Assassin (Mikey Way)

5

We arrived at the resturant after twenty minutes of listening to Fall Out Boy.

This resturant is way out of my league. They literally bring water in a wine glass.

"I honestly thought they were giving me vodka." I mumble, making Mikey almost spit out his drink.

The waiter comes to take our order and Mikey motions for me to go first. I order, and he points out what he wants. While waiting for the food, I took two ink pens from my purse. I didn't know why I had them, but I was kind of glad I did. Mikey and I drew pictures on the napkins, laughing at the weird drawings. I laughed a little too loud at one point, drawing attention and stares from all over the resturant, but laughing harder at Mikey when he hit his knee on the table.

"Excuse me, ma'am," a waitress grabs our attention at the end of our table. "Could you please quieten down a bit? We're getting complaints." I nod, trying to hold back a laugh, just as Mikey is.

"I'm sorry." I choke out, getting a weird look from the waitress. She walks away, and I burst out laughing, Mikey wheezing across the table.

Our food came and we dig in. The resturant was a nice, classy Italian resturant. We were sat on the roof, with a perfect view of the beautiful night sky, filled with bright stars. And we still got a noise complaint.

Mikey slid me a napkin that read, tell me about you.

"What about me?" I ask, chuckling.

Everything

"Well, my name is Claire Birmingham, I'm nineteen years old, my favorite color is yellow, I like music. A lot." I say, grinning. "I can't think of anything else."

Why did you run away?

"Well, um, my parents weren't the best people." That was true. "I was sick of dealing with bad people, who do bad things, even though you know you'll turn out like them. And when you do, you just get mad at yourself, regretting not doing something to make them better people, and falling into the same hole they did." I rant, gripping my silverware. Mikey grabs my hand across the table and lightly squeezes it, slightly relieving my stress.
"What about you?" I ask him. He takes the pen and unfolds a napkin.

I'm Mikey Way, I'm twenty years old, my favorite color is black (of course) and I also like music. I play bass, too.

"You play bass? That's cool." I say. "So, we're you close to your parents?" I ask.

Yeah. Very. Gerard, my parents and I did everything together. I'm honestly still not over it, I probably never will be. If I find the people who did that to them I'll kill them. But I still have Gerard and you.

The napkin read. I look at him and give him a sad smile. I grab his hand and we spend the rest of our time at the resturant looking at the stars.

When we arrive back to his house, I go straight up to my room to take my shoes off. Once I change into my night clothes, I stumble back down the stairs.

I plop down on the couch beside Mikey. "My feet are killing me." I utter out. He takes my hand in his. I need to tell him.

"Mikey-" He cuts me off by kissing me. I pull away from him. "I can't. You'll hate me. I can't." I say quietly. He looks at me, confused. "You're going to hate me." I say.

He takes his phone, and texts me. I could never hate you. You helped me to not be an eccedentesiast. You have the ability to make me smile.

I smile sadly. "Mikey, I didn't run away from my parents. My parents are also dead." His expression was emotionless. "My parents were assassins. They got what was coming for them. They taught me it was okay to do what they did, and I hate myself for believing them. I got caught the day I ran up here." He looks mad. "My parents killed yours." I say, tears threatening to spill out.

"I trusted you. I love you." He whispers, his voice raspy.

"Mikey-"

"Get out." He says firmly.

"I'm sorry, I can't help what my parents did." I say, starting to cry.

"You can still help what you do. Your actions have consequences. Leave." He tells me, not looking at me.

"I didn't know any better!"

"I said leave!" He shouts, standing up. "Go! Get out right now! Don't come back!"

I grab my phone, getting up, not bothering to get the rest of my stuff. I walk outside, calling an uber to take me somewhere.

He loves me. And of course I have to mess everything up.