Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Together
Take Me Home
8 reviewsWhen things get bad they could always be worse; you could be alone. PIKEY chapter-fic. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
5Original
Together
One – Take Me Home
Mikey's POV
They told me she would be fine, that she’d be home in time for dinner. They lied.
Although, in a respect, I guess she was. And now I have no home, just an over-stretched carrier back full of clothes that are six sizes too big for me because they’re all hand-me-downs from my big brother. You see, even when Mom was alive we could scarcely afford what most kids take for granted and now, without her here to pay the bills, we’re out on our own. Out on the streets like two worthless orphans.
I wish we were orphans, then at least we wouldn’t have to bear the shame of knowing that our dad doesn’t want us. Never did. Fucked off the second I came out as gay. Because I’m a fucked-up little let-down in need of a good smacking around.
If that were true though, would Gerard be taking me with him to stay with a friend of his? No. He’d have left me to rot in that dilapidated old bungalow. In my home.
At that thought I can’t help but sniffle; it might not have been a lot and what it was wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it was still my home. The place where I grew up with Gerard playing with me and teaching me all of the things that big brothers are supposed to teach the younger one, like how to tie my shoelaces and how to shove a Skittle up my nose without throwing up. Yeah, it wasn’t pretty, but it was the place where all my memories come from. And now we can’t ever even go back because some developers are tearing it down. Leaving me with nothing but the memories that sting to remember because they remind me of all that I can no longer have.
Including the stunning radiance of my mom’s smile whenever I manage to get something right amidst all of my stupid fuck-ups. Including the cave of Gee’s bedroom where he’d often let me snuggle into him whenever things got ugly for me. Which they do quite a lot, really. Asides from my relentless clumsiness and infallible bad luck, there’s the kids at school; the ones who pick on me because they think it’s funny that I’m gay, that my shyness could be arrogance and thus needs to be beaten out of me.
Perhaps it does. Dad seemed to agree with that logic.
Mom and Gerard never did though.
Gerard only ever tries to help me through things, just like he is right now by taking me away with him to find shelter in his old friend’s house. Although, if someone were to ask me what my honest opinion is on this, I think that Gee’s only letting me tag along because he feels like he has to; like he has some sort of obligation to look after me because we share the same eyes. Our mother’s eyes. Everyone says so.
Right now those eyes, deep and profound and concerned, are looking down at me as though waiting for something to happen.
Oh, wait. That might be because the cold of the December New Jersey night air has finally worn me down along with the exhaustion of having not slept at all for the past three nights due to grief-struck nightmares, thus managing to glue my legs to the pavement. I just can’t keep going, not in this icy weather and not with the sudden pounding that’s playing on the inside of my skull.
It’s just too much.
“Mikey?” Although I know Gerard’s voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper it only manages to build on the dull ache inside my head, the one that’s making my eyes feel all droopy and my breathing a struggle. “Mikes, you okay, Bro?”
He sounds genuinely worried, not that I can really blame him. Not that I can really do much of anything right now, with my legs wobbling like wind chimes in a hurricane and everything feeling so… flimsy, for lack of a better word. I’ve been feeling like this for the past few days, putting it down to nothing but a chemical reaction to the grief of losing the guiding light of my mom, but right now I can’t just brush it off as a slight migraine or a meaningless dizzy spell. Right now I feel like shit, like I’ve taken one step too many in the outside tundra of a world that doesn’t and shouldn’t care about a little loser like me.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I haven’t eaten or slept properly for the past fortnight or so. I’ve had the odd apple here and there, but everything I eat just makes me feel sick, like it’s clogging up my throat and making it impossible for me to breathe. It’s been that way for a while now, since way before Mom died, but it’s never affected me like this before. Never has it made me have to cling on to Gerard to make me stop myself from falling flat on my face.
“Mikey!” He gasps like an overprotective parent, hands grabbing my shoulders as I try to take a step forward only to stumble over my own feet. Which seemed to have increased in both size and number since the last step I took. “Jesus, Kiddo, you’re burning up. We gotta get you inside.”
I can’t help but feel a resounding chorus of guilt start tearing it’s way through my lungs at the way his voice sounds like I’ve really, truly made him worry; worrying about me should be the last thing on his mind right now. After all, he’s lost his mom too and we should both be helping each other. Not me just leaching onto him like I always do the split second something turns out to be less than perfect. Like it always does whenever I’m involved. Because I’m a fuck-up.
Just like Dad said.
“Here, let me take that.”
Before I can process Gee’s soft words, the suddenly dead-weighted bag of clothes I had been dragging alongside me on the pavement is pulled from my weak clasp, setting me off balance and flying into my big brother’s open arms like a missing puzzle piece.
“Easy there, Kiddo.” He soothes down to me, scooping me up bridal-style despite the fact that I’m nearly as tall as his eighteen-year-old self. “Want me to carry you?”
I know I could lie to him right now and tell him to put me down, that I’m absolutely fine and that I don’t need to be carried around like a pathetic little baby. I could say anything right now and he’d still insist on carrying me; that’s just the sort of caring person that Gee is, always has been. Even when I’m acting like a little asshole or a whiny stupid bitch, he always makes everything better. That’s just how we work; I bottle stuff up, a few months down the line I have a ridiculous little meltdown and then Gerard picks up the pieces, no matter how much I try to tell him that I’m okay.
Besides, right now I doubt I could walk if I wanted to. I just feel so drained, like everything is slipping away from me…
“Hey, Mikey, eyes open.”
“Don’t wanna, Gee.” I groan up at him, the blaring streetlight behind his head making me wince. “Lemme sleep. Please.”
I hear him sigh heavily against me, arms fastening tighter around my shivering body as sudden pinpricks of heat start prickling all over my skin. But it doesn’t feel comforting like the idea of warmth did mere minutes ago, no; it feels itchy and tight and sickening. And it’s making me feel even sleepier, like I can just go to sleep so that when I wake up everything will be good again, even if I know it won’t.
Because Mom’s dead.
Because Gerard’s being forced to drag our asses over to the other side of town to stay with some friend I’ve never even met before. And I’m absolutely terrified.
Not to mention just about ready to puke my guts up.
“You can sleep soon, Mikes.” He replies, voice obviously trying to be strong to hide the dabs of desperate concern that are staining it. “Just wait ‘til we get to Patrick’s, okay?”
I blink up at him owlishly, tossing the name around in my fever-struck head in a desperate attempt to figure out who the hell my big brother’s talking about. I don’t like it that we’ve had to leave home, but I like it even less that we’re finding refuge with someone I’ve never even met before. What if he doesn’t like me? What if he wants to beat me up like everyone else at school does?
No. Gee would never let him do that. At least, I hope he wouldn’t.
“Who ‘Trick?” The words are too big for my mouth, making them stumble out of my lips like two drunken old men leaving a pub after closing time. “He nice?”
“Yeah, Mikes. Real nice.” I hear him grunt a little in exertion as he starts to walk once more, carrying my like an infant as the moonlight filters down on us. “Don’t you worry about him, he won’t hurt you.”
A few more minutes pass of Gee whispering things down to me in order to keep me awake, what he’s saying I have absolutely no idea because the pounding in my head has become far too loud for me to hear over, so I just try my best to smile up at him in response. It’s the least I owe him after making him carry me God-only-knows how far.
I know he told me not to sleep, that I just have to wait until we get to this “Patrick” guy’s house, but my eyelids just feel too heavy and everything else just aches too much for me to stay awake.
What harm can a quick nap, curled up against the heat of my big brother’s chest, do?
“Mikey, c’mon, stay awake, for me.”
“Tired.” I swallow down some air, the intake of the oxygen seemingly burning my lungs when it sets on me that I have no choice; I have to admit that I’m sick. “Think I’m sick, Gee.”
“I know, Mikes, I know. Just hang on a little longer.”
But even as he says those words, I can’t help but let my eyes slide shut.
A/N: So this is the first part to a new chapter-fic I’m writing in which there shall be Pikey. I’ve got it all planned out so, hopefully, it should be pretty easy to write. Anyway, I really hope that you liked this and please let me know what you think! Rates and reviews make me smile! :)
One – Take Me Home
Mikey's POV
They told me she would be fine, that she’d be home in time for dinner. They lied.
Although, in a respect, I guess she was. And now I have no home, just an over-stretched carrier back full of clothes that are six sizes too big for me because they’re all hand-me-downs from my big brother. You see, even when Mom was alive we could scarcely afford what most kids take for granted and now, without her here to pay the bills, we’re out on our own. Out on the streets like two worthless orphans.
I wish we were orphans, then at least we wouldn’t have to bear the shame of knowing that our dad doesn’t want us. Never did. Fucked off the second I came out as gay. Because I’m a fucked-up little let-down in need of a good smacking around.
If that were true though, would Gerard be taking me with him to stay with a friend of his? No. He’d have left me to rot in that dilapidated old bungalow. In my home.
At that thought I can’t help but sniffle; it might not have been a lot and what it was wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it was still my home. The place where I grew up with Gerard playing with me and teaching me all of the things that big brothers are supposed to teach the younger one, like how to tie my shoelaces and how to shove a Skittle up my nose without throwing up. Yeah, it wasn’t pretty, but it was the place where all my memories come from. And now we can’t ever even go back because some developers are tearing it down. Leaving me with nothing but the memories that sting to remember because they remind me of all that I can no longer have.
Including the stunning radiance of my mom’s smile whenever I manage to get something right amidst all of my stupid fuck-ups. Including the cave of Gee’s bedroom where he’d often let me snuggle into him whenever things got ugly for me. Which they do quite a lot, really. Asides from my relentless clumsiness and infallible bad luck, there’s the kids at school; the ones who pick on me because they think it’s funny that I’m gay, that my shyness could be arrogance and thus needs to be beaten out of me.
Perhaps it does. Dad seemed to agree with that logic.
Mom and Gerard never did though.
Gerard only ever tries to help me through things, just like he is right now by taking me away with him to find shelter in his old friend’s house. Although, if someone were to ask me what my honest opinion is on this, I think that Gee’s only letting me tag along because he feels like he has to; like he has some sort of obligation to look after me because we share the same eyes. Our mother’s eyes. Everyone says so.
Right now those eyes, deep and profound and concerned, are looking down at me as though waiting for something to happen.
Oh, wait. That might be because the cold of the December New Jersey night air has finally worn me down along with the exhaustion of having not slept at all for the past three nights due to grief-struck nightmares, thus managing to glue my legs to the pavement. I just can’t keep going, not in this icy weather and not with the sudden pounding that’s playing on the inside of my skull.
It’s just too much.
“Mikey?” Although I know Gerard’s voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper it only manages to build on the dull ache inside my head, the one that’s making my eyes feel all droopy and my breathing a struggle. “Mikes, you okay, Bro?”
He sounds genuinely worried, not that I can really blame him. Not that I can really do much of anything right now, with my legs wobbling like wind chimes in a hurricane and everything feeling so… flimsy, for lack of a better word. I’ve been feeling like this for the past few days, putting it down to nothing but a chemical reaction to the grief of losing the guiding light of my mom, but right now I can’t just brush it off as a slight migraine or a meaningless dizzy spell. Right now I feel like shit, like I’ve taken one step too many in the outside tundra of a world that doesn’t and shouldn’t care about a little loser like me.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I haven’t eaten or slept properly for the past fortnight or so. I’ve had the odd apple here and there, but everything I eat just makes me feel sick, like it’s clogging up my throat and making it impossible for me to breathe. It’s been that way for a while now, since way before Mom died, but it’s never affected me like this before. Never has it made me have to cling on to Gerard to make me stop myself from falling flat on my face.
“Mikey!” He gasps like an overprotective parent, hands grabbing my shoulders as I try to take a step forward only to stumble over my own feet. Which seemed to have increased in both size and number since the last step I took. “Jesus, Kiddo, you’re burning up. We gotta get you inside.”
I can’t help but feel a resounding chorus of guilt start tearing it’s way through my lungs at the way his voice sounds like I’ve really, truly made him worry; worrying about me should be the last thing on his mind right now. After all, he’s lost his mom too and we should both be helping each other. Not me just leaching onto him like I always do the split second something turns out to be less than perfect. Like it always does whenever I’m involved. Because I’m a fuck-up.
Just like Dad said.
“Here, let me take that.”
Before I can process Gee’s soft words, the suddenly dead-weighted bag of clothes I had been dragging alongside me on the pavement is pulled from my weak clasp, setting me off balance and flying into my big brother’s open arms like a missing puzzle piece.
“Easy there, Kiddo.” He soothes down to me, scooping me up bridal-style despite the fact that I’m nearly as tall as his eighteen-year-old self. “Want me to carry you?”
I know I could lie to him right now and tell him to put me down, that I’m absolutely fine and that I don’t need to be carried around like a pathetic little baby. I could say anything right now and he’d still insist on carrying me; that’s just the sort of caring person that Gee is, always has been. Even when I’m acting like a little asshole or a whiny stupid bitch, he always makes everything better. That’s just how we work; I bottle stuff up, a few months down the line I have a ridiculous little meltdown and then Gerard picks up the pieces, no matter how much I try to tell him that I’m okay.
Besides, right now I doubt I could walk if I wanted to. I just feel so drained, like everything is slipping away from me…
“Hey, Mikey, eyes open.”
“Don’t wanna, Gee.” I groan up at him, the blaring streetlight behind his head making me wince. “Lemme sleep. Please.”
I hear him sigh heavily against me, arms fastening tighter around my shivering body as sudden pinpricks of heat start prickling all over my skin. But it doesn’t feel comforting like the idea of warmth did mere minutes ago, no; it feels itchy and tight and sickening. And it’s making me feel even sleepier, like I can just go to sleep so that when I wake up everything will be good again, even if I know it won’t.
Because Mom’s dead.
Because Gerard’s being forced to drag our asses over to the other side of town to stay with some friend I’ve never even met before. And I’m absolutely terrified.
Not to mention just about ready to puke my guts up.
“You can sleep soon, Mikes.” He replies, voice obviously trying to be strong to hide the dabs of desperate concern that are staining it. “Just wait ‘til we get to Patrick’s, okay?”
I blink up at him owlishly, tossing the name around in my fever-struck head in a desperate attempt to figure out who the hell my big brother’s talking about. I don’t like it that we’ve had to leave home, but I like it even less that we’re finding refuge with someone I’ve never even met before. What if he doesn’t like me? What if he wants to beat me up like everyone else at school does?
No. Gee would never let him do that. At least, I hope he wouldn’t.
“Who ‘Trick?” The words are too big for my mouth, making them stumble out of my lips like two drunken old men leaving a pub after closing time. “He nice?”
“Yeah, Mikes. Real nice.” I hear him grunt a little in exertion as he starts to walk once more, carrying my like an infant as the moonlight filters down on us. “Don’t you worry about him, he won’t hurt you.”
A few more minutes pass of Gee whispering things down to me in order to keep me awake, what he’s saying I have absolutely no idea because the pounding in my head has become far too loud for me to hear over, so I just try my best to smile up at him in response. It’s the least I owe him after making him carry me God-only-knows how far.
I know he told me not to sleep, that I just have to wait until we get to this “Patrick” guy’s house, but my eyelids just feel too heavy and everything else just aches too much for me to stay awake.
What harm can a quick nap, curled up against the heat of my big brother’s chest, do?
“Mikey, c’mon, stay awake, for me.”
“Tired.” I swallow down some air, the intake of the oxygen seemingly burning my lungs when it sets on me that I have no choice; I have to admit that I’m sick. “Think I’m sick, Gee.”
“I know, Mikes, I know. Just hang on a little longer.”
But even as he says those words, I can’t help but let my eyes slide shut.
A/N: So this is the first part to a new chapter-fic I’m writing in which there shall be Pikey. I’ve got it all planned out so, hopefully, it should be pretty easy to write. Anyway, I really hope that you liked this and please let me know what you think! Rates and reviews make me smile! :)
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