Kiss 'Er Goodbye, Pete/Patrick, Fall Out Boy
Title: Kiss 'Er Goodbye
Author: becomingblurred/Donner
Pairing: Pete/Ashlee, Pete/Patrick friendship
Word Count: 963
Rating: PG
Summary: It's over. It's done.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen.
Author's Notes: Done for we_are_cities July 14 07 prompt.
Kiss 'Er Goodbye
By Donna
Patrick never thought he’d run out of things to say to Pete. Even though there were times that he refused to speak to him, it didn’t mean that he had ran out of things. He simply didn’t want to. But this topped every situation he’d ever had with him. And while there were plenty of times that he wasn’t quite familiar with the subject that was Pete’s life (“accidental” overdoses, experiments below the waist, dating Hollywood starlets...), he always was able to at least squeeze a “I’m your friend” or “I’m here for you” out of his mouth.
But this. This was something he couldn’t even begin to figure out how to word as if he could pretend to make everything better.
He looked at the window and saw the west coast sun and trees shine across his face, but he couldn’t help but feel as miserable as Pete. Maybe it came with being the sidekick of the king of the scene. Whatever that meant.
Patrick looked back at the tiny room and saw how Pete was across it, tossing brand new toys into the corner that was near where Patrick collapsed. Patrick’s eyes darted between the brightly colored trinkets and the friend that was placing them there, picking them off shelves and out of drawers.
Pete knew that Patrick was speechless, so he decided to make up his own conversation. “It was just as well,” Pete repeated over and over as he pulled a book on farm animals out from between two bookends shaped like teddy bears. He glanced down the buttons that were attached to the book and tossed it in the corner, nearly hitting Patrick. It slammed against a wiffle ball bat. A cool female voice said “the cow goes moo” when it landed on the floor. Patrick winced.
Pete looked up and then back down at the furniture.
Patrick finally fished a question from out of his mess of a head. “So how is she doing?”
“Okay. She’ll be out in a few days. And then she’s going to pack her things and leave.”
“...Why? Are you breaking up?” Patrick asked, his voice suddenly child-like.
“We have to, Patrick. Everything we made is in ruins now.” He then tossed a stuffed dinosaur directly at Patrick’s knee. Patrick felt the glass eye slam into his leg and he yelped. He grabbed the dinosaur and looked at it, noticing how the other eye was scratched up against the hardwood floor. He hugged it tightly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come out here sooner,” he mumbled into the dinosaur’s skin.
“You never had to. And it wasn’t your fault that the rainclouds decided to stall at O’Hare.” Pete double-checked the drawers. “I mean, you were the one that told me it was a bad idea. That I wasn’t ready. That she was too young. Now there’s nothing to be angry about. It’s gone. Dead.”
Pete left the room before Patrick could form a proper reply (suddenly, his mind was full of them). He looked at the ground and the dinosaur and couldn’t help but feel like he was the villain in all this.
Pete returned with a box of black garbage bags and yanked one out for him and another for Patrick.
Patrick gulped and said, “But still. It wasn’t supposed to end up like this. I mean, you had three seasons to get better and just... it just wasn’t supposed to be this way.” He pulled at the garbage bag and tried to find the opening of it.
Pete grabbed several toys from the pile and shoved them into his bag. “I’m thinking that I should move home. This place keeps giving me too much false hope.”
Patrick took the dinosaur and shoved it into the bag. “Do you think you can handle being back home?”
“Probably. It really never betrayed me, yet.” Pete looked out the window. “I mean, this place is just not mine. This skyline’s not mine. This home has always been everyone else’s. And this room belongs to someone that was never alive.”
“...Pete,” and his reply fell flat. If home was where the heart was, it definitely explained the coldness of Pete’s reaction to this whole thing. “...Just don’t forget him.”
Pete finished filling up his garbage bag and tied it off. “Ill try. But leaving him as a nameless blip in my life was the way I was planning on surviving this.”
A typical Pete reply. It wasn’t a suicide attempt. There were never any affairs. There was never a child. At the rate he was going, there was never a Pete Wentz.
Patrick filled his own bag and did a three-sixty around the room, taking in the empty basinet. The empty changing station. The empty man right next to him.
“Oh,” Pete said, “Put the bag in my truck. I’m going to donate all the toys, and the clothes.”
Patrick went out into the garage and punched in the key code under the handle of the driver’s side door. He unlocked the truck and tossed the garbage bag inside. When it landed it slumped over in the middle seat, almost as if it had given up as well as everyone else in the house.
Pete appeared on the steps into the garage and handed over his own bag to Patrick. Patrick took the bag and tossed it next to the other one. He shut the door and leaned against the truck, wrapping his arms across his chest.
Pete lurched down a step. “Oh, I was trying to convince her to name him Martin.”
Patrick looked up at Pete as if he did the killing himself. He dropped to his knees and cried against the concrete.
end
Author: becomingblurred/Donner
Pairing: Pete/Ashlee, Pete/Patrick friendship
Word Count: 963
Rating: PG
Summary: It's over. It's done.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Didn't happen.
Author's Notes: Done for we_are_cities July 14 07 prompt.
Kiss 'Er Goodbye
By Donna
Patrick never thought he’d run out of things to say to Pete. Even though there were times that he refused to speak to him, it didn’t mean that he had ran out of things. He simply didn’t want to. But this topped every situation he’d ever had with him. And while there were plenty of times that he wasn’t quite familiar with the subject that was Pete’s life (“accidental” overdoses, experiments below the waist, dating Hollywood starlets...), he always was able to at least squeeze a “I’m your friend” or “I’m here for you” out of his mouth.
But this. This was something he couldn’t even begin to figure out how to word as if he could pretend to make everything better.
He looked at the window and saw the west coast sun and trees shine across his face, but he couldn’t help but feel as miserable as Pete. Maybe it came with being the sidekick of the king of the scene. Whatever that meant.
Patrick looked back at the tiny room and saw how Pete was across it, tossing brand new toys into the corner that was near where Patrick collapsed. Patrick’s eyes darted between the brightly colored trinkets and the friend that was placing them there, picking them off shelves and out of drawers.
Pete knew that Patrick was speechless, so he decided to make up his own conversation. “It was just as well,” Pete repeated over and over as he pulled a book on farm animals out from between two bookends shaped like teddy bears. He glanced down the buttons that were attached to the book and tossed it in the corner, nearly hitting Patrick. It slammed against a wiffle ball bat. A cool female voice said “the cow goes moo” when it landed on the floor. Patrick winced.
Pete looked up and then back down at the furniture.
Patrick finally fished a question from out of his mess of a head. “So how is she doing?”
“Okay. She’ll be out in a few days. And then she’s going to pack her things and leave.”
“...Why? Are you breaking up?” Patrick asked, his voice suddenly child-like.
“We have to, Patrick. Everything we made is in ruins now.” He then tossed a stuffed dinosaur directly at Patrick’s knee. Patrick felt the glass eye slam into his leg and he yelped. He grabbed the dinosaur and looked at it, noticing how the other eye was scratched up against the hardwood floor. He hugged it tightly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come out here sooner,” he mumbled into the dinosaur’s skin.
“You never had to. And it wasn’t your fault that the rainclouds decided to stall at O’Hare.” Pete double-checked the drawers. “I mean, you were the one that told me it was a bad idea. That I wasn’t ready. That she was too young. Now there’s nothing to be angry about. It’s gone. Dead.”
Pete left the room before Patrick could form a proper reply (suddenly, his mind was full of them). He looked at the ground and the dinosaur and couldn’t help but feel like he was the villain in all this.
Pete returned with a box of black garbage bags and yanked one out for him and another for Patrick.
Patrick gulped and said, “But still. It wasn’t supposed to end up like this. I mean, you had three seasons to get better and just... it just wasn’t supposed to be this way.” He pulled at the garbage bag and tried to find the opening of it.
Pete grabbed several toys from the pile and shoved them into his bag. “I’m thinking that I should move home. This place keeps giving me too much false hope.”
Patrick took the dinosaur and shoved it into the bag. “Do you think you can handle being back home?”
“Probably. It really never betrayed me, yet.” Pete looked out the window. “I mean, this place is just not mine. This skyline’s not mine. This home has always been everyone else’s. And this room belongs to someone that was never alive.”
“...Pete,” and his reply fell flat. If home was where the heart was, it definitely explained the coldness of Pete’s reaction to this whole thing. “...Just don’t forget him.”
Pete finished filling up his garbage bag and tied it off. “Ill try. But leaving him as a nameless blip in my life was the way I was planning on surviving this.”
A typical Pete reply. It wasn’t a suicide attempt. There were never any affairs. There was never a child. At the rate he was going, there was never a Pete Wentz.
Patrick filled his own bag and did a three-sixty around the room, taking in the empty basinet. The empty changing station. The empty man right next to him.
“Oh,” Pete said, “Put the bag in my truck. I’m going to donate all the toys, and the clothes.”
Patrick went out into the garage and punched in the key code under the handle of the driver’s side door. He unlocked the truck and tossed the garbage bag inside. When it landed it slumped over in the middle seat, almost as if it had given up as well as everyone else in the house.
Pete appeared on the steps into the garage and handed over his own bag to Patrick. Patrick took the bag and tossed it next to the other one. He shut the door and leaned against the truck, wrapping his arms across his chest.
Pete lurched down a step. “Oh, I was trying to convince her to name him Martin.”
Patrick looked up at Pete as if he did the killing himself. He dropped to his knees and cried against the concrete.
end