Mikey didn't even want to be in his brother's stupid fucking play. Honestly, why would the world be in anarchy only two years from the current date? And a rebellion? With extravagant names and bright costumes and fucking ray guns? No. Impossible, unrealistic, and overall stupid, in Mikey's opinion. 

He sat on the end of the stage, distancing himself from the rest of the cast. 

"So how's your boy?" Dallon asked, walking over to Mikey warily and sitting down beside him. 

"He's not my boy anymore," Mikey replied, looking down at his feet.

Dallon seemed surprised, "What happened?"

"We got into a fight. I got accepted into NJCU, but I told him I wanted to go wherever he went. He told me to go, and we started to argue. He walked out of my bedroom, but not before throwing my picture of us on the Fourth of July to the ground and stomping on it. He broke the frame and then took the picture and ripped it in half. Then he called me a stubborn attention whore and left." 

"He's been moping around all week. I'm sure he didn't mean it," Dallon said, putting a hand on Mikey's shoulder. 

"No, it's over," Mikey said, and even though he'd said it to himself while lying awake at night dozens upon dozens of times, it still hurt. "How's Brendon?"

"I don't think we're going to make it. I keep feeling like he's going to go back to Ryan. Or maybe he'll decide I'm not good enough and move on."

"You think..."

"I feel like I'm starting to not know him, you know? He's just been so distant..." Dallon said. He laughed bitterly, "maybe I'm just paranoid." 

 Mikey sat still but laced his fingers with Dallon's. His eyes started to water. If Brendon and Dallon were to split, then there was no chance in hell that he'd ever be back with Pete. Mikey's stomach churned. Maybe Dallon was being a jealous boyfriend. But maybe he was right. Maybe Brendon saw the same goodness in someone that Mikey had fallen for. 

What if Brendon fell in love with Pete? Mikey's heart started to race. Pete had mentioned having a crush on Brendon at a young age, but then getting over it. Pete would obviously date Brendon if he got the opportunity. 

Mikey turned away, unable to stare at Pete any longer. Tears had broken their barrier. Screw college- what was a life without Pete in it? Mikey had promised him a picket fence, kids and a lazy old dog laying out on the front porch. He couldn't break that promise. He would give it all to Pete. A life without Pete in it was a life Mikey didn't want.  

Dallon pulled away from Mikey's embrace and walked over to the group of cast members that were rehearsing lines. Mikey gazed longingly at them, wishing for the courage to go over and say even a single sentence to Pete. He saw Pete laugh at Brendon, then turn to Patrick.

Mikey started to play with the hem of his shirt and seemingly forgot all of his troubles, instead focusing on pulling the thread out of his shirt.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" A voice shouted, and the startled Mikey turned his attention to the cast. 

The only thing he needed to see was Pete lying on the ground, clutching his nose and Brendon looking at him 

Mikey didn't know how he made it across the room that fast, but he did, and soon he had knocked Brendon to the ground. He threw a few punches. "You stay the fuck away from him! Asshole!"

Mikey felt arms pulling him back, and suddenly he was jerked away from Brendon. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you if you so much as touch him again!" He fought against whoever was holding him back but was unable to free himself.

Mikey then became aware of the fact that he wasn't the only one who was yelling. Frank was holding him back, Gerard was yelling at him, Brendon was crying out in pain, and Dallon was screaming bloody murder in his name. 

"You broke my fucking nose!" Brendon shrieked.

Though everyone had stopped yelling, Dallon was screaming. Dallon was howling. He was threatening to kill Mikey. Brendon was sobbing in his arms, clutching his bloody nose. Dallon was holding onto the boy with every ounce of love pouring from him. Dallon was stupid. Dumb. An idiot. Brendon would never leave Dallon. He'd never cheat on him. Would never harm him. No, because Brendon loved Dallon. He would do anything for Dallon. 

So if Dallon was an idiot, then Mikey must've been a fucking ignoramus. 

And then, while Dallon continued to swear on his mother's grave that he'd kill him, Mikey realized just how fucking ignorant he was.

Acting. They were acting.

"Mikey, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" Frank yelled over Brendon's violent sobbing.

Mikey's tongue felt dry and heavy. He gulped. "I thought Brendon...hit him," He muttered, his gaze falling to his knuckles.

"No," Frank states, "No, Mikey, nobody hit anyone. Brendon was acting. That's why we're here, remember?" Mikey managed a feeble nod. Everyone was silent now, and they were all staring at him.

Frank loosened his grip on Mikey, who glanced helplessly at Pete. Pete did nothing but stare down at his hands.

Mikey pushed Frank off of him and ran a hand through his hair. Silently, he turned and walked out of the amphitheater. Nobody followed him or called after him.

Mikey hung his head as he walked, glad that nobody was here but the teachers at their staff meeting. 

Stupid. So fucking stupid. 

Mikey walked into the boy's bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked horrible. He had dark circles under his tired eyes and he was paler than he'd ever seen himself.

"You fucking idiot," Mikey said to himself. "You fucking fell for him and let him snap you in half like a fucking twig."

And then he felt it in his lungs. The comforting ache that brought the fact that he needed a cig to his attention.

Mikey combed his coat pocket to find his pack, then remembered that he had left them in his backpack, which he had left in the auditorium. He sighed in annoyance. If someone were to look through his bag, they would find his spare lighters and his pack of cigarettes, but he had made it abundantly clear that absolutely no one was allowed to so much as touch his backpack. 

Mikey exited the bathroom, walked back through the hall, and re-entered the auditorium. Everyone stopped and stared at him, and Dallon, who was tending to Brendon's broken nose, glared at him. Mikey did nothing, but instead gazed down at his feet as he walked, hands in his pockets. He grabbed his bag from the seat he had put it in, then walked back out of the large room. As he slung his backpack into the air, he heard something fall from it but didn't stop to think about what it could have been. He continued into the hallway, roaming it until he saw the exit sign, then walked out into the school's parking lot and sat on a parking curb.

Letting out a soft cough, Mikey sifted through the cluttered bag for the little plastic baggie that contained his lighter and pack of Marlboros. He fished it out, then noticed that the broken red lighter with "FAST LANE" in bold blue lettering wasn't in his bag. He had used that lighter for three days before he accidentally dropped it in a puddle, rendering it unusable. Mikey hadn't given any thought to throwing it away, so it had probably fallen out at some point.

Mikey opened the baggie, tamped the pack of cigarettes, and put the filtered end of one into his mouth after opening it. He lit it and inhaled the smoke.

"Fuckin' idiot," Mikey grinned to himself after blowing out the smoke. "You started smoking and you lost the love of your life. Way to go, Ace."

He took in another drag of his cig just as he heard a voice come from what sounded like a little ways from him.

"Mikey?"

Oh, god, not Pete.

"Mikey, what the fuck are you doing?"

Oh, fuck, not Pete.

Mikey dropped his hand to his side. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're fucking killing yourself. Get that shit out of your mouth," Pete said, moving closer. "I knew it. You dropped a fucking lighter on your way out, but it was broken, and I just knew it. Mikey, I fucking knew it."

"Yeah, I'm smoking. Everyone in my family does it. It was only a matter of fucking time before I went down to the convenience store and bought some. A good thing I look older than 18, too. Otherwise, they never would've given me anything."

"Mikey! You're going to get addicted to this shit and maybe even fucking die if you don't stop soon!" Pete raised his voice. 

Mikey stayed silent and took another drag. Pete moved closer, then even closer, until he was right in front of Mikey.

"Put it out."

"No."

Pete's voice cracked, "Mikey, put it out."

"I'm not going to put the damn cigarette out," Mikey growled, stifling a cough. "So drop it."

"You're going to die from it."

"But we're all dying, and some are just dying faster than others," Mikey shrugged. "Why not speed up the process if there's nothing worth doing in life?"

"Don't- don't fucking say that. I know we broke up and it's making you-"

"I don't want to talk about that," Mikey stated, but Pete continued.

"I know all of this is making you feel low, but you really do need to go to-"

"Pete. I said I don't want to talk about that."

Mikey was able to ash his cigarette three times during the silence that followed.

Pete drew in a shaky breath, turning his head to the side so he wouldn't breathe in any smoke. "Do you know how much I hated myself when I walked out of your room that day?" He whispered. "I- I remember standing outside of your front door, thinking, 'fuck, fuck, fuck. You shouldn't have fucking done that,'" Pete laughed, sounding sad by the memory of it. He hung his head and quietly added, "You know how I don't feel a lot of things other than what I feel for the people I care about? Well, losing you felt like losing something."

"Then why did you fucking do it?" Mikey blurted before he could stop himself.

Pete paused. "I don't know."

They don't speak for a minute or two after that. Once again, it's Pete who breaks the silence. 

"Do you want to try this again?" Pete said, sounding almost as if he were crying. "Please?"

Mikey stayed silent.

"Please, Mikey?"

Mikey took a deep breath, "Okay."

"I think you should go to NJCU."

"I want to go wherever you go," Mikey lets the cigarette fall to the ground.

"Then you're going to NJCU," Pete turned to face Mikey, who furrowed his eyebrows.

"You applied?"

"I applied for every school you applied for, remember?" Pete simpered. 

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Mikey asked. "We could've just avoided all of this if you had originally told me."

"I was only told last week."

"Pete, we broke up last week."

"We broke up on the twenty-third. I got my letter on the twenty-fifth. Your move."

Mikey stayed silent. "So are we just going to start where we left off?"

"Whatever you want to do," Pete wiped his eyes. "I'm fine with that or going slow and starting over."

"I kind of want to just kiss you and be where we were on the twenty-second," Mikey said, and Pete hummed in approval.

"I like that. However," Pete took Mikey's hand. "I'm not going to kiss you until you promise to stop smoking."

"I've only been on them for a week. It shouldn't be that hard," Mikey answered. "Promise. Will you kiss me now?"

Pete didn't say anything, but instead promptly pressed his lips to Mikey's.

Pete pulled away. "Eugh, you smell like smoke."

Mikey shrugged. "Sorry," He said, then laughed to himself. "Hey, all I had to do to get us back together was break Brendon's nose."

"To be honest," Pete murmured, "It was kind of hot."

And then he leaned in again.