Someone Get Me to a Church - Petekey

Chapter 10

Pete felt like he was going crazy. The entire day had passed and his roommate was absolutely nowhere to be found. Where the hell was he? Pete had no clue how to handle this. Mikey had gone out for breakfast; that typically wouldn't have taken someone over 12 hours. Pete was worried sick. Curfew was an hour away, and if Mikey fails to come back by then, he would officially lose his mind. This was so unlike Mikey, the Mikey he had gotten to know, at least. Pete tried to combat his raging conscious with attempts to be rational, "Mikey probably just went to hang with a friend," he said to comfort himself. He wasn't sure he really believed that, though. Throughout the day, he fought off the temptation to leave and go search for him. He knew Mikey would want him to have enough trust to wait for him to come back. So, he didn't leave the dorm, waiting for Mikey to return. Eventually, just barely a half an hour until curfew, he finally did.

Mikey stepped through the wooden, dorm room door, his expressionless face a light red and noticeably puffy. He closed the door and just stood there, a million thoughts in his wretched head but not a single one of them leaving his lips. Pete beamed the moment he saw Mikey, failing to notice that he had obviously been crying "Mikey, where in the hell were you? I was absolutely worried to death!" Pete exclaimed, rushing up to Mikey and pulling him into a tight embrace. This made Mikey feel worse. His conscious was screaming at him, calling him a fag and begging him to repent. He remained completely silent. The kind of silence that's louder than screams. Louder than bombs. Pete noticed the lack of a reply and pulled away from Mikey, just far enough to get a good look at his face. "Holy hell," Pete exclaimed worriedly, "Are you okay, love?" He cupped Mikey's face in an attempt to comfort. Mikey couldn't look him in the eyes, but Pete continued to attempt to make eye contact anyways. "Did someone hurt you?" Pete followed. Mikey still didn't know what to say. He just stood there, staring blankly ahead. Pete was becoming more and more concerned as the seconds rolled by.

"Leave me alone," Mikey finally spat, void of any emotion, pushing Pete away and walking towards his side of the room. He felt as if he was a missile about to strike, and he prayed he wouldn't do so onto Pete.

"What do you mean? What happened, Mikey?" Pete asked a second time, following him and grabbing his hand with both of his, almost trapping it. He was determined to get to the bottom of this. Mikey forced Pete's hands off of his. He was praying that he could deal with Pete tomorrow, but Mikey knew he would demand answers. When he finally spoke again, he knew his missile had officially started to strike.

"I mean, you're a fag and I want you to leave me alone." Mikey spat coldly, the words tugging at his heartstrings and leaving his mouth dry as he spoke. The words felt venomous. He hated himself for what he was saying, but he knew he didn't have a choice.

"What?" Pete questioned, his voice shaky and anxious. This was a whole different side of Mikey. What the hell was happening?

"Did I ever tell you about my brother?" Mikey said, his voice transitioning from cold to a weird mixture of aggressiveness and being totally, undeniably numb.

"I didn't know you had one," Pete replied, confused and afraid as ever.

"There's a reason for that. He isn't really my brother anymore. Disowned three years ago." He paused, fighting off tears. He had no room for vulnerability. "Why? He had himself a boyfriend. My parents told him he was going to hell and that they never wanted to see him again," He paused again, feeling himself become viscerally angry talking about Gerard. "I haven't heard from my own flesh and blood for three fucking years. For all I know, he's dead. He may as well be. I don't want to end up like him. I can't. I won't." Mikey expressed, his voice quivering and shaky. He's pretty sure he had only used the f word once before, when he was drunk. This time, however, he was stone cold, painfully sober. He felt absolutely feral.