Kill Your Darlings

When Pete woke up the next morning, Mikey wasn't next to him. He sat up, rubbing his hurt shoulder, and took a silent moment to process the events of the night before.

First: Pete and Mikey had slept together, evident by the marks on Mikey's chest and Pete's neck.

Second: the two were bound for life, due to the fact that Pete had taken Mikey's quote-unquote 'vampire virginity'.

Third: Pete was kidnapped from his own bed and bright to Mikey's brother's house in God Knows Where. He wasn't even see if they were still in New Jersey, to be honest.

Pete looked around the room and found it to be the same as the other room: dark wood paneling, red carpet, candle lights. The bed was about the same size as his, fitted with black sheets and a black bedspread. Across the room, next to the window, which was wide open, seemingly debunking the 'vampires burn in the daylight' myth, was a mirror, also debunking the 'vampires can't see their own reflection' myth.

Or maybe Mikey did some weird hellion voo-doo to make those myths false for a certain amount of time. But Pete doubted that.

Curiously, Pete slid out of bed and crossed over to the mirror. He hadn't seen himself since three nights before, and he was sure he didn't look his usual charming self.

No; Pete looked like death, if death had tattoos and short, almost-white hair. Purple bruise-like bags hung underneath his dark brown eyes, which were bloodshot with exhaustion. Stubble splurged on his jawline, which was a nuisance. His skin was pale, either from the pain of his shoulder or from fear, he wasn't sure.

"Oh," a quiet voice said from behind him and Pete jumped, his heart rate increasingly rapidly. So the myth was true: vampires have no reflection. "You're awake. I was coming in to wake you up."

"Thank you," Pete said quietly, wrapping his arms around Mikey and hugging him tightly. He suddenly had the overwhelming urge to cry, but he wasn't going to do that, not while Mikey was around.

"It's your birthday," Mikey informed Pete. He had completely forgotten his own birthday. "I remember when I was 28."

"How old are you?" Pete asked and Mikey chuckled.

"Well, I was born in 1876, so I'm 139 years old," Mikey said.

"And how have you never had sex in 139 years?" Pete asked and Mikey laughed again.

"Like I said last night, purity was a big deal when I was born," Mikey said. "The only way you could be impure is if you were married, and gay marriage was punishable by death, so, it's simple— I either had sex, or I died."

"How come you don't talk like your brother?" Pete pressed on. He would save the bigger questions for later.

"Because I'm not an obstinant jackass like Gerard is," Mikey deadpanned. "Okay, I came in here to do something... What was it?"

"You're forgetful too?"

"No," Mikey said and leaned down, pressing his lips to Pete's. Pete immediately melted in Mikey's arm, kissing him back. When Mikey finally pulled away, his cheeks flushed and breathing a bit labored, he added quietly: "I just like surprises.

"Really, though, my reason for coming in here was so that I could give you a change of clothes," Mikey added. "They're a little big, because they're mine, but they should fit well enough."

"Thank you so much," Pete said again, giving the end of Mikey's nose a small kiss. Then, his shoulder started aching suddenly, and he groaned in pain.

"What's wrong?" Mikey asked.

"My shoulder..." Pete said. "It's been hurting since last night and I can't remember why."

"Oh," Mikey said, his face falling. "Last night. Yeah. Last night, I was trying to tell Gerard that we were bound, and he wasn't having any of it and I kissed you..."

As he talked, the memory came flooding back to Pete.

"It's too late to be yelling at us," Mikey had said. "It happened last night; we're already bound."

"This is ridiculous, Michael!" Gerard roared, his eyes flashing red with anger. "You are the most irresponsible person I have ever met!"

"You're too late!" Mikey cried. He looked at the man next to him, gripping his hand for dear life, and kissed him, his lips barely ghosting over Pete's.

Then, in a flurry of motion, Pete lay on the carpet, his shoulder screaming in pain, and the sound of a hand colliding with a cheek rang out, followed by a cry of surprise.

"He hit you," Pete said, at the same moment Mikey said it. "He can't do that; that's sibling abuse, and that's illegal."

"Gerard doesn't much care for laws and such," Mikey said, shrugging as if it were nothing. "He usually would never lay a finger on me, but... Yeah."

"Does it hurt?" Pete asked, reaching up to run his fingers along Mikey's cheek.

"Not much," Mikey said. "It was more of a 'holy shit, you just slapped me' pain than actual pain. It isn't showing, is it? I obviously can't tell."

"It's a little red, but that's it," Pete said.

"Good," Mikey said. "So, the clothes are on the bed, and I'll be in the study when you're ready."

"Thank you," Pete said once more and Mikey kissed the top of his head before departing.

The clothes were a bit large on Pete, true to Mikey's word, but it was nothing a tightened belt and rolled up sleeves couldn't fix. It seemed that Mikey always dressed formally when around his family, because Pete was given a white dress shirt, black jeans, and a black waistcoat. Looking in the mirror once more, Pete decided that formal wear suited him— no pun intended.

Then, he heard a noise from his own jeans on the carpet. It was a buzzing, mixed with the faint sounds of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. His phone was ringing.

"Hello?" Pete asked when he pulled the phone up to his ear.

"Happy birthday, Pete!" Patrick Stump cheered. "28 years old! How's it feel?"

Shit, Pete thought. He had forgotten that Patrick would call. "Umm... Pretty good," he said.

"Got any plans tonight?" Patrick asked.

"No," Pete said.

"Are you distracted or something?" Patrick asked. "Because I can call back later."

"Actually, do you mind?" Pete asked. "I'm in a... A bit of a situation right now."

"Who's house are you in?" Patrick asked, with a slight sigh. "Do you even know their name?"

"Yes, I do!" Pete defended himself. "I'm not some debauched sex addict! I'll have you know that his name is Mikey, and he's an amazing—"

"Pete, you're my best friend and I love you, but please don't go into detail about your sex-scapades."

"I wasn't," Pete said. Mainly because I don't remember it, is what he neglected to say out loud. "I have to go."

"Alright, then," Patrick said. "Talk to you later?"

"Yeah," Pete said and Patrick hung up.

"You look handsome," Mikey said when Pete exited the room. "My clothes look nice on you."

Pete nodded, bashfully looking down at his feet. "Thank you," he said quietly, trying to control the blush overtaking his face.

"C'mon," Mikey said, taking a gentle grasp on Pete's hand. "I want you to meet my sister-in-law."

When the two got to the den, Pete was met with a woman he could only describe as being a slightly younger Morticia Addams. She had shoulder-length black hair, and glowing dark brown eyes lined with thick black eyeliner. Her skin was paler than normal as well, making her eyes stand out even more. She was dressed much like her husband: black dress shirt and red tie; a difference between the two outfits was that Mrs. Way was wearing a short skirt the same color as her shirt.

"Lindsey," Mikey introduced her. "This is Pete, my... Lover. Pete, this is Lindsey, Gerard's wife."

"Peter," Lindsey said in a smooth voice. Pete decided that he could listen to her talk all day, just by the way she said his name. "It is such a pleasure to have you joining us. How long do you anticipate staying?"

"Until I say he can leave," Gerard said from the doorway and Mikey excersized great control not to tear out his brother's throat. "Lindsey, you know that; I told you last night."

"Just because you are upset at your brother does not mean you get to be upset at me," Lindsey snapped quickly. "I did not do a thing. I'm not saying that you should take your anger out on Michael or— God forbid, Peter— but you have no right to get snippy with me."

"I am sorry, Lindsey," Gerard said, sitting down next to her on the couch. "Please forgive me."

"I do," Lindsey said quietly, kissing her husband's cheek.

"'Until you say so'?" Mikey repeated.

"Everyone will recognize him if we let him leave too quickly," Gerard said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We have to wait until his disappearance stops getting news, then we can let him go."

"Please stop taking about me like I'm a prisoner," Pete asked, squeezing his eyes closed.

"You're not a prisoner, Pete," Mikey said. "It's not safe for you out in the mortal world. This is for your own good; I promise you."

Pete nodded and Mikey hugged him tightly, Pete nuzzling his face into his shoulder. "When will it die down?" Pete asked.

"Not for a few months, at least," Gerard said. "It will be longer than normal, as this is the last disappearance Michael will make, but once everyone forgets, we can let you leave."

"What do you mean by 'it's not safe'?" Pete asked, looking up at Mikey.

Mikey sighed and sat down on the couch, gently pulling Pete down on his lap to better see him. "You see, there are some people like me who are completely against mortals existing at all, and wish to eradicate them altogether. If these people were to ever get word that I was bound to a mortal— much less a male mortal— they would, pardon my French, lose their shit and try to murder both of us."

"Oh," Pete said.

"It is not as complicated as it seems," Lindsey assured Pete. "I mean, it is complicated, and we would rather you not get killed."

"Duly noted."

"You are very welcome"

Notes

Getting into the longer chapters... Shit's gonna go down soon.
Xoøli