Melodramatic Metathesiophobe

Missing

He really wished he wasn't alone when he woke up that next morning. Other than the slight haze over his eyes from drinking, the misery had returned.

His limbs were heavy and sore as he sat up, his skin itchy and hot. Nausea was rolling lightly through his gut and it only got worse as he attempted to stand, so he just decided he'd stay in bed. It was comfortable there. The amount of blankets he had could somewhat mimic the feeling of another person being there. Somewhat...

But his bed got too hot. Either that or his skin did. He dragged himself tiredly to his feet and hugged his stomach with a groan. He couldn't tell if the sickness he felt was from the moon or if it was hunger. Whatever it was, he couldn't eat. He knew he'd just lose it if he tried.

The couch was his next best choice. He sat, and he hunched, and he really tried not to think about it, but he couldn't escape the thoughts. He wished Frank was there. He needed him to say something that would make it seem less bad. He needed someone who knew what it was like to help him. And then another thought crossed his mind.

Mikey.

He hadn't even said goodbye to him after the party. He just remembered thinking about what Frank had said and heading off. That brought a whole new wave of nausea to his stomach. Mikey was probably worried sick, and if he wasn't worried, he was probably hurt that Ray had just gone. It occurred to him just how long it had been since they last spoke. At least three days. Way too many. He hunched more, lying down on his side as his tail slid weakly between his legs, pressing there as he thought about just how much he wanted Mikey to come by. Even if Mikey didn't know about him, even if he couldn't really help in any way, just him being there would bring relief. The more he thought about what he was missing, the more his cheeks became lined with tears. The rest of the day didn't go any better, he just got more and more sore, more and more heavy, more and more worried.

More and more alone.

And Mikey wasn't feeling much better.

He'd sent Ray at least eight messages, ranging from 'you were amazing at the gig last night!!!' to 'are you ignoring me?' which he really hoped wasn't true. He didn't want a repeat of what happened the last month. He didn't even want to think about it. But he did, and he sat there hugging a pillow on the couch, watching his phone sit there motionless on the coffee table.

"Hey Mikes?" Gerard called as he walked out of his room, "hey, I'm stopping by Frank's to watch movies and- Mikey?" he stopped in the middle of pulling his jacket on to glance at his sullen brother.

"Hm?" Mikey looked up for a moment, then back at the black rectangle.

"Just telling you I'm going to Frank's for the night," Gerard finished pulling his jacket on, "is something wrong?"

"Just Ray." Mikey mumbled and pulled his glasses off.

"What's he done this time? Is he still acting weird?" Gerard leaned on the door.

"No, well, yes, but- he just hasn't been talking to me I guess... it's worrying."

Gerard hummed for a moment. "Are we talking like, 'you've upset me' terms? Or 'I'm busy'?"

"We're talking 'I guess it's time to completely ignore Mikey for five days' terms... he didn't even say something..."

"...oh, Mikes..." Gerard kicked at the carpet, "maybe... maybe something happened, maybe he's not feeling too good? Maybe you could stop by...?"

"Maybe..." Mikey rubbed his tired eyes, "yeah... yeah, I will. Yeah. Just to say hi..." he got up, letting go of his pillow, "...thanks, Gee. See you when you're back, okay...?"

"Of course," Gerard pulled him into a quick side hug and squeezed and Mikey caught a hint of something he didn't usually smell; cologne. "Be careful on the streets, you know it's late,"

Mikey nodded and decided he'd keep the whole cologne thing as blackmail for the next time Gerard tried to persuade him to do chores. They walked out the door together, and went in opposite directions.

The walk was quick and Mikey didn't think much, just worried about what could have prompted Ray to ignore him. Was he mad? Did Mikey do something? Say something? Was something wrong, was Ray sick? Hurt? Did something make him upset again? Was he contemplating again?

He didn't want to think about that last one. That didn't stop it from worrying him.

He knocked, waiting, staring up at the numbers hanging above the door and reading them a few times. Ray usually answered within minutes. He didn't like the bout of silence and emptiness that followed his knocks.

So he tried again, a little louder. "Ray? Hey, Ray! It's Mikey, you weren't answering my messages, I just came by to say hi and make sure you're okay," he called, and bit his lip when there still wasn't a response. "I'm gonna come in, okay?" he tried the knob, which was unlocked again, and ignored the swimming feeling in his gut as he entered. The house was oddly calm. Silent.

Aside from a shout that sounded like it was torn from a man in the electric chair.

//Author's Notes\\

Yeah, I'm teasing again :)

~XO, Vacant.~