Frank on a Leash

Just as Mikey was leaning over the cracked porcelain sink staring into the dirty mirror with a stick of eyeliner in his hand and his mouth in a open O (obviously that is the only way to do it), Bob walked in to the boys' bathroom, fury from seeing Mikey and Frank together still with him. He'd known all along that he couldn't have Frank, and that was bad enough without having to see him kissing the goth fuck. Fists clenched at his sides, he smiled to himself as he thought of what to make of Mikey bent over like that, not paying any attention to the other boy who was giving him death rays. There were so many possibilities. He could rip his pointy spine right out of his little body, then Frank wouldn't want him. Who wants a paralyzed boyfriend?

Mikey glanced past his own reflection in the mirror to see Bob behind him, cracking his knuckles and smirking. Right about then, the gripping panic set in and he fumbled the eyeliner, dropping it to land on the floor beside the rubber soles of his Doc Martins, a long dark streak of Kohl adorning the ground.

"Bob," Mikey whispered reverently, heart suddenly deciding that a better place for it to call home was in his brain where it could give him massive headaches all the time.

Bob smiled pleasantly and raised his hand up to Mikey's reflection, greeting the fake Mikey kindly. "Mikey." He took a step forward and was delighted to see Mikey inch forward over the sink ever so slightly, the veins on the undersides of his arms sticking out of his skin from the force he was using to keep himself glued to the porcelain veneer. Bob's head poked out over his shoulder as his chest pressed up against Mikey's shaking back.

"You know, Mikey, you're a lot less cocky without Frankie around." Each of Bob's hands wrapped around Mikey's wrists and held him there. Mikey could only whimper and curse the sudden loss of his vocal chords. He knew they were in his lungs somewhere, unless they ran away with his heart to his head. Well, it felt more like they went straight to his stomach to keep his liver company.

He slipped his eyes shut when Bob's beard came in contact with his cheek, tilting his head away from the prickling and burning. But he couldn't, and soon he felt the warm skin of Bob's neck on his, and thought he would just puke his guts up right there and then, that way Bob wouldn't even have to kill him, his job would be done. "Stop it."

"Stop it." Bob played his favorite role, the Mimic. It was still the best proven way to grind down someone's nerves.

"Really, stop it."

"Really."

"Bob!"

Bob heard the crack in Mikey's voice and spun him around forcefully, turning them face to face. For a moment, everything stopped, Mikey's heart, Bob's rage, the world itself stopped spinning on its axis and wobbled, threats to fall off futile because less than a millisecond later it was going again at full speed, and Bob's fist was connecting with Mikey's hip bone, shattering glass and bright spurts of pain cascading through his leg. He only punched once, only enough to make Mikey hunch over and wheeze before standing up somewhat straight again.

"Hey, Mikey?"

Mikey didn't have to answer for Bob to go on, so he didn't. His organs officially were missing. He was surprised when Bob asked a legitimate question, even more surprised when he found himself answering.

"Do you think you deserve Frankie?"

"...Hell no."

Bob nodded and stepped back, smiling because this was going to be easier than he thought. He expected Mikey to put up just a little of a fight. "Then why are you with him? What does he see in you?"

Mikey shrugged and looked down at his own hands toying with the end of his black shirt that didn't come down low enough to cover that stretch of skin between where the shirt ended and his pants began.

"You never even wonder? When he could have any boy or girl in the school he picks the loser? You wanna know what I think?"

No.

"I think that he just does it out of pity. The boy cares too much about the under dog. He wants to travel to Africa with the cure for AIDS, he wants to convert everyone to veganism to save the cows and pigs and shit. Ever think that the only reason he wants you is because you so obviously need to be fixed?"

Mikey frowned and thought. He didn't want to ever consider anything that came out of Bob's mouth the truth, but what was it that Wendy told him while she was pinning him to the lockers? He scrunched up his nose and suddenly he was re-living it with impeccable clarity, smelling her perfume, tasting her lipstick, awkwardly fumbling his way through an excuse that never came out.

Oh, baby, you make people want to fix you...

"That's not why..." he whispered against the air pressing into his lungs. He shook his head and let his body go limp against the wall. He wanted to sink to the floor, but Bob was still holding him up, so he just crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yeah it is. It's the only reason why anyone likes you. They think that if they just wipe all that shit off of your face and get you into some tight jeans that you'll bloom into a perfect fucking butterfly and rub in everyone's faces that they liked you from the start. Mikey, they think you're a caterpillar. But really, you're just a fucking worm, right? Nothing under that chrysalis but bones and a shitty personality."

Bob figured it was time to stop when the third gray tear slipped down Mikey's cheek, but this was just too fuckin' fun.

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Mikey flicked the air conditioner on in his car as he waited for Frank. The autumn wind outside was cool, he could see several people shivering and burying their pink noses into cozy knitted scarves, but he liked the cold weather. He liked to turn the air way up and snuggle down in his oversize jacket that used to be Gerard's, especially if he'd washed it the day before and it still had the clean smell of fabric softener. No one got it but him, his mom always told him that he was cold-blooded to be able to stand it, but that wasn't it.

Frank was walking through the parking lot with his beanie pulled down over his chapped ears, hands thrust in his pockets. He saw Mikey's car and picked up his pace a bit, reaching the passenger side door in record time. Inside the car wasn't any warmer than outside, to his despair. He was desperately hoping for a warm ride because he knew Mikey had a heater in his car, and why would Mikey put Frank through this--

Wait.

"Mikey, you have the air conditioner on!" Frank squealed indignantly, burrowing into Mikey's side, seeking out all the body heat he could. Mikey's jacket wasn't really doing much for Frank, the material on the outside was too cold and plastic-y, so he slid into Mikey's lap without warning, unzipped his coat, and wrapped his arms around Mikey's waist, knotting his fingers together at the back.

Mikey smiled and reached behind Frank to re-zip the jacket over both of them, settling back into his seat comfortably. Frank made a happy sound as the warmth finally began to coarse through his body, seeping out from his chest to fly through his frozen limbs. This was a whole new kind of warm, it was being warm to the bone and nearly melting while the whole world around them was encased with ice. Frank liked the contrast, it was like watching a storm from the safety of his bedroom, where it couldn't touch him. Chaos was all around but he was comfortable hidden down in Mikey's coat.

"Oh." Was all he said. He understood why Mikey had the air conditioner on now.

Mikey smiled--finally someone understood!--and nodded. "Yeah, oh."

Frank nodded back, curling deeper into Mikey's coat and tucked his head under his chin, pressing a cold nose into Mikey's neck. He breathed a low sigh and tilted his face up, seeking out any skin he could plant kisses along. The ridges of Mikey's throat, his Adam's apple, that sweet patch of soft skin where his jaw connects to his neck. Frank found a weak spot right on the ridge of his collarbone, earning himself a low moan and a, "Frank, we're in the parking lot."

He ignored it, not giving a fuck who saw them. They would talk, yeah, but he didn't care much anymore what anyone said about him. He used to care if he heard his name among the rumors being passed along from person to person like an STD. Last year he probably would have kicked someone's ass for starting rumors that he was gay, but now it was true and he wanted people to know that this pretty boy perched under him belonged to him, and messing with him meant evoking the wrath of Frank fucking Iero, which was something no one wanted.

He pulled away from Mikey's neck and looked down at him, adjusting his askew glasses.

"You don't want people to know, do you?" He didn't let the disappointment show in his voice, but he was silently crushed. Mikey quickly worked to backtrack his words, speaking frantically and pulling Frank closer to him like he was afraid he'd go away if he made one mistake.

"I didn't mean that, Frankie, I--it's not that I don't want people to know, but...um, just don't think that cause it's not true, okay, I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks--"

Frank smiled down at Mikey, cupping his face gently in both hands to quell the babbling he never thought he'd hear out of Mikey. Mikey's mouth snapped shut as he realized Frank wasn't mad. He was--he was smiling?

"Mikey." Frank traced the edge of his sharp jaw with his thumbs, running them in circles right under his ears. "It's okay. If you don't feel comfortable with me kissing you in public, just tell me and I'll stop."

Mikey's eyelids drooped when Frank started to massage the skin beneath his ears, leaning into the caress wistfully. No one ever touched him like this, ever. Intimate, innocent, caring, human. Frank's deep voice broke through the silence. snapping Mikey out of his blissful trance.

"No, Frank, don't stop kissing me." His voice came out muffled as he nudged Frank's still hand, just wanting to be petted again. "I like it when you kiss me, it's the only time I ever feel like I matter." He glanced down at the door lock on his door that was currently in the unlocked position. He hadn't meant the last part to slip out, but now that it was, what the hell. "But I don't, I'm nothing, and if people see you kissing me..." He knew he didn't have to go on for Frank to understand.

Frank barely managed not to roll his eyes. "You think it'll rub off?" He raised and eyebrow when Mikey nodded, looking down at his hands, busily chipping away black nailpolish and watching as it crumbled to the floor and the true color of his fingernails began peeking through.

"Mikey...honey..." He was at a loss for words trying to understand what was going through his boyfriend's head. He thought he understood Mikey a little bit, but this...this was a whole new layer of unbreached and underlying self-doubt that he was just beginning to see. A festering, boiling acid corroding beneath his skin like a pestilence, like some god awful disease neither of them could see, named Anti-social and Frank wanted to stomp its fucking brains in. He leaned in to press a wet kiss to Mikey's jaw, breathing out condensation on his glasses.

"Mikey-" he sighed onto Mikey's flushed cheek. "I honestly couldn't give a fuck if everyone in the world suddenly thought I was a freak, you know. I don't care about my social standing--it's never been about that, I just wanted to be a nice guy, but--you're a hell of a lot more important to me than any of that shit can ever be. I--I don't think you hear it enough, but you're beautiful, and I still can't believe that you're my boyfriend, as cliche as that sounds." He smiled down at his beaming boyfriend and leaned in to smush their noses together.