Good lord, am I on time? :[
Title: The Ballad Of Captain Obvious And Oblivious Boy
Word Count: Uh, like 4600ish
Author: agent99
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
Rating: Uh, PG-PG13 at the most
Summary: "Basically, Stump. You're a musical genius, but you're the biggest dumbass when it comes to the obvious" Bob stated calmly, going back to work on scorching their dinner.
Disclaimer: Not real.
Warnings: I'm a fanfic/bandfic virgin. Yikes. Please be gentle, and don't forget the mood music...
Notes: Written for sonstoodstammer for the Live Free or Die exchange, and I really hope this is good enough for you sweetie. Oddly enough, this is fic #3 I attempted for this challenge, but yes I'm sitting here biting my nails off. Totally off, good-bye nails. Beat me within an inch of my life if you do not like this fic, okay? You have my permission. Oh, and major thanks for the extension, because otherwise I'd been screwed and not in the way we'd all like to be screwed.
"Is it possible that love and life are pretty much nothing more than a setting sun?"
"No, but I think it's possible you need to shut up and try maybe sleeping" Patrick had grunted from where he was crunched between a duffel bag and an amp in the back of the van. Joe's soft snores mingled with Andy's heavy breathing as the two of them slept in the front, Pete and Patrick's bodies having found somewhere to light for a few hours and try and grab a nap before they finished their drive to wherever the fuck they were heading.
"But...maybe love isn't really exactly what we think it is, you know?" Pete started, but was interrupted by an arm flailed outwards, making contact with his thigh, hissing quietly before swatting back at Patrick, grunting a "Fuck you" before Patrick hissed out as quietly as he can.
"Just fucking go back to sleep, Pete! Fuck..."
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"Have you ever considered that maybe what we all think is "true love" isn't really love at all?" It was one of those whispered questions that seemed to leak out into the darkness, a question that sometimes someone spoke out in that little fuzzy in-between space of being awake and being asleep. Patrick had been just about asleep before Anna's voice broke the silence, and he cracked an eye open slightly just to make sure she was actually awake.
"I...I don't know..." It sounded so typically male of Patrick to say, but he really didn't dive too deeply into all of that. No really, if he was going to be honest, his life was kind of simple. His band, his girlfriend, music. The whole sleep/eat/shit requirements sprinkled in there somewhere too, but that went along with breathing anyway, it just happened.
"I mean maybe love doesn't equal comfort, you know what I mean?" She asked quietly, the way her brows furrowed telling Patrick that he had no hope of getting any sleep.
And see, when he'd later explain this story, or go over it in his mind, this really was the most undramatic way to bring an end to a four year long relationship. Instead of screaming and crying and begging, something he'd perfectly expected to experience either way when this day came, though his first warning should have been that he had even worked this scenario out in his head, but instead? It went like this: he watched her talk. She spoke. They went back to sleep. They woke up and had breakfast then broke up.
Patrick had called Pete first, about two or three rings into waiting before he realized that Jeanae had come over the night before to "talk". Oh. Right.
Veto that idea.
Still, the thing that seemed to set this whole screwed turn of events into motion wasn't that a four year long relationship was now over. It was what she said as he helped her carry the last of her stuff, that they could figure out anyway, out to the car.
"See, I figure now you'll be able to just, y'know, do what you've been wanting to do for a while. I think this is good, you know? All the truths out in the air and..."
"Wait...was I zoning out again? Or did you jump topics, because I've got no idea where we just went with this conversation" Patrick had muttered, stopping with an arm full of books in the middle of the sidewalk. Anna simply glanced over her shoulder at him with that look he had seen a thousand times, over things as important as dates he was supposed to remember ranging all the way down the pecking order to the toilet seat being up. This "Surely you're not that stupid?" look, in which got a "Well apparently I am, since I don't know what you're talking about" look.
"Honestly Patrick..." She shook her head, placing a few bags of clothes in the back seat, taking the heavy books from Patrick's grip, ignoring his muttered "Hey I can get that..." protest, shutting him up by placing her hand comfortingly to his cheek. "Honestly, if you're that in denial? Then this really confirms that this is the right choice for us. I just..." She glanced away, and it was one of the few times during all of this he saw real emotion forming in her eyes "I think we both should be in a situation where we feel that...spark. That feeling you're supposed to get. We're not supposed to be sitting around on a Friday night watching TV. We're not supposed to just go right to bed, like an old couple. We're kids, Patrick."
What maybe hurt the most about all of this, Patrick realized as he stood at the end of the sidewalk and watched her car disappear down the road, the faint trace of tail lights disappearing easily in the distance, wasn't that his heart was broken. It was this sinking feeling he had just wasted her time, wasted years of her life, with someone who was only a ghost. The thought had reminded him of a conversation he had heard Jeanae have with somebody once about being with Pete.
"Sometimes, being in love with someone like him is like being in love with a ghost. You know, he's just...not there. Even when he's there, there's fragments of him that just belong to someone else" She had spoken, the smoke from the cigarette burning out disappearing off into the distance, whipping up into the air around her and her friend as they had sat on the sidewalk, Patrick pretending to not pay any attention. He felt angry at the statement, but now in hindsight, it made sense a little.
Still, the pieces hadn't been placed together just right.
Attempt to call Pete number two was followed by making a very quiet run to the nearest 24/7 grocery store for a six pack and a missed call, which Patrick tried to return, but he once again got Pete's voicemail. About two-thirds the way through the six pack, Patrick had placed a call to management, threw dates out that he didn't want to even be anywhere near the Chicago area before finishing the entire thing off, falling asleep with The Cosbys blaring on the TV in the livingroom.
--------------
"So...you actually like, bought a house?" Patrick had asked about two dozen times, but the question actually warranted no answer as he stood at the door of what was actually a very posh place up in the hills. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling like this was one of Pete's elaborate jokes. No way did he actually move out of his parents house. No way did he actually have his own place and no way was it this nice. Sure, they could afford it, he had bought his own place in Chicago for crying out loud, but this seemed so much more...rockstar. The hills. The wall-to-ceiling windows. Even the semi-art-deco couch. He could hear Jeanae's laughter echoing from somewhere near the kitchen, which for some reason made Patrick's skin crawl just a tiny bit, but he had learned how to just block that little nagging part of his brain off. Okay so they were "on" again, right? Good. Great. Awesome, even.
"I know, right? Next thing you know, I'll be doing my own laundry and buying my own groceries" Pete remarked, though his tone was light, as he glanced over the semi-furnished livingroom. "Also working on the theater room over there. That's gonna be pretty epic, man. I mean, this is some Cribs shit, Patrick. A theater-fucking-room."
"Yeah man it...it sounds great" Patrick drawled slowly as he kept his eyes on the scenery somewhere that seemed to never end. Other overpriced houses sat on the side of "hills", small mountains in Patrick's opinion, overlooking the rest of the world where all of the "little" people existed. It wasn't that it was offensive to his sensibilities, but it was fucking weird.
"Y'know, whenever we come out here to start recording, you should stay with me" Pete had moved up behind Patrick rather quietly, or maybe the younger man just hadn't been paying any attention, and sure, the idea sounded amazing. If Patrick was being honest with himself, which was something he excelled at doing the complete opposite of, he'd acknowledge that things just didn't feel right when he wasn't hanging out with Pete. Quoting the same stupid movies, practical jokes, and those little stolen moments when they'd fall asleep leaning against one another.
From somewhere in the house, his thoughts were interrupted once more by a feminine voice, a laugh, just something else to remind Patrick exactly where he was, who he was, where he stood.
When the time came to move out to LA to start recording, he ended up on the phone with Bob Bryar.
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"I'm an expert on this" Bob had drunkenly announced, motioning vaguely to the BBQ pit they had dragged from their apartment down to the apartment complex's pool, or as Patrick lovingly referred to it, the "community potty", not at all fooled by the shit-eating grin on the face of the little 7 year old who was floating around on an inflatable alligator.
"An expert on scorching our food?" Patrick had confirmed, watching with bewilderment, wondering how somebody can really burn food so effortlessly.
"This is what they call BBQ" Bob had slurred, pointing one of the sharp little...whatever it was called, at Patrick, making the younger man really wonder if anybody in that band was ever sober or aware of what was going on. Even Gerard, the residential "sober" one seemed to have his head in the clouds. Well, or he had dozed off on a nearby lawnchair. Upon further investigation, and a gentle poke to the side of the head, Patrick had ruled out the previous thought, making a mental note to ridicule him later when he was lobster-red.
"It looks like I'm ordering pizza tonight" Patrick concluded as he gave up on the entire thing, pulling his Blackberry out to check his messages.
"Hey, didn't you invite Wentz to come over" Gerard had mumbled, making the two men hovering around the pit jump somewhat, a slight scowl forming on Patrick's face.
"Yeah well. Y'know...Michelle. Or whoever. Whatever."
"Wow...this reminds me of..."
"Bob" Gerard warned, though he kept his eyes closed, shifting a bit where he continued to remain sprawled out on the lawn chair "I mean it..."
"It's a bit like the epic battle between Gerard and Frank..."
"Bob!"
"You mean they aren't fucking?" Patrick had asked, completely shocked, ignoring Gerard who was now a mass of arms and legs, flailing around on the lawnchair, attempting to get up, but resembled more of a turtle on his back.
"Basically, they're still tap-dancing around it" Bob said solemnly, ignoring his bandmates squeaks of protest, instead barreling over his threats "Gerard's too much of a chickenshit to just fuck the guy already or something, and vice-versa. I swear, I've never seen two guys tap-dance around wanting to hump so much in my life. Well ...I didn't until this summer" Stopping his train of thought, Bob simply raised his eyebrow at Patrick until he had the younger man scowling, sipping silently from his beer.
"Basically, Stump. You're a musical genius, but you're the biggest dumbass when it comes to the obvious" Bob stated calmly, going back to work on scorching their dinner.
The only logical thing to do was wait until later on when Bob finally passed out, and piss on his laundry before turning the dryer back on.
--------------
Still, it was strange how, once the album came out and all of the madness associated with it followed, time started to tick just a little quicker. Pete went back to Jeanae, then went to Ashlee, then wasn't with Ashlee, then was with Ashlee again, and Patrick even found ways to distract himself once or twice in a few random people, though he was always much more discreet about things than Pete ever could hope to be, though the worst twinge of jealousy came somewhere in the deep south, some stop for gas, and for buses full of guys, and one lone girl, to try and find somewhere to crap.
"I think I'm falling in love with her..."
"What?" Patrick had been sitting on the curb, the heat itself being nothing compared to how muggy it seemed to get after a good, hard rain. The steam seemed to be never-ending, but it added life and greenery to the trees off in the distance, despite the 18 wheelers and cars wizzing past them on I10 not all that long ago. He thought they were maybe in Alabama, but he couldn't be sure.
"I just...Ashlee. I really think I'm falling in love with her"
"Oh..." Patrick really had intended on it being a lot happier sounding somehow, but it was honestly getting entirely too hard to just pretend. It would be easier, he supposed, if it didn't feel like everyone in the band was waiting for the inevitable. If he didn't have half of My Chemical Romance calling him, also waiting for the inevitable. Hell, even if he had hooked up with Vicky, she was in on the whole thing, nudging Patrick with a quietly whispered "You should just talk to him".
"What's your problem?" It hadn't been what Patrick expected Pete to say, the slightly shocked look on his face only irritating Pete further. "You just...I can't even talk to you anymore without you snapping at me. I mean...fuck Patrick, I'm sorry if me speaking to you offends you so much" Before he was standing up, disappearing somewhere around the corner of the gas station, the wet slap of sneakers against pavement disappearing long after the sight of him had.
Fucking excellent.
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"You know...you ever think that maybe, people mistake comfort for love?" Her voice sounded funny, stretched kind of thin through various forms of technology, wiring, satellite. Sound frequencies can only be manipulated so much before they lost their quality, Pete noticed, as he laid there, wondering if he was actually going to die from a heatstroke in the middle of Africa. He had never said this in his life, but he felt entirely too...white-bread suddenly.
"What do you mean?" He knew he sounded dead tired, his voice barely audible, but he could hear shuffling around on the other end of the phone as Ashlee switched the phone from one shoulder to the other.
"I just...I think people sometimes mistaken being in love for simply getting along with eachother and everything being okay. Like, hey, I'm not fighting with this person, and the sex is pretty good, and we get along alright. I must be in love. That kind of thing" She explained as she walked around his kitchen, having come over to check on Hemmy, who was preoccupied, face-first in his foodbowl, snooting and snorting away happily as he ate his dinner. She crouched down to pet him carefully, slowly. Like it'd be the last time she'd be doing this, and in a way, she knew it was.
"I...what are you even talking about?" Pete could feel that familiar headache forming between his eyes, because this was coming out of nowhere. Really, it was one of those "What the fuck?" conversations that often left his head spinning, left him laying there for a while trying to compute everything that had been thrown at him. He hated these the worst. "Ashlee..."
"I think maybe..." Ashlee trailed off as she walked through the livingroom, stopping at the batch of pictures that covered the front of his fridge now, various pictures of his friends, plenty of Hemmy and a lot of herself with Pete, but there was one picture dead-center she couldn't take her eyes off of. They were leaning against eachother, Pete's eyes squinted just right to make those laugh-lines that she really thought were the most adorable things ever, Patrick's face half-hidden beneath the bill of his had, but she could make out a smile, that sweet smile that absolutely nobody could deny was beautiful. It made what she had to say flow better from her mouth, because it confirmed everything she had collected, all of the information she had been mulling over for a while now. "I think maybe this isn't going to work. This...isn't supposed to be comfortable, Pete. Take a look around you, who's always been there? Who's able to disarm you with just a word or a look? I...it's not me. I know it's not me..." She could hear her voice breaking somewhere in this, but the most bizarre thing? She felt...hopeful. Hopeful that maybe, just because it wasn't with Pete, she could maybe find what the person on the other end of this damn cellphone had found, even if he seemed perfectly oblivious to it.
"You're breaking up with me. Standing in my own kitchen." Pete had whispered as he sat up slowly, his head spinning. He had to say, this was the calmest breakup he had ever gone through.
"I'm suggesting you talk to him" Ashlee said quietly, her eyes never quite leaving the picture as she flipped her phone shut. She'd keep coming over to feed Hemmy and take him out, there wasn't any point in starving the dog just because she broke up with his owner. She'd maybe just discreetly remove her stuff from around the house, just so he wouldn't have to go through that process.
Meanwhile, that left Pete halfway across the globe, staring wide-eyed at his phone, a strange, nervous feeling infesting his gut. Well, she had a point, but how many times, by how many other girls, had he been told the same exact thing? He remembered it was different with each of them. Morgan had been snide, hissing that he could finally just go "fuck him already", Jeanae had been frustrated and crying, insisting she was sick of being his beard for fuck's sake, and Michelle had just shaken her head, mumbling something about closet-cases before she had left. He'd give Ashlee points, because that was the best way he had been told it.
At some point, he got up off of his makeshift bed, wandering outside to where Patrick was sitting down on the hood of the jeep they had been transported here and there in. The thing was a piece of shit, but as Patrick pointed out, it just felt that much more authentic. He was a sucker for authentic, not wanting to stay anywhere "super nice", though he didn't like feeling like he was going to die at every turn. And he felt a need to announce they were going to die at nearly every turn too, but Pete could live with dying if the other man was there with him.
Fuck, so she was right.
"Hey..." Pete hadn't intended on his voice sounding as scratchy as it did when he finally spoke up, making his presence known, though Patrick didn't even budge, a serene little smile forming on his face before he glanced off to the side, head tilting a little in thought before patting the spot next to him. Pete hopped up on the hood of the jeep, his eyes following wherever Patrick's were, which seemed to be fixed somewhere on the horizon where the sun was starting to set. It was all different here, even the way the sun would disappear off beyond the edge of the world, though the warm copper glow seemed to match the tendrils of light that always got caught in the few stray strands of hair sticking out from under Patrick's hat. Like the way the specks of green and gold seemed almost metallic, placed carefully over a muted blue. This felt like the edge of the earth to Pete right now, and once again, he was there. Sitting there next to the same person who remained the control in his experiment of a life. Different variables always diluted the original formula, but once removed, the ingredients were pretty simple. "She....we broke up" Pete explained quietly, though his voice seemed distant, his eyes still following the sleepy sun, disappearing behind red dirt and strange, almost naked looking trees.
"Why?" Pete hadn't exactly been expecting that to be Patrick's reaction, his head turning to study Patrick's face, finding him still following the sun, much like he had been, though green-purple dots flooded his vision now that he had looked away.
"She...gave me this big spiel. Something about people mistaking love for comfort, or whatever"
"Sounds familiar" Patrick drawled slowly, Pete's voice fading soon after that, the two of them listening to the calm quiet. The quiet really wasn't that natural, it was muted somewhere underneath with desperation and despair, sadness and loss, but that eventual hope that tomorrow brought something much better. Children were still off in the distance, chasing eachother around. Women sitting nearby, no doubt gossiping amongst themselves, were laughing, one woman's laughter carrying out over the rest of them. "Anna gave me the same speech" Patrick explained after he and Pete had let their eyes drift from the blinding orange-gold sun, the younger man shifting a little to place his hands behind himself on the hood of the old jeep. Pete could picture the red-clay dirt sticking to the palms of his hands. He could picture the orange, smudged handprints on his thighs later when he went to wipe the dirt off on them. It was really like Pete had seen this movie before.
"Did she..." Pete asked, his body turning somewhat towards Patrick's, knowing he'd be dusting the layer of dirt, this same dirt he really needed to wash away at this point, though it was starting to feel like it had soaked into his bloodstream, it was lodged beneath the surface of his skin. He felt raw, wounded somehow by the rose-colored glasses being ripped off of his eyes at this point, and it wasn't really because of Ashlee. This felt like the edge of the world. Like the sun would never be seen again.
"I think..." Patrick had started to speak, his mouth staying open for a moment as he struggled with what words he wanted to place together, his voice seeming a little frayed at the edges. It matched how Pete felt right now as they sat there on the edge of the world "I think maybe...there's something to..." Once again, the words seemed to catch, a frustrated sigh escaping Patrick eventually before he shifted a little closer to Pete, his hand leaving behind a slightly cleared-off path to the green-gray paint job beneath layers of caked on dirt, no doubt making a mess out of his jeans, but he didn't seem to care in that moment. "Look, I'm just going to do this, and I really just hope you don't freak out" the words came out in a jumbled, nervous mess, and Pete had seen this movie before. He knew it before Patrick leaned in, allowing himself to meet him halfway, just the slightest brushing of lips over eachother, a dipped foot in the swimming pool before allowing their lips to press together. They seemed oblivious to the cool wind starting to blow somewhere, the way the world was growing darker behind them as the sleepy sun said it's goodnights off in the distance, but it was at once that the world didn't feel like it was ending. Just transforming. Changing.
"She said...I should talk to you. Ashlee did, I mean. Fuck...Patrick, I mean I really have so much to say to you" Pete's own words were failing him in this moment, but he didn't have enough metaphors to even match it, to even explain the boy, still so much like he was all those years ago when he had met him at the front door of his mother's house, only innocent to the naked eye, though there was an old soul that lurked somewhere beneath the almost pristine surface.
"Shut up, Pete" Patrick muttered quietly, trailing his fingertips over the back of Pete's neck, pulling him in for another careful kiss. The world seemed oblivious around them anyway, the children having been ushered inside, the women no doubt being the ones to rush them inside, only the sun seeming to care as it hovered on the brink of disappearing over the edge of the earth for one last peek of Pete brushing a clay-red smudge of dirt from Patrick's cheek before allowing itself to rest somewhere beyond the trees.
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"So what do you think love is?" Pete had asked, lounging back on the "bed" outside, the solid weight of Patrick's back pressed to his chest only stilling his breath just slightly. It was a good weight, a safe feeling that crossed Pete's mind as he watched the sun disappear off behind the hills somewhere. It wasn't the same here in California, the sun just didn't seem as big, as desperate and bold, but at least it captured the copper-red tones of Patrick's hair as he threaded his fingers idly through it, fingertips brushing affectionately where it thinned out to near nonexistence somewhere towards the crown. He liked that he was the only person Patrick would even allow to do this.
"I think it's a bit like when the doctor slaps you on the ass when you're born" Patrick replied, ignoring the snort from behind him, carrying on sleepily "I mean it...like, that initial slap and you start breathing, you know? I think that's what love is. That initial slap. It's that thing that crawls under your skin and never leaves, no matter how bad it itches, no matter how insane it makes you, it becomes you. It's that part of you that stays with you until the day you die. I think it's that person who embodies that, you know? That initial slap on the ass that makes you start breathing..."
"This is probably why I write the lyrics, I just wanted you to know that" Pete had muttered quietly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to the top of Patrick's head, ignoring the indignant little scoff that followed his statement. "But yeah...that would seem about right."
"Sometimes I'm right" Patrick confirmed with a sated smile, allowing his eyes to shut once he felt Pete's fingertips sneaking beneath the hem of his worn tshirt, brushing lightly over the pale, heated skin that peeked out over the waistband of his pajama pants, though he was long gone, the setting sun off in the distance lulling Patrick to sleep and Pete deep into thought.
Word Count: Uh, like 4600ish
Author: agent99
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
Rating: Uh, PG-PG13 at the most
Summary: "Basically, Stump. You're a musical genius, but you're the biggest dumbass when it comes to the obvious" Bob stated calmly, going back to work on scorching their dinner.
Disclaimer: Not real.
Warnings: I'm a fanfic/bandfic virgin. Yikes. Please be gentle, and don't forget the mood music...
Notes: Written for sonstoodstammer for the Live Free or Die exchange, and I really hope this is good enough for you sweetie. Oddly enough, this is fic #3 I attempted for this challenge, but yes I'm sitting here biting my nails off. Totally off, good-bye nails. Beat me within an inch of my life if you do not like this fic, okay? You have my permission. Oh, and major thanks for the extension, because otherwise I'd been screwed and not in the way we'd all like to be screwed.
"Is it possible that love and life are pretty much nothing more than a setting sun?"
"No, but I think it's possible you need to shut up and try maybe sleeping" Patrick had grunted from where he was crunched between a duffel bag and an amp in the back of the van. Joe's soft snores mingled with Andy's heavy breathing as the two of them slept in the front, Pete and Patrick's bodies having found somewhere to light for a few hours and try and grab a nap before they finished their drive to wherever the fuck they were heading.
"But...maybe love isn't really exactly what we think it is, you know?" Pete started, but was interrupted by an arm flailed outwards, making contact with his thigh, hissing quietly before swatting back at Patrick, grunting a "Fuck you" before Patrick hissed out as quietly as he can.
"Just fucking go back to sleep, Pete! Fuck..."
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"Have you ever considered that maybe what we all think is "true love" isn't really love at all?" It was one of those whispered questions that seemed to leak out into the darkness, a question that sometimes someone spoke out in that little fuzzy in-between space of being awake and being asleep. Patrick had been just about asleep before Anna's voice broke the silence, and he cracked an eye open slightly just to make sure she was actually awake.
"I...I don't know..." It sounded so typically male of Patrick to say, but he really didn't dive too deeply into all of that. No really, if he was going to be honest, his life was kind of simple. His band, his girlfriend, music. The whole sleep/eat/shit requirements sprinkled in there somewhere too, but that went along with breathing anyway, it just happened.
"I mean maybe love doesn't equal comfort, you know what I mean?" She asked quietly, the way her brows furrowed telling Patrick that he had no hope of getting any sleep.
And see, when he'd later explain this story, or go over it in his mind, this really was the most undramatic way to bring an end to a four year long relationship. Instead of screaming and crying and begging, something he'd perfectly expected to experience either way when this day came, though his first warning should have been that he had even worked this scenario out in his head, but instead? It went like this: he watched her talk. She spoke. They went back to sleep. They woke up and had breakfast then broke up.
Patrick had called Pete first, about two or three rings into waiting before he realized that Jeanae had come over the night before to "talk". Oh. Right.
Veto that idea.
Still, the thing that seemed to set this whole screwed turn of events into motion wasn't that a four year long relationship was now over. It was what she said as he helped her carry the last of her stuff, that they could figure out anyway, out to the car.
"See, I figure now you'll be able to just, y'know, do what you've been wanting to do for a while. I think this is good, you know? All the truths out in the air and..."
"Wait...was I zoning out again? Or did you jump topics, because I've got no idea where we just went with this conversation" Patrick had muttered, stopping with an arm full of books in the middle of the sidewalk. Anna simply glanced over her shoulder at him with that look he had seen a thousand times, over things as important as dates he was supposed to remember ranging all the way down the pecking order to the toilet seat being up. This "Surely you're not that stupid?" look, in which got a "Well apparently I am, since I don't know what you're talking about" look.
"Honestly Patrick..." She shook her head, placing a few bags of clothes in the back seat, taking the heavy books from Patrick's grip, ignoring his muttered "Hey I can get that..." protest, shutting him up by placing her hand comfortingly to his cheek. "Honestly, if you're that in denial? Then this really confirms that this is the right choice for us. I just..." She glanced away, and it was one of the few times during all of this he saw real emotion forming in her eyes "I think we both should be in a situation where we feel that...spark. That feeling you're supposed to get. We're not supposed to be sitting around on a Friday night watching TV. We're not supposed to just go right to bed, like an old couple. We're kids, Patrick."
What maybe hurt the most about all of this, Patrick realized as he stood at the end of the sidewalk and watched her car disappear down the road, the faint trace of tail lights disappearing easily in the distance, wasn't that his heart was broken. It was this sinking feeling he had just wasted her time, wasted years of her life, with someone who was only a ghost. The thought had reminded him of a conversation he had heard Jeanae have with somebody once about being with Pete.
"Sometimes, being in love with someone like him is like being in love with a ghost. You know, he's just...not there. Even when he's there, there's fragments of him that just belong to someone else" She had spoken, the smoke from the cigarette burning out disappearing off into the distance, whipping up into the air around her and her friend as they had sat on the sidewalk, Patrick pretending to not pay any attention. He felt angry at the statement, but now in hindsight, it made sense a little.
Still, the pieces hadn't been placed together just right.
Attempt to call Pete number two was followed by making a very quiet run to the nearest 24/7 grocery store for a six pack and a missed call, which Patrick tried to return, but he once again got Pete's voicemail. About two-thirds the way through the six pack, Patrick had placed a call to management, threw dates out that he didn't want to even be anywhere near the Chicago area before finishing the entire thing off, falling asleep with The Cosbys blaring on the TV in the livingroom.
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"So...you actually like, bought a house?" Patrick had asked about two dozen times, but the question actually warranted no answer as he stood at the door of what was actually a very posh place up in the hills. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling like this was one of Pete's elaborate jokes. No way did he actually move out of his parents house. No way did he actually have his own place and no way was it this nice. Sure, they could afford it, he had bought his own place in Chicago for crying out loud, but this seemed so much more...rockstar. The hills. The wall-to-ceiling windows. Even the semi-art-deco couch. He could hear Jeanae's laughter echoing from somewhere near the kitchen, which for some reason made Patrick's skin crawl just a tiny bit, but he had learned how to just block that little nagging part of his brain off. Okay so they were "on" again, right? Good. Great. Awesome, even.
"I know, right? Next thing you know, I'll be doing my own laundry and buying my own groceries" Pete remarked, though his tone was light, as he glanced over the semi-furnished livingroom. "Also working on the theater room over there. That's gonna be pretty epic, man. I mean, this is some Cribs shit, Patrick. A theater-fucking-room."
"Yeah man it...it sounds great" Patrick drawled slowly as he kept his eyes on the scenery somewhere that seemed to never end. Other overpriced houses sat on the side of "hills", small mountains in Patrick's opinion, overlooking the rest of the world where all of the "little" people existed. It wasn't that it was offensive to his sensibilities, but it was fucking weird.
"Y'know, whenever we come out here to start recording, you should stay with me" Pete had moved up behind Patrick rather quietly, or maybe the younger man just hadn't been paying any attention, and sure, the idea sounded amazing. If Patrick was being honest with himself, which was something he excelled at doing the complete opposite of, he'd acknowledge that things just didn't feel right when he wasn't hanging out with Pete. Quoting the same stupid movies, practical jokes, and those little stolen moments when they'd fall asleep leaning against one another.
From somewhere in the house, his thoughts were interrupted once more by a feminine voice, a laugh, just something else to remind Patrick exactly where he was, who he was, where he stood.
When the time came to move out to LA to start recording, he ended up on the phone with Bob Bryar.
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"I'm an expert on this" Bob had drunkenly announced, motioning vaguely to the BBQ pit they had dragged from their apartment down to the apartment complex's pool, or as Patrick lovingly referred to it, the "community potty", not at all fooled by the shit-eating grin on the face of the little 7 year old who was floating around on an inflatable alligator.
"An expert on scorching our food?" Patrick had confirmed, watching with bewilderment, wondering how somebody can really burn food so effortlessly.
"This is what they call BBQ" Bob had slurred, pointing one of the sharp little...whatever it was called, at Patrick, making the younger man really wonder if anybody in that band was ever sober or aware of what was going on. Even Gerard, the residential "sober" one seemed to have his head in the clouds. Well, or he had dozed off on a nearby lawnchair. Upon further investigation, and a gentle poke to the side of the head, Patrick had ruled out the previous thought, making a mental note to ridicule him later when he was lobster-red.
"It looks like I'm ordering pizza tonight" Patrick concluded as he gave up on the entire thing, pulling his Blackberry out to check his messages.
"Hey, didn't you invite Wentz to come over" Gerard had mumbled, making the two men hovering around the pit jump somewhat, a slight scowl forming on Patrick's face.
"Yeah well. Y'know...Michelle. Or whoever. Whatever."
"Wow...this reminds me of..."
"Bob" Gerard warned, though he kept his eyes closed, shifting a bit where he continued to remain sprawled out on the lawn chair "I mean it..."
"It's a bit like the epic battle between Gerard and Frank..."
"Bob!"
"You mean they aren't fucking?" Patrick had asked, completely shocked, ignoring Gerard who was now a mass of arms and legs, flailing around on the lawnchair, attempting to get up, but resembled more of a turtle on his back.
"Basically, they're still tap-dancing around it" Bob said solemnly, ignoring his bandmates squeaks of protest, instead barreling over his threats "Gerard's too much of a chickenshit to just fuck the guy already or something, and vice-versa. I swear, I've never seen two guys tap-dance around wanting to hump so much in my life. Well ...I didn't until this summer" Stopping his train of thought, Bob simply raised his eyebrow at Patrick until he had the younger man scowling, sipping silently from his beer.
"Basically, Stump. You're a musical genius, but you're the biggest dumbass when it comes to the obvious" Bob stated calmly, going back to work on scorching their dinner.
The only logical thing to do was wait until later on when Bob finally passed out, and piss on his laundry before turning the dryer back on.
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Still, it was strange how, once the album came out and all of the madness associated with it followed, time started to tick just a little quicker. Pete went back to Jeanae, then went to Ashlee, then wasn't with Ashlee, then was with Ashlee again, and Patrick even found ways to distract himself once or twice in a few random people, though he was always much more discreet about things than Pete ever could hope to be, though the worst twinge of jealousy came somewhere in the deep south, some stop for gas, and for buses full of guys, and one lone girl, to try and find somewhere to crap.
"I think I'm falling in love with her..."
"What?" Patrick had been sitting on the curb, the heat itself being nothing compared to how muggy it seemed to get after a good, hard rain. The steam seemed to be never-ending, but it added life and greenery to the trees off in the distance, despite the 18 wheelers and cars wizzing past them on I10 not all that long ago. He thought they were maybe in Alabama, but he couldn't be sure.
"I just...Ashlee. I really think I'm falling in love with her"
"Oh..." Patrick really had intended on it being a lot happier sounding somehow, but it was honestly getting entirely too hard to just pretend. It would be easier, he supposed, if it didn't feel like everyone in the band was waiting for the inevitable. If he didn't have half of My Chemical Romance calling him, also waiting for the inevitable. Hell, even if he had hooked up with Vicky, she was in on the whole thing, nudging Patrick with a quietly whispered "You should just talk to him".
"What's your problem?" It hadn't been what Patrick expected Pete to say, the slightly shocked look on his face only irritating Pete further. "You just...I can't even talk to you anymore without you snapping at me. I mean...fuck Patrick, I'm sorry if me speaking to you offends you so much" Before he was standing up, disappearing somewhere around the corner of the gas station, the wet slap of sneakers against pavement disappearing long after the sight of him had.
Fucking excellent.
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"You know...you ever think that maybe, people mistake comfort for love?" Her voice sounded funny, stretched kind of thin through various forms of technology, wiring, satellite. Sound frequencies can only be manipulated so much before they lost their quality, Pete noticed, as he laid there, wondering if he was actually going to die from a heatstroke in the middle of Africa. He had never said this in his life, but he felt entirely too...white-bread suddenly.
"What do you mean?" He knew he sounded dead tired, his voice barely audible, but he could hear shuffling around on the other end of the phone as Ashlee switched the phone from one shoulder to the other.
"I just...I think people sometimes mistaken being in love for simply getting along with eachother and everything being okay. Like, hey, I'm not fighting with this person, and the sex is pretty good, and we get along alright. I must be in love. That kind of thing" She explained as she walked around his kitchen, having come over to check on Hemmy, who was preoccupied, face-first in his foodbowl, snooting and snorting away happily as he ate his dinner. She crouched down to pet him carefully, slowly. Like it'd be the last time she'd be doing this, and in a way, she knew it was.
"I...what are you even talking about?" Pete could feel that familiar headache forming between his eyes, because this was coming out of nowhere. Really, it was one of those "What the fuck?" conversations that often left his head spinning, left him laying there for a while trying to compute everything that had been thrown at him. He hated these the worst. "Ashlee..."
"I think maybe..." Ashlee trailed off as she walked through the livingroom, stopping at the batch of pictures that covered the front of his fridge now, various pictures of his friends, plenty of Hemmy and a lot of herself with Pete, but there was one picture dead-center she couldn't take her eyes off of. They were leaning against eachother, Pete's eyes squinted just right to make those laugh-lines that she really thought were the most adorable things ever, Patrick's face half-hidden beneath the bill of his had, but she could make out a smile, that sweet smile that absolutely nobody could deny was beautiful. It made what she had to say flow better from her mouth, because it confirmed everything she had collected, all of the information she had been mulling over for a while now. "I think maybe this isn't going to work. This...isn't supposed to be comfortable, Pete. Take a look around you, who's always been there? Who's able to disarm you with just a word or a look? I...it's not me. I know it's not me..." She could hear her voice breaking somewhere in this, but the most bizarre thing? She felt...hopeful. Hopeful that maybe, just because it wasn't with Pete, she could maybe find what the person on the other end of this damn cellphone had found, even if he seemed perfectly oblivious to it.
"You're breaking up with me. Standing in my own kitchen." Pete had whispered as he sat up slowly, his head spinning. He had to say, this was the calmest breakup he had ever gone through.
"I'm suggesting you talk to him" Ashlee said quietly, her eyes never quite leaving the picture as she flipped her phone shut. She'd keep coming over to feed Hemmy and take him out, there wasn't any point in starving the dog just because she broke up with his owner. She'd maybe just discreetly remove her stuff from around the house, just so he wouldn't have to go through that process.
Meanwhile, that left Pete halfway across the globe, staring wide-eyed at his phone, a strange, nervous feeling infesting his gut. Well, she had a point, but how many times, by how many other girls, had he been told the same exact thing? He remembered it was different with each of them. Morgan had been snide, hissing that he could finally just go "fuck him already", Jeanae had been frustrated and crying, insisting she was sick of being his beard for fuck's sake, and Michelle had just shaken her head, mumbling something about closet-cases before she had left. He'd give Ashlee points, because that was the best way he had been told it.
At some point, he got up off of his makeshift bed, wandering outside to where Patrick was sitting down on the hood of the jeep they had been transported here and there in. The thing was a piece of shit, but as Patrick pointed out, it just felt that much more authentic. He was a sucker for authentic, not wanting to stay anywhere "super nice", though he didn't like feeling like he was going to die at every turn. And he felt a need to announce they were going to die at nearly every turn too, but Pete could live with dying if the other man was there with him.
Fuck, so she was right.
"Hey..." Pete hadn't intended on his voice sounding as scratchy as it did when he finally spoke up, making his presence known, though Patrick didn't even budge, a serene little smile forming on his face before he glanced off to the side, head tilting a little in thought before patting the spot next to him. Pete hopped up on the hood of the jeep, his eyes following wherever Patrick's were, which seemed to be fixed somewhere on the horizon where the sun was starting to set. It was all different here, even the way the sun would disappear off beyond the edge of the world, though the warm copper glow seemed to match the tendrils of light that always got caught in the few stray strands of hair sticking out from under Patrick's hat. Like the way the specks of green and gold seemed almost metallic, placed carefully over a muted blue. This felt like the edge of the earth to Pete right now, and once again, he was there. Sitting there next to the same person who remained the control in his experiment of a life. Different variables always diluted the original formula, but once removed, the ingredients were pretty simple. "She....we broke up" Pete explained quietly, though his voice seemed distant, his eyes still following the sleepy sun, disappearing behind red dirt and strange, almost naked looking trees.
"Why?" Pete hadn't exactly been expecting that to be Patrick's reaction, his head turning to study Patrick's face, finding him still following the sun, much like he had been, though green-purple dots flooded his vision now that he had looked away.
"She...gave me this big spiel. Something about people mistaking love for comfort, or whatever"
"Sounds familiar" Patrick drawled slowly, Pete's voice fading soon after that, the two of them listening to the calm quiet. The quiet really wasn't that natural, it was muted somewhere underneath with desperation and despair, sadness and loss, but that eventual hope that tomorrow brought something much better. Children were still off in the distance, chasing eachother around. Women sitting nearby, no doubt gossiping amongst themselves, were laughing, one woman's laughter carrying out over the rest of them. "Anna gave me the same speech" Patrick explained after he and Pete had let their eyes drift from the blinding orange-gold sun, the younger man shifting a little to place his hands behind himself on the hood of the old jeep. Pete could picture the red-clay dirt sticking to the palms of his hands. He could picture the orange, smudged handprints on his thighs later when he went to wipe the dirt off on them. It was really like Pete had seen this movie before.
"Did she..." Pete asked, his body turning somewhat towards Patrick's, knowing he'd be dusting the layer of dirt, this same dirt he really needed to wash away at this point, though it was starting to feel like it had soaked into his bloodstream, it was lodged beneath the surface of his skin. He felt raw, wounded somehow by the rose-colored glasses being ripped off of his eyes at this point, and it wasn't really because of Ashlee. This felt like the edge of the world. Like the sun would never be seen again.
"I think..." Patrick had started to speak, his mouth staying open for a moment as he struggled with what words he wanted to place together, his voice seeming a little frayed at the edges. It matched how Pete felt right now as they sat there on the edge of the world "I think maybe...there's something to..." Once again, the words seemed to catch, a frustrated sigh escaping Patrick eventually before he shifted a little closer to Pete, his hand leaving behind a slightly cleared-off path to the green-gray paint job beneath layers of caked on dirt, no doubt making a mess out of his jeans, but he didn't seem to care in that moment. "Look, I'm just going to do this, and I really just hope you don't freak out" the words came out in a jumbled, nervous mess, and Pete had seen this movie before. He knew it before Patrick leaned in, allowing himself to meet him halfway, just the slightest brushing of lips over eachother, a dipped foot in the swimming pool before allowing their lips to press together. They seemed oblivious to the cool wind starting to blow somewhere, the way the world was growing darker behind them as the sleepy sun said it's goodnights off in the distance, but it was at once that the world didn't feel like it was ending. Just transforming. Changing.
"She said...I should talk to you. Ashlee did, I mean. Fuck...Patrick, I mean I really have so much to say to you" Pete's own words were failing him in this moment, but he didn't have enough metaphors to even match it, to even explain the boy, still so much like he was all those years ago when he had met him at the front door of his mother's house, only innocent to the naked eye, though there was an old soul that lurked somewhere beneath the almost pristine surface.
"Shut up, Pete" Patrick muttered quietly, trailing his fingertips over the back of Pete's neck, pulling him in for another careful kiss. The world seemed oblivious around them anyway, the children having been ushered inside, the women no doubt being the ones to rush them inside, only the sun seeming to care as it hovered on the brink of disappearing over the edge of the earth for one last peek of Pete brushing a clay-red smudge of dirt from Patrick's cheek before allowing itself to rest somewhere beyond the trees.
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"So what do you think love is?" Pete had asked, lounging back on the "bed" outside, the solid weight of Patrick's back pressed to his chest only stilling his breath just slightly. It was a good weight, a safe feeling that crossed Pete's mind as he watched the sun disappear off behind the hills somewhere. It wasn't the same here in California, the sun just didn't seem as big, as desperate and bold, but at least it captured the copper-red tones of Patrick's hair as he threaded his fingers idly through it, fingertips brushing affectionately where it thinned out to near nonexistence somewhere towards the crown. He liked that he was the only person Patrick would even allow to do this.
"I think it's a bit like when the doctor slaps you on the ass when you're born" Patrick replied, ignoring the snort from behind him, carrying on sleepily "I mean it...like, that initial slap and you start breathing, you know? I think that's what love is. That initial slap. It's that thing that crawls under your skin and never leaves, no matter how bad it itches, no matter how insane it makes you, it becomes you. It's that part of you that stays with you until the day you die. I think it's that person who embodies that, you know? That initial slap on the ass that makes you start breathing..."
"This is probably why I write the lyrics, I just wanted you to know that" Pete had muttered quietly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to the top of Patrick's head, ignoring the indignant little scoff that followed his statement. "But yeah...that would seem about right."
"Sometimes I'm right" Patrick confirmed with a sated smile, allowing his eyes to shut once he felt Pete's fingertips sneaking beneath the hem of his worn tshirt, brushing lightly over the pale, heated skin that peeked out over the waistband of his pajama pants, though he was long gone, the setting sun off in the distance lulling Patrick to sleep and Pete deep into thought.