Have some random writing.
I was bored in class, so I wrote this in Psychology and typed it up in Earth Science. It's not much, it's not titled, it's not beta'd, but the severe lack of Peterick on LJ recently kills me on the inside. So enjoy.
The nights are never long enough after a long day. All of the effort put in to making it from morning to evening never gets the chance to restore, even when the nights get longer and the leaves fall to make way for the snow. Pete makes it his business to make these nights even longer for the one person that deserves them. The tiny, yet resilient man is curled in his arms and Pete has no intention of letting go until the world crumbles around them or Patrick struggles and groans for him to “let go, seriously.”
Today, Patrick is cold in his arms, soaked and shivering from the downpour he was forced to trudge through, even if it was only from his car to the door. He stares silently at a hole in Pete’s couch that’s been there for so long, he doesn’t remember it not being there let alone what it came from.
“Patrick,” Pete murmurs, trying to get those eyes to leave the couch and look at him. He succeeds, only for a split second as Patrick flicks his icy blues up to look at Pete, then back at the couch. They’re positively Artic today, seeming almost as cold as the hands shoved underneath Pete’s shirt. Yesterday they were warm and tinged with green like the Pacific. He could never relate Patrick’s eyes to anything but an ocean - they were deep, ever-changing and ancient as if they’ve seen the birth of the world, yet always teeming with new life. There was no analogy more perfect.
Pete is lost in his thoughts long enough to elicit a questioning noise from the man on his lap, curious but not prodding, as Patrick has always been when it comes to Pete’s quirks. “Patrick,” Pete says again, quieter this time. “You’re my forever girl.”
Patrick snorts, Pete mentally adding the eye roll that he knows accompanies such a noise. “You need to learn some anatomy, Pete. I’m pretty sure I’m a dude.”
“I’ll learn your anatomy,” Pete says in reply, this time getting Patrick to glance up at him to let him see this eyes roll. “You’re missing the point, Patrick.”
“What is your point?” Patrick asks, squirming to face Pete properly. “You said the same thing to me last week.”
“I only said I loved you last week,” Pete says, his finger up matter-of-factly. “This is the real deal, though. This time, you’re my forever.”
Patrick lies back against Pete’s chest, an exasperated breath escaping his lips. Pete frowns a bit at the response, but he pulls Patrick close again until he hears a murmured jumble of words.
“You’re my forever, too.”
The nights are never long enough after a long day. All of the effort put in to making it from morning to evening never gets the chance to restore, even when the nights get longer and the leaves fall to make way for the snow. Pete makes it his business to make these nights even longer for the one person that deserves them. The tiny, yet resilient man is curled in his arms and Pete has no intention of letting go until the world crumbles around them or Patrick struggles and groans for him to “let go, seriously.”
Today, Patrick is cold in his arms, soaked and shivering from the downpour he was forced to trudge through, even if it was only from his car to the door. He stares silently at a hole in Pete’s couch that’s been there for so long, he doesn’t remember it not being there let alone what it came from.
“Patrick,” Pete murmurs, trying to get those eyes to leave the couch and look at him. He succeeds, only for a split second as Patrick flicks his icy blues up to look at Pete, then back at the couch. They’re positively Artic today, seeming almost as cold as the hands shoved underneath Pete’s shirt. Yesterday they were warm and tinged with green like the Pacific. He could never relate Patrick’s eyes to anything but an ocean - they were deep, ever-changing and ancient as if they’ve seen the birth of the world, yet always teeming with new life. There was no analogy more perfect.
Pete is lost in his thoughts long enough to elicit a questioning noise from the man on his lap, curious but not prodding, as Patrick has always been when it comes to Pete’s quirks. “Patrick,” Pete says again, quieter this time. “You’re my forever girl.”
Patrick snorts, Pete mentally adding the eye roll that he knows accompanies such a noise. “You need to learn some anatomy, Pete. I’m pretty sure I’m a dude.”
“I’ll learn your anatomy,” Pete says in reply, this time getting Patrick to glance up at him to let him see this eyes roll. “You’re missing the point, Patrick.”
“What is your point?” Patrick asks, squirming to face Pete properly. “You said the same thing to me last week.”
“I only said I loved you last week,” Pete says, his finger up matter-of-factly. “This is the real deal, though. This time, you’re my forever.”
Patrick lies back against Pete’s chest, an exasperated breath escaping his lips. Pete frowns a bit at the response, but he pulls Patrick close again until he hears a murmured jumble of words.
“You’re my forever, too.”