The Hardest Part Of Living Is Just Taking Breaths To Stay (Pikey/Petekey)

Well, Pete Wentz, Mikey's Not Scared To Die

Title Credit of the story goes to Miserable At Best by Mayday Parade. The title credit for the chapter goes to Jesus Christ by Brand New. I'm obsessed with both of them ^^ AMultiFandomToe wrote this out for us in Mikey's POV because a few days ago I wrote it in Pete's POV. We both did the dialog for the opposite character on each other's chapters~

Mikey swung open the front door of his house, running straight into the street. Tears melted from his eyes. Images flashed in his mind. He didn't care where he went, as long as it was away from everything. Everything he knew, everything that lied to him.

His pace slowed down, breathing heavily. He stared at the ground in front of him as he walked the rest of the way to wherever his feet were taking him. His eyes felt dry and the world was blurred as he stumbled to a familiar place: the bridge.

Mikey solemnly looked around, from the benches he sat down and contemplated about life; to the railing of the bridge. He shut his eyes tight, remembering the times he stood there, wishing he had the will to let go of the pole he held onto; wishing he had a good enough reason to.

This time, he did.

This time he had a real reason.

His brother.

Gerard. He didn't get it. Gerard and him were closer when they were younger. But every since Frank turned him down, he's been a wreck. Gerard was madly in love with the 4 1/2 foot tall guy, and Mikey didn't blame him; they were close after all. Now all Gerard does is sleep with women and come home late into the night, holding some bottle of alcohol in his hands.

Mikey was brought back into reality as he felt his feet moving. He looked up to find himself stumbling towards the railing of the bridge. He didn't give any effort to stop; he welcomed it, in fact. Mikey slowly grabbed onto the bar, and placed both feet on the railing.

He stared into the water beneath him; lost in thought of his life. He remembered the good times, although there weren't that many, so all he could focus on the bad times.

"Hey." Spoke a voice behind him. Mikey flinched, falling backwards and onto his butt, letting out a startled squeak.

"Uh, you weren't, I mean, it's not my business, but I mean.." Mikey felt frustration surge inside him. Of all the days, someone had to stop him today? Just perfect. Mikey awkwardly looked up, locking eyes with the other man's prefect, dark brown ones. Mikey suddenly felt ashamed of his bloodshot eyes. "Hey, hey." Murmured the other guy. "Why? Are you high?"

God, he sounded like worried mother. "Listen to me, you don't look horrible, just broken." God, can he just leave Mikey alone so he can do what he wanted? Mikey dug his nails onto his face, spasms being sent up and down his spine.

"Yes! I'm high! Okay? Satisfied?" Mikey growled back like a psycho. "And yes, I'm broken. Why do you think I was standing at the edge!?" The other man sighed, raising a hand towards Mikey's face. Mikey felt threatened by his raised hand, unsure if he should fight back, cower away, or just stay there; which he rarely ever did. Mikey felt awkward as all he did was push hair away from his face.

"Hmm. Not really satisfied. I want to know why you thought jumping was an acceptable answer." This made Mikey frustrated. He clenched his fists so tight, his nails dug into his skin.

"Because my life is fucked up!" Exploded Mikey. "I haven't been able to find one safe haven besides the thought of ending and jumping into the water!"

"There are people who care about you in this world!" The other snapped. "Regardless if you know it or not. How will everyone feel when they realize their lover, their son, their brother, their crush....is dead?" Frustration overcame Mikey; unsure of what to think now. He didn't know this guy. Why...why did he care? Mikey was nothing...no one. No one cared before..why did someone only care when he was about to kill himself? Is this it? Would he leave after this? Would he stick around and help Mikey? Man, this was laughable.

"First of all, I have no parents, my brother is a drunk sex addict, I have no friends, AND I SURE AS HELL DON'T HAVE A SECRET ADMIRER!" Mikey had to force air into his lungs as his breaths became shallow.

"He may be drunk," oh my god, he was continuing, "but you cannot tell me he hasn't picked you off the ground when it feels like you've been hit by a bus?" Again, the guy ran his fingers through Mikey's hair. At this point, he didn't feel threatened; just pure anger and frustration. "And there's a reason why they're called SECRET admirers.

Mikey just have a sigh, tired from crying and yelling his heart out. "No, he hasn't. The only time he's touched me is if he's abusing me..." Mikey had to fight back another wave of tears fighting their way out of his body. "I just don't wanna go home." He whimpered.

"I'd say live with me but..." the man let out a snort laughter. Suddenly, running away with him sounded like a good idea; this guy was the only person he's met that even bothered to deal with his pathetic whining. "Don't go home then." Easier said than done. The man ran a hand through his own black hair.

Mikey just shrugged. "How about I run away with you?" He let out a psychotic laugh. What could go wrong? Didn't Mikey get what he wanted regardless of if this man just wanted to kill him in a dark alley, anyway?

"You can run away with my anytime you want." Mikey was shocked at how serious this guy was.

Mikey gave a small, shy smile. "How about this, we go to my house, my brother is probably sleeping with some chick, and I'll grab my stuff and leave?"

The man nodded. "My stuff is over there." He gestured with his hand towards a small pile of stuff. Mikey was dragged by the wrist to the pile. "Lead the way. I'm Pete by the way." He introduced as he picked up his stuff.

"Mikey. My brother is Gerard, in case we do meet him." He scowled at the thought of his brother. Mikey turned around on his heels, walking down the bridge. This was it, he was leaving and he was gonna be gone from what he once called living.