Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Save Me Again
4 reviewsWe just can't stop saving each other. MIKTRICK (Mikey Way and Patrick Stump) one-shot. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
1Original
Save Me Again
We just gelled from the go, y’know?
He’s the quiet, shy one out of his group and I’m the mirror image of that in mine. He gets teased for having something of a teddy-bear-like build and I get teased for being so skinny that it’s borderline unhealthy even though I eat even more than my big brother. He has a passion for music and I can match that. He prefers being ignored, invisible to the world and I’m exactly the same. Apart from when we’re together. When that happens it’s like making a spark in a gas chamber; we explode like a nuclear firecracker.
It’s funny, actually, how we met. How I got to be Patrick Stump’s boyfriend and how he got to be mine. All mine. All his. Two puzzle pieces fitting together to make something beautiful. Back to the point though; how we met. Frank Iero, my best friend, set me up on a blind date. With Pete Wentz. Don’t get me wrong, Pete’s a great guy and someone will be really lucky to have him as theirs, but he was just too… loud, intimidating almost, for me. He told me that he felt the same way, that I was just too quiet to grab his attention like Gabe Saporta was from across the room, but he left me with a number nonetheless.
Patrick Stump’s number.
At first I was reluctant to call him, scared that it was all some big joke meant to make me look like even more of an ass than I already did when my date left the coffee shop with someone else. So I went to Frankie, asked him about Patrick because he’s known Pete since elementary and then he said that he felt like an idiot for not seeing it before; seeing that ‘Trick and I are more than perfect for one another. Going against my better judgement, I let Pete and Frank set me up on my second date with a stranger, fully expecting it to go nowhere other than out the door. And it did. It went out the door, to his beat-up old car and into the backseat. A backseat that soon got pretty steamy.
I hung out with him at school the next day, loving the fact that he still wanted to see me after finding out that I had absolutely no idea how to go any further than holding hands with a guy, and that’s when I saw how bad it is for him. Almost symmetrical to how bad it is for me, apart from ‘Trick really doesn’t deserve it, something that I don’t think he knows as well as he should do. When someone threw a football at him, making Pete go over to teach the thrower a lesson in swift justice, my new boyfriend looked like he was going to cry. So I decided to distract him. By asking him to teach me how to go further than hugging again. Resulting in us going back to his car’s backseat again, all thoughts of bullies forgotten.
Because I saved him.
The next day he hung out with my little group; Frank, Ray Toro and Gerard, my big brother. Just as with him the day before, the surrounding jocks started picking on me. Apart from they didn’t through sports equipment, they threw something that cut me even deeper than that. They threw notes of mindless chicken scratch scrawled onto backs of failed essays. At first I tried to ignore them, opting for snuggling into ‘Trick instead while Gerard gave him the Third Degree, but eventually I forced myself to take notice of the little pieces of paper Frank was trying to hide from me as soon as they landed on our lunch table. I snatched them away from him and let my mind swallow the venomous poison of their words. ”Stupid ugly faggot.” “Go slit your wrists.” “Go hang yourself, nobody will miss you.” They went on and on like that, each one making my soul die like a shot-down dove. So Patrick took me, a sobbing mess, out to his car. Where he kissed away all of their words, snuggled me so hard that I forgot about all of the idiots inside.
Because he saved me.
For his eighteenth birthday I didn’t get him anything. I made him something instead. A scrapbook. Each page cradling a precious memory of us two from the previous four months. There was a page with a picture on it that Frankie took on his phone at school of us two kissing behind the bike-shed, my big brother having sent him to spy on us to make sure ‘Trick was behaving. Then the next one was of when we went to a sleepover at Pete’s house, I’d had a nightmare and Patrick climbed into my sleeping bag with me, the two of us snuggling up into one another. That’s when Pete snapped the moment with his mom’s overpriced camera; me curled tightly into ‘Trick, my fists balling around the fabric of his t-shirt and my boyfriend holding me like a child’s security blanket, looking to be proud just for having me as his. But my favourite picture out of them all is the one where I’m sat on his lap on a park bench, letting him fuss over me like he loves doing because he says it makes him feel important, like he’s worth something.
Because I saved him.
For my sixteenth birthday he took me to the seaside after finding out it’s one of my favourite places to go from Gee. The middle of September and there we were, sat on the sandy beach with nothing but the lapping of the waves on the shore making a noise. We watched the sunset together, me leaning into his shoulder and him pressing his lips to my own when the sun finally faded away. It was also that night that I went all the way with ‘Trick for the first time, right there on the beach. With anyone else I would have been nervous or frightened, but with him it just felt natural and like it was simply meant to be. He talked me through it with his deep, soulful voice and then sung me to sleep afterwards before carrying me to his car, telling me I’d done real good. I think that was the first time in a long while I’d smiled without any hint of falseness to it. Just pure, unbridled contentment. Bliss.
Because he saved me.
One of the very few times he’s had a row with Pete, he called me up. It was three in the morning, they’d gone to some underage club night in town together, but I didn’t care; the whimper to his words and the hitches in his breath got me cycling to his house through the night without me so much as thinking about the dangers of being a teenage boy out in Belleville alone at night. He wouldn’t tell me exactly what had happened but, again, I didn’t care. I only cared that he was upset, not why. That could be dealt with later on, his tears, however, were imminent. So I let him cling to me, use me as his teddy and acted like his own human lapdog. Just snuggling together on his bed, me telling him that it was all going to work out. And he fell asleep with me in his arms, fully believing my words.
Because I saved him.
When he found me around the back of the school one day near the end of his last semester at Belleville High, I was too out of it to even realise it was him, and so literally screamed when he bundled me into his arms. I’d been attacked. Not beaten-up but properly, brutally attacked. With baseball bats. And glass bottles. And a switchblade. A switchblade that somehow found itself lodged in my tummy; an act which made the older boys run away as though they were the ones under attack. I don’t know how but I managed to find the strength and focus to text ‘Trick for help, meaning that he was by my side in seconds, even if they did feel like years. He held me whilst the ambulance came, talking about everything other than the blade protruding my flesh and calming down my erratic heartbeat. He stayed with me at the hospital, didn’t go home once in the entire week that I was there for. Just sat holding my hand and telling me that I was safe whenever the flashbacks pounced upon me like they still do. But ‘Trick always makes it better. Even when my mind tricks me into thinking that it’s happening all over again, the pounding and punching and beating and laughing and plunging. ‘Trick’s lamppost voice sings me out of it.
Because he saved me.
In so many more ways than one.
Just like I’ve saved him.
And now, with my own eighteenth around the corner, we are still saving each other.
Always will be.
A/N: Yet another new pairing that I’m trying out. I’ve never written Miktrick (?) before, so sorry if it sucks. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)
We just gelled from the go, y’know?
He’s the quiet, shy one out of his group and I’m the mirror image of that in mine. He gets teased for having something of a teddy-bear-like build and I get teased for being so skinny that it’s borderline unhealthy even though I eat even more than my big brother. He has a passion for music and I can match that. He prefers being ignored, invisible to the world and I’m exactly the same. Apart from when we’re together. When that happens it’s like making a spark in a gas chamber; we explode like a nuclear firecracker.
It’s funny, actually, how we met. How I got to be Patrick Stump’s boyfriend and how he got to be mine. All mine. All his. Two puzzle pieces fitting together to make something beautiful. Back to the point though; how we met. Frank Iero, my best friend, set me up on a blind date. With Pete Wentz. Don’t get me wrong, Pete’s a great guy and someone will be really lucky to have him as theirs, but he was just too… loud, intimidating almost, for me. He told me that he felt the same way, that I was just too quiet to grab his attention like Gabe Saporta was from across the room, but he left me with a number nonetheless.
Patrick Stump’s number.
At first I was reluctant to call him, scared that it was all some big joke meant to make me look like even more of an ass than I already did when my date left the coffee shop with someone else. So I went to Frankie, asked him about Patrick because he’s known Pete since elementary and then he said that he felt like an idiot for not seeing it before; seeing that ‘Trick and I are more than perfect for one another. Going against my better judgement, I let Pete and Frank set me up on my second date with a stranger, fully expecting it to go nowhere other than out the door. And it did. It went out the door, to his beat-up old car and into the backseat. A backseat that soon got pretty steamy.
I hung out with him at school the next day, loving the fact that he still wanted to see me after finding out that I had absolutely no idea how to go any further than holding hands with a guy, and that’s when I saw how bad it is for him. Almost symmetrical to how bad it is for me, apart from ‘Trick really doesn’t deserve it, something that I don’t think he knows as well as he should do. When someone threw a football at him, making Pete go over to teach the thrower a lesson in swift justice, my new boyfriend looked like he was going to cry. So I decided to distract him. By asking him to teach me how to go further than hugging again. Resulting in us going back to his car’s backseat again, all thoughts of bullies forgotten.
Because I saved him.
The next day he hung out with my little group; Frank, Ray Toro and Gerard, my big brother. Just as with him the day before, the surrounding jocks started picking on me. Apart from they didn’t through sports equipment, they threw something that cut me even deeper than that. They threw notes of mindless chicken scratch scrawled onto backs of failed essays. At first I tried to ignore them, opting for snuggling into ‘Trick instead while Gerard gave him the Third Degree, but eventually I forced myself to take notice of the little pieces of paper Frank was trying to hide from me as soon as they landed on our lunch table. I snatched them away from him and let my mind swallow the venomous poison of their words. ”Stupid ugly faggot.” “Go slit your wrists.” “Go hang yourself, nobody will miss you.” They went on and on like that, each one making my soul die like a shot-down dove. So Patrick took me, a sobbing mess, out to his car. Where he kissed away all of their words, snuggled me so hard that I forgot about all of the idiots inside.
Because he saved me.
For his eighteenth birthday I didn’t get him anything. I made him something instead. A scrapbook. Each page cradling a precious memory of us two from the previous four months. There was a page with a picture on it that Frankie took on his phone at school of us two kissing behind the bike-shed, my big brother having sent him to spy on us to make sure ‘Trick was behaving. Then the next one was of when we went to a sleepover at Pete’s house, I’d had a nightmare and Patrick climbed into my sleeping bag with me, the two of us snuggling up into one another. That’s when Pete snapped the moment with his mom’s overpriced camera; me curled tightly into ‘Trick, my fists balling around the fabric of his t-shirt and my boyfriend holding me like a child’s security blanket, looking to be proud just for having me as his. But my favourite picture out of them all is the one where I’m sat on his lap on a park bench, letting him fuss over me like he loves doing because he says it makes him feel important, like he’s worth something.
Because I saved him.
For my sixteenth birthday he took me to the seaside after finding out it’s one of my favourite places to go from Gee. The middle of September and there we were, sat on the sandy beach with nothing but the lapping of the waves on the shore making a noise. We watched the sunset together, me leaning into his shoulder and him pressing his lips to my own when the sun finally faded away. It was also that night that I went all the way with ‘Trick for the first time, right there on the beach. With anyone else I would have been nervous or frightened, but with him it just felt natural and like it was simply meant to be. He talked me through it with his deep, soulful voice and then sung me to sleep afterwards before carrying me to his car, telling me I’d done real good. I think that was the first time in a long while I’d smiled without any hint of falseness to it. Just pure, unbridled contentment. Bliss.
Because he saved me.
One of the very few times he’s had a row with Pete, he called me up. It was three in the morning, they’d gone to some underage club night in town together, but I didn’t care; the whimper to his words and the hitches in his breath got me cycling to his house through the night without me so much as thinking about the dangers of being a teenage boy out in Belleville alone at night. He wouldn’t tell me exactly what had happened but, again, I didn’t care. I only cared that he was upset, not why. That could be dealt with later on, his tears, however, were imminent. So I let him cling to me, use me as his teddy and acted like his own human lapdog. Just snuggling together on his bed, me telling him that it was all going to work out. And he fell asleep with me in his arms, fully believing my words.
Because I saved him.
When he found me around the back of the school one day near the end of his last semester at Belleville High, I was too out of it to even realise it was him, and so literally screamed when he bundled me into his arms. I’d been attacked. Not beaten-up but properly, brutally attacked. With baseball bats. And glass bottles. And a switchblade. A switchblade that somehow found itself lodged in my tummy; an act which made the older boys run away as though they were the ones under attack. I don’t know how but I managed to find the strength and focus to text ‘Trick for help, meaning that he was by my side in seconds, even if they did feel like years. He held me whilst the ambulance came, talking about everything other than the blade protruding my flesh and calming down my erratic heartbeat. He stayed with me at the hospital, didn’t go home once in the entire week that I was there for. Just sat holding my hand and telling me that I was safe whenever the flashbacks pounced upon me like they still do. But ‘Trick always makes it better. Even when my mind tricks me into thinking that it’s happening all over again, the pounding and punching and beating and laughing and plunging. ‘Trick’s lamppost voice sings me out of it.
Because he saved me.
In so many more ways than one.
Just like I’ve saved him.
And now, with my own eighteenth around the corner, we are still saving each other.
Always will be.
A/N: Yet another new pairing that I’m trying out. I’ve never written Miktrick (?) before, so sorry if it sucks. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)
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