this is so lovey-dovey you'll prolly puke. enjoy! ^-^
I'm pacing around my living room, hands on either side of my head. Up until this point, my relationship with Mikey had been effortless, a reflex, like blinking or breathing, but now one person had to come along and fuck with my feelings. Just thinking of him now, I can't even cast him in a negative light. He's so sweet and, of course, handsome. Then, so is Mikey. And... and I'm supposed to love Mikey. I'm sure I will really soon now... but Gerard, I already sort of do love. Before, like, a half hour ago, I thought there was nobody else but Mikey. He was- well, I suppose he still is my one and only. And I also suppose that if it were anyone else, and not my boyfriend's brother, I wouldn't be so torn. If it were a random stanger on the street, I could much more easily not give them a second thought. What makes it worse is that Gerard's going to be living with Mikey, and I practically live there, too. So it's going to be the two objects of my desire, in a house, with me in the middle of it all. For a dream sequence in a teen sex comedy, it's ideal. In practice? Not so much.
I throw myself down on my crappy, unmatching secondhand sofa and let out a good yell. It's a dangerous move in an apartment, because I don't know who's at home or who will jump to the conclusions that I'm being murdered. If there's one thing I don't reccomend, it's having your internal organs ripped apart by love at first sight. It's romanticized, really. All it does is make you feel like a bumbling idiot, and it also makes you forget everything around you, except the person you're affixed to. It's like... it's like the earth shifts, even though you know it hasn't. I'm sure it's lovely when you're single. I'm sure, if it's really meant to be, there could be no better feeling. At present, however, it's rattling my brain and making me feel rather nauseous.
There's a knock on my door, but I really don't want to answer it. I haven't had such good luck with opening doors today. I stand up a bit too quickly and I get a headrush. Or maybe it's from thinking so goddamn hard.
I pad softly to the door and open it a crack. It's one of the two people I need to see the most but want to see the least. "Hey, Mikey," I greet, my voice not giving way to my current emotional turmoil.
"Hey, Frank. Mind if I come in?"
"Since when have I minded?" I ask playfully, opening the door widely and allowing Mikey in. I note that he's changed since we've last seen eachother. "What's up? Why aren't you with Gerard?"
"He's asleep. Big day, and all... Um, can I ask you something?" inquires Mikey, scuffing his foot on my carpet. It makes me smile in spite of myself. I do love his bashfulness.
"Ask away, babe," I say casually. I walk over to my coffee table and pick up my pack of smokes. I turn around and hold the pack out to Mikey, but he shakes his head. I shrug and take one for myself, light it up, and go back to Mikey.
"Well, I was gonna ask... are you alright? You left my place pretty quick, with no kiss goodbye or anything. I was worried," he admits, flushing a shade of very subtle pink. This makes me grin with all my teeth. Fuck, he makes me happy.
"Aw, Mikey! I'm just fine. I didn't want to intrude, is all. And, ah, you can collect that kiss, if you want."
Mikey smiles, and wraps his arms around my neck. I press my lips gingerly to his, and he responds meagrely. It's how we usually greet eachother, or say goodbye. I don't know what occasion this is, but it's a pretty little kiss, regardless. "I should head back out, though," Mikey says. Ah, so it's a goodbye kiss. "'Cause I was about to get some groceries. Unless you want to come with?"
I think alone-time with Mikey is precisely what I need for a clear head. Looking at him, my priorities are clear. I want to live to make him happy. A life where I wouldn't would scarcely be a life at all. "Sounds good," I reply brightly.
I see Mikey light up. He's so adorable when he gets his way. "Shall we go, then?"
"Let's," I say, slipping on my flip-flops and following Mikey out the door.
Before we venture down the stairs, I drape my arm around his waist. I know he likes it; Mikey's one of those people who likes to be held, and I'm one of those people who likes to hold. We do indeed compliment eachother nicely. I even fall into his stride, despite him being taller than me, and having longer legs. I make him stand outside with me while I finish my cigarette, and because it's nice out, he agrees. I love how he looks like an Abercrombie model, because of his light blue t-shirt and green plaid bermuda shorts. Somehow, he makes it match. And he's copied my flip flops idea.
We go back to his car, and make the extremely short drive to the store. We walk hand in hand up and down the isles, picking out food. I make him get vegan-friendly options, and he complains about it. I roll my eyes at him, because I know he likes it as much as I do. I thank him sweetly once he pays for the groceries that are, really, half-mine. I think how this is such a married-couple activity, and I smile. I picture us, slightly older, with rings on, in this very position. And I must say, my heart jumps in anticipation. That bit of relief feels exponentially better than almost anything else I've felt today.
In fact, that's another thing I love about Mikey. Being with just him makes me basically forget about most anything else. When I'm with him, it's an endless, perfect moment, as opposed to a series of events. I mean, that coupled with everything he does and is... I love it all. He's a genuinely perfect human being. I suppose you could say that I love him in general.
I grab a couple grocery bags, as does he. I make it as far as the sidewalk outside the door before I drop everything. Back up, back up, back up. I had this errant thought a few seconds ago that I love him. And no akwardness or hesitance surrounded it. It was as normal as... as blinking or breathing, I realize with an ear-to-ear grin. This is it. The climatic epiphany that I love him! And, by God, it feels so goddamn good.
"Frankie?" Mikey asks worriedly. "What happened?"
I feel as if I'm floating when I take those crucial five steps towards Mikey. I look up at his perplexed expression with a new kind of clarity. "Mikey," I say urgently, putting my hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at me. "I love you."
Mikey makes an uncomfortable noise that sounds like a laugh mixed in with an, "Uhhh..."
"Don't you love me, too?" I ask enthusiastically.
"Of course I do! I'm just trying to process why you realized it here and now."
"I know, it's wierd. But it's a good thing, right?"
"It's a very, very good thing," Mikey concurrs, bending down and kissing me gently. "But you really should pick those bags up if you want me to have food this week."
I scarcely remember dropping anything at all, but sure enough, bags surround my feet. "Ah," I stammer out, "sure, sure. 'Course."
I scoop up what I'd dropped and follow Mikey back to his car, thankful he remembers where he parked. I'm horrid with that, I really am. He pops the trunk and I unload my half of the groceries into it. Then I slide into the passenger seat, actually excited for Mikey to sit beside me, so I can marvel at him. It's strange, this being in acquired love thing. It makes you look at your loved one with new perspective. Whereas the first sight type of love is a complete shock, like a blind man seeing the blue of the sky, or a deaf man hearing the simple sound of the wind, love that's built up to is more like a newborn being placed into its mother's arms. Of course, it knew its mother, and it was close to its mother, but never got to know how she looked or felt until the one defining moment. That's how I feel now.
Mikey finally gets in the car and starts it up. "Hey, Mikey? Guess what," I chirp.
"What?" he replies, a little condescendingly, as if he already knows 'what'.
"I love you."
He laughs a little bit and says, "I love you, too."
"You don't seem as happy about it as me."
"No, I am... I'm just distracted today. And after all, I've already felt that way before. When I realized I loved you, it wasn't like a blind man seeing the sky, it was more like a newborn-"
"Getting held by its mom the first time?" I interrupt, in awe.
Mikey looks over and smiles with all his teeth. "Yeah," he agrees, his voice lifting up. "Exactly like that."
We drive back to his house in silence, me staring at him in unabashed wonder, and him probably basking in my adoration. People aren't loved enough these days, in my opinion. So when you find someone who loves you, it's a damned fantastic feeling.
He and I grab the bags of food from the car, and carry them to the house. I'm too loaded down to open the door, so Mikey slides the bags back on his right arm and pushes the door open. "See," I say, stepping inside, "this is why I-"
I'm interrupted by Gerard. Although he doesn't say anything, it's how he looks. He's in the same pair of jeans I'd seen him in earlier, although he's got bedhead, a toothbrush in his mouth, and he's sans a shirt. I don't understand why I'm fazed. His body isn't remarkable at all. I mean, sure, there's some definition on his arms and shoulders and such, but he doesn't have any eye-catching muscles or anything. Maybe it's just because it's a part of him, just more amazing-ness for my eyes to explore. "... love you," I whisper, now to the person brushing his teeth in front of me.
Sweet, oblivious Mikey laughs, greets Gerard, and heads to the kitchen, presumably to put away this week's rations. I'd love to follow him, I really would, but I can't bring myself to move.
"Oh, hey, Frank. I didn't know Mikey was bringing you back here. I should get dressed, huh?"
I giggle nervously and nod my head, finding it exponentially easier to move and follow Mikey once Gerard's left the room. I aide him in putting away groceries, somewhat able to keep my mind on the Way brother I'm involved with. It's a little more of an effort than I'd like, but eventually he gets me into a conversation and I find it easy to focus. "So," he starts, "what shall we make for supper?"
"What do we want?" I ask.
"Well, I'm in the mood for anything, what about you?"
"Ditto," I agree.
"You know I'm basically a professional chef, right?" Mikey challenges. "Lay it on me."
"You know that the last time you said 'lay it on me', you ended up swallowing something very different than well-prepared tofu?" I retort with a wink.
Mikey flushes his trademark light pink, and his face goes sinister and mischeivous. "I'm a little foggy on that one. Care to give me some..." he trails off, stepping towards me, and placing a hand on the front of my jeans, "details, love?"
I'm doing an inward happy-dance. I adore it when Mikey initiates dirty-talk. "Well," I begin, purring into his ear and stepping into his touch, "you said to lay it on you, correct?"
"Mm," he murmurs, rubbing his hand in slow circles. "Then what?"
"Then I kissed you," I pause, pressing my lips to his neck and not removing them, "here. You pulled me up by the neck of my shirt and kissed me," I pause again, gingerly kissing him on the lower lip, "there. Remember that?"
"It's coming back to me," he replies, squeezing his hand.
"Ah, ah, ah," I chide. "If you keep doing that, I won't be able to finish my story properly."
The rubbing stops, and I chuckle quietly to myself. Before going on, I put my hand to Mikey's crotch, which is already fighting against his shorts. "You went down on me, and it felt a little like this..." I say, rubbing my hand up and down against him. "Recall?"
"Oh, yeah," Mikey whimpers.
"And then, since you were so apt to fuck me," I growl, squeezing. "you pushed me onto my stomach, and you teased me a little bit, like so..." I purr, rubbing my other hand up and down his ass.
"I remember that part, yeah. And what else did I do?" Mikey moans.
"I'd show you, but we'd need a tad more privacy," I say impatiently, kissing Mikey's neck again for the sake of it.
"That can be arranged," he says, pushing me away. "After dinner."
I make a disappointed huff through my nose and stick my lower lip out in a pout. Mikey copies me, and he looks so goddamned cute that I'm reminded how much I love him, even if he does make me wait for sex.