The Only Hope For Me Is You

Late, Mikey was late. His alarm hadn't gone off. Seriously, fuck his life. He had missed his bus and was now running to school. Which had to look funny, seeing as Mikey isn't particularly athletic. It was the third time my was going to be late that week.
As he ran into the school, the bell had already rung. Fuck! He cursed himself as he dashed into the classroom.
"You're late, Mr. Way. Detention after school." His teacher said, "I know you've been going through a hard time, but I've cut you all the slack I can." Mikey nodded. It wasn't his fault, it was his alarm's. Piece of fucking shit. Mikey was definitely going to buy a new one after school.
Mikey sat down in his seat, looking over to Frank, who was trying not to smile at the fact Mikey was late again. "Fuck you." Mikey mouthed to him, making him burst into laughter.
"Is something funny, Mr. Iero?" Frank froze. "U-Uh n-no, S-Sir." Frank stumbled through his words. Now it was Mikey's turn to laugh. Well, it would have been, if he wanted to be in more trouble than he already was.
Class went on as usual, Frank making faces every time the teacher turned his back, and Mikey holding his poker face like a boss. Which was slightly difficult, seeing as some of them were pretty damn funny. The next class was art. Mikey set his jaw as he walked to class. As he's done every time he's had art since it happened. Art wasn't the only class Gerard liked, but it was his best. When Mikey walked in, the teacher greeted him with a sad smile. She did that every time she saw Mikey. It was honestly getting annoying. Mikey just wished people would stop giving him sympathy. Mikey took a seat and once everyone else was there, the teacher began to call names.
After the class, Mikey met up with Frank.
"So, how's therapy been? Hell?" Frank asked, "Apparently, your mom suggested that I see someone too, but I talked my mom out of the idea. God, I don't think I could stand someone answering everything I say with, 'And how does that make you feel?'" He laughed, "I don't know how you're doing it." He patted Mikey on the back.
"Actually, it's not that bad." Frank was shocked. "It's not too bad, aside from having to open up. That's the worst part, telling people how I feel." He shivered. "But my therapist, he's not that bad of a guy. I think he gets it, what it's like to lose someone that close. I don't feel like I have to pretend like I'm okay around him. I think he understands, at least to some extent, what it's like to be broken and feel like you're incapable of being fixed."
"I know what that feels like." Frank said, nodding.
"He's also got a really good sense of humor. And it's like he doesn't obey any rules, I think that kind of pisses some of the other people who work there off. Like, he wears a t-shirt and jeans to work, and doesn't seem professional at all. It's one of the reasons therapy isn't complete shit. He definitely isn't stereotypical." Mikey laughed.
"Well, he seems like a pretty okay guy. But I think you think more of him than that." Mikey blushed, remembering what happened after the he got home from the session, a week ago now. It had been a sort-of accident, and he hadn't done it again. He tried to forget it happened at all. He was just jerking off in the shower, and somehow got lost in his thoughts to the way Pete's hands might feel around his dick.
"No, I don't, Frank. Fuck off."
"You're blushing." Frank said, grinning, "Why are you, Mikey fuckin Way, master of the poker face, blushing if I'm so wrong?"
"Leave me alone, you ass. I didn't do anything to you."
"Oh really? Because if I recall, you made me laugh in class, making the teacher ask me what was so goddamn funny, and fucking embarrassed me."
"That was only because you were going to laugh at the fact I was late again." Mikey retorted, "Also, you fucking deserved that, you son of a bitch."
"I'm not denying it." He laughed.
The rest of the school day was normal, the school lunch being inedible, but eating it anyway. Class having seemingly no meaning. At least people had mostly stopped giving him those looks. Y'know, those looks. Like "that's the guy who's brother killed himself, poor fucked up kid." Mikey hated those looks. Despised them. They made him want to go to the bathroom and be sick. He was glad they had died down. Detention was shit. That's the best way Mikey could describe it. Shit.
He arrived at therapy, slightly nervous, remembering what happened in the shower last week. Just don't show it. He told himself.
"Mikey!" Pete exclaimed, "Sit down!" He looked as if he was vibrating, like he couldn't sit still. What's got him so jittery? Mikey wondered to himself as he sat down.
"Why are you so excited?" Mikey asked. Trying to seem nonchalant, but not exactly pulling it off.
"Huh, what? Oh, I'm just excited." He said, kind of bouncing in his seat.
"Why?" Mikey was curious.
"Just-I can't be excited for no reason? Is there like some fucking law against it?" Pete asked sarcastically, "No, I'm excited because I had like four Red Bulls." He made a face.
"Holy shit, how are you even alive? Wait, What? Why the fuck did you drink four goddamn Red Bulls?!" Mikey asked incredulously.
"It might have been more than that, I don't know."
"Holy fucking shit!" Mikey exclaimed, "Why?!"
"I don't even fucking remember. I just know I haven't slept in a while and I somehow ended up drinking a fuckload of energy drinks."
"Why haven't you slept?"
Pete looked embarrassed when he answered. "I-I, sometimes," He sighed, "I have nightmares an-and they've been very bad lately." Oh. Mikey understood.
"I get it. I have them too." Pete looked up.
"Really? How do you deal with them?" Pete asked eagerly.
"I-I'm not quite sure." Pete looked disappointed. "I used to sleep in my brothers bed after I would have them, but now... I-I just- I'm not even sure what I do. Just keep going, I guess." Pete nodded.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you my problems. That wasn't professional. This is about you, and helping you get better. I should shut the fuck up about me. I'm sorry." That, for some reason, pissed Mikey off.
"Stop apologizing! Something was obviously wrong, and I was worried! It's fine! You can talk about yourself, I don't mind." Mikey said, angry. "Also, I'm pretty sure you're way passed being professional." He added with a smile. A real, genuine smile. Pete smiled back.
"You can keep talking, really, I want you to." What are you doing?! Great, now he's gonna think you're a fucking creep. Way to go Mikey.
Pete sighed, and said, "I wonder why they came back..."
"What do you mean?" Mikey asked curiously.
"Well, they were gone for a while, a few years, actually, but now they're back."
"What are they about?"
He hesitated, "Patrick, a-and that time in my life. Some other things also, but mostly that."
Mikey thought for a moment, then said, "I wonder... I got mad and asked you something in the last session, and you told me a little of your past, and what you've gone through. I wonder if that's why you've been having them. Because I asked you, and brought it back up." Mikey said sadly. He really didn't want to be responsible for Pete's nightmares returning. It made him feel like shit.
Pete seemed to sense this. "I doubt it." He said, not sounding quite convinced of his own words, "It doesn't seem like it."
"I bet it was. It was probably because I brought it up. It was most likely my fault. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." He said sadly.
"No, no it's not your fault. It wasn't. It's fine. I'm fine. You're going to be fine. Trust me." But that wasn't true.
"My definition of fine isn't practically vibrating." Pete laughed. "Got a point there."
The rest of the session was just them talking. Just, talking. It was the most relaxed Mikey's felt in God know's how long. He just felt so at peace with Pete. Like nothing would ever hurt him when he was with him. That night, thinking of the session, he slept soundly.
And so did Pete.

Notes