Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > When in Vegas
When in Vegas
6 reviewsIt was meant to be fun. And it was. Just not for Gerard. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
5Original
When in Vegas
“Oh Jesus. Oh God. Oh Jesus fucking God.”
He stops, runs a hand through his ratty nest of black and then storms straight across the hotel room to where I’m stood; the look on his face making my stomach explode like an a-bomb.
“What the hell were you thinking, Mikey? Mom and Dad are so gonna kill me.”
My big brother resumes his pacing, doing absolutely nothing for my own overwhelming sense of nerves, and I almost feel guilty for having made him such a wreck. Almost, but not nearly quite. Why should I be guilty for being happy?
So maybe this was meant to be his holiday, his five days of fun in the sun, but I’m not just going to sit back and let the most adorable guy I’ve ever seen walk on by just because Gerard needs someone to stop him from drowning in a pool of some sort of substance from a questionable origin. It’s not like he isn’t making me pay for my ticket to Vegas and it’s not exactly like he did anything to dissuade me from tagging along; if anything, I would have thought he’d be grateful for my company.
He was. On Monday, Tuesday and most of Wednesday he was grateful to have me, his seventeen-year-old brother, glued firmly by his side. Apparently due to the fact that telling girls that you’ve bought your baby brother to Las Vegas for the brotherly break of a lifetime shows you in an excellent light, the kind of glowing light that seems to make me his prize weapon when out hunting for a fuck. But then on Wednesday that changed. Because I became the hunter as opposed to the weapon.
Or rather; I became the hunted. Hunted by some mysterious, vampiric guy with these huge brown eyes and a velvety voice of pure indulgence that seemed to just drown everything else out. It certainly drowned everything in my head out, all of the fears about what will be facing me at school when I return from Vegas and all of the memories of things that I want to forget, such as the causes of the scars on my arms. He drowned that all out. Hell, he even smiled at me. Called me beautiful and, above all else, made me feel beautiful too.
When you say or do that kind of thing to someone like me, someone who’s never even be kissed before, and the you buy them a fair few drinks, well, it’s not hard to get into somewhat compromising situations. Compromising especially because I’m only seventeen and my new friend decided to take me back to my hotel room. The one I’m sharing with my big brother.
And apparently were less than quiet.
I say apparently because I can’t exactly remember anything past my fifth drink. Actually, that’s a lie. I remember one thing very clearly indeed. And it’s that one thing that’s causing Gee to give birth to multiple litters of kittens right now.
“Chill, bro. It’ll wor-“
“Chill? Chill! Are fucking insane? Mikes, you’re my little brother; you were only allowed to come along with me because I swore down to Mom and Dad I’d look after you.” He walks over to me, letting out a sigh that makes me feel almost extremely bad for giving him all this grief, and places his hands on my shoulders in a gesture that’s clearly meant to tell me that he’s not angry, just extremely disappointed. “How could you Mikey?”
Now he doesn’t sound angry or disappointed, just hurt. Very, very hurt. So hurt in fact, that I can almost feel it and that, in turn, hurts me because that’s all I ever manage to do is hurt people. I hurt Mom when I smashed her grandmother’s vase on purpose after a heated row about my attitude towards her and my father. I hurt Dad when I crashed his beloved classic car into the garage door after a too-wild party over at Frank’s house. I hurt Frank when I blew of his band’s first gig in favour of getting stoned in my brother’s basement bedroom.
And now I’ve hurt my brother, the one person who’s always stopped me from getting hurt to the best of his ability, by doing the one thing that’s made me happy this entire holiday. This entire fucking year.
“H-he makes me happy, Gee.” My voice comes out broken; confused as to why my own big brother doesn’t understand when I thought he’d be the only one that would. “And you know how hard that is.”
He visibly winces at that, at my honest mewl of truth. He sees what the kids at school do to me, how deep my darkening depression runs; I think that’s mostly why I got to tag along with him to Vegas. He knows and he understands, so I thought that he would get this. Yeah, I get that what I’ve done is a shock to him but I thought that he at least would understand.
Or at least try to understand.
After recovering from the wince, his look of determined parent-like anger returns. Great. My one piece of ammo in this war and I’ve just wasted it. It shouldn’t have been a waste though, it really should’ve worked. Gerard usually melts at my first request for something that makes me happy, usually will bend over backwards to ensure that my smile stays genuine, but this is different.
Then again though, I’ve never done anything like this before.
“You fucking got married, Michael. You got married to some guy you don’t even know.”
You know all those stories that people tell about getting married to strangers in Vegas? Yeah, well, I sort of fell victim to that last night. The casino we got it done in didn’t even ask for proof of age, otherwise I doubt it would’ve gotten it done. But they didn’t and it did. So now I’ve got some plastic Christmas-cracker ring on my finger, a piece of paper telling me that I’m officially the property of someone else and an ass that feels like a rollercoaster’s torn a track through it.
It’s worth it though. Oh so worth it.
“I do know him though!” I object, my scowl vehement at the one person who I should be able to trust not to judge my actions like this. “We love each other!”
“Mikes, do you even know his goddamn name?” He asks dryly, crossing his arms in a show of authority. Personally, I think it just makes his posture go all funny so it looks like there’s an almighty great stick up his rear end. “Or how old he is? Because I saw him in your bed this morning and he looks a little too old to be with you, Michael James.”
“His name is Brendon Boyd Urie. And he’s twenty-two, Gerard Arthur.”
I can’t help the smirk that works its way smugly onto my face when Gee blanches and his arms drop limply to his sides; good. We’re finally getting somewhere here. And I would have thought that if Gerard had poked his head around the door this morning to look at me snuggled into Brendon then he would’ve seen how perfect we are together; when I woke up we were tangled like vines and Bren had his arms around me as though I was his beloved childhood teddy.
I liked that, I really did, that feeling of being loved and wanted; of being better than getting slammed into some jock’s locker until I can see spots.
Gerard rakes a paw through his hair yet again, the millionth time since I broke the news to him whilst my husband slept and we had coffee. I think the panicked gesture it means that my big brother believes the apocalypse to be imminently oncoming. I don’t see why though. I mean, all I did was get married. And no harm ever came from someone’s slightly younger brother from getting married, right?
“Twenty-two. Great. My brother married a paedophile. Fan-fucking-tastic.” He sighs overdramatically, waving his hands in the air as though drowning in things that I just don’t care about anymore, and then turns to give me an almost teary look. “Didn’t it cross your mind that he might not be who he says he is? That he’s using you? Or that maybe, just maybe, I might want to be there when my only brother tied the knot?”
There’s a touch of agony in his torn tone that slams straight into me and makes me really think; about thinking, about Gerard, about Brendon, about me and Brendon. About everything that I already thought about and thought was good.
“But no. Silly little Mikey was feeling all alone so he went and got married to some guy who probably just saw you had a nice phone and thought he could get some money out of you. Know how I know?”
I shake my head, all of a sudden feeling very scared of the person who I’ve always trusted to never hurt me in any way possible. But this morning he’s hurt me more than any of the bullies ever have. Because Gerard is my big brother; he’s supposed to just fucking understand.
“Because you’re stupid. You’re just a kid and an unstable one at that. There’s no way he’s interested in you just because he loves you, Mikey. Kids like you… you just don’t get love. Not like that and not from someone who looks like Brandon or whatever his name was.” Gerard locks his firm eyes on my watering ones, his irises showing me nothing but icy sincerity. “I’m sorry, Kiddo, but he’s playing you. Why else would he make you think he’s ‘in love’ with you?”
“Because I really do fucking love him.”
Arms are fastening around my waist from behind before I can even process who the scratchy, groggy voice belongs to. But when I do figure it out, it feels like everything my best friend and big brother has just said to me doesn’t matter in the slightest.
Because I’m being held by my Brendon; by my husband of eight hours.
“Nice of you to make an appearance, dickwad.” Gerard snarls, his eyes narrowing in the direction of my lover’s lightly stubbly face. “Now leave my brother the fuck alone.”
“No.”
Brendon leans down and kisses the crook of neck, his plump lips making every part of my body ooze with love for the one person in the world who has never made me anything less than happy. Sure, we’ve known each other for less than twenty-four hours but that just makes the love more prominent; this really is a case of love at first sight.
True, fairy-tale love in the kingdom of Las Vegas.
“And why the fuck not?”
The older man’s eyes meet mine and I know in that instant that everything’s going to be fine; that he’s going to fix this for me for one reason and one reason alone.
“Because I love him.”
A/N: This idea has been floating around my head since half past ten this morning (it popped into my mind whilst I was walking around the local carboot – random factoids FTW) and, after a day of contemplation and planning, I must say that this feels like a bit of a let-down. So sorry about that, but I still hope you enjoyed reading and please let me know what you think! :)
“Oh Jesus. Oh God. Oh Jesus fucking God.”
He stops, runs a hand through his ratty nest of black and then storms straight across the hotel room to where I’m stood; the look on his face making my stomach explode like an a-bomb.
“What the hell were you thinking, Mikey? Mom and Dad are so gonna kill me.”
My big brother resumes his pacing, doing absolutely nothing for my own overwhelming sense of nerves, and I almost feel guilty for having made him such a wreck. Almost, but not nearly quite. Why should I be guilty for being happy?
So maybe this was meant to be his holiday, his five days of fun in the sun, but I’m not just going to sit back and let the most adorable guy I’ve ever seen walk on by just because Gerard needs someone to stop him from drowning in a pool of some sort of substance from a questionable origin. It’s not like he isn’t making me pay for my ticket to Vegas and it’s not exactly like he did anything to dissuade me from tagging along; if anything, I would have thought he’d be grateful for my company.
He was. On Monday, Tuesday and most of Wednesday he was grateful to have me, his seventeen-year-old brother, glued firmly by his side. Apparently due to the fact that telling girls that you’ve bought your baby brother to Las Vegas for the brotherly break of a lifetime shows you in an excellent light, the kind of glowing light that seems to make me his prize weapon when out hunting for a fuck. But then on Wednesday that changed. Because I became the hunter as opposed to the weapon.
Or rather; I became the hunted. Hunted by some mysterious, vampiric guy with these huge brown eyes and a velvety voice of pure indulgence that seemed to just drown everything else out. It certainly drowned everything in my head out, all of the fears about what will be facing me at school when I return from Vegas and all of the memories of things that I want to forget, such as the causes of the scars on my arms. He drowned that all out. Hell, he even smiled at me. Called me beautiful and, above all else, made me feel beautiful too.
When you say or do that kind of thing to someone like me, someone who’s never even be kissed before, and the you buy them a fair few drinks, well, it’s not hard to get into somewhat compromising situations. Compromising especially because I’m only seventeen and my new friend decided to take me back to my hotel room. The one I’m sharing with my big brother.
And apparently were less than quiet.
I say apparently because I can’t exactly remember anything past my fifth drink. Actually, that’s a lie. I remember one thing very clearly indeed. And it’s that one thing that’s causing Gee to give birth to multiple litters of kittens right now.
“Chill, bro. It’ll wor-“
“Chill? Chill! Are fucking insane? Mikes, you’re my little brother; you were only allowed to come along with me because I swore down to Mom and Dad I’d look after you.” He walks over to me, letting out a sigh that makes me feel almost extremely bad for giving him all this grief, and places his hands on my shoulders in a gesture that’s clearly meant to tell me that he’s not angry, just extremely disappointed. “How could you Mikey?”
Now he doesn’t sound angry or disappointed, just hurt. Very, very hurt. So hurt in fact, that I can almost feel it and that, in turn, hurts me because that’s all I ever manage to do is hurt people. I hurt Mom when I smashed her grandmother’s vase on purpose after a heated row about my attitude towards her and my father. I hurt Dad when I crashed his beloved classic car into the garage door after a too-wild party over at Frank’s house. I hurt Frank when I blew of his band’s first gig in favour of getting stoned in my brother’s basement bedroom.
And now I’ve hurt my brother, the one person who’s always stopped me from getting hurt to the best of his ability, by doing the one thing that’s made me happy this entire holiday. This entire fucking year.
“H-he makes me happy, Gee.” My voice comes out broken; confused as to why my own big brother doesn’t understand when I thought he’d be the only one that would. “And you know how hard that is.”
He visibly winces at that, at my honest mewl of truth. He sees what the kids at school do to me, how deep my darkening depression runs; I think that’s mostly why I got to tag along with him to Vegas. He knows and he understands, so I thought that he would get this. Yeah, I get that what I’ve done is a shock to him but I thought that he at least would understand.
Or at least try to understand.
After recovering from the wince, his look of determined parent-like anger returns. Great. My one piece of ammo in this war and I’ve just wasted it. It shouldn’t have been a waste though, it really should’ve worked. Gerard usually melts at my first request for something that makes me happy, usually will bend over backwards to ensure that my smile stays genuine, but this is different.
Then again though, I’ve never done anything like this before.
“You fucking got married, Michael. You got married to some guy you don’t even know.”
You know all those stories that people tell about getting married to strangers in Vegas? Yeah, well, I sort of fell victim to that last night. The casino we got it done in didn’t even ask for proof of age, otherwise I doubt it would’ve gotten it done. But they didn’t and it did. So now I’ve got some plastic Christmas-cracker ring on my finger, a piece of paper telling me that I’m officially the property of someone else and an ass that feels like a rollercoaster’s torn a track through it.
It’s worth it though. Oh so worth it.
“I do know him though!” I object, my scowl vehement at the one person who I should be able to trust not to judge my actions like this. “We love each other!”
“Mikes, do you even know his goddamn name?” He asks dryly, crossing his arms in a show of authority. Personally, I think it just makes his posture go all funny so it looks like there’s an almighty great stick up his rear end. “Or how old he is? Because I saw him in your bed this morning and he looks a little too old to be with you, Michael James.”
“His name is Brendon Boyd Urie. And he’s twenty-two, Gerard Arthur.”
I can’t help the smirk that works its way smugly onto my face when Gee blanches and his arms drop limply to his sides; good. We’re finally getting somewhere here. And I would have thought that if Gerard had poked his head around the door this morning to look at me snuggled into Brendon then he would’ve seen how perfect we are together; when I woke up we were tangled like vines and Bren had his arms around me as though I was his beloved childhood teddy.
I liked that, I really did, that feeling of being loved and wanted; of being better than getting slammed into some jock’s locker until I can see spots.
Gerard rakes a paw through his hair yet again, the millionth time since I broke the news to him whilst my husband slept and we had coffee. I think the panicked gesture it means that my big brother believes the apocalypse to be imminently oncoming. I don’t see why though. I mean, all I did was get married. And no harm ever came from someone’s slightly younger brother from getting married, right?
“Twenty-two. Great. My brother married a paedophile. Fan-fucking-tastic.” He sighs overdramatically, waving his hands in the air as though drowning in things that I just don’t care about anymore, and then turns to give me an almost teary look. “Didn’t it cross your mind that he might not be who he says he is? That he’s using you? Or that maybe, just maybe, I might want to be there when my only brother tied the knot?”
There’s a touch of agony in his torn tone that slams straight into me and makes me really think; about thinking, about Gerard, about Brendon, about me and Brendon. About everything that I already thought about and thought was good.
“But no. Silly little Mikey was feeling all alone so he went and got married to some guy who probably just saw you had a nice phone and thought he could get some money out of you. Know how I know?”
I shake my head, all of a sudden feeling very scared of the person who I’ve always trusted to never hurt me in any way possible. But this morning he’s hurt me more than any of the bullies ever have. Because Gerard is my big brother; he’s supposed to just fucking understand.
“Because you’re stupid. You’re just a kid and an unstable one at that. There’s no way he’s interested in you just because he loves you, Mikey. Kids like you… you just don’t get love. Not like that and not from someone who looks like Brandon or whatever his name was.” Gerard locks his firm eyes on my watering ones, his irises showing me nothing but icy sincerity. “I’m sorry, Kiddo, but he’s playing you. Why else would he make you think he’s ‘in love’ with you?”
“Because I really do fucking love him.”
Arms are fastening around my waist from behind before I can even process who the scratchy, groggy voice belongs to. But when I do figure it out, it feels like everything my best friend and big brother has just said to me doesn’t matter in the slightest.
Because I’m being held by my Brendon; by my husband of eight hours.
“Nice of you to make an appearance, dickwad.” Gerard snarls, his eyes narrowing in the direction of my lover’s lightly stubbly face. “Now leave my brother the fuck alone.”
“No.”
Brendon leans down and kisses the crook of neck, his plump lips making every part of my body ooze with love for the one person in the world who has never made me anything less than happy. Sure, we’ve known each other for less than twenty-four hours but that just makes the love more prominent; this really is a case of love at first sight.
True, fairy-tale love in the kingdom of Las Vegas.
“And why the fuck not?”
The older man’s eyes meet mine and I know in that instant that everything’s going to be fine; that he’s going to fix this for me for one reason and one reason alone.
“Because I love him.”
A/N: This idea has been floating around my head since half past ten this morning (it popped into my mind whilst I was walking around the local carboot – random factoids FTW) and, after a day of contemplation and planning, I must say that this feels like a bit of a let-down. So sorry about that, but I still hope you enjoyed reading and please let me know what you think! :)
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