Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Speechless
I Chose You
2 reviewsMikey's stunning. So is Ryan. Just not on the inside. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
1Ambiance
I Chose You
Brendon’s POV
Pale, ivory skin shining with just the right amount of powdery make-up to make it seemingly sparkle in the light of the shimmering disco ball rotating in the centre of the gym, apparently having it’s own gravitational pull because everyone else is revolving around it. Dark toffee hair straightened to perfection, flopping over the lenses of his glasses like a curtain, just the way he likes it as it means he feels protected from the prying eyes of anyone wanting to look. Wispy lips spread across his jaw like smoke, bunny-rabbit teeth gnawing down nervously on the lower one as though chewing through it will magically make the stress vanish from his delicate little mind. Skinny jeans overlapping the top of his Vans, his mom clearly having scrubbed his pants until her hands bled because the last time he wore them they bore a number of coffee and soy sauce stains. Button-up black shirt half tucked-in around the edge of his jeans and a blood red tie fastened in haste hanging down his chest.
In a word? Stunning.
No.
In a word? Mikey.
In two? Mikey Way. That or; My Mikey. My date for this stupid little dance thing that I’m only taking him to because, even if he doesn’t want to be here, he could do with the confidence boost of having a nice night out with romantic intent. Of course the fact that his big brother practically begged me to bring him along and when Gerard Way has an idea in his warped head, getting him to change his mind is like asking the sun not to shine in the middle of summer; impossible. His reasoning was rather, well, reasonable though. Telling me that Mikey just wants to be normal despite his condition, and that the best way for that to happen would be for me to take him to this hellhole of a dance. I’d much rather have taken him to the cinema, or star-gazing or even simply to hang at my house where we both can feel comfortable.
Although seeing Mikey dolled up like this is definitely a benefit. One that made me, Brendon King of Confidence Urie, blush and stutter and gawp at him when I went to pick him up in Sarah. I mean, I knew he was beautiful, but this is on a whole other level; the kind of level that makes me fall for him all over again. And fall fucking hard at that.
Because he’s my boyfriend; has been ever since the night Sarah broke down on the way back to his house a little over a month ago. Neither of us have said it out loud, or written it down in Mikey’s case, but we know it’s there. Just like all the kissing, the touching, the snuggling. The just being together.
A soft poke at my arm makes me realise that I’m staring at him for the millionth time since picking him up forty minutes ago, staring at him like a jewel thief would at the world’s largest diamond, and that I’m gripping his hand uncomfortably tight.
Or maybe it’s my intense stare that’s making him uncomfortable.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful, MiWay.” Crimson creeps it’s way onto his cheeks, amplified by the red disco light that’s swirling through the tangle of bodies on the dance floor that I am completely happy to steer well clear of. “So damn adorable.” It comes out as a quiet mutter, something that’s more of a sincere bout of thinking-out-loud than a comment intended to make his beam brighten to a blinding hue of happiness. “Perfect.”
Mikey looks down to the ground, tracing slow patterns into the wooden gymnasium floor with the tip of his left foot, showing me just how cute he can be. Just how shy, how modest; how Mikey Way Mikey Way can actually be. I think that everyone should have a good shot of Mikey in them to make them appreciate the small things in life and find beauty in even the ugliest of things. Metaphorically, of course.
In a literal sense, however, I am the only person who’s allowed to have a good shot of Mikey in them. Or I will be, as soon as he’s ready.
“Don’t deny it, Sweetie. I’ve seen at least eight guys eyeing you up and too many girls to count.” I chuckle at him, my toes starting to tap in time with whatever overplayed love song that the DJ has got pounding throughout the overcrowded room. “Hell, I think your big brother wanted you when you came down the stairs back at your house.” I see him shake with a shock of silent laughter, letting me know that I’m doing all of the right things to make him relax in the place that has often been associated with gym class torture. Literal torture; I’ve long stopped counting the number of times when I’ve found him lulling in and out of consciousness in here. “Not as much as I want you though.”
It’s true; if it weren’t for the fact that our deputy principle is keeping an eye on Mikes, as per Mrs Way’s request, I most likely would not be able to control myself. But I can save that for when we’re in Sarah, our own little fairy-tale carriage that played a key part in my getting ‘with’ Mikey.
“Hey, Bren!” A bounding voice announces the arrival of my best friend; a certain Ryan Ross.
Things have been a little rocky with him lately, ever since he made my Mikey cry and made me punch him clean in the face. Just like I have with anyone who’s had the sheer stupidity or audacity to make Mikes cry since, because I made a vow to stop people from hurting him and I’m a man of my word; even if the threat of some weedy geek unleashing his wrath upon you isn’t exactly effective, it gives me satisfaction in the fact that I’m at least trying.
And it makes Mikey feel loved. So it’s beyond worth it. Besides, I punch surprisingly hard. Especially when it comes to anyone who poses a danger to my baby’s fragile emotional wellbeing.
As I turn to face Ryan, who himself isn’t looking too bad in a pin-stripe suit and with his hair styled into looking like more of a majestic crown of awesomeness than just an extension of his head, I notice Mikey retract slightly into himself. I squeeze his hand, letting him know that Ry isn’t going to hurt him. That my best friend since forever isn’t as bad as the alcohol made him be that faithful night one month ago.
“How’s it hanging, Ryro?” I grin, taking in the intricate eyeliner design he’s swirled onto his skin.
“Like a noose, Urie.”
It’s an old catchphrase of ours, our obligatory little greeting, and yet it still manages to make me chuckle at his quirky originality. And at his angelic smirk, the lop-sidedness of it letting all who see it know that it conceals someone not as innocent as his baby-face might lead you to believe.
“So, who’d you come with?” He asks, seemingly ignoring Mikey standing slightly behind me so that the kid is semi-hidden by the shield of my body. “Or did you come on your lonesome?”
He takes a step closer to me, so close that I can feel his breath hot on my face, and it makes me run my fingers over Mikey’s hand; this wouldn’t be the first time that Ry’s tried something with me.
It would, however, be the first time that I haven’t returned it. I’m all up for messing around, being friends-with-benefits and ‘exploring’ certain things with a trusted pal. An extremely hot trusted pal, at that. But not anymore; not now that I have Mikey Way to love and protect. Protect from people like Ryan.
Like my best fucking friend.
“Mikey.” I reply in a tone that’s harsh and cold so that it’s undoubtable; unchangeable. “I’m here with Mikey.”
Ryan’s smile falters but doesn’t fall. And then it grows like an infection, jealousy gripping it and making me grip Mikey’s hand all the tighter.
“I’m guessing you asked him.” He snarls, bitter resentment hanging off his words. Just like when he was drunk. “How did it feel when he said yes, Brendon?” His tone is mocking, cruel. My heart is burning, furious. “What about when he told you how hot you look in those jeans? Or when he whispers your name like it’s a dirty secret? How does he sound when he moans it?”
He laughs. Motherfucker.
Mikey shudders as silent sobs start ravaging his body.
I stand my ground, glaring at my worst enemy. Not my best friend. Not anymore.
“Oh yeah, he can’t. Sorry, Bren. Forgot you were missing out on having a proper date. One that can tell you how special you are. Like me.”
A hand slips out of my own, making me turn around just in time to see Mikey running out of the gym, earning him a few laughs from the jocks who usually torment him in this very room.
Poor baby.
I don’t even think twice about it; I set off after him, shoving past everyone in my way and everyone who was laughing at him. I’m too angry to let myself stop to punch Ryan, not to mention too worried about the whereabouts of who is practically my boyfriend even if he can’t say that he loves me back when I tell him how much I adore him. It’s because he loves me that it doesn’t need to be said; we both just know it.
My first port of call is Sarah, a place where I know Mikey feels at ease with himself.
As I approach the bright pink Bug my heart starts beating in a strange pattern that makes breathing properly a struggle. It’s like a combination of what happens whenever I see Mikey and how it feels whenever I’m truly livid, with an overflowing bout of urgent concern making the mix overflow into my lungs. It all tells me one thing; I have to help Mikey see that Ryan’s wrong.
He really fucking is.
By the time I’m under the same floodlight as Sarah, I can just about make out the outline of a figure slumped dejectedly in the passenger seat. Mikey. Thank God.
The last time he ran off after getting teased by a particularly spiteful girl with more shit coming out of her mouth than fake-tan on her patchy skin, it had taken us until the next morning to find him. Us being myself, Gerard and Pete; all three of us scouring Belleville for any sign of the petrified, downtrodden kid with a heart too heavy to beat. It was Pete who found him in the end, half-frozen and unconscious on a park bench, tears seeming to have turned to ice on his face. We took him home wrapped up in Pete’s coat and my arms, us three doing everything would could to make him smile when he finally woke up. And boy, did we make him smile. The kid was beaming by the time we were done.
Because we’re his best friends; we won’t let him be down for long.
“Mikey!”
In a frenzied flash of pounding Converse and rusty car doors I’m sat in the driver’s seat, next to my weeping little angel.
Fuck, he’s a mess. A hot mess, but a mess all the same.
Tears are storming down his face, making his eyeliner bleed away into black dribbles of despair, and his glasses (the ones that are almost identical to mine) are even more askew than usual from where he’s been shaking so much. It shatters my soul to see him like this, it really does because, well, I love him. More than I love myself, more than I love Ryan, more than I love life itself.
More than anyone’s ever loved anything ever.
“MiWay, Sweetie, calm down.” I pull him up over the gear box and into my lap, just like I always do whenever he’s sad. Not that sad even begins to cover what he is now. He’d been so happy; had actually been smiling. Not now though. “Don’t you listen to Ryan. He… He just doesn’t understand how much I care about you. Because he’s stupid.” I sigh at my own childishness and press a kiss against Mikey’s distress-wrinkled forehead. “You’re the perfect date, Mikey. I love you and that’s all that matters. I love you more than any of those Barbies think they love their hawt boyfriends in there.” I place my lips to his ears, letting him feel my breath glow against him. “So much more, Sweetie.”
Mikey reaches for the glove compartment, pulls out his whiteboard communication set and starts scribbling away, knowing that I’ll wait patiently because anything he has to say is to me what the holy bible is to a practiced catholic.
After a few attempts of getting his thoughts into words and frustratedly erasing all the failed ones from the board, he holds his message up to me.
Why me?
Oh. Oh, Mikey.
I feel my heart explode at the wobbly script, the silent cry of the suffering. It just isn’t fair. It really isn’t. It’s not fair that he’s mute; it’s not fair that people see that as a fault and it sure as hell isn’t fair that those people have got him seeing it like that too. Not fair at all.
“I don’t know, Sweetie.” I sigh, searching desperately for the right words to soothe his aching heart. “But being mute, it doesn’t have to hold you ba-“
I’m cut off when he shakes his head, followed by more speedy scribbling leaving me suspended in anticipation.
Why did you choose me? Why aren’t you with Ryan?
Without stopping to even let the heavy weight of the words impact me properly, I smash my lips to his as though I’m a starved child and Mikey’s the all-you-can-eat buffet. Our lips linger and mould together as one, working as a team to dance together in order to form some sort of understanding. Before I can let myself get too lost in the kiss to remember the point behind it, I softly pull away.
To reveal Mikey Way, my boyfriend, smiling at me through the tiny water droplets that are fast ceasing to be.
“I chose you long ago, MiWay. I chose you the second I saw you at Wentz’s party. I’ve thought I’ve been in love before, but compared to what I feel for you, Mikey, it feels like I hated all the others in comparison to what I feel for you.”
He’s staring at me, eyes two huge moons of hope.
“I chose you, Mikey way, because I love you. And nothing nor nobody will ever change that.”
A/N: This turned out longer than I thought it would... oh well, I hope you like it anyway. Please let me know what you think and if you have any ideas/requests for another part to this series/universe, I'd love to hear 'em! Thanks for reading! :D
Song of The Chapter: "Never Wanted to Dance" by Mindless Self Indulgence http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ouCnSf2ffzY
Brendon’s POV
Pale, ivory skin shining with just the right amount of powdery make-up to make it seemingly sparkle in the light of the shimmering disco ball rotating in the centre of the gym, apparently having it’s own gravitational pull because everyone else is revolving around it. Dark toffee hair straightened to perfection, flopping over the lenses of his glasses like a curtain, just the way he likes it as it means he feels protected from the prying eyes of anyone wanting to look. Wispy lips spread across his jaw like smoke, bunny-rabbit teeth gnawing down nervously on the lower one as though chewing through it will magically make the stress vanish from his delicate little mind. Skinny jeans overlapping the top of his Vans, his mom clearly having scrubbed his pants until her hands bled because the last time he wore them they bore a number of coffee and soy sauce stains. Button-up black shirt half tucked-in around the edge of his jeans and a blood red tie fastened in haste hanging down his chest.
In a word? Stunning.
No.
In a word? Mikey.
In two? Mikey Way. That or; My Mikey. My date for this stupid little dance thing that I’m only taking him to because, even if he doesn’t want to be here, he could do with the confidence boost of having a nice night out with romantic intent. Of course the fact that his big brother practically begged me to bring him along and when Gerard Way has an idea in his warped head, getting him to change his mind is like asking the sun not to shine in the middle of summer; impossible. His reasoning was rather, well, reasonable though. Telling me that Mikey just wants to be normal despite his condition, and that the best way for that to happen would be for me to take him to this hellhole of a dance. I’d much rather have taken him to the cinema, or star-gazing or even simply to hang at my house where we both can feel comfortable.
Although seeing Mikey dolled up like this is definitely a benefit. One that made me, Brendon King of Confidence Urie, blush and stutter and gawp at him when I went to pick him up in Sarah. I mean, I knew he was beautiful, but this is on a whole other level; the kind of level that makes me fall for him all over again. And fall fucking hard at that.
Because he’s my boyfriend; has been ever since the night Sarah broke down on the way back to his house a little over a month ago. Neither of us have said it out loud, or written it down in Mikey’s case, but we know it’s there. Just like all the kissing, the touching, the snuggling. The just being together.
A soft poke at my arm makes me realise that I’m staring at him for the millionth time since picking him up forty minutes ago, staring at him like a jewel thief would at the world’s largest diamond, and that I’m gripping his hand uncomfortably tight.
Or maybe it’s my intense stare that’s making him uncomfortable.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful, MiWay.” Crimson creeps it’s way onto his cheeks, amplified by the red disco light that’s swirling through the tangle of bodies on the dance floor that I am completely happy to steer well clear of. “So damn adorable.” It comes out as a quiet mutter, something that’s more of a sincere bout of thinking-out-loud than a comment intended to make his beam brighten to a blinding hue of happiness. “Perfect.”
Mikey looks down to the ground, tracing slow patterns into the wooden gymnasium floor with the tip of his left foot, showing me just how cute he can be. Just how shy, how modest; how Mikey Way Mikey Way can actually be. I think that everyone should have a good shot of Mikey in them to make them appreciate the small things in life and find beauty in even the ugliest of things. Metaphorically, of course.
In a literal sense, however, I am the only person who’s allowed to have a good shot of Mikey in them. Or I will be, as soon as he’s ready.
“Don’t deny it, Sweetie. I’ve seen at least eight guys eyeing you up and too many girls to count.” I chuckle at him, my toes starting to tap in time with whatever overplayed love song that the DJ has got pounding throughout the overcrowded room. “Hell, I think your big brother wanted you when you came down the stairs back at your house.” I see him shake with a shock of silent laughter, letting me know that I’m doing all of the right things to make him relax in the place that has often been associated with gym class torture. Literal torture; I’ve long stopped counting the number of times when I’ve found him lulling in and out of consciousness in here. “Not as much as I want you though.”
It’s true; if it weren’t for the fact that our deputy principle is keeping an eye on Mikes, as per Mrs Way’s request, I most likely would not be able to control myself. But I can save that for when we’re in Sarah, our own little fairy-tale carriage that played a key part in my getting ‘with’ Mikey.
“Hey, Bren!” A bounding voice announces the arrival of my best friend; a certain Ryan Ross.
Things have been a little rocky with him lately, ever since he made my Mikey cry and made me punch him clean in the face. Just like I have with anyone who’s had the sheer stupidity or audacity to make Mikes cry since, because I made a vow to stop people from hurting him and I’m a man of my word; even if the threat of some weedy geek unleashing his wrath upon you isn’t exactly effective, it gives me satisfaction in the fact that I’m at least trying.
And it makes Mikey feel loved. So it’s beyond worth it. Besides, I punch surprisingly hard. Especially when it comes to anyone who poses a danger to my baby’s fragile emotional wellbeing.
As I turn to face Ryan, who himself isn’t looking too bad in a pin-stripe suit and with his hair styled into looking like more of a majestic crown of awesomeness than just an extension of his head, I notice Mikey retract slightly into himself. I squeeze his hand, letting him know that Ry isn’t going to hurt him. That my best friend since forever isn’t as bad as the alcohol made him be that faithful night one month ago.
“How’s it hanging, Ryro?” I grin, taking in the intricate eyeliner design he’s swirled onto his skin.
“Like a noose, Urie.”
It’s an old catchphrase of ours, our obligatory little greeting, and yet it still manages to make me chuckle at his quirky originality. And at his angelic smirk, the lop-sidedness of it letting all who see it know that it conceals someone not as innocent as his baby-face might lead you to believe.
“So, who’d you come with?” He asks, seemingly ignoring Mikey standing slightly behind me so that the kid is semi-hidden by the shield of my body. “Or did you come on your lonesome?”
He takes a step closer to me, so close that I can feel his breath hot on my face, and it makes me run my fingers over Mikey’s hand; this wouldn’t be the first time that Ry’s tried something with me.
It would, however, be the first time that I haven’t returned it. I’m all up for messing around, being friends-with-benefits and ‘exploring’ certain things with a trusted pal. An extremely hot trusted pal, at that. But not anymore; not now that I have Mikey Way to love and protect. Protect from people like Ryan.
Like my best fucking friend.
“Mikey.” I reply in a tone that’s harsh and cold so that it’s undoubtable; unchangeable. “I’m here with Mikey.”
Ryan’s smile falters but doesn’t fall. And then it grows like an infection, jealousy gripping it and making me grip Mikey’s hand all the tighter.
“I’m guessing you asked him.” He snarls, bitter resentment hanging off his words. Just like when he was drunk. “How did it feel when he said yes, Brendon?” His tone is mocking, cruel. My heart is burning, furious. “What about when he told you how hot you look in those jeans? Or when he whispers your name like it’s a dirty secret? How does he sound when he moans it?”
He laughs. Motherfucker.
Mikey shudders as silent sobs start ravaging his body.
I stand my ground, glaring at my worst enemy. Not my best friend. Not anymore.
“Oh yeah, he can’t. Sorry, Bren. Forgot you were missing out on having a proper date. One that can tell you how special you are. Like me.”
A hand slips out of my own, making me turn around just in time to see Mikey running out of the gym, earning him a few laughs from the jocks who usually torment him in this very room.
Poor baby.
I don’t even think twice about it; I set off after him, shoving past everyone in my way and everyone who was laughing at him. I’m too angry to let myself stop to punch Ryan, not to mention too worried about the whereabouts of who is practically my boyfriend even if he can’t say that he loves me back when I tell him how much I adore him. It’s because he loves me that it doesn’t need to be said; we both just know it.
My first port of call is Sarah, a place where I know Mikey feels at ease with himself.
As I approach the bright pink Bug my heart starts beating in a strange pattern that makes breathing properly a struggle. It’s like a combination of what happens whenever I see Mikey and how it feels whenever I’m truly livid, with an overflowing bout of urgent concern making the mix overflow into my lungs. It all tells me one thing; I have to help Mikey see that Ryan’s wrong.
He really fucking is.
By the time I’m under the same floodlight as Sarah, I can just about make out the outline of a figure slumped dejectedly in the passenger seat. Mikey. Thank God.
The last time he ran off after getting teased by a particularly spiteful girl with more shit coming out of her mouth than fake-tan on her patchy skin, it had taken us until the next morning to find him. Us being myself, Gerard and Pete; all three of us scouring Belleville for any sign of the petrified, downtrodden kid with a heart too heavy to beat. It was Pete who found him in the end, half-frozen and unconscious on a park bench, tears seeming to have turned to ice on his face. We took him home wrapped up in Pete’s coat and my arms, us three doing everything would could to make him smile when he finally woke up. And boy, did we make him smile. The kid was beaming by the time we were done.
Because we’re his best friends; we won’t let him be down for long.
“Mikey!”
In a frenzied flash of pounding Converse and rusty car doors I’m sat in the driver’s seat, next to my weeping little angel.
Fuck, he’s a mess. A hot mess, but a mess all the same.
Tears are storming down his face, making his eyeliner bleed away into black dribbles of despair, and his glasses (the ones that are almost identical to mine) are even more askew than usual from where he’s been shaking so much. It shatters my soul to see him like this, it really does because, well, I love him. More than I love myself, more than I love Ryan, more than I love life itself.
More than anyone’s ever loved anything ever.
“MiWay, Sweetie, calm down.” I pull him up over the gear box and into my lap, just like I always do whenever he’s sad. Not that sad even begins to cover what he is now. He’d been so happy; had actually been smiling. Not now though. “Don’t you listen to Ryan. He… He just doesn’t understand how much I care about you. Because he’s stupid.” I sigh at my own childishness and press a kiss against Mikey’s distress-wrinkled forehead. “You’re the perfect date, Mikey. I love you and that’s all that matters. I love you more than any of those Barbies think they love their hawt boyfriends in there.” I place my lips to his ears, letting him feel my breath glow against him. “So much more, Sweetie.”
Mikey reaches for the glove compartment, pulls out his whiteboard communication set and starts scribbling away, knowing that I’ll wait patiently because anything he has to say is to me what the holy bible is to a practiced catholic.
After a few attempts of getting his thoughts into words and frustratedly erasing all the failed ones from the board, he holds his message up to me.
Why me?
Oh. Oh, Mikey.
I feel my heart explode at the wobbly script, the silent cry of the suffering. It just isn’t fair. It really isn’t. It’s not fair that he’s mute; it’s not fair that people see that as a fault and it sure as hell isn’t fair that those people have got him seeing it like that too. Not fair at all.
“I don’t know, Sweetie.” I sigh, searching desperately for the right words to soothe his aching heart. “But being mute, it doesn’t have to hold you ba-“
I’m cut off when he shakes his head, followed by more speedy scribbling leaving me suspended in anticipation.
Why did you choose me? Why aren’t you with Ryan?
Without stopping to even let the heavy weight of the words impact me properly, I smash my lips to his as though I’m a starved child and Mikey’s the all-you-can-eat buffet. Our lips linger and mould together as one, working as a team to dance together in order to form some sort of understanding. Before I can let myself get too lost in the kiss to remember the point behind it, I softly pull away.
To reveal Mikey Way, my boyfriend, smiling at me through the tiny water droplets that are fast ceasing to be.
“I chose you long ago, MiWay. I chose you the second I saw you at Wentz’s party. I’ve thought I’ve been in love before, but compared to what I feel for you, Mikey, it feels like I hated all the others in comparison to what I feel for you.”
He’s staring at me, eyes two huge moons of hope.
“I chose you, Mikey way, because I love you. And nothing nor nobody will ever change that.”
A/N: This turned out longer than I thought it would... oh well, I hope you like it anyway. Please let me know what you think and if you have any ideas/requests for another part to this series/universe, I'd love to hear 'em! Thanks for reading! :D
Song of The Chapter: "Never Wanted to Dance" by Mindless Self Indulgence http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ouCnSf2ffzY
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