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Being in love was a strange thing. Especially since it was with your best friend.
Alas, Mikey couldn't drop the image of his best friend, onstage next to him, playing music for the masses. Those husky, proud arms of his gripping the guitar and coaxing out near-impossible riffs, broad and imposing shoulders, toned and sloping in the most perfect way, and, oh, God, everything else. His body was sound, an absolute tank, and thinking about it made him trip over himself and stutter like a little girl. He had powerful legs, and he knew they were, seeing as how he helped push the van down the road several times when it ran out of gas. His calloused hands- oh, he wanted to hold them so desperately. And, there was a gleam in his hazelnut eyes that made his stomach church madly. The way his pronounced lip would curve into a smile at the end of a song- it was unbearable.
But Mikey wouldn't admit he was in love with his band mate, Ray. Not to anyone, not even his older brother.
Frank was about to catch on several times, but the thoughts were thwarted whenever Ray's sweetheart, Christa, showed up to shows, making him shrug them off. And Mikey was thwarted as well, because nothing is worse than being infatuated with your heterosexual band mate. Well, even if he was gay, it's not like he'd want to be, and it's not like he'd actually want to talk to Mikey or anything, or want to look at him in that way-
"Mikes!" Bob flicked the back of his head.
"Huh?" Mikey looked up at the drummer, who was scowling so sourly, Mikey thought his lip ring would fall out.
"Dude, where's your head? Gerard's been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes!" Bob scolded.
"Bob, chill," The older Way brother waved his hand nonchalantly. "We just had a show. Everyone's tired. Frank's already asleep."
Bob sighed. "Still, it's rude."
"He didn't even know I was talking to him, man, don't blame him," Gerard crossed his arms. At least he was attractive, Mikey thought. "But seriously, Mikey, are you doing okay? Ever since Christa showed up, you've looked like you died somewhere."
Mikey just chose to laugh. "Dude, I'm fine. I'm just kinda out of it."
"Yeah, I got it. Being around people is draining," Gerard shrugged and hummed. "Maybe you should head to bed."
"I should," Mikey said, almost a little too quickly. Bob glanced at him and narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but Gerard shot him a glare that sent Bob staring at his coffee. Another thing Gerard had- murderously romantic eyes. Mikey got stuck with glasses.
He weaved his wiry self around a duffel bag, Frank's whole leg hanging out from his bunk on top, and a couple of cleverly positioned guitar cases. Frank and Ray were notorious for placing them in the one spot where you could accidentally knock them over and cause a ruckus. But Mikey didn't mind.
At last, he reached his bunk, but he had one more challenge. A gigantic arm hung from the bottom bunk onto the floor, and loud snoring resonated from the curtain like the purring of a cat. Mikey would have to step on the ledge where the arm lay to get up into his sleeping quarters, and boy, did he not want to be rude to anyone else today.
He carefully toed off his shoes and placed them off to the side of the hallway, and unzipped his jacket. He pulled back the curtain and tossed it up inside, along with his rumpled sheets. Now to get himself up there.
He placed a foot on the ledge, and Ray didn't stir, despite the unholy creak it just made. Mikey hoisted his other leg inside, and soon he was in his bunk, without disturbing anyone.
Or so he thought.
The snoring stopped when he got under his sheets and took off his glasses, now obvious it was fake. Ray seemed to have been waiting for something to happen, and he was holding his breath. Maybe he had to get something to drink. Maybe he wanted to text Christa. Maybe-
Mikey shook his head, pulling his sheets over himself and forcing himself to breath slowly. If you were gonna pretend to be asleep, you need to breath like it.
After a few minutes of creaking and shuffling around, is was evident that Gerard and Bob had gone to sleep. The silence was horrible, and Mikey grabbed his IPod to scroll through music, when the sound hit him, like a deafening gong in his chest, causing his heart to tumble into his ribs.
A gentle sob.
At first, Mikey thought it was a noise outside. Or Frank said something in his sleep. Or something else, other than what it was, when the sound of sorrow penetrated the night. It was so deep and soft, it caused the hair on Mikey's neck to shudder in an unseen wind.
There it was again. And it came from below him.
And a sniffle.
Somebody was crying.
Mikey screwed his brows in confusion. Was Ray watching a video? He pulled back his curtain and peered out, to make sure that the small noise- the crying- wasn't coming from somewhere else.
It wasn't.
Mikey chewed the inside of his cheek, and his mouth began to taste like old pennies as it dawned on him who might be making the noise. The sound, muffled by the curtain below him, vibrating the wood of the bunk, sounded so painful, as if the source itself, or himself, was in agony just by crying.
"Ray," he whispered.
The weeping stopped.
"Ray?"
"W-what?" Came the gentle, quavering reply of a man that had been crying. "Mikey?"
"Ray, are you okay?" Mikey asked.
"Y- yeah," he lied. "J-just go back to sleep."
"Ray," Mikey insisted. "You're crying."
"No, I'm not, Mikey, go back to sleep," Ray huffed, his voice thick.
"Ray, come on," He slid out of his bunk and onto the floor almost soundlessly. "Please, Ray."
"Go back to bed, dude," he started to choke up again, and Mikey heard Ray's sheets shuffle a little.
Mikey drew back the curtain to reveal a ginormous lump of blankets that seemed to be shivering. "Ray, what happened?"
"I said go back to bed, Mikes. I'm fine," Ray's voice came from the mass, more defensive than angry.
Mikey tentatively reached out and placed his hand on Ray's massive shoulder. He supposed it had to be so muscular, with the heavy guitar he had to play. "Ray."
He pulled the blankets off of his head, his frizzy mass of hair sticking every which way, and his face was sticky and flush from crying. There were dark spots on his blankets and pillows. His eyes were severely bloodshot, and in his fist there was his cell phone. He was clutching it so hard, Mikey briefly feared he'd break it.
"Dude, what happened?" Mikey asked. "Did somebody say something?"
"I-" He covered his mouth, but Mikey reached up and took his wrist as gently as he could. God, the tendons in his wrist- were those tendons or steel cables? His fingers didn't even reach all the way around.
"Ray, whatever happened, the band's gonna be here for you, okay?" Mikey reassured.
"Don't wake the others up," Ray begged, his voice somehow wispy like a light wind through an open window.
"Just... Just tell me what happened," Mikey nodded.
"Christa and I- we got in a fight after everyone left. I- I told her I trusted her with... something important. It's huge. I told her I trusted her more than anyone else in the world. She told me that she'd support me- and.. and then she got so damn pissed at me. She threw a fucking fit. She told me I was cheating on her. She c- called me a f-" He choked up again and fresh tears spilled from his eyes.
"Ray, it's gonna be okay. Just... just let it out, man," Mikey rubbed his arm slowly, watching almost helplessly.
"She called me a faggot," he said, almost soundlessly, no more than a whisper.
"She- oh my God, Ray- she- why?" Mikey leaned forward. "Why the hell would anyone call you that? Ray, you- you're the greatest person some of us here have ever fucking met, dude, why the hell would she do that?"
"Because I'm bisexual," Ray looked down at the sheets.
Mikey went silent. There was not a breath to be heard, unless you counted Bob and Frank's ungodly snoring. There wasn't a creak in the bus, not a honk of a car, not a sound. Just them, Ray and Mikey, sitting in Ray's bunk, while he cried. That was it.
"Mikes, please don't kick me out- please, man-" Ray begged suddenly. "I- I can pretend- I can fake it- I won't tell anyone else- just please- please don't kick me out of the band-"
"Ray, are you hearing yourself?" Mikey grabbed his hand. "Ray, I would never kick you out of the band, even in I had to! I- It doesn't matter. I- I mean, it's no big deal. Well, it is kind of a big deal, but- I mean- you're not any less of a person, Ray. Just because you like guys doesn't mean you- that you're a bad person."
Ray looked down at his legs. "So..?"
"Ray, you're not a fucking faggot," Mikey almost laughed. "You're a great guy. And if you choose to be with a guy, I'm completely behind it."
But Mikey felt a stabbing pain in his sternum. He wanted Ray to choose to be with him. God, now that he had a chance- should he tell him? No, he's gonna find someone else. And that's fine, he supposed. As long as Ray was happy, so was he. Right?
"...thanks," Ray smiled a little. He blinked a little, and his eyes looked a little less red now. That was good. Really good. It felt nice to be smiled at. "I- it means.. it means a lot to me."
"No problem, Ray," Mikey smiled back. "I'm- I'm not too good at being... being nice like that."
"Being supportive?"
"Well, I support you, but.. Gerard's the word man, you know what I mean?" Mikey laughed a little.
Ray laughed with him. "You can't put shit into words."
"I can't put shit into words," Mikey agreed.
Ray smiled wider, and in the dark, Mikey almost wanted to disappear back to his bunk. Great, Ray felt better! Now he could go back to feeling like no one would ever like him!
"So you're okay with me being bisexual?" Ray asked, and suddenly, there was this huge warm thing enveloping Mikey's hand that was resting on the bunk. His own mitt-sized hand.
"I-" He gulped. "Y-yeah. I do," Mikey forced himself to not have a heart attack, and to not look at Ray's chest through his old thin work shirt. He hated the summer months. Ray took his shirt off and it gave Mikey butterflies in his stomach whenever he saw. "D- do you- uh- do you want to t-talk more?"
"Mikes, your face is red," Ray pointed out, disregarding the question, and his other hand traveled to Mikey's face. It rested on his forehead. "Huh. You don't have a fever..."
"I- I'm fine, Ray," He forced a smile. He's touching me. He's actually touching me. Why is he touching me?
"Really?" He chewed on his lip.
"Yeah," Mikey forced himself to nod. He could barely think, let alone move Ray's hand.
Ray's hand remained on his forehead, to Mikey's surprise. He thought he'd move it and he'd head back to his bunk. But Mikey remained rooted to his spot, and Ray's hand stayed.
Ray laughed nervously, "Uh, Mikes? C- can I try something?"
"Well, what's this something?" Mikey laughed with him.
"Er- it's... Important. Can you trust me?"
"Of course, man. I trust you with my life," Mikey said reassuringly.
Ray nodded. "Okay. Thanks," and soon, Mikey couldn't see. It took him a second to realize that Ray's hand was covering his eyes. There was a tension in his hand that Mikey hadn't noticed before, but it was as if Ray was holding himself back from something he wanted.
"Ray, what are you doing?" He laughed a little, trying to make the mood a lighthearted one. "Is it my birthday, or something?"
Ray didn't answer, but Mikey knew something else, despite visual obstruction. Ray was close to his face. Like, really close. An inch at most lay between their faces.
"Y- you'll see," he hummed, barely moving his mouth to talk. He was very, very close to Mikey at this point, to the point he could feel his breath.
"What's going on?" He asked, but somewhere, deep inside, Mikey knew what was coming. His brain denied it repeatedly, but there was an urge to lean forward. Why was there this urge?
Suddenly, there was an explosion of emotion, a catastrophic wave of the moment, crashing down on the two in that tour bus. A burning warmth and a shiver all the same. The little noise there was disappeared, and all that was there was them. Them, polar opposites and exactly the same.
Ray was first to pull away after the moment, pulling away his hand from Mikey's eyes. What seemed like forever was only ten seconds. They were back in the bunk, Frank and Bob still snoring. Mikey's vision was still a little blurry, and he tasted coffee. Ray's coffee.
"I'm sorry," Ray was first to speak. "I probably shouldn't have done that."
"What? What d'you mean?" Mikey tilted his head.
"Wait, you liked that?" Ray asked.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah. I did," Mikey laughed nervously.
"Wait, really?" Ray's eyes lost their shame and lit up in the din. "You liked me kissing you?"
"I like you, dumbass," Mikey rolled his eyes.
"Oh my God, this is great-" Ray became a little giddy, covering his mouth, and his smile growing.
"You like me too," Mikey guessed daringly.
"Y-yeah. I mean, I just thought it was a phase, when I was with Christa and all, but, y'know..." he shrugged.
"Since Christa's gone...?" Mikey prompted.
"Can we go slow? I mean, if you want to start something at all," Ray itched the back of his neck.
"Of course," he nodded. "I understand."
"Thank God," Ray sighed in relief.
Mikey sat up a little and crawled over Ray carefully, so he was between him and the wall. "Hey, two people can fit."
"If you do that," Ray laughed a little. "Get under the blankets."
"Is this going slow?" He asked, pulling his knees to his chest so Ray could lift up the sheets.
"Yeah. It's cuddling," Ray shrugged.
"True. No sex."
"No hickeys."
Mikey laughed. "None of that."
"Not yet," Ray agreed as Mikey settled himself down.
"Right," Michael nodded.
"I love you," the words floated out of his mouth like a dandelion seed. Mikey almost didn't believe he'd heard it.
"What?"
"I said I love you," Ray repeated, laughing and getting down next to him. "Are you deaf, Mikey Way?"
"Maybe," he laughed with him. "I love you too."
"Thank God, I didn't want this to be a one-sided relationship," Ray sighed in relief, putting his arm around Mikey and pulling him close. There was a cold feeling before, but it disappeared as the barrier between the two was melted.
"Who said it was?" Mikey asked.
"Good point."
"Get some sleep, Ray. We're gonna have to explain this shit tomorrow morning."