Chapter 1: The Heated Beginning
Fucking asshole.
Mikey was shouldering through the crowd, his breathing erratic. His heart was in his throat, tears clawing at the corners of his eyes. His hair was matted to his head. Syrup dripped down his face. He'd never been more humiliated. Sarah, his own girlfriend. She'd pointed and laughed with everyone else, and of course there was Baz. Fucking Baz. With his arm slung around Sarah's waist as if it belonged there, and that stupid, crooked grin on his face that said 'it's so easy to make a joke out of you.'
Mikey had been invited to some frat party with Sarah, which was weird considering Mikey was...well, the literal definition of just that. Weird. Unpopular. Disliked. He'd heavily considered not going, but Sarah had persisted. And persisted. And fucking persisted. He'd eventually caved in with a loud groan and a 'Jesus Christ, baby, fine.'
As he got ready, he looked more put together than he probably ever had in his life. His blonde hair wasn't flat and boring for once. It was fluffy, hanging just barely in his icy blue eyes. Despite Sarah's whines and protests, he'd stayed firm on his outfit. Oversized hoodie he couldn't part from because Gerard Way had signed the sleeve in 2002 when they were still niche, and ripped jeans that looked like they could literally save him from a plane crash by acting as a makeshift parachute.
He helped Sarah into her favorite dress. It was purple, tight. He felt a spike of heat when he saw how beautiful she looked, but he kept it in, just smiling that smile he only reserved for her.
Mikey waited by the door, scrolling through his phone absently, listening to Sarah shuffle around in the bathroom. His eyes flicked up when the door clicked open. Her long black hair was tied back in a bun, her makeup perfectly done. Mikey swore he melted. He let out a soft breath, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her waist.
Mikey: "You're stunning." He mumbled gruffly, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to her lips.
Sarah: (Dismissivley): "Mm, don't flatter me. Let's go."
Mikey helped her into the car, his touch gentle. The ride there was quiet. For him, it was a comfortable silence.
The party was loud. Sweaty. Fucking gross. Mikey had his hand gently intertwined with Sarah's, and he snapped at anyone that bumped into her. Asshole's couldn't learn how to watch where they were going.
Some girl grinned at him.
Girl: "I like your hoodie." She slurred out the words, her breath reeking of alcohol. Mikey just gave a blank nod before drifting past her, hand still locked with Sarah's.
The two kept shoving forward until they got to a nicer, quieter area. Mikey enjoyed quiet. Sarah didn't. After like 2 minutes, she started getting annoyed. Fidgety.
Sarah: "Mikey, seriously, why'd we even come here if you were just planning on standing around in the corner the whole time?"
Mikey sighed wearily, then relented and let her guide him back out to the main party area. She was strangely persistent about 'checking out the kitchen'. He just blinked as they got to the door, then stepped inside. The first thing he saw was Baz and some of Baz's goons. The second thing he saw was a dark blue bucket over his head and sticky maple syrup dripping down his face. His body froze up for a long moment as laughter started spitting out.
Sarah's laughter was included. Mikey shoved the bucket off, grimacing in disgust at the feel. He hated being sticky. His eyes shot up, and his heart probably literally stopped beating. Baz. Sarah. Arm. Waist.
Mikey whimpered. A quiet, pathetic sound that was uncharacteristic as hell for the hot-headed asshole that used low blows as his only defense mechanism. A sound that made Baz's grin widen even further.
Baz: "No fuckin' way you're about to cry. Fuck, man up. Your girl is right here."
Mikey's body trembled. Every part of him was screaming to knock Baz's stupid perfect white teeth out and see how much longer he'd be smiling that stupid perfect smile. Instead, Hot tears pricked at his eyes. His jaw clenched so hard he swore it broke. Heat and pressure coiled in his chest. He wanted to hit something. Shatter something. Fucking anything, but Baz was right. He looked pathetic. No point in humiliating himself more.
He turned, his body locked up, then he exploded. He sprinted as fast as he could. He sprinted out of the frat house. He sprinted down the road. He sprinted into the dark. He sprinted until his lungs ached and his legs screamed, until he felt he'd punished his body enough for that depressing display.
Then he collapsed onto the swing he'd built with Baz when they were both in 7th grade, his throat raw, his chest heaving, and his heart more hollowed out than ever.
end of introduction.
--
stay tuned for more. <3
