Frank is absolutely, completely, 100 percent sure it's all Mikey Way's fault.
It would be one thing if it was a Walmart or something, but instead it's a fucking middle-of-nowhere, backwoods fucking truck stop straight out of a horror film. Frank is too tired for this shit, and Mikey knows it, and Frank would be well and truly pissed the fuck off if only Pedicone would stop fucking giggling.
"It's not fucking funny."
"It kind of is. It's like I'm a member of the band now. Like I'm Ray."
"You're not Ray."
"No. No one's Ray. Ray has the whole hair mojo. I have bald mojo. I'm like Ray. I am so one with all of you that you don't notice you've left me behind because I am always part of you."
"You're fucking stoned."
"I'm not arguing that. I'm also saying that I got left behind at a truck stop. I'm going to tell the fucking internet."
"Maybe I got left behind at the truck stop, and you just happened to get stuck here with me."
"Or maybe it's the other way around."
"In that case, it really fucking sucks." Frank huffs out an annoyed breath and digs out his cigarettes. He's cut back on his smoking, but sometimes the occasion just calls for nicotine to keep him from ruining his livelihood by killing his bassist. "This is totally Mikey's fault."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because no one else would fucking leave us, dude. This is fucking malice aforethought."
"They'll be back, dude. It's not like they can go on without us."
"You're failing to see the point."
Mike leans back against the wall of the building before reaching out and plucking Frank's cigarette from his hand, taking a long drag. "Enlighten me, oh wise tiny one."
"Fuck you." Frank takes the cigarette back, flicking the ashes at Mike. "The point is that it's cold, and it's dark and the guy in there is probably a fucking serial killer, and I don't want to end up on A&E as an episode of Forensic Files, okay? I have children. And dogs."
"You want me to buy you a Hershey's bar or something, man? You're tweaking." Mike grabs Frank's shoulder and pulls him in, tugging him back against the wall and Mike himself. "Take a deep breath."
"The air smells like nature. Nature is where serial killers hide bodies."
"You're not watching Criminal Minds before you crash any more." He rubs a hand up and down Frank's spine. "And I promise that they have to go through me to get to you."
"You're just saying that."
Mike nods. "Yeah. I am, actually. I would run like a fucking sixteen year old girl in a horror film."
"I hate you."
"You love me, man." Mike plants a warm, wet kiss on the top of Frank's head. "You can't help yourself."
"Shut up." He leans in closer, relaxing against Mike's strength as the lights of the bus returning fill up the stretch of asphalt in front of them. "And I'm holding you to that Hershey's bar thing."
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It would be one thing if it was a Walmart or something, but instead it's a fucking middle-of-nowhere, backwoods fucking truck stop straight out of a horror film. Frank is too tired for this shit, and Mikey knows it, and Frank would be well and truly pissed the fuck off if only Pedicone would stop fucking giggling.
"It's not fucking funny."
"It kind of is. It's like I'm a member of the band now. Like I'm Ray."
"You're not Ray."
"No. No one's Ray. Ray has the whole hair mojo. I have bald mojo. I'm like Ray. I am so one with all of you that you don't notice you've left me behind because I am always part of you."
"You're fucking stoned."
"I'm not arguing that. I'm also saying that I got left behind at a truck stop. I'm going to tell the fucking internet."
"Maybe I got left behind at the truck stop, and you just happened to get stuck here with me."
"Or maybe it's the other way around."
"In that case, it really fucking sucks." Frank huffs out an annoyed breath and digs out his cigarettes. He's cut back on his smoking, but sometimes the occasion just calls for nicotine to keep him from ruining his livelihood by killing his bassist. "This is totally Mikey's fault."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because no one else would fucking leave us, dude. This is fucking malice aforethought."
"They'll be back, dude. It's not like they can go on without us."
"You're failing to see the point."
Mike leans back against the wall of the building before reaching out and plucking Frank's cigarette from his hand, taking a long drag. "Enlighten me, oh wise tiny one."
"Fuck you." Frank takes the cigarette back, flicking the ashes at Mike. "The point is that it's cold, and it's dark and the guy in there is probably a fucking serial killer, and I don't want to end up on A&E as an episode of Forensic Files, okay? I have children. And dogs."
"You want me to buy you a Hershey's bar or something, man? You're tweaking." Mike grabs Frank's shoulder and pulls him in, tugging him back against the wall and Mike himself. "Take a deep breath."
"The air smells like nature. Nature is where serial killers hide bodies."
"You're not watching Criminal Minds before you crash any more." He rubs a hand up and down Frank's spine. "And I promise that they have to go through me to get to you."
"You're just saying that."
Mike nods. "Yeah. I am, actually. I would run like a fucking sixteen year old girl in a horror film."
"I hate you."
"You love me, man." Mike plants a warm, wet kiss on the top of Frank's head. "You can't help yourself."
"Shut up." He leans in closer, relaxing against Mike's strength as the lights of the bus returning fill up the stretch of asphalt in front of them. "And I'm holding you to that Hershey's bar thing."