My Chemical Romance Short Stories

Seven Minutes

       A/N: So, this is new for me. I rarely do slash, but I just thought, why not? This is the longest one shot I have ever wrote, but I think it's great.

Yes, it is Frikey.

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Seven Minutes

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       Mikey sat with his legs crossed on top of the couch. He pressed his glasses farther on his nose as he watched the groups of people cycle around. Most of them, in fact the majority, Mikey had no idea who they were except Ray. He was uncomfortable and seriously reconsidering why he had even come here. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be here or not.

Him.

The idea of that one guy sent chills down the fifteen year old’s spine and tingles to his fingertips. The image of his face imprinted with a smile always seemed to make Mikey feel just a little bit warmer. This was new for Mikey, however. He was unaware of his sexuality until he met this guy in his chemistry class, never feeling a single thing for anybody until this one guy. Now, on the other hand, the only thought that filled the young adolescent’s mind was of this guy.

This one guy. His face. His smile. His body. His personality. His voice. His laugh. His beautiful eyes. His silver lip ring. All of it was too perfect.  All together he was the most perfect person Mikey had ever met. He made everybody around him seem like plebeians and peasants. He was like a god or even better, if that was even possible. Well, he was like that to Mikey at least. Mikey could remember capturing a glimpse of this guy on his very first day at Mikey’s school. A new fish in an old pond.

                For barely a second, Mikey saw him outside the principal’s office as he walked to his second hour. He saw this stringy new kid chewing on his lip ring and staring at the floor.

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Later that day, Mikey walked into the chemistry lab, his mind elsewhere as he set his things down at his usual lab station where he sat by himself. Chemistry was his favorite class. He succeeded rather well and quite easily, earning extremely high marks, but the labs were difficult for him because he did them alone. Nobody wanted to be partners with the scientific genius. He made everyone else look like chimpanzees without even realizing it.

Anyway, Mikey sat down on a metal stool, laying his heavy backpack by his feet and plucking a pencil from behind his ear on his glasses. He turned the yellow pencil over in between his thumb and index finger, reading the words “Ticonderoga” and “Two,” Over and over and over. He was used to being alone. His only brother rarely spoke to him and spent most of the time he was in the dorms quietly sitting in the corner drawing or reading comics. Mikey’s only friend was an upperclassman named Ray who was in the same year as Gerard, Mikey’s brother. Mikey rarely got to see Ray except during breaks or after classes or on the weekends when they would laze in the commons area and read comics, or they’d sit in Ray’s empty room and play music off of a crappy old fender guitar.

It was times like these, alone at this table, Mikey wished Ray was in his class or even in his year. They could have been better friends than how they are now. Maybe even best friends. Who knew? Fate hadn’t been in his favor this time…. Or anytime for that matter.

A small scuffling beside the table brought Mikey back to reality. He lifted his head slightly and saw a small male sitting down beside him, a skull drawn on his right hand in black ink, a self-given pen tattoo. He had black hair that reached down his face and formed a fringe over his muddily-hazel eyes, grazing his pale cheekbones and touching his pierced ears.

At first, Mikey thought the person beside him was a figment of his imagination brought on by his exceeding amount of loneliness. A creation of his own mind that he could only see. Mikey watched the teenager, sit down on the stool, produce a black pen from his jacket pocket and ink the top of his hand beside the skull with the words, “Don’t Fuck with Music.”