Two for Tragedy

Disclaimer: I do not own any member of My Chemical Romance. I did a spell about two weeks ago but it backfired and now there's a panda living in my garage. This never happened. And I apologize for fucking with the story line so much. This was inspired by lessthanthree's 'Raising Mikey' on fandomination.net, but I don't think I really ripped off her story line. Just inspired and whatever.

Song belongs to Nightwish and is entitled 'Two for Tragedy'. I know, it's something I try to avoid, naming stories that aren't songfics after songs, but I couldn't think of ANYTHING.

A/N: This may become Waycest. I don't know. I haven't decided yet. Right now it's not.

Two for Tragedy

Sleep Eden sleep
My fallen son
Slumber in peace

Mikey and I lived in foster care for two years. It was hell. He was thirteen when it happened and I was sixteen, so we had to wait until I was eighteen, had a job, and had an 'appropriate' place to live. Trust me. I had those things so quickly Child Services got whiplash.

And once the few boxes he had from the car were in his room and unpacked, I saw him smile his first real smile since Mom and Dad died. Fifteen is much too young to be as old as Mikey is. His back was to me at first and then he turned, with that smile on his face, and wrapped his arms around me. I returned the hug, one hand stroking his hair and the other rubbing his back. "See? We're okay now. We'll be okay, Mikey. Just you and me and we'll get you out of that godawful school and it'll be great."

"It can't be great." Mikey whispered.

"Hey, none of that." I pulled away slightly and lifted Mikey's chin so we were eye to eye. Pretty soon Mikey would grow that extra couple of inches and he'd be the one looking up.

"Mikey, Mom and Dad would want us to be happy, okay? They wouldn't want you in mourning everyday. They'd want you to smile again, all right?" I said.

He nodded, but his smile was distant and fake. "Yeah, sure. Happy."

"Mikey . . ."

"Happy. I get it. Can you go now?" he asked, pulling away from me entirely and crossing his arms. Smartass fifteen year olds. I was trying to remember if I was like that when I was his age as I planted a kiss to the top of his head and left his room, shutting the door behind me.

I heard Mikey taking deep breaths. It wasn't because he was having an attack; he was trying not to cry. I heard a handful of dry sobs before I heard the bed creak from his weight being transferred to it. "You can come in now." he said.

Slowly, I pushed the door open. "How'd you know I was there?" I asked as I sat down next to him on the bed.

He leaned his head on my shoulder. "I saw your shoes. And I'm not stupid. There weren't any footsteps when you left." I didn't say anything. "So, I really get to switch schools, huh?"

"God, yes. Get you out of that Catholic hell and into public school. If I ever have to say the rosary again, I think I'll shoot myself." We both laughed and then the phone rang and I went out to the hall and I answered it.

Mikey was in the living room when I hung up the phone, insisting I didn't need a fucking credit card and tell them exactly what they could do with the shiny piece of plastic. He was lying on his stomach, flipping channels idly with the remote.

I looked at him and around this house, with the fading wallpaper and the ugliest green couch in the world. And I smiled.

*

Mikey came out to me when he was sixteen. He was sitting on the counter drinking a glass of soda and I was sitting at the table, pulling my hair out over a letter from Mikey's school. Every so often I would glare at him and he would roll his eyes.

"God, Gee, I got suspended. It's not like it's the end of the world or anything, you drama queen." he said with all the attitude of a sixteen year old

"Yeah, but this doesn't say why you got suspended and you still won't tell me." I reached for the phone and for the first time that afternoon, Mikey's smirk faded.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes wide behind his glasses.

"I'm calling the school to figure out what the fuck is going on." He slid off the counter as I started dialing digits and grabbed the reciever, jamming it back onto the cradle of the phone. "Mikey Way, knock it the fuck off."

"I'll tell you." he said desperately. "I'll tell. Just promise you won't call the school. Please don't call them."

"Okay, okay. I won't call if you tell me what's going on." I was a little freaked out. Mikey usually didn't get like this. Not in awhile at least.

"I got in a fight." Mike said, going back to his counter and perching on it. He was trying to get away from me, but I overlooked it this time.

"Why?"

"Some guy said something to me, so I punched him." Mikey said.

I tried not to smile. If I weren't supposed to be his guardian at moments like this, I'd have been glowing with that brotherly pride. Mikey decked someone. His first physical fight. But, I had to force a frown.

"You can't punch someone just because they said something. What did he say?"

"He called me a fag." Mikey said, his legs swinging.

"Mikey. Doesn't everyone call everyone else a fag in high school?" I asked. I couldn't believe that was why he had decked someone. I mean, sure, it was immature and dumb and it wasn't the greatest word in the world to call someone, like gay was an insult, but still . . .

"Yeah, but not everyone is a fag." Mikey said.

I took a minute for that to click. "You mean . . . you're gay?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm gay. Some guy and I were kissing in the locker room during lunch and someone saw and it got around to the entire fucking school."

"You were kissing some guy in the locker room?" I couldn't hide my smile that time.

Mikey shrugged, but he had a proud smile forming on his lips. "Yeah, well, the teacher's lounge was full."

I laughed. "So, the school found out? Do you need to transfer again?"

"I'm sick of transfering, Gerard." Mikey said. "I can't just run away from my school everytime something happens, okay? 'Sides, I got a boyfriend here now."

I smiled. "Okay. Just checking. But now you have to keep your door open when there's a guy in there."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Like you didn't sneak girls into your room."

"Considering we shared a room when I was your age, I don't think so." I said back, smiling. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I know about condoms, Gee. They talked to us at school." He's back to being sixteen and knowing everything. I'm so lucky. I decide not to even ask if he's had to use a condom. I mean, if I weren't playing guardian right now, I would. But I know he won't tell me for that reason.

Sometimes it sort of sucks that I have to be responsible for him. Not like I hate being responsible for Mikey. It's just that when I had to become an authority figure or whatever you want to call it--and I'm still not the greatest--Mikey and I kind of lost that brother thing. Not a lot, but enough. And I miss it.

I stood up and left the letter on the table. "Well, I've got to work tomorrow and the day after, so you'll be here alone and unsupervised. And you better not do anything stupid and you better stay in the fucking house."

He stuck his tongue out at me, but he smiled. "Yeah, sure. I won't destroy the house, participate in any ritual animal sacrifices, or conjure up Satan in the living room. Scout's honor."

"Smart ass."

"You know you love me."

"Unfortunately."

"I'm hurt."

"I know."

*

Two weeks later it happened. And it was so cliche, the whole circumstance thing. We got in a fight in the car when I was dropping him off at school. He wanted to go to a party, I said no. He said I wasn't his father. I said he was an annoying brat. He said he hated me and stormed into the school. I lit a cigarette and drove to work.

Mikey's best friend Frankie had an old piece of shit car and he dropped Mikey off on the days I couldn't pick him up because it was just too fucking far to walk and Mikey flat out refused to ride the bus. And they'd never been late dropping him off. Never past 4:30. Sometimes one of them had a detention or they picked up something for Frankie's mom, but they'd never showed up past 4:30.

It was 5:30 when I saw Mikey walking up the driveway. Walking up the driveway. He had his jacket pulled so tightly around him I was a little afraid he'd cut off his circulation. I was drumming my fingers on the counter when he walked in.

He looked like shit. He had a bruise on his cheekbone and he . . . he just looked like he'd seen a ghost or something. He was so white and he was wincing. "I-I'm sorry I'm late." he mumbled, making to leave.

I grabbed his arm and he pulled away. "Don't touch me." he said, his eyes wide. He tried to run for the bathroom, but since he was wincing every step of the way, I caught him before he could lock the door. Or rather, I stuck my boot in the doorway before he could shut the door and then pushed it open, letting myself in. I didn't touch him.

He was leaning forward on his arms against the sink, staring at me in the mirror.

"Mikey? What happened?" I was praying to anyone that I was wrong. No, no. It can't have . . . not to Mikey . . . no.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then lowered his head to the sink and threw up instead.

"Get out." he said clearly after he raised his face back up and turned the sink on.

"Mikey--"

"Get the fuck out."

"I-I can't." If it had happened . . . if it was true, then he couldn't shower, which I knew is what he planned on doing. "I can't until you tell me what's wrong."

---

Well, I'm sure you figured it out, but in case you didn't I did a cliffhanger, which I rarely do. So, I'm sure you know, but . . . hopefully you don't.