My Angel

Thank god I was able to leave that damn hospital finally. Like I said, I hate hospitals. I hate those damn places with a burning passion, Jesus! But luckily, I was able to leave the hellhole the day after I woke up from my coma. I had been noticing it was getting awfully close to Valentine's Day, and I remembered that Frank doesn't love me and I wanted to shoot myself in the brain. Isn't that just lovely to imagine? I hate myself so much. - Thank fuck Frank lived where he did in my dream, man. I threw some rocks at his window until he walked over, perplexed look upon his gorgeous and restless face. I waved, and he opened the window, smiling a little. "Hey, what are you doing here?" He asked, leaning out the window slightly. "It's a little late. And how the hell did you know where I live?" He chuckled a little. I shrugged, because if I'd told him, he would think I was mad as rabbits. "Can I come up?" I asked suddenly, gaining a nod from him in response. I climbed up the tree and in through the window like I'd done it a million times before. Because I did. But not in reality. "You know, you're brother was here earlier," Frank blurted out randomly, laying down on his bed like the night I was practically homeless and I climbed through his window late at night. But of course, that wasn't real. "I might have gave him some pretty bad advice." I shrugged it off, because yeah I'm an arsehole like that sometimes. "Lindsey told me her and her girlfriend's wedding is in a few days," I said randomly, knowing that maybe it wasn't really my place to tell Frank, but really not caring because I'm an arsehole like that sometimes. "She wants me to go." "Didn't you used to like her or something?" He inquired, gesturing for me to sit down next to him. "And isn't that why you...?" I nodded. "Thought so." There was silence for a moment, but was broken by me. "I really like you, you know," I uttered into the silent air, kind of regretting saying it after it left my lips. "That is, if you're like how you were in my dream, which I honestly don't doubt." "I was in your dream?" He questioned, tilting his head to the side. I nodded, smiling a little as a blush crept it's way onto his cheeks, and surprisingly, mine too. "I was in your six month long dream?" I nodded again. "Cool." And then there was that silence again. "Hey Gerard?" Frank broke the silence, making my head turn over to him quickly. "C-can I ask you something?" "Sure, why not?" "When you first laid eyes on me when I first came to school, did you recognize me?" Huh? What did he mean? "What do you mean?" "Did I look familiar at all, perhaps? Did you recognize me at all?" Now that I think about it, he did look vaguely familiar, and I just shrugged it off as if it was nothing. "Actually, yes. Why? Where did I know you from? I can't think of it..." "Your old school. I used to go there too and we met briefly in the hall one time. I- I actually had a big fucking crush on you, if I'm honest..." I think I just fell apart... From happiness, of course. "Oh, you did?" "Yeah... Your smile was cute. It still is. It was a rare thing to see, though. And you... You're just... Beautiful." He blushed fifty different shades of red, and he looked so fucking adorable with the way the was pathetically attempting to hide said blush which I happened to have found very cute. Frank was cute. He was still an angel. "I- I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said-" "It's okay, don't be sorry. I happen to think that the way you blush is cute." He blushed more. "Can I ask you something though?" He nodded. "Do you still have a crush on me?" I found myself blushing too, but not quite as much as Frank. "Maybe..." And more silence engulfed the room like flames on something drenched in gasoline. And maybe I wanted to kiss him right then and there, but maybe I just couldn't. Maybe I couldn't because I needed to wait to see how he really felt about me. If he kissed me right then, I wouldn't mind. But I couldn't kiss him. And perhaps I really wanted him to kiss me. - Mikey's POV (Mikey's thoughts) I can't fucking believe I listened to one fucking word that left Iero's lips. Honestly, this is just wrong. And really, Pete shouldn't have made me believe he liked me by kissing me once. That was wrong too, of course. But apparently, Patrick is the one he likes. Not me. Isn't it messed up; how I'm just dying to be him? And of course, thanks to Iero, I'm stuck watching them from the closet. Greatest idea ever, really. Fuck you, Iero, you asshole. Haha, I could text Pete and be all like, 'Oh, don't mind me. I'm watching you two from the closet, wishing to be the friction in your jeans.' I honestly doubt that'll go down well. But if we're all gonna go down, sugar we're goin down swinging. I feel like a creepy stalker or some shit. I'm such a creeper, aren't I? This is fucking weird... Oh, and there goes Pete, moaning like the little slut I know he is. Like the little slut we all know he is. Thankfully, they're still somewhat clothed. I'm gonna kill Iero next time I see his ass, because if it wasn't for his 'advice', I wouldn't be stuck in this awkward and creepy position. I really wouldn't. I just can't look; it's killing me... And taking control. Oh fuck, there goes Pete's jeans. Well, that text is damn well out of the question entirely, if it wasn't already, that is. Oh shit, and down comes his boxers and I get a real nice view of that ass... Oh shit, I need to stop being creepy and stop watching. It started out with a kiss. How did it end up like this? It was only a kiss. Maybe I'll just play flappy bird. Yeah that sounds good. Or I could stare at Pete's ass again. That sounds good too. I think I'll just settle for flappy bird. Why the hell does my phone take forever to boot up? Like seriously. Wtf? Oh shit, I forgot that the sound is up on full volume. Why the fuck did I leave it on full volume? Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. That's a lot of crap to deal with haha... Fuck why did I laugh aloud? Oh. Shit. Well, Pete's discovered I'm here now. And there goes the closet door flying open. (End of Mikey's thoughts) "Mikey, what the fuck?!" Pete exclaimed, looking down at my awkward figure sitting oddly in the closet. I bet from his view, I looked like a stalker. "Pete, hey," I stammered, chuckling awkwardly and nervously as I pocketed my phone. I blushed when I looked up, because I met the gaze of a naked Pete Wentz, who was angry and sweaty and fucking hot. "Mikey, what the hell are you doing in my closet?" He asked, calming down just a little and blushing just the tiniest bit that was just cute. "I umm... came over to surprise you before you got home, so I hid in your closet to jump out at you, but when you came up here, making out with Patrick, I didn't know what to do and I didn't want you to flip out on me." That was honestly pulled straight out of my ass for real. Pete raised his eyebrows, turning around to look at Patrick, who was blushing furiously and covering himself with a sheet despite the fact that he was still wearing boxers. "Oh, um," Pete began, not exactly looking like he knew what to do. "Sorry?" He chuckled nervously. "I'm sorry Mikeyway. Hey, did you get turned on?" And I think I could slap Pete Wentz right now. "Pete," I began, knowing there was something I needed to ask and knowing I needed an answer. "Why did you kiss me?" "Huh?" Really Pete? Don't act so innocent. "Before. Why did you kiss me if you didn't like me? Because-" "I um-" "-you made me think about you a lot," I interrupted, to finish my sentence. "And when I found out you liked Patrick, it hurt. I really don't understand you Pete, goddamn you." I ran my hand through my hair. "You shouldn't have kissed me." "Mikey I-" I just can't let him talk, really. "You shouldn't have kissed me, Pete. You shouldn't have made me feel like this. Am I more than you bargained for yet? Is this more than you bargained for yet?" Now I just felt like being an arsehole. "Mikey, shut the fuck up for five seconds and let me talk, will you?!" Okay, I'm listening. "Okay, Jesus! Mikey, I like you, but I didn't think you liked me and-" "I don't," I interrupted, just like the arsehole I decided on being as of right at the moment. "I don't like you, Pete. Hell, I don't love you either. I'm just going to leave, so if you could be kind enough to remove yourself and your dick from the doorway, it would be kindly appreciated." I stood up. Truth is, I'm really fucking head over heels for Pete motherfucking Wentz. And Pete stayed quiet, moving out of my way so I could exit the closet. And I did, I left them two upstairs and decided to go meet up with a buddy of mine. - "Hey Mikey!" I heard him exclaim. I spun around to look at him and he hugged me like he always does. "Hey Kellan," I choked out, because damn, I was practically being suffocated. Thankfully, he let go. He beamed at me. "Hey, could I get some of that stuff? You know..." "Yeah, I'll get it for you right away, Mikes," Kellan giggled, pulling a small bag of cocaine out of his pocket. "Don't worry about paying me this time, but only because I love seeing your cute face." He winked at me. Okay, so... I'm a bit of a coke addict... But it's Kel's fault, really. Right after my birthday, he had gotten me drunk enough to try it. And I liked it. So it's his fault. Maybe he's a bit of a bad influence, but it's not like anyone really cares about me anymore anyway. "Thanks Kel," I smiled, pocketing the coke and turning to walk off. He caught my arm and kissed my cheek, causing me to blush. "Okay, umm... bye." Then I had walked off. - Pete wouldn't stop calling my phone. I ignored it at first, then I got tired and just muted the damn thing. I had far too much crack to even think... I drank a lot of booze too. Mom and Gerard were out, so I figured nobody would care. But Pete apparently does, for god only knows what reason. I decided on just ignoring Pete all night, but eventually, I picked up the phone. "What the fuck do you want?" My words were slurred, but hopefully he understood what the hell I yelled down the line. "Mikey, are you okay? Why didn't you pick up before?" Goddamn Pete Wentz and his cute voice. "I didn't want to, okay?" Does he not get it or something? "Mikey, are you drunk?" "So what if I am, Pete?" "I'm outside. I'm coming inside right now." Fuck you, Pete Wentz. If I wasn't drunk or stoned, I'd probably have said fuck off. And then he hung up. How rude. And then he bolted into my bedroom, door swinging open and hitting the wall. "Mikey, look, I need to talk to you, okay?" Pete sighed, walking over and sitting on my bed. I noticed his eyes fixated on the crack in the bag on the nightstand. "Are you on crack?" He asked suddenly, raising his eyebrows wildly. I nodded. "Fuck, Mikey... You're only fifteen!" I know how old I am, bitch. "Pete, look, I just..." I began, but my words were slurred. I reckoned he had no idea what I was saying. Oh and Pete looked awfully sexy... That was distracting as well. That was distracting as hell. Hahaha. "Pete, you look sexy." "Oh," he uttered, blushing a bright red color, which was hot as hell. "Thank you, Mikey. You look sexy too." No, I don't. "Thanks Pete." I don't even know why I had let that come out of my mouth. "Mmm, I kind of want to kiss you." Ah, what the hell. I'm just talking out of my ass, probably. "Then do it." Fuck Pete Wentz and his sexy voice and shit, fuck him. "Only if I can fuck you." No! Fuck you, brain! My brain is stupid as fuck and my drunkenness is fucking with my brain to mouth filter, and it got confused! No, I don't want to fuck him. "Oh, but it would be me fucking you, Mikeyway." Okay, maybe I wouldn't mind that. Yes I would. No I wouldn't. Fuck it. I pinned Pete down against the mattress, straddling him and kissing him. To my surprise, he kissed back. I let go of his wrists and he flipped us over that quick, straddling me, because in my drunken state, I might've fallen off the bed. And I think he realized that. I slid my hands up his shirt, letting my cold fingers dance on his warm torso. He shivered under my touch, which made me smirk. Pete removed his lips from mine and moved onto my neck, sucking and making me let out a small moan. I lifted Pete's shirt and he sat up to take it off all the way, before helping me take off mine. He leaned down to kiss me again, trailing the fingers of one of his hands up and down, my leg to my stomach. Finally, he stopped and used the hand to unzip my pants, only to slide his hand into them to grab me. He was doing something, but I was too drunk to know exactly what it was he was doing. But it felt nice. "Pete Wentz, I love your fucking hand," I moaned, running my hands up and down his exposed back. I felt him smirk against my neck that he happened to be sucking on. If mom saw the mark, I would fucking die. If I wasn't drunk, I would've told him to stop by now. "I thought you didn't like me," he pointed out, lifting his head to speak, and with the killer smirk on his face, I knew that he knew I was a fucking liar. "I lied." "Of course you did, because you can't not like me." I could slap Pete Wentz... If I wasn't drunk, and if he didn't have his hand down my pants, that is. "Shut up, slut." And he did. - 08\30\15 Thursday, whoopie. 1:33am. Bye

Notes

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