Just like they have now, leaving him for me to find on the restroom floor after school hours with a bloody nose and broken eyes. The eyes of someone who is trying so hard to be strong, to just not break down in front of his best friend and wannabe protector, that it’s physically agonizing to watch him biting down on his lip as though letting his true feelings show would be sinful.
But then again, I guess I’m not really any better. I’m always the big, strong, tough one. The bear-like boy with blue eyes and a nose ring, constantly cracking his knuckles and with a sharp tongue ready to lash out at anyone who dares to hurt my best friend. Apart from I’m not like that at all, not really, not deep down. As Mikey knows I’m more like a teddy than a grizzly bear and a hell of a lot shyer than I let on. I just try to hide it, it’s the only thing that’s keeping me from getting picked on and stopping those bastards from treating Mikes a hell of a lot worse than they do already.
That’s not the only part of me that’s a charade though, the other part being my best friend.
The skinny little twig of a boy with adorkable glasses and moonlit skin that just seems to radiate benevolence like his nose is currently radiating blood. Why is he a charade? Because I’m not happy with being his best friend, I may have been once, but now I want more. I want to be his boyfriend, be the one person he can always run to and hide in whenever things get too much; just like I want to be able to with him. But, like I said earlier, I’m a shy guy. Not normally around Mikey, but who wouldn’t be shy when confessing your feelings could cost your best friend?
A best friend who is currently hanging onto me as though I can keep him safe from absolutely everything that I can’t. Everything that hurts him the most; the words, the punches, the loneliness.
Sure, he’s got me, but what’s one person in a sea of people? Nothing. He used to have his big brother too, but Gerard’s gone off to Art College over in the next state, leaving Mikey with just one person in the world to be his friend.
“Bob?” A small voice squeaks up at me, making me snap my head down to the small boy hiding himself in my chest.
He looks so lost, so broken and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s like watching a black hole of hatred engulfing a once stunning planet, a planet once full of life and happiness, yet unable to do anything to stop it apart from looking on as something naturally wonderful slowly dies right in front of your eyes.
I realise I’m staring, making me blush and smile softly down at my younger friend. Normally he’d smile straight back, wanting nothing more than to please me because that’s the kind of person he is, but right now he can’t even do that; he just sniffles, blinking back tears as they fight to make it out from the deep pools of his baby-brown irises.
“Yeah, Mikes, I’m listening.” My words dribble off of my tongue like honey, all golden-hearted goodness and full of the soft, sweet tone that only Mikey ever gets to hear.
“Why doesn’t anyone like me?” I wince at how excruciated his voice sounds, like his vocal chords are as lacerated as his soul is slowly becoming. “Why does everyone hate me?”
My arms automatically hold him twenty times tighter, squeezing up into my chest as though just having him close to my heart will make him see that it only beats for him, that he’ll never be as truly alone as he thinks he is because he’ll always have me, even if he doesn’t want me. I stroke an experienced hand up and down his back, soothing it through his stubborn shudders that are being bought on by his refusal to cry. It breaks my heart, it really does, that he won’t cry. It’d be stupid of me to let my heart break every time he’s upset because everyone has to be upset sometimes, but the fact that he won’t cry really does smash my ticker to pieces. Because everyone has the right to cry, everyone has the right to that tiny little release from all of those horrid emotions that fester and eat away at us if we don’t let them out.
Mikey doesn’t though, he just holds it all in because that’s what he thinks he should do. He doesn’t want to give people another thing to tease him about, so he just he refuses to cry. No matter how much I know he needs it.
“I don’t hate you, Mikey.” I whisper quietly, rocking him back and forth as his breathing hitches from where his heart is bursting at the seams with tears. “Gerard doesn’t hate you. Lots of people don’t hate you, Sweetie.”
I almost choke as the last word sneaks past my lips, an affectionate nickname that I’ve always wanted to call Mikey but never had the guts (nor the stupidity) to. Panic runs riot in my veins, half of me terrified that I’ve creeped out my downtrodden best friend, the other half eagerly awaiting his response to the name. And respond he does; he snuggles even further into me, turning his cheek against my ribcage so that he can look at my bright-red face with a small smile starting to ghost across his lips. A smile that fills me with bliss. A smile that makes my heart race and my pulse stop.
A smile that’s quickly washed away as he shudders against me, eyes shutting in pain at his aching body, and hides his face in me once more.
“Sweetie, don’t think about them.” It’s meant to sound strong and forceful, but it comes out more like a beg pleading him to be happy. “Just think about me. About right now.”
“Right now?” He mumbles, fingers holding onto me tight enough to leave bruises. “What’s so great about right now?”
I wince at how cynical he sounds, at how unlike the jolly seven-year-old I rescued from being trapped at the top of a tree all those years ago. He used to be so happy, taking joy and pride in everything he did, but now he’s just the empty shell of a boy, rarely coming out of his inner depression to show the beautiful boy that I’m trying desperately to save from himself.
“You’re with me right now. And I don’t hate you, I like you.” I beam, treasuring the way his eyes light up just a tiny bit at my gentle voice. “Very much.”
A small tear, the first one I’ve seen from him in years, snakes It’s way out of his eye and down his cheek. And I do nothing to stop it, just let it run free in a silent act that tells Mikey he can be himself in front of me; that I want him to do whatever he has to in order to feel better.
“I like you too, Bobert.” He mumbles meekly, a soft rosy tint falling across his face. He carefully edges his face up towards mine, the two of us breathing deeply as our faces seem to magnetize towards each other. But then Mikey abruptly stops, looking away from me with shame splattered across his bloody face. “Too much.”
His temporary confidence from the idea of me liking him evaporates, his eyes closing as a few more crystalline daggers bleed from his eyes. But that’s okay because I know something he doesn’t; I like him too much back. Apart from it isn’t “too much” if we both feel the same, it’s simply “enough”. And knowing that enough is enough, not too much or too little, makes a wind of courage blow through me, pushing me forwards.
Forwards and straight onto the lips of Mikey Way, the kid with eyes too deep to drown in and skin pale too to belong to a ghost.
For a second nothing happens, just lips on lips and breath tangled with breath, but then everything happens all at once. He starts kissing back, lips rubbing against my own as mine nip softly at his, him stopping to lick around my lip ring, the two of us tasting each other like a greedy toddler wolfing down chocolate cake. He tastes of everything that I associate with him; coffee, peanut butter, Mentos extra strong gum. It’s a cocktail that shouldn’t work but, on him, it does purely because it’s the taste of his life, of the boy that I’ve been yearning to taste for far too long. My hands reach up to tangle in his sandy flop of hair, the silky strands wrapping around my fingers as he wraps his arms around my neck.
Nothing, not even the fact that we’re on the floor of the boys’ restroom at Belleville High, can ruin this moment of pure bliss. Of pure love.
Because, right now, I’m kissing Mikey Way. And it couldn’t be any more perfect.
Reluctantly, with a sigh so full of adulation that it makes my insides burst into fireworks, Mikey pulls away with a look of satisfaction on his cute little face. I just pull him into me, letting him rest his bruised head against my chest like it belongs there.
“What about tomorrow, what happens then when they start yelli-“
“Just think about right now, Sweetie. Worry about tomorrow when tomorrow becomes right now. Because, right now, I’m right here with you. Always will be.”
“Promise?” He mewls up at me, eyes wide and expression desperate.
Poor kid.
“Do I need to?” I reply gently, knowing that it means so much more than a feeble promises because promises are made to be broken; this is just a solid statement of fact that can never be denied. “Right now, I love you, Mikey Way.”
“Right now, I love you too, Bobert.”
And that’s why I’ll always live in the right now.
A/N: Thanks for reading, I hope this was alright! I haven’t written a Bikey/Bobkey in ages, so I whipped this one up, sorry if it’s crappy/rushed. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)
Oh God. What the fuck have those bastards done to him now? What the hell have those demons done to a perfectly sweet little angel?
All Mikey ever does is try to be nice to them, try to make friends in the hopes that exactly what has just happened won’t, but all they ever do is throw it right back in his pretty little face. Just like they have now, leaving him for me to find on the restroom floor after school hours with a bloody nose and broken eyes. The eyes of someone who is trying so hard to be strong, to just not break down in front of his best friend and wannabe protector, that it’s physically agonizing to watch him biting down on his lip as though letting his true feelings show would be sinful.
But then again, I guess I’m not really any better. I’m always the big, strong, tough one. The bear-like boy with blue eyes and a nose ring, constantly cracking his knuckles and with a sharp tongue ready to lash out at anyone who dares to hurt my best friend. Apart from I’m not like that at all, not really, not deep down. As Mikey knows I’m more like a teddy than a grizzly bear and a hell of a lot shyer than I let on. I just try to hide it, it’s the only thing that’s keeping me from getting picked on and stopping those bastards from treating Mikes a hell of a lot worse than they do already.
That’s not the only part of me that’s a charade though, the other part being my best friend.
The skinny little twig of a boy with adorkable glasses and moonlit skin that just seems to radiate benevolence like his nose is currently radiating blood. Why is he a charade? Because I’m not happy with being his best friend, I may have been once, but now I want more. I want to be his boyfriend, be the one person he can always run to and hide in whenever things get too much; just like I want to be able to with him. But, like I said earlier, I’m a shy guy. Not normally around Mikey, but who wouldn’t be shy when confessing your feelings could cost your best friend?
A best friend who is currently hanging onto me as though I can keep him safe from absolutely everything that I can’t. Everything that hurts him the most; the words, the punches, the loneliness.
Sure, he’s got me, but what’s one person in a sea of people? Nothing. He used to have his big brother too, but Gerard’s gone off to Art College over in the next state, leaving Mikey with just one person in the world to be his friend.
“Bob?” A small voice squeaks up at me, making me snap my head down to the small boy hiding himself in my chest.
He looks so lost, so broken and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s like watching a black hole of hatred engulfing a once stunning planet, a planet once full of life and happiness, yet unable to do anything to stop it apart from looking on as something naturally wonderful slowly dies right in front of your eyes.
I realise I’m staring, making me blush and smile softly down at my younger friend. Normally he’d smile straight back, wanting nothing more than to please me because that’s the kind of person he is, but right now he can’t even do that; he just sniffles, blinking back tears as they fight to make it out from the deep pools of his baby-brown irises.
“Yeah, Mikes, I’m listening.” My words dribble off of my tongue like honey, all golden-hearted goodness and full of the soft, sweet tone that only Mikey ever gets to hear.
“Why doesn’t anyone like me?” I wince at how excruciated his voice sounds, like his vocal chords are as lacerated as his soul is slowly becoming. “Why does everyone hate me?”
My arms automatically hold him twenty times tighter, squeezing up into my chest as though just having him close to my heart will make him see that it only beats for him, that he’ll never be as truly alone as he thinks he is because he’ll always have me, even if he doesn’t want me. I stroke an experienced hand up and down his back, soothing it through his stubborn shudders that are being bought on by his refusal to cry. It breaks my heart, it really does, that he won’t cry. It’d be stupid of me to let my heart break every time he’s upset because everyone has to be upset sometimes, but the fact that he won’t cry really does smash my ticker to pieces. Because everyone has the right to cry, everyone has the right to that tiny little release from all of those horrid emotions that fester and eat away at us if we don’t let them out.
Mikey doesn’t though, he just holds it all in because that’s what he thinks he should do. He doesn’t want to give people another thing to tease him about, so he just he refuses to cry. No matter how much I know he needs it.
“I don’t hate you, Mikey.” I whisper quietly, rocking him back and forth as his breathing hitches from where his heart is bursting at the seams with tears. “Gerard doesn’t hate you. Lots of people don’t hate you, Sweetie.”
I almost choke as the last word sneaks past my lips, an affectionate nickname that I’ve always wanted to call Mikey but never had the guts (nor the stupidity) to. Panic runs riot in my veins, half of me terrified that I’ve creeped out my downtrodden best friend, the other half eagerly awaiting his response to the name. And respond he does; he snuggles even further into me, turning his cheek against my ribcage so that he can look at my bright-red face with a small smile starting to ghost across his lips. A smile that fills me with bliss. A smile that makes my heart race and my pulse stop.
A smile that’s quickly washed away as he shudders against me, eyes shutting in pain at his aching body, and hides his face in me once more.
“Sweetie, don’t think about them.” It’s meant to sound strong and forceful, but it comes out more like a beg pleading him to be happy. “Just think about me. About right now.”
“Right now?” He mumbles, fingers holding onto me tight enough to leave bruises. “What’s so great about right now?”
I wince at how cynical he sounds, at how unlike the jolly seven-year-old I rescued from being trapped at the top of a tree all those years ago. He used to be so happy, taking joy and pride in everything he did, but now he’s just the empty shell of a boy, rarely coming out of his inner depression to show the beautiful boy that I’m trying desperately to save from himself.
“You’re with me right now. And I don’t hate you, I like you.” I beam, treasuring the way his eyes light up just a tiny bit at my gentle voice. “Very much.”
A small tear, the first one I’ve seen from him in years, snakes It’s way out of his eye and down his cheek. And I do nothing to stop it, just let it run free in a silent act that tells Mikey he can be himself in front of me; that I want him to do whatever he has to in order to feel better.
“I like you too, Bobert.” He mumbles meekly, a soft rosy tint falling across his face. He carefully edges his face up towards mine, the two of us breathing deeply as our faces seem to magnetize towards each other. But then Mikey abruptly stops, looking away from me with shame splattered across his bloody face. “Too much.”
His temporary confidence from the idea of me liking him evaporates, his eyes closing as a few more crystalline daggers bleed from his eyes. But that’s okay because I know something he doesn’t; I like him too much back. Apart from it isn’t “too much” if we both feel the same, it’s simply “enough”. And knowing that enough is enough, not too much or too little, makes a wind of courage blow through me, pushing me forwards.
Forwards and straight onto the lips of Mikey Way, the kid with eyes too deep to drown in and skin pale too to belong to a ghost.
For a second nothing happens, just lips on lips and breath tangled with breath, but then everything happens all at once. He starts kissing back, lips rubbing against my own as mine nip softly at his, him stopping to lick around my lip ring, the two of us tasting each other like a greedy toddler wolfing down chocolate cake. He tastes of everything that I associate with him; coffee, peanut butter, Mentos extra strong gum. It’s a cocktail that shouldn’t work but, on him, it does purely because it’s the taste of his life, of the boy that I’ve been yearning to taste for far too long. My hands reach up to tangle in his sandy flop of hair, the silky strands wrapping around my fingers as he wraps his arms around my neck.
Nothing, not even the fact that we’re on the floor of the boys’ restroom at Belleville High, can ruin this moment of pure bliss. Of pure love.
Because, right now, I’m kissing Mikey Way. And it couldn’t be any more perfect.
Reluctantly, with a sigh so full of adulation that it makes my insides burst into fireworks, Mikey pulls away with a look of satisfaction on his cute little face. I just pull him into me, letting him rest his bruised head against my chest like it belongs there.
“What about tomorrow, what happens then when they start yelli-“
“Just think about right now, Sweetie. Worry about tomorrow when tomorrow becomes right now. Because, right now, I’m right here with you. Always will be.”
“Promise?” He mewls up at me, eyes wide and expression desperate.
Poor kid.
“Do I need to?” I reply gently, knowing that it means so much more than a feeble promises because promises are made to be broken; this is just a solid statement of fact that can never be denied. “Right now, I love you, Mikey Way.”
“Right now, I love you too, Bobert.”
And that’s why I’ll always live in the right now.
A/N: Thanks for reading, I hope this was alright! I haven’t written a Bikey/Bobkey in ages, so I whipped this one up, sorry if it’s crappy/rushed. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)
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