Anon_Love Filler: I Should Have Seen It
Title: I Should Have Seen It (5 Times There Were Signs and No One Really Noticed or Paid Close Attention and 1 Time It Was Too Late)
Number: 5/10
Pairing: Pete/Patrick, friendships Pete/Gabe, Pete/Ashlee, Pete/Travis, Pete/Reader
P.O.V: 3rd Person
Prompt: high school AU: suicidal Pete tries to subtlety say his goodbyes. whether anyone/who catches on is your choice.
Kinks: Angst, suicide.
Rated: PG - 15
Disclaimer: I do now own Fall Out Boy or you (because slavery is bad). Any events here are purely fictional.
----------------------------------------
The 1st Time (Or How Pete Gave the Responsibility Of Hemingway To Gabe)
“I’m going away for a while,” Pete tells Gabe out of the blue as they walked down the halls of their school, already late for class but not giving a fuck.
It was Algebra after all; the World’s Most Useless Subject (as they had dubbed it) and they were not in any hurry to get there.
“Where?”
“Eh, somewhere. Far away and all that shit, you know?”
Whatever, it wasn’t in his place to pry.
“When are you going?”
Pete shrugged, running a hand through his dark hair.
“Soon,” he said, dodging the question once more. “And I was wondering…could you watch and take care of Hemingway when I’m gone?”
He stops in his track, peering at his shorter friend with scrutiny. “Your dog? Really?”
“Really man,” Pete said. “Can you, please?”
“I’m not sure man…I mean…my dad and my mom-“ His face hardens at the mention of his mother but then he pushes his feelings aside. “-they just got a divorce. Dad’s still tying to get things steady for me.”
“Come on man, just this once? He’s not going to be a bother or anything. I…I just need to make sure he’s in good hands. He’ll love your dogs company.”
“They would like to have a new face and playmate…” He stops in his tracks, weighing his options on whether or not he should really take the dog in. “Well…”
Pete, hearing him waver, decides to give his secret weapon: a puppy face, making whimpers to get just the effect.
It worked.
Gabe rolls his eyes and sighs, agreeing to take care of the British Bulldog. How hard could it be? It’ll only be for a little while after all.
Pete hugs him in thanks and, for some reason as he hugs him back, he feels like that he’ll be taking care of Hemingway for a long, long time.
The 2nd Time (Or How Pete Lets Travis Knows What His Funeral Clothing Should Be)
They were at his house when it happened.
Pete, for some reason, was going through his closet and stirring up shit by throwing everything everywhere.
Travis just lay on the bed, looking at his friend with bemused interest as the other boy tried on certain clothing, looked hard at his reflection before throwing the clothing down to one pile or another before repeating the messy process.
He finally couldn’t resist. “What the hell are you doing?”
Pete shrugged, his usual response to everything lately, and went back to what he was doing.
Finally, after an hour of this, he stops and picks up certain clothing from the ground and dumps it on his bed without a word or warning.
The clothing, Travis realized as he sat up to get a better look at them, was a simple black t-shirt with an obscure band on it and a pair of well worn jeans, complete with a red tie with a music note on the corner. The tie was an anniversary gift from Patrick.
“I look best in these,” Pete declares, neatening them up now as he folded them up and stashed them under the bed. “Remember that, will you Travis?”
“The hell?” he scoffed. “I ain’t no rolodex.”
“Please? Just in case.”
Travis looks at him hard, as if he could read minds and was in his at the moment (if only, if only). “Why?”
Pete shrugs once more and Travis knows he won’t get an answer now. Instead, he promises that he will remember what the clothing was.
He wants to ask more questions but then he gets a text from Katy, asking for him to come home. He cares for Pete but he loves Katy.
It’s just a phase, he tells himself as he leaves the Wentz household. Whatever the hell Pete’s doing, he’ll stop. My boy isn’t stupid.
The 3rd Time (Or How Pete Wants Ashlee to Know How Great She Is)
It was after Music Class and it was Lunch, so they decided to hang out in the Music classroom instead. The teacher let them stay, seeing that they were the few in class really interested in it.
“You were great at the talent show portion,” he told her, handing her a sandwich from his backpack. “The hoedown was really funny.”
She smiles, feeling silly still from the whole incident. “I’m such an idiot,” she sighs. “I can’t believe I blamed Nate and the others when I goofed up and forgot the lyrics of the song. I’m glad they’re not mad at me.”
“You’re not an idiot,” he tells her, kissing her cheek. Even though they weren’t going out anymore, he still cared for her and it was obvious right now. “You choked up, that’s all.”
“But I shouldn’t be choking up all the time,” she said, frustration clear in her voice. “I’m…I’m a nobody. Maybe the others are right, I’m not like Jessica.”
Pete suddenly grabs her shoulders, looking at her with a determined glint in his eyes that surprises her.
“Pete-“ With a small motion of his head, he stops her from talking.
“Ashlee…never ever say that about yourself. You’re the funniest, sweetest, prettiest girl I’ve ever met in my entire fucking life and I’m happy that I got the chance to be your boyfriend. You’re kind, sweet and lovable. You’re smart in your own way.
Fuck them if they try to compare you to Jessica. Fuck them. I personally think you’re better than your sister.
You’re the best. You’re great. The fucking best. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Thank…thank you Pete.”
He smiles at her, saying nothing and just giving her a hug.
She hugs him back and for some reason, she feels like it feels like a goodbye but ignores it.
Must still be her nerves, that’s all.
The 4th Time (Or How Pete Gave You the Reason Why He Was Doing This. Vaguely)
You and he were at his place, sitting on the roof watching the starry skies. At first, you didn’t even want to be here. Exams were closing in and you declined but he kept pushing, he’s been pushy lately, so you agreed just too keep him happy.
It was surprisingly relaxing. You two had a couple of drinks and were quite loose now. At the moment, he was pointing out the stars, telling which constellation was what and what his thoughts of them were. He pities Virgo a lot.
“I envy those stars,” he said to you as he took a gulp from his shot glass. “So carefree and unburden by the world. Not having to worry about themselves or how others view them. Just staying up there, twinkling away.”
You nod, buzzed not but hearing the words. “But…” you said, trying not to slur. “But…it must be really boring to be a star. Just being there and doing nothing.”
“Boring,” he agreed. “But safe and happy at least. No pressure…no problems…no flaws. Lucky stars. I wish I can be them.”
“You’re not though,” you laugh. “You’re human.”
He smiles a secret smile, as if he has something you can never have (until it was too late, of course). “I can find a way.”
That unnerved you but you were drunk so you simply brushed the feelings off to nothing more but the impending hurling in the morning. You and Pete raise a toast to the future, hoping to be just like the stars. Well known and seen by everyone.
It’s the next morning now, and you’re in your room. You don’t really remember the exact conversation, the hangover a big factor in that, but you do remember a sense of ill-feeling now and it wasn’t from hurling.
You brush it off, chalking it up from the nervousness of stress.
The 5th Time (Or How Pete Lets Patrick Know He Always Loves Him and This Isn’t His Fault)
They just finished making out under their tree despite the rather chilly weather, and Patrick felt so happy right now.
Pete’s been so attentive to him lately. Complimenting him, making sure to say ‘I love you’ at the right times, always trying to keep him happy.
He never felt so loved or taken care of before and this made him feel so lucky to be with Pete once more.
“I want you to know,” Pete whispered in his ear, as he slowly drifted off to the land of dreams and make believe. He felt that warm, gentle hand run through his hair, soothing him and lulling him to sleep even faster.
“That you were one of…no, you were THE best thing to ever have happened to me. You made me feel better about myself and I love you Patrick.
Whatever I do, whatever happens, it is NEVER your fault. Alright baby? Remember that: It was my choice alone, not yours. You didn’t do anything and I want to keep it that way. You shouldn’t be blame for another person’s actions, especially when you have no idea what had happened.”
Pete rocks him back and forth, and he feels something wet on his cheek now. Tears? Why would Pete be crying?
“I…love…I love you baby…I love you so much. If there is any other way to do this, I would have taken it but there isn’t. And…I want you happy. That’s…why I’m doing this. You’re better off…”
He didn’t hear the rest of the words. He was already asleep by then (and oh! How he regrets it).
When he wakes up, Pete is all smiles and hugs and his initial worries melt away. Pete helps him up, walking him back home and kissing him a good day before leaving.
Patrick watches him, feeling like the luckiest guy in the world now.
Too Late (Or How You Realized But…)
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong, your mind was screaming at you. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
It was his final text message that you realize what he was planning to do.
After school, he was apparently sick and decided to stay at home, when you were with everyone one else. You got a text from him and you checked on it.
It’s no one’s fault, the text read, I love you guys.
That was when everything for the past few weeks made sense now. Hemingway, the clothing, those weird conversations…
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
You should have noticed it damn it but you didn’t and now he was going to go through with it. Now.
Ignoring the others’ questions and inquiries, you burst into a sprint to get to him before it was all too late.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Your legs feel like they were going to give in, your lungs would explode and your head would burst into a million little pieces but you kept running.
You felt sick and nauseous but you kept pushing yourself. You felt like you were gonna die but it motivated you to keep your feet moving across the asphalt of the streets.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Why didn’t you notice it until now? Were you really that caught up with your studies? What about everyone else? Why didn’t anyone notice the signs?
Hopefully, if (when, you correct yourself) you stop Pete, you’ll get all the answers from him.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
You’re nearly there! You can see his house and you try to make yourself faster.
Big mistake.
You trip on something or your legs did give out. Either way, you’re now falling. You hit the pavement, scraping your knees, palms and cheeks.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
You hear, even all the way from where you were sprawled across, Mrs. Wentz’s screams of horror and grief.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Idiot.
----------------------------------------
Well…I certainly broke my promise to no longer make emo stuff, didn’t I?
Haha…
Notes on these:
Based on personal experience and research on this, there are usual signs of how someone could be ready to kill themselves. Hopefully, this is a realistic portrayal of the process.
I think Hemingway, Pete’s beloved dog, is a British Bulldog from what I can tell from the pictures and videos of him. If I’m wrong though, let me know.
Gabe is around 17(?), the time his parents divorced and he was nursing some ill feelings to his mother back in those days. I think at least, I'm not so sure now.
The references to the two dogs Gabe have are real. Since Gabe sadly tweeted about the death of ‘his other dog Bailey’ when he found out the poor thing got hit by a car and died. :(
Travis/Katy is a favorite paring of mine, as you might have noticed. >___>
The talent show is an obvious, glaring reference to the SNL Incident.
Lemony Snicket fans may have noticed the ‘Wrong. Wrong. Wrong’ thing I was doing for the final Time and connected it to the The Penultimate Peril
Hoped you enjoyed reading this.
Number: 5/10
Pairing: Pete/Patrick, friendships Pete/Gabe, Pete/Ashlee, Pete/Travis, Pete/Reader
P.O.V: 3rd Person
Prompt: high school AU: suicidal Pete tries to subtlety say his goodbyes. whether anyone/who catches on is your choice.
Kinks: Angst, suicide.
Rated: PG - 15
Disclaimer: I do now own Fall Out Boy or you (because slavery is bad). Any events here are purely fictional.
----------------------------------------
The 1st Time (Or How Pete Gave the Responsibility Of Hemingway To Gabe)
“I’m going away for a while,” Pete tells Gabe out of the blue as they walked down the halls of their school, already late for class but not giving a fuck.
It was Algebra after all; the World’s Most Useless Subject (as they had dubbed it) and they were not in any hurry to get there.
“Where?”
“Eh, somewhere. Far away and all that shit, you know?”
Whatever, it wasn’t in his place to pry.
“When are you going?”
Pete shrugged, running a hand through his dark hair.
“Soon,” he said, dodging the question once more. “And I was wondering…could you watch and take care of Hemingway when I’m gone?”
He stops in his track, peering at his shorter friend with scrutiny. “Your dog? Really?”
“Really man,” Pete said. “Can you, please?”
“I’m not sure man…I mean…my dad and my mom-“ His face hardens at the mention of his mother but then he pushes his feelings aside. “-they just got a divorce. Dad’s still tying to get things steady for me.”
“Come on man, just this once? He’s not going to be a bother or anything. I…I just need to make sure he’s in good hands. He’ll love your dogs company.”
“They would like to have a new face and playmate…” He stops in his tracks, weighing his options on whether or not he should really take the dog in. “Well…”
Pete, hearing him waver, decides to give his secret weapon: a puppy face, making whimpers to get just the effect.
It worked.
Gabe rolls his eyes and sighs, agreeing to take care of the British Bulldog. How hard could it be? It’ll only be for a little while after all.
Pete hugs him in thanks and, for some reason as he hugs him back, he feels like that he’ll be taking care of Hemingway for a long, long time.
The 2nd Time (Or How Pete Lets Travis Knows What His Funeral Clothing Should Be)
They were at his house when it happened.
Pete, for some reason, was going through his closet and stirring up shit by throwing everything everywhere.
Travis just lay on the bed, looking at his friend with bemused interest as the other boy tried on certain clothing, looked hard at his reflection before throwing the clothing down to one pile or another before repeating the messy process.
He finally couldn’t resist. “What the hell are you doing?”
Pete shrugged, his usual response to everything lately, and went back to what he was doing.
Finally, after an hour of this, he stops and picks up certain clothing from the ground and dumps it on his bed without a word or warning.
The clothing, Travis realized as he sat up to get a better look at them, was a simple black t-shirt with an obscure band on it and a pair of well worn jeans, complete with a red tie with a music note on the corner. The tie was an anniversary gift from Patrick.
“I look best in these,” Pete declares, neatening them up now as he folded them up and stashed them under the bed. “Remember that, will you Travis?”
“The hell?” he scoffed. “I ain’t no rolodex.”
“Please? Just in case.”
Travis looks at him hard, as if he could read minds and was in his at the moment (if only, if only). “Why?”
Pete shrugs once more and Travis knows he won’t get an answer now. Instead, he promises that he will remember what the clothing was.
He wants to ask more questions but then he gets a text from Katy, asking for him to come home. He cares for Pete but he loves Katy.
It’s just a phase, he tells himself as he leaves the Wentz household. Whatever the hell Pete’s doing, he’ll stop. My boy isn’t stupid.
The 3rd Time (Or How Pete Wants Ashlee to Know How Great She Is)
It was after Music Class and it was Lunch, so they decided to hang out in the Music classroom instead. The teacher let them stay, seeing that they were the few in class really interested in it.
“You were great at the talent show portion,” he told her, handing her a sandwich from his backpack. “The hoedown was really funny.”
She smiles, feeling silly still from the whole incident. “I’m such an idiot,” she sighs. “I can’t believe I blamed Nate and the others when I goofed up and forgot the lyrics of the song. I’m glad they’re not mad at me.”
“You’re not an idiot,” he tells her, kissing her cheek. Even though they weren’t going out anymore, he still cared for her and it was obvious right now. “You choked up, that’s all.”
“But I shouldn’t be choking up all the time,” she said, frustration clear in her voice. “I’m…I’m a nobody. Maybe the others are right, I’m not like Jessica.”
Pete suddenly grabs her shoulders, looking at her with a determined glint in his eyes that surprises her.
“Pete-“ With a small motion of his head, he stops her from talking.
“Ashlee…never ever say that about yourself. You’re the funniest, sweetest, prettiest girl I’ve ever met in my entire fucking life and I’m happy that I got the chance to be your boyfriend. You’re kind, sweet and lovable. You’re smart in your own way.
Fuck them if they try to compare you to Jessica. Fuck them. I personally think you’re better than your sister.
You’re the best. You’re great. The fucking best. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Thank…thank you Pete.”
He smiles at her, saying nothing and just giving her a hug.
She hugs him back and for some reason, she feels like it feels like a goodbye but ignores it.
Must still be her nerves, that’s all.
The 4th Time (Or How Pete Gave You the Reason Why He Was Doing This. Vaguely)
You and he were at his place, sitting on the roof watching the starry skies. At first, you didn’t even want to be here. Exams were closing in and you declined but he kept pushing, he’s been pushy lately, so you agreed just too keep him happy.
It was surprisingly relaxing. You two had a couple of drinks and were quite loose now. At the moment, he was pointing out the stars, telling which constellation was what and what his thoughts of them were. He pities Virgo a lot.
“I envy those stars,” he said to you as he took a gulp from his shot glass. “So carefree and unburden by the world. Not having to worry about themselves or how others view them. Just staying up there, twinkling away.”
You nod, buzzed not but hearing the words. “But…” you said, trying not to slur. “But…it must be really boring to be a star. Just being there and doing nothing.”
“Boring,” he agreed. “But safe and happy at least. No pressure…no problems…no flaws. Lucky stars. I wish I can be them.”
“You’re not though,” you laugh. “You’re human.”
He smiles a secret smile, as if he has something you can never have (until it was too late, of course). “I can find a way.”
That unnerved you but you were drunk so you simply brushed the feelings off to nothing more but the impending hurling in the morning. You and Pete raise a toast to the future, hoping to be just like the stars. Well known and seen by everyone.
It’s the next morning now, and you’re in your room. You don’t really remember the exact conversation, the hangover a big factor in that, but you do remember a sense of ill-feeling now and it wasn’t from hurling.
You brush it off, chalking it up from the nervousness of stress.
The 5th Time (Or How Pete Lets Patrick Know He Always Loves Him and This Isn’t His Fault)
They just finished making out under their tree despite the rather chilly weather, and Patrick felt so happy right now.
Pete’s been so attentive to him lately. Complimenting him, making sure to say ‘I love you’ at the right times, always trying to keep him happy.
He never felt so loved or taken care of before and this made him feel so lucky to be with Pete once more.
“I want you to know,” Pete whispered in his ear, as he slowly drifted off to the land of dreams and make believe. He felt that warm, gentle hand run through his hair, soothing him and lulling him to sleep even faster.
“That you were one of…no, you were THE best thing to ever have happened to me. You made me feel better about myself and I love you Patrick.
Whatever I do, whatever happens, it is NEVER your fault. Alright baby? Remember that: It was my choice alone, not yours. You didn’t do anything and I want to keep it that way. You shouldn’t be blame for another person’s actions, especially when you have no idea what had happened.”
Pete rocks him back and forth, and he feels something wet on his cheek now. Tears? Why would Pete be crying?
“I…love…I love you baby…I love you so much. If there is any other way to do this, I would have taken it but there isn’t. And…I want you happy. That’s…why I’m doing this. You’re better off…”
He didn’t hear the rest of the words. He was already asleep by then (and oh! How he regrets it).
When he wakes up, Pete is all smiles and hugs and his initial worries melt away. Pete helps him up, walking him back home and kissing him a good day before leaving.
Patrick watches him, feeling like the luckiest guy in the world now.
Too Late (Or How You Realized But…)
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong, your mind was screaming at you. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
It was his final text message that you realize what he was planning to do.
After school, he was apparently sick and decided to stay at home, when you were with everyone one else. You got a text from him and you checked on it.
It’s no one’s fault, the text read, I love you guys.
That was when everything for the past few weeks made sense now. Hemingway, the clothing, those weird conversations…
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
You should have noticed it damn it but you didn’t and now he was going to go through with it. Now.
Ignoring the others’ questions and inquiries, you burst into a sprint to get to him before it was all too late.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Your legs feel like they were going to give in, your lungs would explode and your head would burst into a million little pieces but you kept running.
You felt sick and nauseous but you kept pushing yourself. You felt like you were gonna die but it motivated you to keep your feet moving across the asphalt of the streets.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Why didn’t you notice it until now? Were you really that caught up with your studies? What about everyone else? Why didn’t anyone notice the signs?
Hopefully, if (when, you correct yourself) you stop Pete, you’ll get all the answers from him.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
You’re nearly there! You can see his house and you try to make yourself faster.
Big mistake.
You trip on something or your legs did give out. Either way, you’re now falling. You hit the pavement, scraping your knees, palms and cheeks.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
You hear, even all the way from where you were sprawled across, Mrs. Wentz’s screams of horror and grief.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Idiot.
----------------------------------------
Well…I certainly broke my promise to no longer make emo stuff, didn’t I?
Haha…
Notes on these:
Based on personal experience and research on this, there are usual signs of how someone could be ready to kill themselves. Hopefully, this is a realistic portrayal of the process.
I think Hemingway, Pete’s beloved dog, is a British Bulldog from what I can tell from the pictures and videos of him. If I’m wrong though, let me know.
Gabe is around 17(?), the time his parents divorced and he was nursing some ill feelings to his mother back in those days. I think at least, I'm not so sure now.
The references to the two dogs Gabe have are real. Since Gabe sadly tweeted about the death of ‘his other dog Bailey’ when he found out the poor thing got hit by a car and died. :(
Travis/Katy is a favorite paring of mine, as you might have noticed. >___>
The talent show is an obvious, glaring reference to the SNL Incident.
Lemony Snicket fans may have noticed the ‘Wrong. Wrong. Wrong’ thing I was doing for the final Time and connected it to the The Penultimate Peril
Hoped you enjoyed reading this.