Bandom Fic: was blind (but now i see)
Apr. 27th, 2020 09:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair***
Just posting this on DW as well, several weeks after posting it on AO3...
Title: was blind (but now i see)
Author:kat_lair / Mistress Kat
Fandom: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Frank/Mikey
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,665
Disclaimer: Not real, only playing
Summary: It is possible, maybe, that Frank has been a bit of an idiot.
Author notes: I blamedreamersdare and regret nothing. This is part 4 of our Luminosity series, just posted on my journal cos I like to have it here. Check the AO3 link for the whole series so far.
Frank’s never been in a car accident, but he imagines this is what whiplash feels like. One minute he’s ten feet off the ground, riding high from a successful gig, the feeling of doing what he loves and doing it well, and the next Mikey trips him up and they’re both falling upwards and for a few seconds there Frank feels like he’s in the fucking stratosphere and…
And then it’s a hard crash back down and Mikey is looking at him like a kicked puppy, unhappy and somehow afraid, which is the worst, god Frank hates himself for causing it, even if he’s not entirely sure how.
But before he has a chance to ask, to reach out and… Something? Mikey is apologizing – and fuck, he was wrong, this is the worst – and then, well, he runs away. Like, there is no other way of describing it. This is no dignified retreat, there is nothing even fake casual about it. Mikey is flat out escaping.
The stunned silence he leaves behind feels all encompassing even though Frank is distantly aware his perception is skewed here and it’s actually just him and Gerard and Ray, standing in their own little bubble, while the usual post-show activity ebbs and flows around them uninterrupted. Guess it’s nice to know that the rest of the world is largely unaffected by Frank’s personal drama.
After a few seconds of staring after Mikey – who is no longer even visible – Gerard clears his throat.
Frank’s attention snaps back to him and, despite everything, he twitches with a mixture of laughter and genuine apprehension. Gerard has crossed his arms and is staring at him with a deep frown. The aura of Protective Big Brother is palpable and somehow only fiercer for how ridiculous Gerard looks otherwise, disheveled and sweat-drenched and exhausted.
“What did you do, Frank?” he asks.
“Nothing!” Frank says, holding up his hands palms out instinctively. “I didn’t… Nothing!”
Gerard’s glare somehow intensifies. “Why not?” he demands. “Don’t you…? Look, I’m obviously not saying that you have to, because that’s your choice, and I respect that, Mikey respects that, but I just thought that… You know, you’ve been…” He waves a hand around in a way that’s clearly meant to be illustrative, except Frank feels distinctively unilluminated.
“What?” He shoves hands into his pockets and glances in the direction Mikey went, feeling oddly guilty about it. “We’ve been what?”
“Flirting,” Ray supplies. Unlike Gee, he mostly just looks amused. Maybe with a little undercurrent of worry, but then that’s normal; the man does worry a lot about the rest of them, probably with good cause. “You’ve been flirting.”
“What?” Frank gawps at him, indignant. “We…” Somehow though, the denial won’t come. His shoulders slump. “Oh. I just…”
Ray snorts a laugh. “Honestly, there’s been more gazing than in a Jane Austen novel. I don’t know how you haven’t noticed. Even Gee’s noticed.”
“Hey!” Gerard looks like he’s briefly considering being insulted but then just shrugs. “Yeah,” he says. “Thought it was mutual.” The glare is back, although much softened. “But if it isn’t… Frankie, I’m not saying you’re like leading him on or anything shitty like that, but just… Maybe say it to him clearly if you’re not interested?”
That whiplash from earlier? It’s back.
Because Frank’s… Not not interested? He’s never been not not interested, not even before he really knew Mikey, because, well, have you seen the guy? But especially after, because he’s also… Funny, smart, loyal, talented, hilariously unaware of most of those things and also one of Frank’s best friends. Frank’s always noticed him, and yes, ever since their little chat, he’s noticed Mikey noticing him in return and maybe they have been exchanging a lot of looks but Frank didn’t think it would mean… Frank didn’t dare to hope it would…
It is possible, maybe, that Frank has been a bit of an idiot.
“I’m an idiot,” he breathes. It comes out with an audible note of wonder.
“You are?” Gerard asks. He sounds much cheerier and there’s a smile lurking somewhere in his expression now.
“You are,” Ray agrees. There’s nothing subtle about the grin or the eye-roll he sends in Frank’s direction. “Now…” He glances at his watch. “We’re wheels up in two hours. Do not, under any circumstances, make me come and find you.”
Frank blinks at him. Then at Gerard, who makes a shooing motion with his hands. “Go already,” he says.
Frank goes.
***
They’ve never played this particular venue before, but all arenas have a similar enough layout that Frank manages to scout out the obvious destinations within relatively short period. Except Mikey is not in their dressing room, or in any of the bathrooms between it and the stage – yes, Frank checks the ladies too, cautiously hollering into each before entering – or anywhere in the underground bus garage.
Frank catches his breath, hands on his knees – okay, so he may have been running because this feels urgent, like the longer it takes to find Mikey, the farther the chance of… something, slips – and checks his cell phone. He’d picked his from the dressing room, noted that Mikey’s had been missing too, meaning he’d at least stopped by.
There is no reply to his earlier ‘where r u, can we talk?’ message and Frank doesn’t even bother trying to call. If Mikey isn’t answering his texts, he’s either dead or deliberately ignoring you and in either case a call is going to go unanswered.
Fuck. What if he can’t find Mikey before they’re due back on the bus? There aren’t exactly a lot of opportunities for a privacy there and somehow Frank knows that if he leaves this until tomorrow or whenever the next chance to put a closed door or three between them and the rest of the band is, Mikey will have tied himself up in so many knots that it’s going to take ages to untangle them. Not helped by the fact that Frank is still not sure what he’s actually going to find underneath them.
He’s hoping. But he’s not sure.
Well, staying in the empty garage is clearly not going to help.
Mikey wouldn’t have left the arena, not when the surrounding streets are still full of fans on their way home, so he’s got to be here somewhere. Frank grits his teeth and turns around, heading back in.
This time, he starts checking other dressing rooms, not just theirs. Working his way down the corridors systematically, Frank knocks on each door, waits for three seconds and then tries the handle. Most are locked. The rest are empty except for one lone cleaner who Frank startles the shit out of.
After profusely apologizing to the guy, Frank retreats back to the corridor and barely resists banging his head against the wall. Glance at his cell shows that he’s been running around for almost forty minutes now, meaning there’s only just over an hour left until they’re due back. He could, of course, just camp by the bus door and ambush Mikey when he returns – Frank doesn’t think Mikey is going to full on disappear – but at most he’ll get ten seconds before the others cotton on or Mikey will manage to shut himself in his bunk.
Jesus, okay. Think. Frank rests his forehead against one of the many locked doors. Where would Mikey go if he didn’t want to be found? The last place he’d expect people to look for him. And that would be…
Well.
Frank pushes off and heads back to where he originally came from.
The backstage area is considerably quieter now. There are only a handful of staff still clearing up and resetting everything for the next event.
“You alright?” one of techies asks after spotting Frank wandering around aimlessly for a minute.
“Oh! Uh, yeah, I’m…” Frank rubs a hand through his hair. “Hey, you haven’t seen…?”
“Out front,” she says, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Security’s going to do a sweep in about an hour, don’t get locked up.”
Frank restraints himself from hugging her in gratitude and just waves his thanks.
The stage feels much larger like this; no band, no instruments, barely any equipment. All the lights are dimmed but it’s still enough to see that there’s no one here.
Goddammit, if he’s missed Mikey again…
Slowly, Frank walks to the edge, taking in the scale of space, vast and echoing without an audience. Then, on instinct, he looks down.
Mikey is sitting on the floor almost directly below him, his back against front of the stage, half-shadowed by the security barriers still in place.
Frank jumps down.
The fact that Mikey doesn’t startle or even look his way, means he must have heard him approach. Means he must have guessed who it was. His head is tipped back, eyes closed, knees drawn up and hands hanging loosely between them. His cell, blinking steadily with Frank’s message, is on the floor next to him.
He looks tired and sad and… Frank swallows. Gorgeous. Mikey looks fucking gorgeous and Frank cannot, must not, fuck this up.
He folds down, sitting cross-legged on the floor, not too close to crowd but close enough to reach out and touch if…
If.
“So,” he says, and the word comes out embarrassingly hoarse. “I’ve got a question.”
Mikey’s eyes are open now, watching him guardedly. “Okay,” he says, mouth tilting in a mockery of a smile. “Better than a punch I guess.” It’s clearly meant as a joke but Frank reels back, inhaling sharply with shock.
Mikey’s gaze softens with regret. “Shit, sorry! That was a shitty thing to say, I know you wouldn’t… Fuck.”
They breathe through it for a while, together. Frank is still trying to string words together to restart the conversation when Mikey beats him to it.
“I’m sorry,” he says and this time his eyes are steady on Frank, though it clearly costs him. “I fucked up.”
***
Just posting this on DW as well, several weeks after posting it on AO3...
Title: was blind (but now i see)
Author:
kat_lair / Mistress KatFandom: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Frank/Mikey
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,665
Disclaimer: Not real, only playing
Summary: It is possible, maybe, that Frank has been a bit of an idiot.
Author notes: I blame
dreamersdare and regret nothing. This is part 4 of our Luminosity series, just posted on my journal cos I like to have it here. Check the AO3 link for the whole series so far.Frank’s never been in a car accident, but he imagines this is what whiplash feels like. One minute he’s ten feet off the ground, riding high from a successful gig, the feeling of doing what he loves and doing it well, and the next Mikey trips him up and they’re both falling upwards and for a few seconds there Frank feels like he’s in the fucking stratosphere and…
And then it’s a hard crash back down and Mikey is looking at him like a kicked puppy, unhappy and somehow afraid, which is the worst, god Frank hates himself for causing it, even if he’s not entirely sure how.
But before he has a chance to ask, to reach out and… Something? Mikey is apologizing – and fuck, he was wrong, this is the worst – and then, well, he runs away. Like, there is no other way of describing it. This is no dignified retreat, there is nothing even fake casual about it. Mikey is flat out escaping.
The stunned silence he leaves behind feels all encompassing even though Frank is distantly aware his perception is skewed here and it’s actually just him and Gerard and Ray, standing in their own little bubble, while the usual post-show activity ebbs and flows around them uninterrupted. Guess it’s nice to know that the rest of the world is largely unaffected by Frank’s personal drama.
After a few seconds of staring after Mikey – who is no longer even visible – Gerard clears his throat.
Frank’s attention snaps back to him and, despite everything, he twitches with a mixture of laughter and genuine apprehension. Gerard has crossed his arms and is staring at him with a deep frown. The aura of Protective Big Brother is palpable and somehow only fiercer for how ridiculous Gerard looks otherwise, disheveled and sweat-drenched and exhausted.
“What did you do, Frank?” he asks.
“Nothing!” Frank says, holding up his hands palms out instinctively. “I didn’t… Nothing!”
Gerard’s glare somehow intensifies. “Why not?” he demands. “Don’t you…? Look, I’m obviously not saying that you have to, because that’s your choice, and I respect that, Mikey respects that, but I just thought that… You know, you’ve been…” He waves a hand around in a way that’s clearly meant to be illustrative, except Frank feels distinctively unilluminated.
“What?” He shoves hands into his pockets and glances in the direction Mikey went, feeling oddly guilty about it. “We’ve been what?”
“Flirting,” Ray supplies. Unlike Gee, he mostly just looks amused. Maybe with a little undercurrent of worry, but then that’s normal; the man does worry a lot about the rest of them, probably with good cause. “You’ve been flirting.”
“What?” Frank gawps at him, indignant. “We…” Somehow though, the denial won’t come. His shoulders slump. “Oh. I just…”
Ray snorts a laugh. “Honestly, there’s been more gazing than in a Jane Austen novel. I don’t know how you haven’t noticed. Even Gee’s noticed.”
“Hey!” Gerard looks like he’s briefly considering being insulted but then just shrugs. “Yeah,” he says. “Thought it was mutual.” The glare is back, although much softened. “But if it isn’t… Frankie, I’m not saying you’re like leading him on or anything shitty like that, but just… Maybe say it to him clearly if you’re not interested?”
That whiplash from earlier? It’s back.
Because Frank’s… Not not interested? He’s never been not not interested, not even before he really knew Mikey, because, well, have you seen the guy? But especially after, because he’s also… Funny, smart, loyal, talented, hilariously unaware of most of those things and also one of Frank’s best friends. Frank’s always noticed him, and yes, ever since their little chat, he’s noticed Mikey noticing him in return and maybe they have been exchanging a lot of looks but Frank didn’t think it would mean… Frank didn’t dare to hope it would…
It is possible, maybe, that Frank has been a bit of an idiot.
“I’m an idiot,” he breathes. It comes out with an audible note of wonder.
“You are?” Gerard asks. He sounds much cheerier and there’s a smile lurking somewhere in his expression now.
“You are,” Ray agrees. There’s nothing subtle about the grin or the eye-roll he sends in Frank’s direction. “Now…” He glances at his watch. “We’re wheels up in two hours. Do not, under any circumstances, make me come and find you.”
Frank blinks at him. Then at Gerard, who makes a shooing motion with his hands. “Go already,” he says.
Frank goes.
***
They’ve never played this particular venue before, but all arenas have a similar enough layout that Frank manages to scout out the obvious destinations within relatively short period. Except Mikey is not in their dressing room, or in any of the bathrooms between it and the stage – yes, Frank checks the ladies too, cautiously hollering into each before entering – or anywhere in the underground bus garage.
Frank catches his breath, hands on his knees – okay, so he may have been running because this feels urgent, like the longer it takes to find Mikey, the farther the chance of… something, slips – and checks his cell phone. He’d picked his from the dressing room, noted that Mikey’s had been missing too, meaning he’d at least stopped by.
There is no reply to his earlier ‘where r u, can we talk?’ message and Frank doesn’t even bother trying to call. If Mikey isn’t answering his texts, he’s either dead or deliberately ignoring you and in either case a call is going to go unanswered.
Fuck. What if he can’t find Mikey before they’re due back on the bus? There aren’t exactly a lot of opportunities for a privacy there and somehow Frank knows that if he leaves this until tomorrow or whenever the next chance to put a closed door or three between them and the rest of the band is, Mikey will have tied himself up in so many knots that it’s going to take ages to untangle them. Not helped by the fact that Frank is still not sure what he’s actually going to find underneath them.
He’s hoping. But he’s not sure.
Well, staying in the empty garage is clearly not going to help.
Mikey wouldn’t have left the arena, not when the surrounding streets are still full of fans on their way home, so he’s got to be here somewhere. Frank grits his teeth and turns around, heading back in.
This time, he starts checking other dressing rooms, not just theirs. Working his way down the corridors systematically, Frank knocks on each door, waits for three seconds and then tries the handle. Most are locked. The rest are empty except for one lone cleaner who Frank startles the shit out of.
After profusely apologizing to the guy, Frank retreats back to the corridor and barely resists banging his head against the wall. Glance at his cell shows that he’s been running around for almost forty minutes now, meaning there’s only just over an hour left until they’re due back. He could, of course, just camp by the bus door and ambush Mikey when he returns – Frank doesn’t think Mikey is going to full on disappear – but at most he’ll get ten seconds before the others cotton on or Mikey will manage to shut himself in his bunk.
Jesus, okay. Think. Frank rests his forehead against one of the many locked doors. Where would Mikey go if he didn’t want to be found? The last place he’d expect people to look for him. And that would be…
Well.
Frank pushes off and heads back to where he originally came from.
The backstage area is considerably quieter now. There are only a handful of staff still clearing up and resetting everything for the next event.
“You alright?” one of techies asks after spotting Frank wandering around aimlessly for a minute.
“Oh! Uh, yeah, I’m…” Frank rubs a hand through his hair. “Hey, you haven’t seen…?”
“Out front,” she says, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Security’s going to do a sweep in about an hour, don’t get locked up.”
Frank restraints himself from hugging her in gratitude and just waves his thanks.
The stage feels much larger like this; no band, no instruments, barely any equipment. All the lights are dimmed but it’s still enough to see that there’s no one here.
Goddammit, if he’s missed Mikey again…
Slowly, Frank walks to the edge, taking in the scale of space, vast and echoing without an audience. Then, on instinct, he looks down.
Mikey is sitting on the floor almost directly below him, his back against front of the stage, half-shadowed by the security barriers still in place.
Frank jumps down.
The fact that Mikey doesn’t startle or even look his way, means he must have heard him approach. Means he must have guessed who it was. His head is tipped back, eyes closed, knees drawn up and hands hanging loosely between them. His cell, blinking steadily with Frank’s message, is on the floor next to him.
He looks tired and sad and… Frank swallows. Gorgeous. Mikey looks fucking gorgeous and Frank cannot, must not, fuck this up.
He folds down, sitting cross-legged on the floor, not too close to crowd but close enough to reach out and touch if…
If.
“So,” he says, and the word comes out embarrassingly hoarse. “I’ve got a question.”
Mikey’s eyes are open now, watching him guardedly. “Okay,” he says, mouth tilting in a mockery of a smile. “Better than a punch I guess.” It’s clearly meant as a joke but Frank reels back, inhaling sharply with shock.
Mikey’s gaze softens with regret. “Shit, sorry! That was a shitty thing to say, I know you wouldn’t… Fuck.”
They breathe through it for a while, together. Frank is still trying to string words together to restart the conversation when Mikey beats him to it.
“I’m sorry,” he says and this time his eyes are steady on Frank, though it clearly costs him. “I fucked up.”
***