Work Text:
OCTOBER 1ST, 2001
Mikey was practically—no, literally, shaking as he downed another shot with the rest of the band. He was silently grateful that his 21st birthday had been last month, or he’d have been screwed by nerves otherwise and probably thrown up all over their stage equipment. He still was nervous, though, since they were opening for Pencey Prep tonight and Mikey had somewhat of a crush on their lead guy. So much so that he fucked up his audition for the band. And now he probably had to face him again tonight. Just awesome. Great, even.
…
Mikey had ended up three shots ahead of the rest of the band (save for Gerard, who was steadily approaching his total). Fuck. They had to be on in fifteen.
Those few minutes went by in a blur, suddenly having the small, makeshift stage set up with their instruments on stage and the amps and all those cables strewn everywhere. Mikey’s head felt just as messy, practically spinning in a hazy twirl already. He wasn’t shaking anymore, which was a win in his book, but he could barely hear what Gerard had been yelling at him for the past minute because he was too busy watching Ray and Otter take the stage. Fuck, it was time already. He tried not to think about all the people in the crowd staring directly at him as he plugged his bass into the thankfully turned-off amp. He tried not to look at Frank’s giddy expression, seeing his favorite band play live for the first time. Seeing Mikey.
Though, staring back at Frank seemed to ground him. It reminded him of the advice Frank had given him last month when he went to snatch a CD from Barnes & Noble. ”Just live it. Love it. Feel the music and ride it out. Just do your thing, man.” Though, Frank was high during that encounter, so he didn’t know how much of that advice was reliable. He broke his gaze on the short boy to look over at Ray, who gave Mikey a reassuring smile. He felt alone this side of the stage, swallowing what little was left of his pride as they got the cue to start playing.
-
It was a blur. It was all a blur. He’d play a song he memorized, hours of painstaking practice all for a three minute moment, look at the setlist written in chicken scratch on the stage floor for the next song, and waited for Otter’s count-in on his sticks. He only ended up remembering bits and pieces of Skylines And Turnstiles and Jack The Ripper. And the pounding in his head didn’t help, eagerly waiting for this whole thing to be over so he could empty his stomach, whether from overwhelming adrenaline or the surplus of alcohol he consumed in such a short time period.
Gerard’s thanking of the audience for putting up with their performance signaled Mikey that he could turn off his amp, unplug, and take his bass back to the van. He debated just going to sleep right then and there, but remembered Pencey Prep still had a full set to play and rushed back into the venue. He grabbed himself a beer despite clearly better options (like water) to wash down the bile, and stood against the wall near the stage while he waited for his crush (and other, less relevant bandmates in his opinion) to take the stage.
“Hey, you did good out there.”
Mikey sipped his beer. PleasebeFrankpleasebeFrankpleasebeFrank…
“Huh? Oh, thanks, Ray. You sounded pretty good, too.” He glanced up at the taller man.
“Where’s Gee?”
“Throwing up outside. I’m surprised you haven’t joined him yet, considering the fact that you’re still drinking.”
“Yeah, I don’t have a lot left in me.” He tried to keep his mind off the concept of puking everywhere, as good as it sounded right now. Mikey took another sip of his beer.
“Are you staying for the show?”
“Was planning on it, but I think I might get forced into Gerard’s babysitting duty again. Tucking him in and whatnot.”
Mikey giggled. He enjoyed banter with Ray.
“Yeah, good luck with that! I’ve been there. Would not recommend.”
Ray smiled warmly. Pencey Prep walked past the two, Mikey feeling his face flush when Frank winked at him. Him! And then the contents of Mikey’s beer were inexplicably gone, throat warm and brain fuzzy. Ray watched as Mikey rushed back to order another beer, returning again with said beer in hand. He thought it was funny, but also pitied the poor kid for what he knew would come later that night.
“Someone’s got a crush on Mr. Pencey Prep!”
Mikey looked away to avoid any further embarrassment.
“Shut up. Aren’t you supposed to be babysitting my brother right now?”
“Oh shit, Gerard!”
Mikey laughed his obnoxious laugh as Ray practically flew out of the back door. This left Mikey and Frank alone in the building. Well, aside from the other forty-ish people in there. But Frank was the only one that mattered. And that he could actually focus on, as impaired as he already was this late in the night.
He watched the band patiently set up their stage with practiced ease, sipping his second beer in the meantime. Every time he saw Frank glance in his direction, he felt his heart rate rise, and he drank a bit more than a sip, one of these instances leaving beer dribbling down his chin.
In Mikey’s opinion, the show went by way too fast. He wanted to watch Frank throw himself around on stage for longer. He wished that maybe there was a way to get them to play more after their encore, but maybe it was his fault for going off and getting more drinks during the performance. At first, he just grabbed a beer, but then he decided after he finished his third, that he’d try some new things he’d never heard of. Needless to say, he could barely walk straight by the time they’d finished their set, finishing his what he assumed was a cocktail in time with the band’s last song.
He figured they played most of their album in those thirty minutes, with maybe a cover or two snuck in there. And God, did Mikey wish he had enough money to buy every single copy of Heartbreak In Stereo. His singular CD that he’d maybe stolen from work was collecting more scratches from how much he’d play it just to hear Frank’s voice. Hell, Mikey even jerked off to it a few times, but that was a secret between him and his dick.
Right after Frank thanked the crowd in all his small and mighty glory, reality crushed down on Mikey and forced him to stumble his way out of the back door, now leaned against the brick wall. The night was cold and windy against Mikey’s tight shirt and skinny jeans, but the cold was quickly interrupted by the warmth bubbling up from his stomach and out of his mouth. Thus, his vomit landing square on the ground right next to Gerard’s in true brotherly fashion. How sweet.
He must’ve been barfing for a good few minutes, because after a while, the back door opened to a grunt and the footsteps of men carrying equipment back to their van.
“Mikey?”
The sound of his own name, or at least what he thought his name was, startled him out of his shaky, heaving haze to some unclear extent. He let out a pitiful, confused noise and turned around to face the person he assumed was talking to him as he heavily leaned on the wall.
“I noticed you were gone. I was wondering where you went.” The glistening boy let out a smile. He ran a hand through his buzzed hair.
Mikey returned to his slouch to let out another load of vomit atop his pre-existing one. This seemed to snap the short boy out of his post-show adrenaline.
“Fuck…” Mikey groaned to himself, coughing.
“Shit, are you okay?” He stepped to Mikey’s side, putting a comforting hand on his back.
“Frank…” Mikey suddenly gained enough clarity to realize who it was holding him, and he couldn’t help but let out a small grin after staring blankly in his direction for a minute.
“Yeah, that’s me. Fuck, you’re gone, aren’t you?” Frank leaned closer to Mikey to make sure he was still conscious enough, slowly lifting him up and against the wall. He was careful not to bang Mikey’s head against the brick, placing his hand behind his skull before slowly removing it. Nights like these were nights Frank was thankful that some venues actually carded their bands, even if it left Frank as the sole person taking care of the drunkards.
“Our buses—or, vans, I guess—are just over there. I can walk you to yours if you want.”
Mikey’s head lolled to face Frank, usual stupid grin on his face.
“I love you.”
“Yeah, buddy, I know.” Frank smiled back, just taking the confession as drunken nonsense as he slipped an arm around the taller man so he could lean on him. He hoped, deep down, that Mikey meant it. Even if they didn’t hang out often, they still knew each other well enough for casual friendly ‘I love you’s’, right? He guided Mikey to their van slowly, knocking on the car door. He heard the door click to be unlocked after a few seconds of rustling, and Frank pulled Mikey’s stumbling body in.
“Home sweet home. There ya are.” Frank chuckled when Mikey hugged him, hugging the tall boy back sweetly. He carded a hand through his hair, other man practically purring.
“He alive?” Ray spoke softly from the middle seats, a sleeping Gerard leaned on his shoulder.
“Just barely.” Frank grinned at Ray, and then up at Mikey.
“Shut up. I’m okay.” Mikey slurred, leaning his head against Frank’s. He radiated warmth, and that was all Mikey needed right now. Even if Frank was a little sweaty.
“Sure, sure. This your spot, back here?” Frank pointed to the back seats, and Mikey nodded with a small affirmative noise. Frank led him back, sitting Mikey down on the seats and plopping himself down right next to him.
“Well, I guess I should get back to-“
“Stay..” Mikey nuzzled into Frank’s arm.
“I’d really love to, but-“
“Please?” The look on Mikey’s face made him really hard to say no to. Those damn puppy dog eyes were one of Frank’s weaknesses, Mikey was now learning.
“..Is that fine with you guys?” Frank called quietly to the front seats, met with a grunt of indifference from Otter lying in the driver’s seat, and Ray’s simple ‘sure’. It’s not like they were traveling with more than four people anyway, so there was some spare room in the van.
“Okay. Let me just go tell my guys not to wait up for me or anything.” Frank swiftly left the van to Mikey’s whimpering dismay, returning just as fast and closing the van door on entry. He snuck back and tugged off his boots, scooting in next to Mikey. Mikey reached down into his duffel bag and pulled out the pajamas he had packed for the night.
“Don’t look. Let me get comfy.”
“Yes, sir,” Frank replied jokingly with a salute, smile on his face as he looked away from the boy who was clearly struggling to take off his skintight jeans. He could hear Mikey change with grunts of half-assed annoyance, only looking back when the other boy signaled that he was done. Frank smiled again. Damn him and those cute smiles.
Mikey grabbed a blanket that was sprawled on top of the backseats and threw it over the both of them.
“I like this blanket. We can share it.”
“Sweet. It’s a fuckin’ awesome blanket.” Frank beamed, relaxing under the soft and fluffy blanket Mikey had laid out for them. He admired the taller’s enthusiasm for something as simple as a blanket. He thought it was cute, even.
“Let’s get some sleep, okay, Mikes?”
Mikey blushed a little at the nickname, hard to tell because of how red his face already was from the drinks. Though, he was feeling pretty tired, so he nodded and yawned. His head fell against Frank’s, who was capturing the warm moment to look back on forever.
It didn’t take long for the two to drift off after such a big and adrenaline-filled night. Somehow, the two got comfier. Frank leaned against Mikey’s stomach, and Mikey lay against a pillow propped up on the van door.
That was tomorrow’s problem, though, because the two boys most certainly had some sleep to catch up on.
And what Frank was quickly learning, was that more frequent trips to Barnes & Noble needed to be in place.