Really, Frank should have thought this through before just following Alex's every wish and whim, but really, there were a lot of things that Frank Iero should have done but didn't, and thinking this through was practically nothing in comparison.

For starters, he shouldn't have blurted out those three little words and basically fucked this all up in the first place, and in like seventh grade he should have tried harder on that maths test, but both were now in the past, and believe it or not, just as irrelevant as each other.

But there was just nothing that Frank Iero could tell himself to really make anything involving Gerard Way irrelevant at all: the vampire meant far too much to him and those three words had made that all too clear, and the silence that followed his words made the fact that those feelings were mutual all too obvious.

It was fucked: they were fucked, and perhaps that was just that, and perhaps Frank would have even let this go if it wasn’t for Alex and every single little fucking demand that Frank gave into too easily.

Frank wouldn't say that he was a pushover, but he was nothing but that, and this made it all too clear, and impossible to ignore, but the reality of the fact that Frank was actually confronting Gerard about this, at least ensured that the nineteen year old wasn't a coward.

But what did that really mean?

In a town like this?

In a life such as his?

It meant nothing and maybe that was okay, and maybe it wasn't.

Frank needed people to tell him what was okay and what wasn't these days: people like Alex, people like Gerard, people who used to mean so much but were supposed to mean nothing now, but didn't, because nothing quite ever seemed to work as planned.

And perhaps that was just the reality of life, and perhaps the reality of climbing over the metal gates of the graveyard at dusk was nothing more than the world's stupidest decision, but perhaps, just perhaps, for Frank at the very least, it was a necessary one.

Because, Gerard was important and there was absolutely no way around that: Gerard fucking mattered to Frank, and Frank fucking mattered to Gerard, but it was made evident that perhaps vampires weren't exactly the best with emotion.

And it was also made evident that vampires weren't exactly the best with staying away from cute human boys, as Frank's gaze met another: bright in the dark - none other than Gerard Way, leaned up against the mausoleum, and smirking like a motherfucker, because maybe, just maybe, he knew things would work out in the end.

Or maybe, he didn't, and maybe, just like poor, lost Frank Iero, he was just relying on hope and praying to the God that hated him that someday this would all work out okay.

And at first, it was all staring, and gaping mouths as Frank forced himself to adjust to the fact that this was actually Gerard over there and that he was in fact not hallucinating his ex-boyfriend, he wasn't Mikey, after all.

But soon, things escalated, and the silence snapped in two, and of course, with nothing other than a snide comment from Gerard, who just hated to admit that he missed the nineteen year old so much more than he could ever possibly admit to himself, or especially not to Frank, and especially not aloud, and especially not in the form of those fucking three little words that had put him in this situation in the first place.

"You're not supposed to be up here, you know. If anyone else had found you here, you'd be fucked, Iero, you'd be absolutely fucking fucked." Gerard sighed out, forcing back the urge to just grab the nineteen year old and fucking make out with him - right then and right there.

And needless to say, at this point, Frank Iero wasn't just anyone to Gerard Way.

"But it's you that found me and it's you I came to see." Frank sighed out, avoiding Gerard's gaze, knowing all too well that he couldn't resist it as he struggled to remember just what he was here for: what Alex had told him to say, and what he had to do.

"I'm sorry, Frank, but things are fucked up. I want to say it back and I want to make this up to you, but I can't: I physically fucking can't. It's a fucked up vampire thing okay, and I want to make this work again, because you're important, Frank, you really are, but I just fucking can't say those words." Gerard sighed out, preparing himself for the worst possible response, as of course, he expected nothing less, and perhaps, he was right to expect just that.

"It's fine, Gerard." Frank sighed out, stepping towards the vampire, and biting down on his bottom lip as he very quickly came to realise that there wasn't a fucking chance in hell that like this, with such an apology that he could bring himself to do what he had to, to say what he had to.

This was all fucked, and really there was absolutely no other way to put it.

"It's fine, but I just can't-" Frank choked out, his throat seizing up as he soon found it impossible to squeeze his words out.

"Frank, fucking what?" Gerard's tune soon changed, stepping close to the nineteen year: fucking angry and it was beyond evident. "It's that fucking Alex, isn't it? Oh for fuck's sake, Frank, I can fucking tell - don't fucking lie to me: what the fuck's going on?"

"I'm sorry, I fucked up, I just I thought you hated me, I just-" Frank's words were cut off as Gerard slammed him against the mausoleum wall, pinning his wrists above his head, and oh fuck.

"I fucking hate the idea of my little slut even flirting with someone else, you're fucking mine, you know that, Frankie? And I fucking I care about you, okay? Is that okay? Are we okay, Frankie? Am I right in thinking that this fucking Alex is worth absolutely nothing to you and that I'll never even hear his name mentioned again? Am I right, Frankie?"

Silence, and quivering lips and millions of answers waiting at Frank's lips: all inadequate.

And it took three words to ruin them, and only two to fix it.

"Yes master."

-

Most of the time, Pete just couldn't help himself for feeling the way he did about Mikey, and maybe, just maybe, he'd even manage to tell himself that the way he felt was okay, but there was the odd occasion in which the eighteen year old found himself sat in his bedroom: Bob's spare room, completely alone and completely empty inside.

Mikey didn't want him, and that was just nothing short of blatantly obvious, but it still was absolutely nowhere near okay.

Pete was nowhere near okay.

And this room fucking stunk half the time, and there were like seven thousand boxes of random shitty junk in the corner that Pete’s curiosity took the better of him with, because although it was Bob's shit and Bob wouldn't particularly take a liking to him snooping around here, he just needed something, anything to take his mind off Mikey fucking Way.

And maybe Pete was obsessed, but maybe, he was just absolutely nowhere near admitting that to himself, and perhaps he was just better hiding away in Bob Bryar's spare bedroom and contemplating life and the universe itself as his rummaged through bags full of once haunted plates and the like - perhaps he'd even find the elusive milky bathtub somewhere - probably not in the tiny boxes, but who knows? Maybe, it was just a really tiny bathtub.

Bathtubs can come in all shapes and sizes, of course, no hate to bathtubs, and milk, and well, come on here, Ryan Ross.

Pete, like just about everyone, reckoned perhaps that the elusive milky bathtub didn't quite deserve all the attention it got, but whatever, it wasn't fucking elusive for nothing, and this fucking bathtub was going to be vital to the plot whether Pete liked it or not.

Pete sighed out, pushing the boxes away and pulling out his cellphone, and debating just how unlikely it was for Mikey to ever answer his phone: the guy never fucking left the record store, and seriously, it was starting to concern Pete: sure, Pete had seen a momentary glimpse of Ray in the mirror, but he was tired as fuck and it really would not have been at all unlikely if he'd just imagined it, but now Mikey was deadset upon seeing the 'ghost' of his dead boyfriend.

And fuck, Pete couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy, because there wasn't a chance in hell that Mikey Way was ever going to be okay again, and perhaps, Pete just had far too much trouble accepting that there was absolutely nothing that eh could ever do about that, ever.

He cared too much, and it was caring that always fucked it all up in the end - detachment was the key to survival, but maybe, Pete didn’t even want to survive, just maybe, the eighteen year old was so severely lovestruck that all he really wanted was for Mikey Way to be okay again, but that was really nothing more than a lost cause.

But Pete called nonetheless, because maybe, just like Mikey, he wouldn't give up on the person he cared about the most, and this was fucked up beyond belief, but that was just made it feel right in this fucking town and for these fucking people, or well, in Mikey's case, vampire, and in Ray's case (maybe), ghost.

Ray's mortality or the lack of it, or even existence at this point was largely nothing more than speculation.

And the continuity of the dial tones and lack of Mikey's voice on the end was, of course, nothing more than accepted by Pete at this point.

Everyone had kind of just given up and left Mikey alone in the store at this point, but Pete wasn't going to fucking give up - after all, it was the simple acting of caring that could destroy the whole world.

"Pete, fuck, I need- I need fucking help, come over- I'm at the store- I..."

Mikey's voice left the eighteen year old speechless and unable to respond for entirely too long and judging by the nature of Mikey's words, it wasn't at all convenient to the situation, but soon enough, Pete found himself whirring back into life.

"Mikey? Oh my god? What's wrong? I.. what's wrong?" He choked out, utterly lost and utterly fucking useless, but still getting up from the bed and grabbing a jacket, because there was absolutely nothing stopping him from going over sorting this out - not even the safety and cowardice that the four walls of Bob Bryar's spare room nurtured.

"You know how you said you saw him in the mirror? The mirror's cracking on its own and I can't fucking move-  Look, just get Bob too, but fucking quickly, okay?" And as Mikey's voice began to crack to, it was made evident that his words were really nothing short of the truth.

"What do you mean you can't move?" Pete exclaimed, of course, still fucking stuck here asking the most menial questions despite the fact that Mikey was very clearly in fucking danger, and for once in his lifetime, needed Pete's help, but of course, this was nothing more than cowardice at its absolute finest.

"What the fuck does it matter? For fuck's sake, Pete, I just can't fucking move and the whole fucking room is breaking and cracking now, just fucking get Bob or I'm going to fucking die, Pete, come on, for fuck's sake. Try not being useless for once."

"Try not being an asshole for once." And just like that, Pete ended the call and stood there in a reflective silence for far too long, because it was far too easy to just ignore this and leave Mikey to what some might argue that he deserved, but Pete couldn't handle the guilt and Pete couldn't handle the knowledge that he had the ability to perhaps make Mikey like him, just for one fucking moment as he led Bob to save him.

But whatever, he had to try, and maybe, Mikey Way wasn't everything after all, but he most certainly did not deserve to die, especially when Pete could prevent it: Pete would never do that to Mikey, however, unbeknownst to the eighteen year old, that promise wasn't mutual at all.

-

Mikey was alone, and he knew that no one was coming to save him: reality was just tearing itself apart as Ray's image faded into the mirror, and maybe, just to see Ray, he felt like that was justifiable, because the vampire wanted to just see, let alone talk to and fucking apologise to his boyfriend one last time, even if it killed him.

Immortality got boring anyway.

Mikey wasn't like Gerard and this was the final confirmation.

Reality soon crumbled away into static and light and noises and then nothing, and nothing was okay with Mikey Way, the boy who'd once had everything, and maybe even once actually been alive: they'd all been alive some day long ago, but Gerard had made it rather evident that any humanity within him was long lost and forgotten, but Mikey, Mikey however could still remember the day.

He was fourteen and Gerard was seventeen and it was good hundred or so years ago, but it was still always fresh upon the vampire's mind. Perhaps the difference between them was the difference then and the difference in that Gerard knew and Mikey really didn't.

And that Gerard was a fucking idiot and Mikey was nothing more than dragged into this mess.

But still, Mikey would never even go as far as to say that it was Gerard's fault, sure there was nothing that anyone could say to change the fact that it was Gerard's doing, but whether he was actually to blame resided in nothing more than pure controversy for the past hundred or so years.

Mikey had been sick, Mikey was about to die, and really, Mikey would have, and he really wouldn't have minded: he was ready, he was fucking ready to say goodbye, but Gerard made it rather evident that he wasn't ready to say goodbye to his own brother: Mikey was okay and accepting, but Gerard did not think it was alright.

Gerard was always that child: he was the older, fucked up one and second best to his younger brother and well fucking aware of it, and yet still he could never quite bring himself to even so much as dislike Mikey, because it just wasn't his fault.

Gerard fucking loathed his parents though, and perhaps that had just what had brought him to do what he did.

After he received the news regarding the fatality of Mikey's illness, he'd become distant: more distant than he was already, but everyone was far too caught up with Mikey to even notice - that's how it had always been with Gerard, but at the very least, this time, he could be thankful of it.

He'd refuse to leave his room, especially in the day, and stay up all night, going out with a lack of an explanation and remained aloof and generally more secretive and anti-social than usual, only frequenting visits to his brother, and these visits were visits he made alone, and as it became clear that Mikey only had a few days left to live, it was really when the Way family were left in nothing but mystery and mourning as when they awoke one morning, they didn't find their youngest son dead.

They just didn't find him at all, and Gerard was long gone with him. The two having left the big manor house with far too many bedrooms and space for crucifixes in the doors and fled to the graveyard and the mausoleum up on the hill never to be seen again, at least not within the next few decades.

Mikey had hated Gerard at first as he spent far too many years down in the caverns below the mausoleum coming to terms with who he was now and just who his brother had forced him into: the immortality, the blood lust, because as much as Gerard hated to admit it, Mikey had indeed died in the end, as he was supposed to, expect it wasn't illness that had killed him, but his own brother.

And soon the light faded into darkness and back to the room once more, and Mikey, unsure if he was hallucinating at this point, watched as the figure resembling his dead ex-boyfriend made his way to the front of the figure, and for the first time, what was left of Ray Toro came to actually acknowledge just what was left of Mikey Way.

Because a huge part of Mikey had died with Ray, and that huge part held itself in the secret and the spell, or curse of the three words he'd uttered to the corpse he held in his arms sobbing on that day in the record store where guilt had come to reap it's rewards in the form of poisoned wine intended for someone else entirely.

And Mikey had wasted days here, because he didn't say that 'I love you' for nothing.

And despite how much of a bad decision it was, Mikey still couldn't quite bring himself to even consider regretting it.

Regret was far too much of a human emotion, and despite this all, Mikey Way still wasn't human: he could never be human again, he could never quite cure himself completely. He could just die now, and somehow, that thought wasn't as nearly as comforting or romantic as it had been made out to be.

It was then that Ray in the mirror, who perhaps wasn't real Ray at all, and may even be absolutely nothing more than a mere hallucination, spoke.

Four words this time, and four words that made everything worth it: four words that fixed the three words, that made the fact that now Ray was dead and Mikey was not barely even matter at all.

"I love you too."

And then, the perfect moment was ruined entirely with the slam of the door: Bob and Pete, and reality seemed to catch up at that point, Mikey's bubble of perfect reality fading away as the world around him came back into focus and the building continued to shake and fall down around him.

And that was when that Mikey realised that he was bleeding.

And that was when that Mikey realised that he was dying.

-

Hey guys:) I think you all know me well enough to know that I am absolutely not sorry at all:') Votes and comments would be lovely. I love you all<3