Melodramatic Metathesiophobe

Staying

After getting Ray some actual food to eat and a good bit of water, he was slightly better, less slow in his movements and more spatially aware. He talked a little when Mikey prompted and even got all his food down. He looked just the smallest bit brighter.

Mikey looked down and checked his phone for the time, cussing quietly, then sighing. "Hey Ray? It's getting late, I should probably head home," they were finishing up cleaning Ray's scratches when he spoke.

"Wait, you're not staying?" Ray said quietly, his tail flicking between his legs, and when Mikey shook his head, he frowned. "You can't stay...?"

"Well, no, I have to get home and feed the cats, Gerard's working late... I'm sorry," Mikey responded, shrugging a little, "I would if I could..."

Ray looked down, clearly hurt. "Please don't leave," he said, his words light and hopeless, and Mikey had to bite his lip so he didn't say something he regretted.

"I'm sorry," was what he said instead, moving closer to cup Ray's cheek and tilt it up so their eyes met, "really man, I am, but... I'll be back tomorrow, okay? I'll come back and I'll bring some food and movies, okay...?" he watched Ray press into his hand and lean on it. He nodded after a while of silence.

"You won't even realize I've been gone, okay...? I'll be back soon..." he let go slowly and Ray just looked down again. He nodded, said a quiet goodbye, and waited, sitting completely still until he heard the front door close.

Then he was breaking down.

Mikey was going to tell someone. He was going to. He was going to call- he was going to call someone, and then they'd all get scared and they'd send people to get rid of him, or they'd leave him forever and he'd be alone, or they'd tell the band and he'd have nobody to go to, and Frank would probably play along so he could stay with Gerard, and Mikey was never going to come back, and-

He couldn't breathe. He stayed there in the bathroom, heaving and gasping, his body shaking. He couldn't be alone. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what he could do. He didn't have many options.

He got up, tucking his tail away haphazardly, yanking his jacket around his shoulders and almost mourning that it was nearly too small, but he didn't dwell on it. He didn't know if he could dwell on anything, his mind was so unclear. He just ran, left the house, his eyes watering. The thought of Mikey--of his only remaining stability--leaving forever... it made him sick, and he had to force himself not to break into actual tears.

He kept running, just kept going, heading to the only place he thought he could find some form of reassurance.

Sure Frank seemed to be annoyed by his presence, or he acted that way at least, but when it came to things like this, he tended to get compassionate.

Ray only hoped he'd be there.

----------------------------------------------------

Frank was napping. It was his ritual after a moon and pretty much the only thing he had the energy to do. He'd get a drink of water, clean off any wounds, and then collapse. He didn't seem to have the privacy he would have liked, however, because someone was knocking.

He grumbled, as if maybe that would get the person to go away, but nope. More knocking. And one ring of the doorbell. The persistence meant it was either Gerard coming with news--one time he'd inexplicably shown up in the middle of the afternoon to gush to Frank about how one of his favorite comics was getting a movie, and how he didn't think it was going to be as good as the source material (he never thought things would be better than the source material) and Frank had just indulged him. He thought it was cute when Gerard would ramble and ramble and then look at the time, realizing how long he'd been talking and get all red, apologizing until Frank would encourage him to continue.