Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Artist
“Wow, Gee! It’s beautiful! Is it really for me?” Mikey gasps in awe, holding the piece of paper at arm’s length and regarding it as though he’s never seen anything more perfect in all of his sixteen years. “You really mean it?”
“Of course I do!” I reply in less than a heartbeat, a warm feeling smothering my insides like a blanket on a cold winter’s night at the sight of seeing him smile so freely, so without needless restraint. “It’s your birthday, Mikes; of course you get to keep your presents.” I say it with an air of superiority, just like that time I proved to him that our childhood dog totally couldn’t swim, and he immediately sticks his tongue out at me. “You know if the wind changes, your face will stay that way.”
“And you know that if you stop breathing I get to have the bigger bedroom.” Mikey smirks at me, but refuses to let his eyes stray from the drawing I’ve just given him for his sixteenth birthday present. “Yet here you are.”
Giggles start bubbling out of my mouth and into the comfortable quiet of my basement bedroom, soon followed by Mikey’s own guffaws. Some weird kind of feeling hits me when I hear his laugh and realise that it’s deeper than my own, where it would have once been so unbearably more high-pitched. This feeling is soon accompanied by a pang of something unnameable at the memory of when I first noticed that he’d grown to be taller than me.
When I’d first noticed that he’d grown up.
I think the first time I saw it was when he bought a girl home for the first time a month or so back, her following him like he was an angel taking her to heaven and him smiling as though he’d just found out that his High School had been blown sky-high. In short, I first noticed that Mikes has grown up when he got his first girlfriend. After that, I’d get this strange feeling whenever I looked at him; it’s like a weird mixture of sadness, pride and a kind of love so infallible that it can only be described as unconditional.
That mishmash of feelings? That’s what I’m getting right now as I watch him taking in my meagre gift of some cartoon I drew up for him a few nights back. It’s all of his favourite bands drawn to look like superheroes, with him in the middle, wearing those glasses that make him just so Mikey. My baby brother who’s not a baby anymore.
“You like it then?”
“Like it?” He squeals, proving to me that there’s still a fair bit of kid still in him. “Gee, I fucking love it, bro!”
As though to prove a point - and partly because I think he wants to - he places the drawing down gently on my dresser and drowns me in an overwhelmingly forceful bear-hug. So overwhelmingly forceful in fact, that it pushes the both of us onto my bed where I take revenge upon him by means of tickle-attack.
He starts arching and gasping for air after mere seconds at the non-existent mercy of my fingers, leaving me nothing to do but smile smugly at him as he catches his breath, letting him know that I’m still the big brother here even if I am the smallest.
Long, lanky arms tug me down into a hug so that we’re both lying on my bed, smiling and more content than either of us has been in a long while. Contentment’s kind of hard to achieve when you’re either being picked on or wondering whether or not your baby brother will come home with a bloody nose. But this is far away from any of that, from them and from school; this is just the two of us in my bedroom, being brothers and celebrating the fact that Mikey’s been around for sixteen years.
The best sixteen years of my life.
“Hey, Gee?” I make a small noise of acknowledgement, not wanting to ruin the perfect peacefulness of the moment. “I wish I could make something beautiful, like you can with your art.”
“But you do, Mikes.” When he just arches his eyebrows in confusion I ruffle his hair and smile at him a pure, genuine smile. “You go out of your way to make people happy and that is the most beautiful thing a person can make; a smile.”
“Have you been reading too much Winnie the Pooh again?” Mikey asks in that tone, the tone that tells me the sarcasm in his words is no accident.
But his eyes tell me that I’ve said the right thing; that he understands and loves me for it.
“Happy birthday, Mikey.”
“Thanks, big brother.”
A/N: Sorry I haven’t been on in a while, but things have been kinda hectic for me over here; gone into my last year of school, (kinda) started a band and I went on holiday for a few days. This is the first part of a little challenge I’ve decided to set myself. The challenge is to do a little ficlet (can be as short as a drabble or as long as the Great Wall of China) based on a word starting with each letter of the alphabet, like this one is ‘a’ for Artist. Pairings and fandoms will vary throughout the challenge.
Anyways, sorry if this sucks but thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)
“Wow, Gee! It’s beautiful! Is it really for me?” Mikey gasps in awe, holding the piece of paper at arm’s length and regarding it as though he’s never seen anything more perfect in all of his sixteen years. “You really mean it?”
“Of course I do!” I reply in less than a heartbeat, a warm feeling smothering my insides like a blanket on a cold winter’s night at the sight of seeing him smile so freely, so without needless restraint. “It’s your birthday, Mikes; of course you get to keep your presents.” I say it with an air of superiority, just like that time I proved to him that our childhood dog totally couldn’t swim, and he immediately sticks his tongue out at me. “You know if the wind changes, your face will stay that way.”
“And you know that if you stop breathing I get to have the bigger bedroom.” Mikey smirks at me, but refuses to let his eyes stray from the drawing I’ve just given him for his sixteenth birthday present. “Yet here you are.”
Giggles start bubbling out of my mouth and into the comfortable quiet of my basement bedroom, soon followed by Mikey’s own guffaws. Some weird kind of feeling hits me when I hear his laugh and realise that it’s deeper than my own, where it would have once been so unbearably more high-pitched. This feeling is soon accompanied by a pang of something unnameable at the memory of when I first noticed that he’d grown to be taller than me.
When I’d first noticed that he’d grown up.
I think the first time I saw it was when he bought a girl home for the first time a month or so back, her following him like he was an angel taking her to heaven and him smiling as though he’d just found out that his High School had been blown sky-high. In short, I first noticed that Mikes has grown up when he got his first girlfriend. After that, I’d get this strange feeling whenever I looked at him; it’s like a weird mixture of sadness, pride and a kind of love so infallible that it can only be described as unconditional.
That mishmash of feelings? That’s what I’m getting right now as I watch him taking in my meagre gift of some cartoon I drew up for him a few nights back. It’s all of his favourite bands drawn to look like superheroes, with him in the middle, wearing those glasses that make him just so Mikey. My baby brother who’s not a baby anymore.
“You like it then?”
“Like it?” He squeals, proving to me that there’s still a fair bit of kid still in him. “Gee, I fucking love it, bro!”
As though to prove a point - and partly because I think he wants to - he places the drawing down gently on my dresser and drowns me in an overwhelmingly forceful bear-hug. So overwhelmingly forceful in fact, that it pushes the both of us onto my bed where I take revenge upon him by means of tickle-attack.
He starts arching and gasping for air after mere seconds at the non-existent mercy of my fingers, leaving me nothing to do but smile smugly at him as he catches his breath, letting him know that I’m still the big brother here even if I am the smallest.
Long, lanky arms tug me down into a hug so that we’re both lying on my bed, smiling and more content than either of us has been in a long while. Contentment’s kind of hard to achieve when you’re either being picked on or wondering whether or not your baby brother will come home with a bloody nose. But this is far away from any of that, from them and from school; this is just the two of us in my bedroom, being brothers and celebrating the fact that Mikey’s been around for sixteen years.
The best sixteen years of my life.
“Hey, Gee?” I make a small noise of acknowledgement, not wanting to ruin the perfect peacefulness of the moment. “I wish I could make something beautiful, like you can with your art.”
“But you do, Mikes.” When he just arches his eyebrows in confusion I ruffle his hair and smile at him a pure, genuine smile. “You go out of your way to make people happy and that is the most beautiful thing a person can make; a smile.”
“Have you been reading too much Winnie the Pooh again?” Mikey asks in that tone, the tone that tells me the sarcasm in his words is no accident.
But his eyes tell me that I’ve said the right thing; that he understands and loves me for it.
“Happy birthday, Mikey.”
“Thanks, big brother.”
A/N: Sorry I haven’t been on in a while, but things have been kinda hectic for me over here; gone into my last year of school, (kinda) started a band and I went on holiday for a few days. This is the first part of a little challenge I’ve decided to set myself. The challenge is to do a little ficlet (can be as short as a drabble or as long as the Great Wall of China) based on a word starting with each letter of the alphabet, like this one is ‘a’ for Artist. Pairings and fandoms will vary throughout the challenge.
Anyways, sorry if this sucks but thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)
Sign up to rate and review this story