Chicago Sunrise. [Standalone.]
Title: Chicago Sunrise.
Author: lithiumreactant
Pairing: Patrick Stump / Peter Wentz
Rating: G
POV: First. Patrick-centric.
Word Count: 1,249.
Summary: You’re like the orange to my black.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the bands mentioned in this fictional story. If I did there would be much singing and dancing and many videos would be on YouTube.com which is now, btw, owned by Google. Wtf?
Author Note: My first attempt at a Peterick story. It's not much, but it was written in between play rehearsals. I hope you enjoy. Comments are love.
Chicago Sunrise
. : [ + Standalone + ] : .
The floor creaked and I pushed my eyes upwards, looking over at the digital clock that was the only thing illuminating my small room.
4:37am
Right on time.
I took a quite breath and waited for you to push the door open just like you did every morning. My body shifted to my opposite side and the door quietly protested as you slipped into room, tiptoeing to the window before crawling onto my bed.
“Patrick?” The name fell from your lips in one quiet whisper and I inhaled with a yawn.
“I’m awake.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You’re right.” I couldn’t see it, but I could hear the smile in your voice as you laid down on your stomach, nestling your head in your arms. Just like every morning.
This was my favorite part of the day. The time where you would just lay next to me and I couldn’t see you and we wouldn’t talk. I just felt you there and I could hear your breath. You evoked such an amazing emotion. You were the greatest friend I could ask for. I knew you had a lot of baggage and I knew you were pretty messed up, but I got to see a side of you that not everyone knew.
You weren’t a whore. You weren’t an asshole. You weren’t some cocky guy who did everything for attention. Those were all cover-ups. I knew better. I’m kind of glad you never showed that side to anyone else, the whole world would’ve fallen in love with you. I wanted you for my own.
“Patrick?” My eyes pressed open again from the place they had apparently fallen shut. I could barely make out your face now, tiny slits of light fell from behind the curtain and I could get a vague, fuzzy view of your face.
“Peter?”
“Just wanted to know if you were still awake.”
“I’ll always stay awake to watch the sunrise with you.”
You smiled and I swear the whole room got brighter. Your eyes closed and your body leaned sideways onto mine just so I could feel the gentle pressure of you being next to me. Your head nuzzled into my covers and your hair smelled like that organic shampoo Andy always bought.
It was comforting. It was you.
“No one in the world gets me like you do, ‘Trick. Everyone else just tells me to go back to sleep and no one actually wants to watch the sunrise me. Some girls do, but they never really mean it. It feels different, ya know? It’s not a sunrise unless it’s with Patrick.”
“Just like it’s not five in the morning without Peter.”
“Exactly,” you laughed quietly, knowing well that Joe and Andy were still asleep in the next two rooms. “Sing me something.”
“What?” I blinked, becoming more awake.
“Sing me something.”
“It’s almost time to open the blinds.”
“Don’t avoid me, Stump,” a thin toothy grin graced your face.
“How can I avoid you? You’re lying on me.”
“I am not.” You sat up and so did I, smiling as you obediently got off the bed and walked across the room to pull the blinds open to let the sun barely creep in as it began to rise over the horizon. I let out another yawn made myself comfortable as you walked back to the bed, sitting down next to me.
I rubbed my eyes and you reached across me to the side table, picking up a pair of glasses and unfolding them before sitting on your knees and gently sliding them onto my face, bringing new clarity to the world. Your hands paused there, on my face and your eyes looked into mine. My heart quickened.
You were the only one in the world who could make me freeze up.
“Thank you…”
“Welcome.”
Your hands dropped and you settled next to me. I wanted so bad to cuddle up to you. This was the same problem every morning. Every day when the sun rose I was confronted with the possibility that not only could I be gay, but I might be hopelessly in love with my best friend.
“I’m homesick.”
“Me too,” I mumbled trying to pretend I wasn’t feeling so messed up.
“You make things feel like home though. Wherever we go. I hope someday I find a girl just like you.”
“And then I’ll be second best.”
“No way. You’ll always be the first best. She’ll be second best,” your tone was soft, gentle. I knew you meant it, even if you couldn’t tear your eyes from the sunrise long enough to look into my eyes and say it. “I don’t know what it is, Patrick. You’re just special, ya know? Like I’m glad that out of everyone in the world I got to spend this adventure with you. I appreciate that you don’t yell at me for climbing into your room and you’re the most amazing listener in the world. I mean… other people listen, but that’s it. You’re like… actively engaged and actually interested in what I say. You actually care. You’re like the orange to my black.”
I let out a quite chuckle, deciding to lie on my stomach, looking at your purple, penguin pajama pants. “You’re not as much of a badass as you pretend to be.”
“You’re right. I’m more of an asshole than a badass.”
“I mean that you’re a better person than you give yourself credit for. Way better than the media gives you credit for.” I inched my hand over, straightening out a fold on your pants before letting my head rest on one of your legs.
“I think you just say that kind of stuff to make me feel better about the shitty person I know I am.”
“Then how do you explain the way you act with me?”
I wanted so badly for a confession of love to spill out of your mouth. I wanted more than anything to hear that the reason I was treated so special was because I was the only one who had ever made your heart change it’s pace when beating.
My ears heard a faint chuckle and I felt your hand fall onto my head so softly, gently running your fingers through small strands of my hair. I quivered a little, loving the covert touch.
“You’re special. I know you won’t go spilling that I’m actually a softie at heart. Everything in the world is different with you. If you died, I’d follow. You always keep me striving to be better. You know, I compare every girl to you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell some really stupid story and they won’t laugh and I’m always thinking ‘ya know what? Patrick would’ve appreciated it.’ Because you always do.”
I smiled and sat up, feeling your arm gently drift along my side before resting on the bed. Your eyes lingered on my face, raising one hand and leaning over to place a chaste kiss on my lips. I pressed a little closer, savoring the touch that I had been longing for. Loving the soft pressure of your mouth against mine. You nuzzled your nose against mine and broke away, putting an arm around me and gesturing out to the sunrise.
“This sunrise, just like all of those before it and all those that will follow, is for Patrick. The boy who always understood me, and never let me down. Here is to Patrick, the unofficial love of my life.”
Author: lithiumreactant
Pairing: Patrick Stump / Peter Wentz
Rating: G
POV: First. Patrick-centric.
Word Count: 1,249.
Summary: You’re like the orange to my black.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the bands mentioned in this fictional story. If I did there would be much singing and dancing and many videos would be on YouTube.com which is now, btw, owned by Google. Wtf?
Author Note: My first attempt at a Peterick story. It's not much, but it was written in between play rehearsals. I hope you enjoy. Comments are love.
Chicago Sunrise
. : [ + Standalone + ] : .
The floor creaked and I pushed my eyes upwards, looking over at the digital clock that was the only thing illuminating my small room.
4:37am
Right on time.
I took a quite breath and waited for you to push the door open just like you did every morning. My body shifted to my opposite side and the door quietly protested as you slipped into room, tiptoeing to the window before crawling onto my bed.
“Patrick?” The name fell from your lips in one quiet whisper and I inhaled with a yawn.
“I’m awake.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You’re right.” I couldn’t see it, but I could hear the smile in your voice as you laid down on your stomach, nestling your head in your arms. Just like every morning.
This was my favorite part of the day. The time where you would just lay next to me and I couldn’t see you and we wouldn’t talk. I just felt you there and I could hear your breath. You evoked such an amazing emotion. You were the greatest friend I could ask for. I knew you had a lot of baggage and I knew you were pretty messed up, but I got to see a side of you that not everyone knew.
You weren’t a whore. You weren’t an asshole. You weren’t some cocky guy who did everything for attention. Those were all cover-ups. I knew better. I’m kind of glad you never showed that side to anyone else, the whole world would’ve fallen in love with you. I wanted you for my own.
“Patrick?” My eyes pressed open again from the place they had apparently fallen shut. I could barely make out your face now, tiny slits of light fell from behind the curtain and I could get a vague, fuzzy view of your face.
“Peter?”
“Just wanted to know if you were still awake.”
“I’ll always stay awake to watch the sunrise with you.”
You smiled and I swear the whole room got brighter. Your eyes closed and your body leaned sideways onto mine just so I could feel the gentle pressure of you being next to me. Your head nuzzled into my covers and your hair smelled like that organic shampoo Andy always bought.
It was comforting. It was you.
“No one in the world gets me like you do, ‘Trick. Everyone else just tells me to go back to sleep and no one actually wants to watch the sunrise me. Some girls do, but they never really mean it. It feels different, ya know? It’s not a sunrise unless it’s with Patrick.”
“Just like it’s not five in the morning without Peter.”
“Exactly,” you laughed quietly, knowing well that Joe and Andy were still asleep in the next two rooms. “Sing me something.”
“What?” I blinked, becoming more awake.
“Sing me something.”
“It’s almost time to open the blinds.”
“Don’t avoid me, Stump,” a thin toothy grin graced your face.
“How can I avoid you? You’re lying on me.”
“I am not.” You sat up and so did I, smiling as you obediently got off the bed and walked across the room to pull the blinds open to let the sun barely creep in as it began to rise over the horizon. I let out another yawn made myself comfortable as you walked back to the bed, sitting down next to me.
I rubbed my eyes and you reached across me to the side table, picking up a pair of glasses and unfolding them before sitting on your knees and gently sliding them onto my face, bringing new clarity to the world. Your hands paused there, on my face and your eyes looked into mine. My heart quickened.
You were the only one in the world who could make me freeze up.
“Thank you…”
“Welcome.”
Your hands dropped and you settled next to me. I wanted so bad to cuddle up to you. This was the same problem every morning. Every day when the sun rose I was confronted with the possibility that not only could I be gay, but I might be hopelessly in love with my best friend.
“I’m homesick.”
“Me too,” I mumbled trying to pretend I wasn’t feeling so messed up.
“You make things feel like home though. Wherever we go. I hope someday I find a girl just like you.”
“And then I’ll be second best.”
“No way. You’ll always be the first best. She’ll be second best,” your tone was soft, gentle. I knew you meant it, even if you couldn’t tear your eyes from the sunrise long enough to look into my eyes and say it. “I don’t know what it is, Patrick. You’re just special, ya know? Like I’m glad that out of everyone in the world I got to spend this adventure with you. I appreciate that you don’t yell at me for climbing into your room and you’re the most amazing listener in the world. I mean… other people listen, but that’s it. You’re like… actively engaged and actually interested in what I say. You actually care. You’re like the orange to my black.”
I let out a quite chuckle, deciding to lie on my stomach, looking at your purple, penguin pajama pants. “You’re not as much of a badass as you pretend to be.”
“You’re right. I’m more of an asshole than a badass.”
“I mean that you’re a better person than you give yourself credit for. Way better than the media gives you credit for.” I inched my hand over, straightening out a fold on your pants before letting my head rest on one of your legs.
“I think you just say that kind of stuff to make me feel better about the shitty person I know I am.”
“Then how do you explain the way you act with me?”
I wanted so badly for a confession of love to spill out of your mouth. I wanted more than anything to hear that the reason I was treated so special was because I was the only one who had ever made your heart change it’s pace when beating.
My ears heard a faint chuckle and I felt your hand fall onto my head so softly, gently running your fingers through small strands of my hair. I quivered a little, loving the covert touch.
“You’re special. I know you won’t go spilling that I’m actually a softie at heart. Everything in the world is different with you. If you died, I’d follow. You always keep me striving to be better. You know, I compare every girl to you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell some really stupid story and they won’t laugh and I’m always thinking ‘ya know what? Patrick would’ve appreciated it.’ Because you always do.”
I smiled and sat up, feeling your arm gently drift along my side before resting on the bed. Your eyes lingered on my face, raising one hand and leaning over to place a chaste kiss on my lips. I pressed a little closer, savoring the touch that I had been longing for. Loving the soft pressure of your mouth against mine. You nuzzled your nose against mine and broke away, putting an arm around me and gesturing out to the sunrise.
“This sunrise, just like all of those before it and all those that will follow, is for Patrick. The boy who always understood me, and never let me down. Here is to Patrick, the unofficial love of my life.”