I come to his bedroom door before I can even register my feet coming to a halt on the cream carpet, a tiny piece of my insides melting away at the sight of those innocent little wooden letters, all different colours of the rainbow, proclaiming that the room belongs to one "Mic el J es Wa ", half of the letters having fallen off through the door being slammed one time too many in a fit of misdirected rage. Yet it's not that sight of tattered childhood innocence that makes me visibly wince; it's the sound coming from behind that poor, abused door.
Keening. Bawling. Sobbing. Weeping. Crying. The sound of a fifteen-year-old kid finally giving up on a world that gave up on him when it he needed it the most.
I prod at the door, deciding that he probably wouldn't hear or respond to knocking, and let out a sigh of relief when it simply groans open, letting me into the small, dingy room that holds the heaving form of a fallen angel, sobbing his heart out on the dishevelled bed.
"Mikey?" I whisper, trying not to let my inner-agony at seeing him like this show. "Mikes, it's Ray. You alright, Kiddo?"
My soft, teddy-bear tone must get through to him because he sits up, rubbing the dagger-diamonds of tears from his eyes and looks at me as though trying to decide something. Kind of like he's revaluating our years of friendship to see if he can still trust me or if I'm just here to tease him like everyone else does. And that kills me, knowing that he could think for even a nanosecond that I could ever be anything less than kind towards him. But before I can say anything to reassure him that I'm way more benevolent than malevolent, he just nods his head.
Because he doesn't trust me enough to be honest with me about what I can see with my own eyes.
Something that I have to fix. Now.
"No, Mikey." I sigh, walking slowly to his bed where I proceed to sit next to him, doing it ever-so-slowly so as not to scare the poor kid who has learnt to associate contact with pain. "No, you're not alright. I know you aren't. You don't have to lie to me."
He looks up at me, eyes pleading me to make it all better because his lips are still trembling too hard to form words. Everything about his face is screaming for help, finally daring to let someone in after months, maybe even years, of cruel isolation from the idea of trusting someone enough for them to hurt him with that precious trust. Because I didn't just ask him if he was alright; I told him that he wasn't. I didn't even give him the opportunity to pretend like he does with Gerard.
All of a sudden, the wall of ice in his eyes blocking everyone out smashes and he lunges at me, hiding himself into my chest like an arrow piercing through a heart. He's clinging onto me, head buried deep within my t-shirt, and I'm clinging right on back, hands soothing soft circles onto his shoulder blades.
"I'm sorry." He mumbles from his spot snuggled into me, voice like that of a lost little child searching for help.
"What for?"
"For being an asshole." He sounds ashamed of himself, something that he never should be because he's never anything but invisible to everyone; nothing like most people would be after being treated like he is for so long. "I'm sor-"
"Don't be. You haven't done anything wrong, okay?" I let out a restless breath, the close contact that should be romantic eating away my insides. "I'm sorry, too. For not helping you." He just nods against me, the motion rubbing more of his tears into my top. "We used to be so close, huh?"
"But then I turned into an asshole." He spits, sounding very much like he'd like to slap himself in his pretty little face. "And you don't want to be my friend anymore, right?"
I just gawp at him in stunned excruciation; am I really that horrible of a person that I made the poor kid hurt even more than he already was?
But then I just smile softly at him, a quick idea blossoming in my head before I can stop it. An idea that is so honest and sincere that it just can't go wrong. If it does then I'll have a very pissed-off big brother to deal with.
"No, I don't." Mikey flinches against me, looking like someone's just told him that unicorns don't exist. "I want to be your boyfriend."
"W-What?"
"Mikey Way, I want to protect you and be here for you and make you feel loved." I whisper, my words stained with sincerity and everything else that I need to make it clear to him that I am being deadly serious. "Let me do that."
He blinks up at me, cheeks burning the same shade of red that mine are, and the look in his eyes makes me certain that I've done the absolute right thing; he looks, for the first time in months, like he's actually happy. No, not happy. Adulated, exalted, like the sweet little kid that I can remember him being before the world ruined him. All because of me.
"I love you, Kiddo."
He beams up at me, eyes shining with everything that I've ever wanted him to feel, before snuggling back into my chest and rapping the hem of my t-shirt around his fingers wistfully.
"I love you too, Ray."
