MURDER MACHINE;; Mikey Way, 006

"So do you have...people?"

I chuckle. "I've got people in every potentially dangerous place that you can have people."

I don't really mean to sound so arrogant, but I'm one of the best of the best in this...department. Dudes that are twenty years older than me come to me and ask me how to maneuver a certain kind of gun. The most climatic way to take a certain kind of drug. The best way to outrun a cop.

"'Think they could ever hook me up?" Frank says with a grin, and I question him from behind my corrective lenses. God, these things have got to go. "I mean...if they trust you, you gotta let them trust me," he adds as we pass apartment number 662 of the building. I don't know if he's joking or not.

"'Course," I say after a moment's pause. "But I wouldn't want you to..." I continue, my voice decrescendo-ing. "If you get stuff from one guy, you gotta get stuff from another and soon-"

I stop abruptly and Frank, a few steps ahead of me, looks at me through a piece of black hair in front of his olive eyes. They seem to pierce me, I can feel it. And it only adds to the discomfort that I feel as I listen to a voice coming through apartment number 667. It's a familiar voice to me, but once Frank hears it too, the trouble we'll be in will fume. And I don't want to take that chance, not now. Not as I'm here with this perfect boy, while I'm crawling toward happiness little by little every night that I have inside my unfit apartment. My chances of losing that are far too high, and my record of misfortune is far too thick.

So I grab Frank's hand hastily, before the footsteps I hear approaching reach the door that's just on my heels. There's yelling from behind it, toward another familiar voice - one that Gerard could tell you more about than neither Frank nor I. And that voice is just as angry.

My eyes close painfully when Frank says, "Mikey, is that...?"

Fucking time answers Frank's unfinished question perfectly, so I don't have to, even though I could've. Because the door of apartment 667 opens and a boy exits that immediately puts a bad feeling in my stomach.

Why did they have to mean so much to each other? And mostly...why him? He's a loser if he went for Bert right after Frank, anyway. That's gotta make Frank feel amazing. Quinn Allman gets out of the best relationship with the best possible kid, then goes straight into an abusive one with the most sick, twisted person I've ever met. But like I've got room to talk.

No, I'm not feeling sorry for Quinn. Actually, I want nothing more than to put a gun right up to his golden-blonde head. But what I don't see is that the golden-blonde hair is covering blood-red eyes, eyes that seem to be drowning Frank's. I take the small of Frank's back into my hand, and more forcefully than I'd hoped, pushed him away from the inevitably dangerous situation. But behind my back, I hear the breathing of a chain smoker that could be no more than Bert McCracken. My teeth tighten when my lips curl into a snarl, and my hand caresses the gun that's well-hidden inside my coat.

I'm expecting a snide comment to escape from Bert's mouth. I'm expecting maybe a blow to the side of my head. At least, hopefully me. Neither Frank nor Quinn deserves this. They're both good, honorable men set out to do good things in life. Me, I'm the guy that guys like Frank and Quinn will be set out to destroy.

So as I contract my muscles in what I almost feel as fear, I realize nothing's happening, and I turn around.

Bert's gone, and Quinn is sobbing quietly. Frank is staring in awe of Quinn, and I am...well, I don't know what to feel.

It's a habit.

"Quinn..." I say softly, resulting in my voice cracking. I cough. "What happened?"

A teardrop is about to release off of Quinn's chin, but he smacks it away. "He's a jerk," he stutters loudly. "But not all the time...No, really...Only when he's high...Otherwise he's pretty sw-"

I feel my fist clench and my shoulder getting the urge to swing back, but I resist it. I ponder all the words that begin with "sw". Sweet. Swell. Sweat. Only the latter could possibly apply to Bert. I know for a fact that he's not any of the others because I've seen him. I've seen him at his worst. I've seen him think he's better than the best, when he is nothing compared to them. Compared to Gerard, he's a speck of pain on Gerard's beautiful canvas of life, and he'll have to live with it forever. Trust me, I still hear the screams sometimes.

But maybe...if I can win back Quinn's friendship, our four-man alliance will destroy Bert, once and for all, like a satanic ruler that's been destroying the lives of children for decades. I am a genius.
your face is light and cocaine white -->
I don't know if that part made sense yet at all, but it'll all get cleared up in a bit.
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