all the colors on street signs

when mikey woke from his slumber, everything hurt. nothing had changed, the man laying beside him was still as plain as the old tv’s from the 50’s. true love had not yet reared its ugly head, ramming into mikey’s life. he turns and falls asleep again, facing away from the intruder.


he didn’t call brian again. it was inevitable. at this moment, mikey was busy being the third wheel in the fucked up relationship that was bertandgerard. never gerardandbert. never gerard by himself. gerard had been drinking enough whiskey to kill a man twice his size, but he always woke up the next morning after passing out with a quiet moan, and an urge to make coffee. now bert, bert was the definition of the term “gross”. he didn’t shower, or brush his teeth, and he always smelled like booze and jizz. mikey didn’t like to think about gerard’s jizz, but he was pretty sure that bert wore the shirts he and gerard used to wipe themselves down without washing it again. mikey blinked back to reality. bert and gerard were in the middle of making out. mikey let himself out.

Notes

first chapter, this is posted on AO3. thanks for voting and commenting if you like do that. its okay if you don't.