FicWad

Chapter Three – Bright Eyes

Pete’s POV




I like him; he’s cute.

Sure, he might be out of it and clearly more ill than such a sweet little thing deserves to be but I can still tell that he’s cute. What with his skin that reminds me of the milk my preschool teacher used to give me at break time and with the way his hair flops over his face like water lapping onto a beach, not to mention his lips; a gentle pink hue, kinda like candyfloss, with just the right amount of cracks on them to make him look like he needs someone to protect him.

That’s where Gerard comes in. With his short crop of billowing black hair and vampiric skin. I don’t think he likes me very much, but that could just be from where he’s worried about his brother. ‘Trick did say that they mean the world to one another. Actually, he said that he’d never met Mikey before but that he might as well have for the amount he knew about him from speaking to Gerard and that, if Gerard’s words were anything to go by, anyone who messes with the younger, cuter, more innocent Way brother must have a death wish.

Good thing I don’t plan on messing with the kid then, just snuggling him like he looks like he needs to be snuggled. Snuggles make everyone feel better, especially if he’s just lost his mom like ‘Trick told me he has. Moms are good for snuggling. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to know that you’ll never get snuggled again. Poor kid.

I know that I might come across as someone with less than one brain cell tumble-weeding around in my head, but I’m really not as thick as a lot of idiots have taken me to be before, much to their own disadvantage. Well, I’m smart enough to tell that Mikey needs a friend anyway. It might be faded, but I can still see a bruise riding high on his right cheek, most likely from bullies, and I did pick up on the way that Gerard told me not to stare; I can completely believe that Mikey doesn’t like being looked at. ‘Trick used to be the same when I first met him, because of bullies. So, if I were to hazard a guess, I would say that Mikey Way gets bullied. And that he needs a friend who’ll snuggle him whenever he gets sad. Maybe something more than a friend.

You see, I strongly believe in the concept of all love being true and in the whimsical idea of love at first sight. Something that hit me like a ton of daggers the second I saw Sleeping Beauty lying in my housemate’s bed, just looking so sweet and defenceless against my starving eyes. Then again, though, I thought that it was true love and love at first sight with my last thirty-three boyfriends; the majority of which ended up being one-night-stands. Mikey though, no boy has ever hit me in the heart like Mikey has. Because Mikey isn’t smirking at me from across some seedy bar and nor is he begging me to fuck him like he’s some sort of sex-starved animal. No, he’s just lying there looking like cuteness put into human format and seeming to be in desperate need of a good snuggling.

I’m the only one in the room right now, other than Mikey but I don’t think he really counts because he’s unconscious, because Patrick’s showing Gerard around the house and most likely giving him lectures about what bin to use for what type of garbage or something else that’s equally as dull. Don’t get me wrong, ‘Trick’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, but he can seriously talk the hind legs off a donkey when he really gets going. Not that I mind; it just means that I get to spend longer staring at Mikey.

Actually, I think that’s why ‘Trick insisted on giving Gerard the grand tour of paradise. At least, if the knowing smirk and accompanying wink he threw me as he guided Gerard out of the bedroom are anything to go by I’d say that that is the case. Good old ‘Trick.

My eyes catch on the sleeping boy’s collarbone, protruding through the bride-like veil of his skin far too sharply for it to be healthy, and upon the harsh black coffee-stain of a bruise that’s littering it.

Yep, he definitely gets bullied.

Something that makes me furious because, let’s face it, who wants to see such a cute kid getting hurt for no reason other than some people are just selfish bastards in need of a good beating themselves? I certainly don’t. And I doubt Gerard does either; the kid’s his little brother after all. That’s one thing I’ll give the gothic vampire-wannabe, he definitely cares about his brother, no doubt about that.

I care about him too. A lot. Even if I haven’t spoken to him yet. I just know that we’re going to get along, we have to; I want to help him out with the bullies and see who he is underneath all of the layers of cuteness. I bet he’s shy; he just looks like the kind of person in need of a good confidence boost, the sort that I can easily give him once I gain his trust. Which I will. Because I really do care, just like ‘Trick does, about the kid.

He’s too cute for me not to.

An agonized, aching groan shatters my wall of thoughts, mostly about the source of the groan, and I immediately look down at the boy to see that his face is contorted in pain, thus making my heart contort in sympathy at the thought of something so innocent being so hurt.

“You okay, Sweetness?”

I guess to some people my sudden nickname that comes pouring from lips like warm honey on a cold night might seem a little weird or creepy considering I’ve only know the boy for little over an hour and even then I don’t really know him because he’s been unconscious the entire time. But it’s not weird or creepy, honest it isn’t. It’s just natural; a simple mishmash of syllables that fit the whimpering boy perfectly. Although I doubt that Gerard would see it like that, like the simple, honest and well-intended pet name that it is.

His fingers flex out to the side, grabbing desperately like a fish thrashing in a net for the presence of the warm hand of his big brother that was there minutes ago. His fingers, long lanky branches of birch, stop squirming after a few seconds when he realises that there’s nothing there other than a small mountain of blankets.

“Gee?” A soft voice mewls out into the raspy-breath-filled silence, making my heart swell even more than it did when I first saw him because he just sounds so damn adorable; like a quiet little kitten calling for it’s mother. “Gerard?”

My eyes brush back from his slender hand to his face to see that his eyelids are still clasped shut, his energy clearly not extending to opening up the windows into everything that I want to see. Just the mere fact that he sounds so lost, maybe even a little frightened, makes a twinge of sympathy tickle my soul; he’s just a kid, a kid with nothing in the world other than his big brother who is currently god-knows-where as far as Mikey is concerned.

So I crawl up the marshmallow-like bed, reach out my hand and gently take his in it, stroking his fingers with my thumb when he grips onto it as though It’s the one thing separating him from a fate worse than hell. His palms are all sweaty from the sweltering fever that’s radiating from him like sunlight, but I honestly couldn’t care any less. If Mikey Way needs someone’s hand to hold, then who am I to deny him that small comfort? It’d be like refusing to give a puppy a bone. Impossible.

“Hey there, Sweetness.” I coo down to him, smiling brightly when a small blush waltzes onto his pretty little cheeks. “Gerard will be back soon.”

At that his face drops, a whimper crawling out of his lips and worming it’s way into my heart with it’s hopelessness; I may be enjoying having his company all to myself right now, but if he wants his big brother then I’d much rather Gerard was in my position. After all, if this is love at first sight, I only want the kid to be happy. Scratch that; I want to make the kid be happy all by myself. Just to prove that I can because that’s what I want to do the most in the whole wide world right now; I want to make him smile and see the beautiful boy behind the sweat and the shyness.

The beautiful boy that will soon be mine if I have anything to do with it.

Okay. That sounded weird, and more than a little stalkerish. But it couldn’t be any truer if it were being testified in a court of law. I, Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz, am in love with Mikey Way. Or at least, the idea of what Mikey Way could very well be under the layers of cuteness that I want to peel away until I find the bright, bubbly boy that I’m sure he could well be if it weren’t for the fact that he’s blatantly one of Life’s innocent victims. I’m going to gain his trust, become his friend, show him that he deserves to be loved and then I, if he lets me, will fix him.

“You ‘Trick?” He mumbles wearily, fingers relaxing against my palm as though playing dead.

“Nah. I’m his housemate, Pete.” At my words he starts blinking his eyes slowly open, biting down hard on his lip to give him the strength that his sickness has robbed from him. “Pete Wentz.”

He finally manages to properly force his eyes apart, making my breathing stop and my heart work overtime at the sight of such perfect jewels of wrecked childhood innocence. The first thing that strikes me is how similar they are to Gerard’s own portals of vision, the same sort of forest brown but a shade or two lighter, apart Mikey’s are wider. Kind of like a baby bunny; so full of fright and naivety, just waiting to be hurt or told what to do because that’s what he’s used to receiving from other people. There’s a kind of dull shine to his eyes, which are now gulping in my warm smile as though he half expects it to turn into a scowl at any given second, a shine that tells me he’s struggling to hold back the tears that my thumb would willingly wipe from his cheeks. Then there are his pupils, perfect obsidian gems shimmering in twin seas of hot chocolate, all of which is framed by the thickest, lushest eyelashes I’ve ever seen surrounding a guy’s eyes.

He truly is beautiful. But in a melancholy sort of way. Like a blood diamond; stunning to look at, but soul-shattering when you think of the story behind it.

He blinks wildly a few times, eyebrows slightly raised at me in cautious confusion, reminding me that I’m staring and the uneasiness that’s settling across is features retlays to me what Gerard said about being looked at; he doesn’t like it. Although I’ll bet that it’s only because he’s been beaten down too many times for him to still be able to believe that he’s the stunning creature that he quite clearly is.

Well, I’ll have to change that.

“You’ve got nice eyes, y’know?” I sigh dreamily, my eyes flickering down to where our hands are still joined like the catch on a platinum necklace. “Very pretty.”

Even though my words are doused in honest-to-God sincerity, it earns me nothing but a guarded look on his face, but behind that look I can see the hurt; the horrible hurt that tells me, quite clearly, that he thinks I’m fucking with his pretty little head. That he thinks I’m picking on him.

“It’s true, Sweetness.” I make a point of dropping in the nickname to drive the point home as I give his hand a small squeeze to add further to the effect. He just blushes harder and shakes his head, looking down in an attempt to hide his adorably blush-burnt face from view. “Don’t be shy, Mikey. I think you’re pretty even if you don’t.”

He slowly lifts his head again, fringe spilling over his eyes in a way that makes me want to reach out to stroke it, and regards me with such a bedazzled look in his eyes that it makes my own delighted beam blossom to supernova proportions; I think I’ve made him feel happy. Even if it is only a little bit, just for a little while. I’ve still made him happy. Just like I’ve wanted to form the second I laid eyes on him.

“Thanks.” He beeps, hand gripping back on my own and sending a lightning bolt through my veins to ignite a fire in my burning heart.

I wait in silence for him to say something, anything at all that’ll give me more information on the sweet little angel, but receive absolutely nothing in return. Because he’s just a shy little kid in a strange place with an even stranger seventeen-year-old and a fever still working it’s black magic on his fragile body. The smile soon fades from his lips, being instead replaced with an unsure line of lips as his breathing becomes slightly laboured, and he gnaws on them in anxiousness. He really is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen; all innocent and shy and sweet.

Everything that I love about a person in the form of one perfect boy.

A perfect boy with no mom. A perfect boy with no home other than some stranger’s miniature mansion. A perfect boy who clearly gets bullied; nobody with as many bruises as he has faded onto his skin is just naturally this shy.

A perfect boy in need of a perfect protector to give him perfect snuggles and make everything perfect for him. Like me. I know I’m not perfect, but to help this kid and taste his cuteness, I could be. I definitely could be.

Fuck, for Mikey Way I’d grow wings and pluck the moon from the sky if I thought it’d be enough to make him smile. Smile properly, not just a quick arch of the lips. Like he’s got absolutely nothing wrong in his mind, nothing binding his angel wings together. Just like it should be.

Looks like I’ll just have to make the conversation myself then, get him feeling comfortable enough to talk back and trust me to be his friend. To not make fun of him. To believe me when I tell him that he’s pretty. Normally I can never stunt a steady flow of word-vomit from trickling down my lips, but right now my astonishing ability to never shut up has abandoned me in favour of staring at Mikey Way’s porcelain perfection. So I just stare, only breaking my gaze when I notice a solitary tear rolling down his icy cheeks. I have to start fixing the sorrow in his eyes somewhere, so why not start now?

I’ll mend him, one tear at a time.

“Hey, Sweetness, don’t cry.” My voice flurries out in a soft rush of caring concern, making more tears bleed from his eyes at the idea that I’ve noticed him crying and thus, judging by his sudden wince, will hurt him. Never. “Talk instead. Talk to me. I’m listening.”

He just shakes his head wildly, hair and tears flicking out to the side in equal measure, making my smile dip down to nothing for the first time today. I’m meant to be helping him, not making him even more distressed than he obviously already is. I can’t blame him though, not really, and that’s the worst part; his reasons for not trusting me are perfectly logical if what I know of him is any sort of indicator, something that makes me feel like I want to punch Life in it’s big ugly face for being so unfair to such a sweet kid. But I guess this just makes Mikey Way a challenge as opposed to some walkover of a bar-slut, an adorable little challenge for me to earn instead of just take.

The sort of challenge that I really want to win because I already care about this kid. How could I not?

My eyes quickly scan him, searching for some way to start a conversation in which I can ease him into trusting me, and I catch sight of a dog tag hanging loosely around his swan-like neck; a black dog tag with the Misfits’ logo on it.

Bingo.

“You like Misfits?” I smirk at him, earning a shy nod in return. “Awesome! Me too! What’s your favourite?” I pause to give him thinking time, relishing the way he looks when he’s thinking, kinda like a puppy learning how to fetch, before I decide to help him out a little. “Mine’s probably Where Eagle’s Dare.”

“Me too!” He answers without hesitation, a nervous smile finding it’s way onto his face. “What about Green Day?”

Everything inside of me soars, purely because he’s saying something without me initiating it. Something that I take for granted from everyone else, but from Mikey Way feels like the greatest thing to happen since I first strummed a bass guitar. And I like it. Like it a lot.

Love it.

“One of my all-time favourites! Especially the Dookie album. They’re an inspiration for me, actually; Mike Dirnt is the reason I learnt bass.” At that his eyes light up even more, any evidence of his timid tears being washed away by the blinding glow of a smile. “I’ll play for you sometime.”

The look that he gives me is enough to melt stone and boil ice; it’s as though it’s the nicest, most phantasmagorical thing anyone has ever said to him. For all I know it could be, I’m just hoping that it isn’t because it’s simply a boy offering to play his bass, not some great gift that should seem like the awesomest thing in the world to a fifteen-year-old. But it is. Because that’s just how shit his life has been.

“I used to play, too! I could play everything on Dookie!” He chirps, making me grin at how perfect for me he’s turning out to be, but then a dark look grabs hold of his fair features; one that makes me stroke his hand in mine once more. “Before I had to sell my bass.”

He sounds so heart-broken about it, so much so that it makes me want to craft him a brand new weapon of silence-mass-destruction with my bare hands out of the pile of blankets on the end of the bed just to stop his sadness. Then it hits me; what sort of home has he come from if a kid was forced to sell his bass? Was it because of financial trouble, or as some sort of punishment? Either way, it doesn’t indicate him having an upbringing full of cookies and cream.

“Well, you can play on mine anytime you want, Sweetness. My room’s just across the hall from here and my door’s never locked, you’ll always be welcome in my bedroom.” I smirk at him, adding just the right amount of cheekiness into my tone to make his face flush, and wink when his eyes tell me that he’s caught up with my small flirtation. “Day or night, my bedroom door’s always open to pretty little things like you.”

He blinks up at me, in complete awe that someone could possibly want to say that sort of thing to sweet little him, and I just bathe my spirit in the exaltation that the look in his eyes is telling me that I’ve given him with my simple words. Words that were admittedly a risk, one that could have easily scared him away into his shell again, but a risk that certainly paid off. Now I just have to make sure that he knows I’m serious about being able to use my bass or just talk to me whenever he wants; he can.

“Seriously though, Mikey, you can hang with me anytime you want. You’re a sweet little dude.” I giggle down at him, only for it to turn to a wince when his shivering and wheezing picks up once more. “Easy there, Sweetness. Easy.”

“Mikey! Bro, you’re awake!”

The cry hits me just before the adorable way that Mikey beams at the figure standing in the doorway does; the Way brothers really do love each other more than I’ve seen any brothers love one another before. Perhaps they were born this close, I’d like to think so, but then again, perhaps it’s because life has forced them to depend explicitly on one another.

“Gee!” Mikey squeals happily, smile so wide that it cramps the room. “You came back!”

My heart drops, as do the smiles on both Gerard’s and Patrick’s lips, at the disbelieving tone of adulation in Mikey’s voice. That was why he was crying; he thought that Gerard had abandoned him, left him alone in a world with nobody but a creepy bass-playing seventeen-year-old to take care of him.

Does that mean his smiles were complete and utter fakes? False little lies conjured up simply to please me? Most likely, yes.

But that just makes me love him all the more.

Just like I love the fact that our hands are still cradling one another.







A/N: Thank you very much for reading and I hope that this was alright! I’m trying to update this a chapter a night, so the next part will probably be up this time tomorrow. Thanks to anyone who’s read/reviewed/rated so far; you are the coolest people ever! :D