Demolition Lovers (Frerard)

22: Quite Possibly The Most Traumatising Chapter Ever

Mikey's body lay limp, and the slow, untrustworthy moving of his chest was no consolation in the fact that he most definitely was not going to be okay.

Cocaine.

And Pete, and his fears: everything that had perhaps condemned the boy to a fate he could never deserve, because he'd done nothing, absolutely nothing when compared to Pete and Alicia, at least.

Cocaine.

That could have very easily killed him in the end too, but it didn't quite get its chance, because the ignorance and selfish natures of the pair had been what had befallen Mikey to his fate, and they knew like they knew that they could never be sorry enough, that this was not a fate that poor Mikey Way deserved.

Cocaine.

Did get a grasp at a chance of his demise, though, because cocaine and Pete Wentz's paranoia was what had kept the dying boy from a hospital bed.

He didn't reckon it was a particularly spectacular way to die either, but Alicia didn't see it that way, but Alicia didn't have much else to say as she remained silent and watched as Pete took charge, and watched as Pete ruined a life that could never deserve the fate that had befallen it.

Because Alicia really had loved Mikey, and this was an odd kind of heartache, to say the least, because it was sort of her fault, but she wasn't even sort of guilty, and Pete was going to kill him like this, but Alicia just let it happen.

It wasn't like she hadn't let someone die before, and it wasn't like she wasn't prepared to let it happen again, even if this time it was her ex-boyfriend, or well, perhaps still just boyfriend, because as long as he kept breathing, even if just barely, she'd grant him that luxury.

This wasn't the way anyone should die: laid out on the backseat of a car as Pete Wentz stormed through about six red lights on his way across town, on his way home, because Pete was scared and Pete couldn't chance fate and Pete couldn't risk his own safety for the life of someone he was supposed to love.

And after Pete turned past the hospital without even a glance, Alicia knew she'd never be able to look at him in the same way again.

Not that it mattered, of course, because with Mikey dead, or at least he was close now - there was no hope of him surviving this; she was a realist, and even a slightly tipsy and hopeful Pete Wentz knew that too.

Perhaps the hospital wasn't even worth bothering with.

Alicia brushed the thought aside as she focused on the world outside and her way out of her, because with Mikey gone, there was very little tying her down to this place and to the crimes she'd committed, because Alicia had gotten away clean so far, and she just wasn't sure as to how long that kind of luck would last.

Mikey's luck, especially, had been minimal, and this all, this heart shattering car ride, and the stillness in the morning air could have been prevented if they only paid poor Mikey Way just a little more attention, but still, Alicia wasn't guilty, or at least, she didn't feel that way, only biting hard on her bottom lip as Pete finally turned the car into the alleyway.

Neither of them cared that this probably wasn't the best place to park, slamming car doors behind them within seconds, as the two struggled to support Mikey's body as they carried him inside, as they carried him to his deathbed, and they both knew that, but carried him with the same kind of care and caution regardless, because he deserved that, at the very least.

The sofa.

The same sofa that Mikey had found himself on once before, however that time with a lot more vomiting and a hell of a lot less dying, and Pete wished for the same again as he stood there frozen, Alicia dashing to lock the door behind them.