The first thing Mikey does when he listens to the album is throw up.

It's 2008. November. My Chemical Romance stopped touring a few months back, and Mikey has some spare time.

Naturally, he goes to the music shop and buys Infinity on High.

'Hey, bought ur new album' is the last thing Mikey texts today. Pete responds with a warning that he probably shouldn't listen to the album ('Don't do it sld it's about the thing'), but Mikey ignores him. Two years could make him forget. Two years made everything better.

When Mikey gets home, he puts the disc in his CD player, turns up the volume, and presses play.

'Last summer we took threes across the board, but by far, we were a cover story now in stores,'

Mikey's eyebrows furrow. Pete's writing is always easy for Mikey to understand, but this just hurts. Pete's writing about what had happened at Warped Tour.

'I found the safest place to keep all our old mistakes; every dot com's refreshing for a journal update.'

With tears already forming in his eyes, Mikey presses the skip button a few times and stops on the eleventh track.

'I wrote a goodbye note in lipstick on your arm when you passed out.'

Mikey stands and runs to the bathroom, feeling nausea burning in the pit of his stomach. He throws the lid open and empties his stomach into the toilet, breathing heavily. He tries to contain his tears, but to no avail, and the tears soon turn into sobs. He feels bile in the back of his throat as he wipes his mouth. He can remember it. The lipstick note. The eleven goddamn words that ruined his life.

'I couldn't bring myself to call, except to call it quits,'

The note. He wrote the goddamn note into the song. I couldn't bring myself to call, except to call it quits. At this point, Mikey can barely breathe, and it's all because of Pete fucking Wentz.

'Best friends, ex friends to the end, better of as lovers, and not the other way around; racing through the city, windows down, in the back of yellow checkered cars!'

Mikey can remember that night, and it only makes him cry harder. The night that Pete insisted they took a cab through the city. The night they stopped in a hotel for a night and had their first time. The night Gerard kept calling, worried sick, only to have Mikey's phone answered by Pete, who screamed, "Stop calling, fucker, Mikey's about to cum!" before hanging up. The memory is bittersweet. One that makes him want to smile and cry at the same time.

'You're wrong. Are we all wrong? You're wrong. Are we all wrong?'

Mikey buried his face in his hands and tried to wipe his eyes. The song goes on. It's torturous.

'I can't commit to a thing, be it heart or hospital,'

And Mikey loses it. He can't take it. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, hand shaking. He needs help. He sends a text to Gerard—'Sso i listenef to the nwe fob al bunm'—and waits for a response. This needs to stop, but he wants to finish listening to the album.

'And I cast a spell over the west to make you think of me; the same way I think of you. This is a love song in my own way—happily ever after below the waist!"

He can feel the bile rising in his throat once again, so he leans over the toilet and vomits. He drops his phone onto the tiles, hoping it doesn't crack, and hugs his stomach. After he's done, he folds a piece of toilet paper in half and wipes his mouth, then hears his phone buzz. It's from Gerard. Mikey drops the toilet paper square into the toilet and flushes, then picks up his phone.

'Mikey, are you okay??? Should I come over???"

Mikey responds without thinking.

'No'

Gerard replies in three seconds flat.

'I have a spare key Mikey Im coming over'

'No I 'm finne'

Gerard didn't respond after that. Mikey shut the lid of the toilet, still trying to block out the music. He took a shaky breath and texts Pete—'Why'—and is left with a read receipt.

It ended up taking about ten minutes for Gerard to get inside, and by that time, Mikey was sitting with his back against the toilet, staring at the wall. Listening to the lyrics. This one was about the time Pete promised to never leave him in the back of a minivan in a 7/11 parking lot. He still had the ring that Pete gave him—he kept it on a necklace that he wore under his jackets sometimes. In fact, he had it on right now.

"Mikey?" Gerard called out.

"In the bathroom," Mikey sounded hoarse, like he hadn't had anything to drink in days.

"Mikey," Gerard said softly, his voice barely heard over the music.

"I need to call him," Mikey croaked out, running his hands through his hair. "I've gotta call him."

"Alright, I'm gonna go get you some coffee."

"Yeah," Mikey says, trying not to focus on the songs anymore.

'The truth hurts worse than anything I could bring myself to do to you.'

It's hard to keep back tears as he dials Pete's number and presses the call button. Pete answers in about 3 rings.

"Mikey? Are you okay?"

"You know I'm not okay."

"Mikey, I'm sorry, it just kept coming to mind and I had to get it out, you know? Like, I couldn't forget. I had to."

"Could you have at least been more discreet?" Mikey's crying again, and he's not sure whether it's the music or Pete that's causing it.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be," Mikey whispers into the phone and hangs up. He stands up and rubs water on his eyes in front of the sink. When he's finally composed himself, he puts on his glasses again, opens the bathroom door, and walks out, still trying to block out the music.

Mikey walks to the CD player, and with Gerard's eyes trained on him, he takes out the disc.

He snaps it in half.

Maybe Pete can't forget, but Mikey sure as hell can try.