Return To Sender

It's three o'clock in the morning and Mikey is lying on the bathroom floor of Frank's apartment, a pillow underneath his head to protect his skull from the hard linoleum. He's hurting in a thousand different places but when he looks down at his body, he can see that all the blood has been cleaned off his skin. When he runs his fingers down his side, he can feel the crude stitches holding together a gash.

"Frank, where are you?" he whimpers, slowly sitting up and holding his head, which is throbbing beneath his hands. The floor is cold beneath his skin and he shivers, searching the room for his clothes.

"Shush." He slumps back against his favorite intoxication, each light kiss on his shoulder blocking out some of the pain. Frank's fingers curl over his, squeezing lightly as his other arm curls around his tiny waist.

"Want a bath?" he murmurs, his nose brushing against Mikey's ear. Mikey nods and slumps back to the floor as Frank fiddles with the taps, cursing under his breath. Sleep overcomes him again for a few moments but as soon as the hot water laps against his abused skin, he's wide awake, pain stinging through his body as each wound hisses.

"It's okay Mikey, I'm here." He leans back again and instantly melts back into Frank's embrace, still wincing slightly from the water biting him. Other than the soothing sound of water gently sloshing around them, all is silent. There's no cars, no screaming mother's, no television, just the two of them. And really, that's all Mikey needs, all he wants; he has no need for the extra, trivial bits of life, as long as he has Frank.

"What are we going to do?" he murmurs, eyes shut, nose nuzzling into Frank's neck. "What if they find out that it was you?"

"Why would they suspect anyone other than him? Your brother had it coming all along. Just... relax." Even though he knows he should still be worried, Mikey can't help but just stop worrying and concentrate on the moment. Frank's right of course; Gerard was a high profile drug addict, a scourge to society. No one's going to miss him.

Not even his own brother.

Frank's fingers are tracing over his bones, gently prodding wounds and bringing fresh blood to the surface. It's painful but in the best way possible, bringing about two equal waves of agony and pleasure with each touch. His hips arch up of their own accord, pleading for more more more. His fingers ghost lower, toying with his body like a puppet, making his mouth open and his limbs move. Mikey hurts so bad but he wants the pain, he wants it for the sheer bliss it brings hand in hand.

His mind is acting on pure instinct, reduced to it's barest state. Everything else outside of the bathroom seems such a distant memory, something from a past life perhaps. He doesn't think of Gerard still lying dead on his bedroom floor, he doesn't think of whether the cops are searching for him. Nothing matters. Only this.

***

The sun's shining bright into Frank's apartment but neither of them make an effort to move from where they'd ended up hours before, skin soaking wet and lips swollen. The sheets are still damp beneath their backs but it doesn't matter. Only Frank matters to Mikey.

"Where do we go from here?" he asks, taking a drag from Frank's cigarette.

"I don't know yet." Smoke billows around their heads like some unholy halo. "I'm not sure if you're ready."

"Ready for what?" Mikey rolls onto his side, ignoring the shooting pain spidering through his ribs. There's only silence as Frank stares at the ceiling, smoke puffing out from between his lips until there's nothing left of his smoke but a stub.

"Are you ready to leave everything behind?"

"Everything?"

"Everything. Mikey, you're too attached to everything... sometimes I'm not even sure if you really understand just how deep my feelings for you are." Frank sighs and lights up another cigarette, the third in a parade that will go on until the package is completely empty. "Think of everything I've done for you love. I've freed you from the binds, I made you unchained. But I don't think you get it..."

"Frank, don't say that," Mikey groans, rolling over so that he's hovering over Frank, pain still shooting through his bones. The glowing ember of the smoke is only inches away from his lips, he can feel the heat radiating from it. "Please don't say that... you know I love you. Anything you want from me, it's yours. My body, my mind, my fucking soul, whatever you want, it's free for the taking." He leans back onto his legs, hands still holding onto Frank's shoulders like a life raft.

"If you want to uproot me right now, and take me far away, I'll go. I'm yours." He slumps back, completely defeated. There is no longer a Mikey and a Frank, they're like one word. MikeyFrank. FrankMikey. Inseparable. Nothing can tear his Frank from him.

Frank stays silent, eyes upturned thoughtfully towards the ceiling as if hoping to find a message in the stained stucco. The only sounds are of him exhaling smoke and Mikey's labored breathing, his chest heaving up and down like he's just finished a marathon.

"Let's do it," he finally says, tossing his smoke aside and hopping out of bed, the sun lighting up his naked body through the window. "Today. We'll leave, we'll go where no one knows us, where no one cares about our names."

"Really?" Mikey's having a hard time believing what Frank's saying. They can't just leave, not that easily. He'll have to tell his parents, to pack, to withdraw money-

The sound of Frank's palm hitting his cheek is like a thunderclap, filling the entire room for a quick second. He falls onto his back, hand cradling the sore skin. Frank has never hit him, never, why would he do that to him?

"Stop thinking like one of them!" he yells, pulling his pants on in one swift movement. "Who says that we can't just get up now, walk out into the street and catch a bus to wherever the fuck we want? Who says that we have to be restricted by those fucking niceties that do nothing but hold us back? Who says that and why the fuck should we listen to them?"

"I'm sorry," Mikey whimpers, sliding off the bed and pulling his own clothing off, trying to discreetly wipe away the humiliated tears pouring from his eyes. "We'll leave, yes, we'll leave and never look back." A hand falls on his shoulder and he winces away from it, prepared for another slap.

"Mikey, I'm the one who should be sorry." Arms around his waist and he leans back into them, still sniffling like a little girl. "I shouldn't have hit you, I shouldn't have allowed myself to get so flustered."

"It's okay." Mikey knows he deserved it, he shouldn't have been so stupid. But none of that matters now. Him and Frank are finally going to be away, he'll be away from the life that he's despised for so long. No more illusions. No more acting. Just him and Frank and the truth.

He turns around and takes Frank's hand, smiling at the chipped black nail polish. Always chipped, never perfect. Just like himself.

"I'm ready."