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“Okay, so let me get this straight, that skinny ass kid isn’t even a fucking person? What are you on?” After-sex conversations with Gabe were never remotely close to normal, but Pete was sure this one would stand out in his mind for a while.
“Nope." Gabe answered, "He’s an idea, an idea with a list of fucks longer than both of ours put together, but nevertheless an idea."
“But-" Pete had already built up an opposition in his mind but Gabe grabbed Pete’s wrist and directed it to the wall above them, "See that piece of paper there? I worked four years for that piece of paper and it means that if I say someone isn’t a someone but a something, I’m qualified to do so."
“Fine," Pete put his hands up in defense, pausing in his action, a wide grin spreading across his face, "So, this idea,"
"His name is Mikey, never Mike, never Michael, Mikey Way." Gabe answered, burying his face in his pillow. "You’ll find the rest out on your own." As far as Pete was concerned, Gabe had never been more right about anything before, he wanted to know everything about this not-person. Pete smiled excitedly, clinging to Gabe’s side and falling asleep.
Inevitably, Pete spent the next few weeks finding out everything he could about Mikey Way The Idea (which Pete had already decided could very well be a song title.) and obtained the following knowledge.
- If you were in a band within the area code and that band had played more than two shows Mikey Way The Idea had been to at least one of them.
- Mikey Way The Idea really did have a list of fucks longer than his and Gabe’s combined, the rumor was 78.
- Gabe was on that list.
- Pete was not.
- Mikey Way The Idea was the celebutante of the Jersey punk scene
- Except he wasn’t.
- Because Mikey Way The Idea was in a moderately popular band called My Chemical Romance. Which surprised Pete more than anything else on the list, since the number of times some kid yelled “Patrick, the guy from Arma is on/in/at your _____!” when Patrick was still in high school was uncountable.
Pete tried to find out more about him, he really did, but anyone he asked had the exact same answer.
“It’s Mikey Way, dude, there’s nothing to know."
That was wrong, because there was everything to know and Pete didn’t give up easy, not when he hadn’t even been turned down yet, anyway. He wasn’t trying to get into Fight Club, for fuck’s sake.
If anything, Pete did learn that Mikey was everywhere, every show and after party he’d been to that week, that time (every time) he went to go get Starbucks, every fucking where, and each time he ran into him, he was a whole lot hotter than Pete remembered him being, but maybe that was part of the idea.
So of course, inevitably, one of these times, Gabe was with him (“because you always fuck up my coffee and I need to at least act sober”) and Gabe had no filter.
“Mikeyway,” He greeted, a wide grin on his face that was most likely stemmed from the horror on Pete’s, “how’s the brother?”
“Still taken,” Mikey smirked, “sorry, Saporta, who’s your friend?” He asked, leaning back against the wall and pushing his glasses up, sipping at his coffee casually.
“Like you don’t fuckin’ know.” Gabe shook his head, grabbing Pete by the wrist and coaxing forcibly dragging him forward.
“Good point.” Mikey nodded, “But it’s easier to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth, the kids that do this stuff for me aren’t even out of high school.”
“Oh, yeah,” Gabe laughed “I forgot that you were god to every scene kid in the city.”
“Good, that’s not exactly how I want to be remembered, Gabanti.” Mikey bit his lip, gaze shifting away from Gabe down a few inches, “Pete, right? Wentz?”
“Yeah, uh,” The Midwestern charm switch in Pete’s head would just not flip on.
“Cool!” Mikey spoke over him, “Awesome, see you two later.”
And Mikey made his way out the door.
“Mikey is the worst idea.” Pete declared to Gabe, who nodded, “And the hottest, but mostly the worst.”