I'll Never Be What You Need.

Mikey stood out front of his apartment complex, waiting for Frank. He was coming to pick him up for their "sleepover" or whatever. He could believe he had agreed to go through with this damn shit. What was Frank going to do to him ? Would he force him to wear dresses or whatever girls did at this type of stuff ? He shuddered at the thought.

He readjusted the backpack that was thrown lazily over his shoulder. He hadn’t know exactly what to pack, but he had put in a change of clothes and some of his make-up. Best to be prepared for the worst.

His mother hadn’t objected when he said he was staying over one of his friends’ house. In fact, she was ecstatic. She had practically pushed him out the door.

Soon, he saw Frank’s shiny silver car pull up next to him. Frank leaned over and opened the passenger door. “Hi, Mikey,” he greeted excitedly with a huge grin on his face.

Mikey slid into the soft seat, angry at being so dazzled by Frank’s beautiful smile. “Hey,” he replied.

“Are you excited ?” Frank asked.

Mikey looked at him. “About what ?”

Frank shook his head and drove forward. “Our sleepover silly !”

“Um… Yes ?”

“Don’t be so negative ! We’re going to watch a movie and stuff ourselves with junk food until we puke !” Frank exclaimed.

Mikey couldn’t help but smile slightly at Frank’s excitedness. He was acting like a child, but Mikey liked it that way. He just liked Frank in general. "Okay, Frank. Whatever you say."

"Exactly. Now you're catching on." Frank smiled at him again. "So what's up ? Anything new ?"

Mikey shrugged. "Nothing different."

"Hmm. We're about to change that, aren't we ?"

"Yes, I'd suppose we are," Mikey agreed wistfully.

"Tell me more about yourself, Mikey," Frank pleaded. He wanted to know everything there was to know.

"You know enough about me already. Why don't you tell me about you ?"

Frank bit his lip. "Okay. My best friends at school-" he stressed those last two words, "are Bob and Alicia. I'm in Calculus even though I never study. I want to be a psychologist. You know, with crazy people and stuff. My middle name is Anthony: Frank Anthony Iero Jr. is the full name. I attend Queen of Peace High School where I used to get shoved in lockers until I made friends with Bob. Bob protects me, a little too much I sometimes think. I'm five foot four inches, which I believe is unbearably short and I wish I was tall. I like wearing tight clothes. I like eating Skittles. I like talking to Mikey Way."

Mikey looked at Frank. "That's a mouthful, Frank," he observed.

"Ya. Well, that's me. My mother always says that one day my tongue's gonna get up and walk away from talking so much. I usually only talk so much when I'm nervous or excited and I really just can't stop it's just such a bad habit and I keep going and-"

Mikey chuckled slightly. "It's okay. I get it."

Frank averted his eyes back to the road. "Do you ever talk a lot ?" he questioned.

Mikey shrugged. "Not too much I guess." Mikey looked out to see they were pulling into a driveway attached to a one story fairly nice sized suburban home. The outside was pale yellow with and odd sort of off-white trim that strangely worked. The front door had one of those big pieces of glass in it, so you could see right into the house. "Wow," Mikey mumbled. It was really nice. It sadly reminded him of his old house, where he actually had a real family that ate together every night.

FLASHBACK***

Twelve-year-old Mikey Way looked across the table at his older brother, Gerard, who was three years his senior, and stuck his tongue out at him. Gerard was an artist type, slightly introverted, and slightly unknown among his classmates. For now, at least.

Gerard returned the gesture, unsure why in the first place his younger brother was sticking his tongue out. It didn't really matter, either.

Donald Way sat next to his oldest son, while Donna way sat next to her youngest. It was sad how the parents had their favorites, but the two children were oblivious to it in this point of their lives. "So, Gerard," Donald began, stabbing a piece of chicken and putting it on his plate. "How was school ?"

"Pretty good. My art teacher keeps pushing me to take a photography class. She says I'd be good at it," Gerard grumbled, unhappy at this memory. He didn't want to be a damn photographer. That wasn't art in his eyes.

"That would be nice," Donna agreed.

Gerard rolled his eyes, the waves of his teenaged angst filling the room entirely.

Mikey seethed with jealousy, though no one would have known it. He stayed quiet just as he always did. Gerard was always their parents' favorite, and he hated it. No matter what Mikey did, it never seemed like it was good enough. No matter what he did, Gerard always managed to do something better.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Mikes ?" Gerard asked, kicking Mikey lightly under the table.

"Nothing," Mikey spat angerly.

"Mikey, that's no way to talk to your brother," Donald scolded.

Mikey loved his brother, he really did. He was just tired of getting showed up by him all the time. "Whatever," he mumbled.

"What did you say ?" Donna questioned.

"I said: What. Ever," Mikey said, standing up and stomping up to his room.

***END FLASHBACK

Maybe things weren't always so perfect.