FIC: you are under my skin (like a happy disease) [1/1]
you are under my skin (like a happy disease)
by jasperfrost
[ pete/patrick ]-[ pg-13 ]-[ 760 words ]
inspired by mar 14 09 and feb 17 09
)
part 1.
some nights when they're home pete will curl around patrick and whisper you're like the night sky; everything about you is beautiful but i like to point out the stars and trace circles on patrick's forearms with his fingernails. they love like they've been injected into each other's veins, dripped clear into each other's water, sewn into each other's sheets and their hearts beat at the same rate even when they don't.
part 2.
pete's known for his stony silences. his angry, hood-up, ipod-blasting days when nothing and no one can get through to him. the days when the corners of his mouth look like they're weighed down with invisible cement blocks.
patrick hates those days.
patrick, though, patrick's known for his nastiness. his cruel, biting comments and his vicious retorts. the days when no matter what you say all you can get from him is a scathing look.
on those days, pete gets terrible headaches and curls up alone in his bunk.
everyone hates those days.
part 3.
they love each other. they hate each other. they rip each other apart and sew each other back together again and again. they laugh and they cry and they kiss and they shout and somehow, through it all, they survive. mostly.
part 4.
one morning pete comes home drunk. he's been out all night and his eyeliner is smudged across his cheekbones like black blood. his breath is stale with alcohol and his eyes are fluttering with exhaustion.
patrick breaks.
he maneuvers pete into the guest room and lays him on the bed. with difficulty, he strips off pete's socks and shoes, his hoodie, his jeans, his t-shirt. pete mutters and his head lolls but he doesn't protest, just lies there on the outskirts of conciousness. patrick grabs a washcloth from the bathroom, wipes the makeup from pete's face, cries silently. tears roll down his cheeks and fall onto pete's naked stomach, little droplets sliding across tan skin. pete finally passes out and patrick steps back. pete looks so small, so young lying there in his boxer briefs. patrick wants to scream at him, hit him, tear him to pieces for hurting him like he did. like he does every fucking day.
he doesn't.
part 5.
when it rains in the summer, patrick kisses pete quietly against the bedroom door. the rain patters against their window and the cool damp of the storm seeps into the room. they touch softly, silently, sleepily, and the seconds pass slowly. they fall asleep under the sheets, sweaty, twined around each other and outside the storm rushes along without them.
part 6.
sometimes when they're on tour pete tiptoes, sleepless, into the bus lounge at 3am and finds patrick at his laptop, headphones on, screen glowing. pete comes up behind him, wraps his arms wround patrick's shoulders. pulls his headphones off and whispers can't sleep. patrick always closes his computer carefully and turns to pete, eyes gleaming in the dark. he always whispers sit down. he always pulls pete down onto the couch with him. the sky through the bus window is always vast and star-filled and the dark landscape always rushes past and the highway always rumbles by underneath them and patrick always lays pete's head on his shoulder like a child and he always sings something soft and sweet and they always sit there through the night and watch the sun when it comes up.
part 7.
pete wakes up alone in the big bed and feels like dying. patrick is away visiting family and the house has been too empty to be comfortable since he left. when pete talks, the sound echoes. he hates echoes. he tries not to talk.
patrick calls in the late afternoon and pete picks up on the first ring, breathless.
i'm at the door, patrick says.
pete almost cries with relief.
part 8.
the days fly by and the seasons change. one spring morning, pete wakes up early and steps outside in his pajama pants into the morning sunlight. it's warm and the grass sparkles with dewdrops. patrick laughs from behind him and pete smiles, turns. breathes fresh air into patrick's mouth.
in their garden, a flower opens.
part 9.
people say they're different. they're unusual. almost like they were meant, in some strange, star-crossed way, for each other. almost like they can hear each other's thoughts. almost like they're really one person split into two bodies.
pete and patrick don't really think about it. they just keep on living and don't ask questions when everything works itself out perfectly.
soundtrack here.
author's note: hey! the soundtrack to this story is downloadable at the link above and is divided up into parts which correspond to the parts in the story. i've been working on this for little while, got inspired today and finished it. hope you like it! all feedback is much appreciated ♥.
by jasperfrost
[ pete/patrick ]-[ pg-13 ]-[ 760 words ]
inspired by mar 14 09 and feb 17 09
)
part 1.
some nights when they're home pete will curl around patrick and whisper you're like the night sky; everything about you is beautiful but i like to point out the stars and trace circles on patrick's forearms with his fingernails. they love like they've been injected into each other's veins, dripped clear into each other's water, sewn into each other's sheets and their hearts beat at the same rate even when they don't.
part 2.
pete's known for his stony silences. his angry, hood-up, ipod-blasting days when nothing and no one can get through to him. the days when the corners of his mouth look like they're weighed down with invisible cement blocks.
patrick hates those days.
patrick, though, patrick's known for his nastiness. his cruel, biting comments and his vicious retorts. the days when no matter what you say all you can get from him is a scathing look.
on those days, pete gets terrible headaches and curls up alone in his bunk.
everyone hates those days.
part 3.
they love each other. they hate each other. they rip each other apart and sew each other back together again and again. they laugh and they cry and they kiss and they shout and somehow, through it all, they survive. mostly.
part 4.
one morning pete comes home drunk. he's been out all night and his eyeliner is smudged across his cheekbones like black blood. his breath is stale with alcohol and his eyes are fluttering with exhaustion.
patrick breaks.
he maneuvers pete into the guest room and lays him on the bed. with difficulty, he strips off pete's socks and shoes, his hoodie, his jeans, his t-shirt. pete mutters and his head lolls but he doesn't protest, just lies there on the outskirts of conciousness. patrick grabs a washcloth from the bathroom, wipes the makeup from pete's face, cries silently. tears roll down his cheeks and fall onto pete's naked stomach, little droplets sliding across tan skin. pete finally passes out and patrick steps back. pete looks so small, so young lying there in his boxer briefs. patrick wants to scream at him, hit him, tear him to pieces for hurting him like he did. like he does every fucking day.
he doesn't.
part 5.
when it rains in the summer, patrick kisses pete quietly against the bedroom door. the rain patters against their window and the cool damp of the storm seeps into the room. they touch softly, silently, sleepily, and the seconds pass slowly. they fall asleep under the sheets, sweaty, twined around each other and outside the storm rushes along without them.
part 6.
sometimes when they're on tour pete tiptoes, sleepless, into the bus lounge at 3am and finds patrick at his laptop, headphones on, screen glowing. pete comes up behind him, wraps his arms wround patrick's shoulders. pulls his headphones off and whispers can't sleep. patrick always closes his computer carefully and turns to pete, eyes gleaming in the dark. he always whispers sit down. he always pulls pete down onto the couch with him. the sky through the bus window is always vast and star-filled and the dark landscape always rushes past and the highway always rumbles by underneath them and patrick always lays pete's head on his shoulder like a child and he always sings something soft and sweet and they always sit there through the night and watch the sun when it comes up.
part 7.
pete wakes up alone in the big bed and feels like dying. patrick is away visiting family and the house has been too empty to be comfortable since he left. when pete talks, the sound echoes. he hates echoes. he tries not to talk.
patrick calls in the late afternoon and pete picks up on the first ring, breathless.
i'm at the door, patrick says.
pete almost cries with relief.
part 8.
the days fly by and the seasons change. one spring morning, pete wakes up early and steps outside in his pajama pants into the morning sunlight. it's warm and the grass sparkles with dewdrops. patrick laughs from behind him and pete smiles, turns. breathes fresh air into patrick's mouth.
in their garden, a flower opens.
part 9.
people say they're different. they're unusual. almost like they were meant, in some strange, star-crossed way, for each other. almost like they can hear each other's thoughts. almost like they're really one person split into two bodies.
pete and patrick don't really think about it. they just keep on living and don't ask questions when everything works itself out perfectly.
soundtrack here.
author's note: hey! the soundtrack to this story is downloadable at the link above and is divided up into parts which correspond to the parts in the story. i've been working on this for little while, got inspired today and finished it. hope you like it! all feedback is much appreciated ♥.