Ray reckoned that sitting at lunch with Gabe Saporta wasn't exactly the highlight of his life, but reckoned that he couldn't exactly be picky here anymore, because okay maybe, he had totally fucked everything up with Mikey, and okay, maybe there was just nothing he could do about that.

It wasn't like Ray cared though, was it, of course, of course, he did, because Ray was all kinds of pathetic, and all kinds of still fucked up about Mikey fucking Way.

Anyway, Ray was sat at lunch with Gabe and Mikey was totally glaring at him from across the hall, but Ray didn't think much of it because it was just Mikey being an ass now that Ray's dick wasn't in his ass.

Ray was kind of glad that he wasn't fucking Mikey anymore, because Mikey was a fucking bitch. In fact, Ray was glad that they just didn't speak anymore, and Ray wasn't really one for snubbing or even being mean to other people, but Mikey Way had made himself the exception here.

Ray did miss Frank, though, but if Frank was going to choose Mikey over him then there was very little he could do about that, and he had Gabe's company, even if it was somewhat questionable, and even if the guy never fucking shut up about William Beckett.

Mikey looked a little off though today, and Ray couldn't escape that, and in much the same way, he couldn't escape worrying, because Ray was certain he disliked Mikey, but still, he couldn't help but care, because that's what Ray did after all; he was much like Sarah in that way, but he most definitely got laid a lot less, which really sucked, to say the fucking least.

"Ray, are you alright?" Gabe had followed Ray's gaze across the room to Mikey, and the table he was sat on with Frank, Ryan, and Brendon.

Ray wondered how Brendon had made his way back into that group, but he still remained exiled; perhaps Mikey was just far more stubborn than Ryan, or as there often was, something else was going on that Ray wasn't quite aware of.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Ray forced a smile and turned back to Gabe, who was looking at him with nothing less than a highly fucking skeptical glare

"Sure, whatever you say, but you're totally staring at that Mikey kid."

That Mikey kid.

Ray wished Mikey could be just that for him, but things would never work out like that.

And Ray remembered what his brother had told him, and he remembered speaking to Frank about Gee all those months ago, and keeping that secret, and keeping that friendship, but for what purpose, because Frank sat beside Mikey and not him.

And Ray hurt inside a lot more than he'd ever care to let on.

"Come on, admit it." Gabe continued, succeeding in making Ray blush like an idiot, and fuck, Ray was so fucking fucked. "Do you like him or something? Is there something there?"

"He's my ex." Ray shook his head, his gaze fixated firmly upon the floor.

"Oh... sorry." Gabe trailed off, his gaze drifting elsewhere, as he struggled to fill the silence he'd created.

"It's fine... he's a bitch." Ray turned back to Gabe, watching as the taller boy sat there in silence for a moment, perhaps just contemplating Ray's every word.

"Oh, how so?" And Gabe seemed to genuinely care, but perhaps that was just Gabe's hunger for gossip and nonsense; Ray didn't know, and Ray tried not to care.

"It was a relationship, but it wasn't... he was kind of using me as a distraction or for sex, I don't know: I don't want to know. We used to be best friends, as well, and he's there with my friends, well my ex-friends, because they're on his side or something; I don't even know what he tells them because as far as I know he's too ashamed to even let them know he dated me."

"Closeted as hell?" Gabe raised his eyebrows, because Gabe Saporta didn't actually know an awful lot about Mikey Way.

"No, it's complicated; his boyfriend killed himself quite a few months ago now, you know, Pete... and it really fucked him up, and I can't even remember how it went from that to us, but my dog died and we were comforting each other and then things escalated and everything's a mess now, and it used to be the three of us, best friends, me, Mikey, and Frank, but now Frank's 'sided' with Mikey, I don't know, but we don't speak anymore, and that's really fucked me up, because there was never anything between Frank and I, and I miss him and I miss that friendship, and Mikey fucked that up for me."

"Wow, that's... a mess, don't you think?" Gabe paused, shaking his head in disbelief, because god, he just wished he could help just a little here, "Have you not tried talking to Frank? Like explaining your side of the story."

"Mikey will hate me for 'ruining his friendship with Frank'-"

"Since when did Mikey dictate your fucking life?"

Ray glanced back across the hall at the boy he used to care so much about, and saw his friends laughing, engaged in conversation, as Mikey looked distant, almost out of place with his gaze fixated across the hall and his eyes with a sad kind of look to them.

Ray wanted to ask what was wrong, still, Ray wanted to be there for him, but Mikey didn't deserve that: not anymore, not at all, and Ray found himself forced to keep reminding him of that.

Especially as Mikey looked up and caught his gaze across the hall: the two sharing a look, something that meant something perhaps.

And Ray's phone vibrated in his pocket moments later.

A text from Mikey, the first one in forever, and it felt weird, it felt different, and Ray didn't quite feel so empty:

'I'm sorry about what I did. Can we talk? Can we fix this?'

And Ray didn't quite know what to say at all.

-

They're scared: they're only human, after all.

Ray was all heartbeats and words he couldn't quite swallow, and Mikey was all sentences he couldn't quite form and a heart that didn't quite beat anymore, and in a way they were both perfect opposites and perfectly identical.

Because life never made things easy.

And the boys' toilets wasn't much of a spectacular place for it, but it was all they had, besides the words hidden in gazes that they couldn't quite manage to utter to one another.

Because Mikey didn't hate Ray, and Ray didn't hate Mikey, but Mikey thought Ray hated him, and Ray thought Mikey hated him too.

Because life never made things easy, and heart break didn't help, and ex-boyfriends that were supposed to be dead didn't help - nothing helped, and perhaps that made this all the more worthwhile, but perhaps it didn't, because as Mikey met Ray's gaze as he walked in through the door it was like they were in Ray's back yard again, and it was all Alicia Simmons' ass, and croquet, and Frank's secret fixation with Mikey's brother.

But they were stuck in the now and thudding heartbeats and gazes shared for little more than a second, because they were so, so scared, and in fact, Mikey was perhaps twice as scared as he had been throughout his recent nightmares, because it was emotions and the human heart that was to be feared so much more than the kind of demons the brain could concoct.

And Mikey was so sure that Ray was real, and that was what scared him most of all, because if he fucked up with Pete, if he fucked up in his own head, then it held smaller, less important consequences, than if he fucked up with the boy he'd once called his best friend - the boy stood before him, the boy stood in silence.

The two boys stood in silence.

And at one point Ray perhaps chanced a small smile.

Mikey didn't return it.

And in response, Ray pulled out his cellphone, glancing over Mikey's message; the confident Mikey full of words and glares from back out there in the world outside the privacy of this bathroom, and Ray read the message aloud, "'I'm sorry about what I did, can we fix this? Can we talk?'"

Mikey bit his lip, his gaze soon to fixate elsewhere, and let his head drift off into nothingness, because that was a far easier alternative to facing his heart, because Mikey's head was absolutely petrified of the beating vessel inside his chest; the one that dictated far more than it should, the one that had him falling apart because of a boy he once called his best friend, and a boy he once called his boyfriend, and now, a boy he called little more than 'Ray'.

"Say something." Ray was somewhat desperate at this point, and he himself wasn't at all sure why. "I can't stand this silence between us and neither can you, that's why we're here - to make this right, or to at least try, because I think we can fix this, and we are going to talk."

And then before Mikey knew what he was doing, the words were tumbling from his lips like blood from a wound: sliced open with Ray's words, "I keep seeing Pete: in my dreams, in reality, like a hallucination or something, but Patrick sees him too, and perhaps it's not that simple, perhaps it is, but help me, please, I don't want to be crazy-"

"You're not crazy." Ray responded too before he could think, his eyes widening a little as he finally processed just what Mikey had said to him, because really, Ray had been far more focused upon the simple fact that Mikey was talking to him, as opposed to the actual content of his words. "When did this start? What do you even see him doing?"

"I don't see him a lot, not as often as Patrick- Patrick's back in town now, by the way, but Patrick sees him all the time, but I only see him upon occasion, and I didn't use to, but Patrick reckons me and him are seeing the same Pete and it makes sense, and none of this does, but he keeps trying to talk to me and I don't want him to; I want him to leave me alone, and I want this all to be okay, but that's just too much to ask, isn't it?"

"Mikey, please-" And Ray fucking grew some balls, pulling the boy he once loved into his arms again. "You deserve everything, and this isn't your fault, and... I'm sorry, and... look... you're not going to like the answer here, but it's obvious; you can't let this eat you up inside, you have to just talk to the doctor about this, and maybe they'll give you some pills, and maybe you'll talk to someone, and then maybe you'll get better, maybe that'll be it-"

"What if it's not? I don't want to be crazy, Ray." Mikey was stubborn, as always, but Mikey was also incredibly stubborn when it came to not letting go of Ray, it seemed. "Sorry... I... I missed your hugs... I... you're a good hugger... I feel okay... I'm sorry, I..."

"It's okay." And Ray meant it, because Mikey seemed so much less like the devil when Ray held him in his arms, and it wasn't even a trick, because perhaps they'd just gotten each other messed up, and perhaps it was a reflection of their own troubles on the other. "You're a good hugger too."

Mikey laughed at that. "I'm all bony and horrible, and lanky, and skinny-"

"No, you're beautiful." Ray smiled, as he finally pulled away. "You're so beautiful."

"I'm sorry- fuck... I'm sorry, about everything..." Mikey shook his head in disbelief: far too close to tears for his dignity's liking. "Come back and sit with us, I fucked up, and I fucked up everything for you, didn't I? And we don't talk, and you don't talk to Frank anymore, and he's not just my friend... he's yours too, and fuck, you were always so much more of a better friend than I was - there's no way around that."

"Don't blame yourself - it was both our faults, and we both forgive each other now, don't we, and-"

"I fucking ruined your life, Ray, why do you always forgive me so easily?"

"Because I think you're amazing, I thought you knew that already..."

"No... I didn't..."

And silence, and a smile, and a couple of minutes spare as the pair contemplated the universe, hearts, minds, and everything.

-

Sarah was all emotions in places they shouldn't be and words that didn't quite come out right: a mess, the fucking definition of a mess, but still no one noticed, except her, Kitty, of course, who noticed everything but always said too little.

Perhaps it even worked better that way.

She didn't know otherwise, though, and perhaps she was okay with that, because Sarah was the kind of beautiful she felt like she had to watch from afar, but perhaps things didn't have to be like that.

Perhaps Kitty was just scared.

Perhaps Sarah was too.

But what Sarah was right now was crying, because Sarah's parents were everything she and Kitty despised, and Kitty's house had been her first call of escape, and Kitty had let her in and into a hug, and made her coffee and the two sat down on Kitty's bed, and it was fucking raining outside, as if to set the fucking mood, but Kitty was far more focused on Sarah than the rest of the world.

Because that's how it had always been.

Because that's how it would always be.

And then, the first words since she'd stormed in, because Kitty was all emotions and too little clarity, and Sarah was all tears and choked out sobs as opposed to properly annunciated sentences or even any form of coherence whatsoever.

But communication was important, even if they had to learn that the hard way, as Kitty met Sarah's gaze, and finally broke what seemed like an eternal silence with a simple, perhaps underwhelming, "what's wrong?"

And Sarah nearly laughed at her, because this warranted so much more than that, but still it was just enough, and perhaps if that was all they could deal with right now, then perhaps that was what they could manage, "everything, my parents, my head, my life, me-"

"No, you're not wrong, Sarah, you're amazing, you're beautiful." And Kitty meant it so much more than she could ever possibly express.

And Sarah just blushed, laughed, and brushed it off nervously like she did every time Kitty called her beautiful or something of the like, because perhaps somethings would never change. "I'm not, I promise you that. I can't handle my parents anymore, though, I just... they're all... I can't explain it, but I can't deal with them and how they think I should be anymore."

"You shouldn't have to." Kitty's response was immediate, but no less sincere. "They're shitty people if they're making you feel shitty. What happened?"

"They want me to go to university to get a 'proper job', and it's like no, I have this band, I have the comic store, that's enough, that's me, and I'm not moving towns and leaving you and Lindsey and Jamia behind - I'm not doing that."

"If you don't want to, you don't have to."

"I wish it was that simple-"

"It is." Kitty insisted, with a smile, and perhaps a more than platonic shuffle closer to Sarah.

"My parents will probably kick me out if I don't-"

"Then come and live with me." And Kitty was deadly fucking serious, and Sarah couldn't quite believe it at all. "You're always welcome here, I care so much about you, Sarah, and you should fucking know that by now, and you should understand that you're absolutely wonderful and absolutely amazing, and in my opinion, the best person in the world."

"Perhaps you have a bit of a flawed opinion there." Sarah shook her and smiled a little, looking, really fucking looking at Kitty. "Are you serious about me living with you, like fuck, Kitty, that'd be amazing, but I... I don't know..."

"I want you to live with me, Sarah, I think you're amazing and I think you'd be much happier away from those bitchy ass parents of yours." Kitty let out a little laugh at that, and it was one that Sarah mirrored, and the two shared a smile, and somehow nothing felt like something, and the difficult became easy, and conversation became silence once again, but simply because there was nothing else needed between the two of them, at least not for the time being anyway.

Kitty leaned back against the bed, and Sarah lay beside her, the two staring up at the ceiling, and Kitty's head was five in the morning a few days ago now when Sarah had been asleep and so, so beautiful, and she was awake and so, so beautiful now too, and Kitty couldn't escape this.

"So is this a yes?" Kitty finally found herself to be the one to break the silence, and neither of them particularly minded, because this felt right: this felt natural, this felt like them.

"Yeah, I guess so, I'm gonna stay tonight, and we'll see how it goes, and I'll talk to my parents in the morning."

"Okay." And a look that meant too little and too much at the same time.

"Kitty?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you really think I'm beautiful? Like beautiful beautiful?" Sarah blushed a little, shying around the topic, because it seemed so fucking alien to her, because never once in the time that she and Brendon had dated had he said anything quite as sincere to her; she reckoned she was only now getting over him, though, which was one hell of a fucking mess, and it fit right in with her.

"Of course I do - why would I lie to you?" Kitty blushed, brushing it off with an odd kind of nervous laughter that she almost seemed to have stolen from Sarah.

"You wouldn't, it's just... this... us... I feel weird, and I think you're amazing and beautiful too, and thank you for everything and always being there, and god, I'm so cringey right now, but-"

"You're beautiful when you're cringey." Kitty interrupted her, leaning closer, "you're beautiful all the time. Beautiful, it's the only thing I think when I see you, it's the only thing I think even when you're not here: you're so important, you're so amazing, you're so beautiful, you're the most important person in the world, Sarah, and I hate how you don't see that, and you put yourself down and put up with people like Brendon and your parents, and they don't fucking deserve you!"

"You're being too nice to me, Kitty-"

"I'm just telling the truth: the truth from the bottom of my heart, because you should know this, you should know how much you mean to me."

And silence and eye contact and words unspoken and probably better remaining that way.

"You're beautiful too. So fucking beauti-"

And Kitty had her lips against Sarah's before she could finish that sentence, but in the scheme of things, that sentence, that compliment, that explanation, didn't really matter, because deep down, the two had always known.

-

"It's a misunderstanding!" Gee was screaming at his boyfriend now, and Bert couldn't help but feel just a little curious as he walked past the living room.

"It's always a fucking misunderstanding with you, isn't it?" Frank shook his head in disbelief, because seriously, fuck Gee, fuck him.

"Oh come on, it was- I can't explain, I just-"

"It's 'nothing' - your fucking words, Gee," Frank shook his head in disbelief, stepping away from his 'boyfriend', "so what the fuck is it? Come on, what the fuck is between you two, because it's not nothing, that's obvious, and it's not 'over' that's obvious too, and you're not telling me the truth about it, that's even more fucking obvious."

"Frank, please, just let me explain, for fuck's sake, you're being unreasonable-"

"I'm being unreasonable?" Frank exclaimed, his face overdramatised, almost as if he was performing for some sort of audience here, and well, in the way that Bert was peering through the crack in the door, he kind of was.

"Yeah, you fucking are, Frank, you're acting like a fucking kid, and it's not fucking helping, because I just want to talk this out and explain, but no, we can't fucking do that, can we, because you have to make a great big mess out of everything, don't you, Frank?" Gee shook his head, backing against the wall and shooting Frank all kinds of looks of disapproval.

"Oh yeah, of course I do, don't I, Gee? I'm not the one fucking him and lying about it, and how it was always nothing, and a drunk thing, and what the fuck, Gee, what the fucking fuc-"

"Just let me explain-"

"Go fuck yourself-"

"Are you seriously not going to let me explain, Jesus Christ, Frank, you're acting like a fourteen year old brat-"

"Fucking go for it, Gee, come on, what the fuck kind of bullshit can you come up with this time, because that's all this is about, isn't it? This is a game for you - just how long can you lie to me for? Just how much can you get me to believe? It's like that, I fucking know it is, come on, don't be such a fucking lying coward and admit it to me-"

"It was years ago, Frank-"

"But you and him fucked recently too, didn't you? Because I remember, you lied to me about that too, didn't you?" Frank shook his head in disbelief, almost beginning to just laugh at Gee at this point.

"That's two different things: that was a relationship years ago, and now, now it's just a mistake-"

"Do you call me that to him? Am I just a mistake to you? How the fuck do you think he feels being that 'mistake', because fucking you in the first place is the only mistake anyone's made here!"

"Why the fuck are you defending him now?" Gee shook his head, completely unable to follow the mess that was Frank's train of thought anymore.

"Because you need to stop being such a fucking bitch whore, Gee, don't you, come on, let that sink in: you're a bitch whore, congratu-fucking-lations!"

"Frank, if you're not going to let me just explain, then fucking go - the fucking door is there, I can't be bothered to argue with you like this, if you're not going to be rational then I'm not interested, I'm sorry, but it's true... maybe we should talk later?"

"Oh, stop fucking twisting this so I'm the bad guy here-"

"I'm not, Frank, Jesus Christ-"

And Gee stopped mid sentence as the door moved a little, and Bert was revealed.

"Oh for fuck's sake, you." Frank narrowed his eyes, his hands clenching into fists.

"Look, seriously, Frank, you've got some shit wrong here, Gee's your boyfriend, I respect that, but you've got to understand that a few years ago he was my boyfriend, otherwise you're just acting like a fucking idiot-"

"I'm not an idiot, Bert, go fucking fuck-"

"Frank, please, just let me fucking explain, god how hard is that for you just to shut up for one goddamn minute before this gets entirely fucked up?" Gee shook his head, taking a step closer to Bert, and holy hell, Frank was so not fucking happy about that.

"Side with him, why don't you? That fucking asshole, you know what's he like and you've said so yourself, but still, of course, I'm the fucking antichrist here, aren't I-"

"Frank, you're just so up your own fucking ass you can't see what the fuck you're doing, just leave, just go before you fuck this up more for us, and you can come back tomorrow and we'll talk it out then, or how about I write out an explanation and text you it, and then you can call me or whatever, and we can talk like that, because this isn't working-"

"Gee, we aren't fucking working, especially when Bert is so far up your fucking ass you just can't see how much of a whore you are-"

"Get out." And Gee had just about lost all of his patience at this point, as it was less of a request and more of a demand.

-

Mikey didn't sleep well anymore; he never had ever since Pete had died, and of course, the probably had only worsened when Pete didn't quite seem so dead anymore.

Mikey was nightmare prone; he always had been, but of course, it had never been nearly this bad, and perhaps Mikey was used to it now, and perhaps that wasn't quite as much of a good thing as he made it out to be.

It was darkness every night, and the horrors that lurked in the darkness, well, Mikey preferred not to think of, but of course, they still made permanent residence in his mind.

He didn't dream like Patrick did, though; Patrick was all lucid and fucked up and twisted horror fairytale, whereas Mikey's head was a little more like some kind of fucked up purgatory; monsters and demons, and darkness, everywhere, all just blurs until they got too close, and seemingly never ending, and the truth impending, and a boy with bullet hole, covered in his own blood.

Because that's how Pete was in Mikey's dreams every night, because that's how Pete would always be: there was nothing done to recover the hole in his head, and of course, there was little purpose to it - it wasn't like anyone would glance upon his form again, in reality, that was.

But perhaps Mikey had.

But perhaps Mikey was yet to realise that the Pete he had seen with his own two eyes was so much different to Pete he'd knew took residence in his head; the Pete with the bullet hole, and his own blood on his hands, and fingers that trembled - trigger happy perhaps, lived up there.

Whereas the Pete he and Patrick had encountered was nothing like that, nothing like the real Pete... not that 'real' held much meaning anymore, but of course, if this Pete was to be much more than a hallucination, and with them sharing it, it grew just a little too likely for Mikey's liking, then the real Pete would have the bullet hole in the side of his head, and perhaps the alternative - the Pete... but could it be even called Pete anymore?

Mikey hadn't quite yet come to this kind of horrific epiphany that there was more to this mess than he'd once thought, not that he much wanted to ponder upon the hell inside his mind, but who could blame him, and as he lay down in the darkness of his room, the sounds of Bert and Gee arguing over what sounded like cigarettes down the hall faded out into nothingness, as Mikey's eyelids finally closed.

And just like that, they were open again, because in a mind like Mikey's, you could never really sleep, and Mikey had become all too accustomed to the sleepless nights and the horrors of his mind that stayed very firmly there, but of course, with Pete, it seemed that a certain horror had crept out, and this fucked Mikey up so much more than he could possibly care to admit.

He opened his eyes to a vast expanse of inky blackness, and expected nothing less, and wanted nothing more, content with simple silence and nothingness for the rest of the night, even for the rest of his existence, perhaps, but Mikey's mind felt prey to boredom far more than Mikey did, and soon the scene illuminated, with what looked to be candlelight.

And Mikey couldn't move for the life of him, and perhaps it would indeed be the life of him that the air becoming quicksand around him could cost him, as suddenly the environment: the empty expanse, seemed a whole lot less empty.

Footsteps.

And Mikey's mind was playing tricks on him, or at least that was what he liked to keep himself believing all this time, because either his head was ahead and knew what was coming, or it was out to get him, or perhaps both, and perhaps that was the scariest reality of all.

And perhaps it was best if Mikey just simply didn't think, and shut this all out, but it didn't really seem like much of an option at all, as the footsteps turned into a figure in the darkness, illuminated in the candlelight, and Mikey knew it was him before he even saw his face, because it was always him.

Blood.

So much blood this time: the hole in his skull perhaps even more ghastly than he'd remembered it, not that Mikey had really wanted to, and Pete smiled at Mikey, because he always did, and Pete never said much, as opposed to the Pete without the hole in his head.

Mikey reckoned the Pete without a hole in his head was the good one of the two, and the one covered in blood was little more than an apparition that haunted his nightmares, and something Mikey would grow out of some day, because he did, grow out of everything that was; people changed, did they not?

But this felt all too permanent as Pete stepped closer and smiled once more, and it wasn't even a creepy smile, but a genuine one, just one that happened to come from the face of a man covered in his own blood.

"I'm sorry."

They were unexpected, and two simple words at that, and the two had remained in silence for too long here; Mikey even unsure if he possessed any verbal ability in whatever plane of fucked up existence he fell into as his subconscious took hold.

"I'm sorry." Pete repeated, almost as if Mikey couldn't quite hear him.

"It's- it's fine." Mikey smiled, but perhaps it was more of a grimace.

"It's not, but I am going to fix it... I'm already fixing it... everything's okay, Mikey... I promise you that."

"How? What do you mean?" Mikey stressed, his heart beat picking up as Pete's words seemed all the more sincere, and in turn, all the more unnerving, because this one didn't quite seem so in Mikey's head tonight.

"You see me in the day time too don't you?" And Mikey found himself nodding before he could think. "Yeah, I know you do. It's going to be okay."

And Mikey thought of the day time Pete as the one in his head faded away, and he found himself left in darkness again, and suddenly it was two forty six in the morning and Mikey was sweating into his sheets and thinking of Pete.

His mind was focused on little but what Pete had just said to him, the Pete with the bullet hole in his head, that is, and in turn, and the boy who looked like him; the boy without the bullet hole... the boy who hadn't killed himself, yet.

-

hey pals like seriously this fic is the same length as harry potter & the order of the phoenix that book has like 800 pages help me. but yeah its gonna end soon lmao but that does mean theres gonna be a slight hint of plot, and anyway i want to actually have time for november 1st also this new fic that i've written like half of the first chapter of and i okay i just i get overexcited im sorry ive been writing this fic for 10 months god save me. i love you all lots and votes and comments would be cool!!! :)