And Not, When I Came To Die, Discover That I Had Not Lived - Chapter 10
Chapter 10 - "Peter Parker"
POV: Pete
When we arrive in Columbus, the first thing Patrick does (after shaking me awake rather uneasily) is to instruct me to "fucking text Bill already, he's been driving me nuts."
"Yeah," I say. "Yeah, okay." I sit up groggily in my bunk and try to ignore my best friend's prolonged proximity. He hasn't left yet and I know he wants to say something, probably about earlier, but he doesn't. I think about apologizing, assuring him that it's not about him, but then it is, and I don't lie to Patrick. Seriously, it's one of my rules.
Sighing, I extract my Sidekick from my pocket and click it on, checking out the damage. There are only three texts from Bill before he appeared to have given up and started in on Patrick. But there are three missed calls as well (from my mother, Jeanae, and my mother again, respectively) and about ten texts from Ryan. "I'll just go talk to Bill; let them know we're here. Ryan's probably just trying to run some lyrics by me." My mother is just worried about me being on my own again for the first time since "the incident." I'll text her on the way to The Academy's bus. And I don't even wanna think about what Jeanae wants right now. Hopefully just the same as my mother. I rise to my feet, bringing myself even closer to Patrick, who obligingly takes a step back. "You know where they're parked?"
"Bill said three or four down."
I nod. Hesitantly, I ask, "You wanna come with?" As a peace offering, you know. It's not like I'm mad at him. Far from it. I just don't wanna sleep next to him just yet. Or rather, I do and I shouldn't.
"Nah, I'm uh," His eyes fall to his shuffling feet and I am presented with the top of his I <3 Bingo hat. "I'm gonna give Anna a call. Let her know we got in okay."
I try not to feel shot down all over again over that, because it was obviously something he didn't particularly wanna tell me. He always tried not to discuss his girlfriend too much, and I appreciated that. But that, like so many other things, was easier at home. There, she visited just him. Here, when she visits, she'll have to stay on the bus or in hotels with all of us. At least Anna's not much the visiting type. I think Patrick even offered to take her with us a few times and she turned him down. But still, she'll probably come at least once or twice this time around.
I'm absolutely terrified that I'm going to have to listen to them fuck.
"Tell the guys 'hi' for me?"
I force a smile on my face-one of the good fake ones. Not the "I'm upset and I want you to know it and feel bad" one, but the one I use when I actually want to seem sincere. 'Course, Patrick knows the difference, so it's really kind of moot. "Yeah, sure. I'll even punch Bill in the face for you."
I get a grin out of this and a chuckled "thanks" and I feel a little relieved. Enough to slip an arm around his shoulder and place a big kiss on his temple with a resounding smack. He wraps an arm around my waist too and gives me a brief squeeze. And it's comfortable and easy, which should make me even happier, but somehow just makes me ache all the more.
"I'll be back after a while," I tell him, releasing him and heading for the door.
"See ya," he calls after me.
I pause at the door for a moment and I swear I can hear the first few words of his phone conversation. Forcing myself to ignore that too, I step out into the parking area. There are at least twenty buses surrounding ours and it's only now that I realize that I didn't ask Patrick three or four down in which direction?
Shrugging to myself and yawning, I pick the left and start walking, lifting my phone to text an alive and well and in columbus to my mother. I count the buses in my peripheral vision as I go, one, two, three. Turning into the space occupied by the third, I slip my phone back in my pocket and stuff both hands into my hoodie. I congratulate myself on picking my direction correctly, because while most of the buses look more or less the same, I swear I can hear Bill's high-pitched giggle from out here.
Grinning a bit myself, I lift a hand to knock on the door and take a startled step back when it opens before my fist even reaches the metal, two laughing, dark-haired men emerging, stumbling down the steps and almost into me before they realize I'm there. And I have time to think to myself "oh, wrong bus after all" before I realize they're staring at me curiously.
"Pete?" the one in front asks, his brow furrowing, and I realize this is My Chem's bus and it must have been Gerard's approaching giggle I heard.
And I wanna say "hey, you remember me," but that would be rather unsuave and I wouldn't want to seem like I didn't expect him to remember me. Not that he has a reason to, I met him and Ray, like, once at a party, back when Matt was still with the band. And then, though I've never met him, I recognize Frank Iero behind him and I realize that even if Gerard didn't remember me, magazines or Buzznet would jog his memory, just as I know who his bandmate is without having seen him in person before.
"Wrong bus," is all I get out.
"Fall Out Boy Pete, right?" Frank says, stepping around his bewildered frontman and carefully lighting the cigarette that had been dangling from his pierced lips. I guess they were out for a smoke break.
"Oh, sorry," Gerard says suddenly, turning from me to him. "Frank, Pete. Pete, Frank."
Frank inhales, then breathes out a puff of smoke, extending his hand to me and shaking mine when I offer it. "Gee mentioned you a couple of times," he tells me. "Says you were funny."
I shake my head, laughing. "Not so much. I just have absolutely no fear of making a dick out of myself. Nice of him to put it diplomatically though."
Gerard grins and I suddenly remember how I had been a little creeped out by him when I first met him before he started talking about Batman versus Spider-man (and why the former was totally better because he did his duty with no real superpowers) and we kind of bonded for an hour, Joe arguing for Spider-man while I played devil's advocate based on who seemed to be winning the debate at the time. Really, maybe Peter Parker's easier to sympathize with. He didn't get to choose his fate. Batman is badass though. "Did you say 'wrong bus?'" he asks.
"Oh," I say, remembering. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. Sorry, I was looking for the Academy guys."
Gerard jerks a thumb over his left shoulder. "They're the next one over. We were thinkin' about introducing ourselves. But someone thinks it's creepy to just knock on a stranger's door." He shoots a pointed look at Frank, who had been watching the few bands milling around outside of the buses, but who now faced us again.
"It is," he says, defensively.
"It's polite," Gerard insists.
Frank turns to me and says, as though the singer isn't there, "I don't know where he gets this courtesy stuff. You do that shit in Jersey, you get yourself shot."
"Oh, you do not."
"You do in Newark!" Frank insists.
"This is Ohio. We can say 'hi.'" Gerard turns to me, smacking Frank playfully on the arm. "You mind if we go with you?"
I shrug and I'm about to say "sure," when a third party emerges from the bus behind them and I think this one is Gerard's brother, but I'm not sure. He's shoving his wallet in his pocket with some difficulty, but when he bumps into Frank on his way down, he stops and looks up at all of us. And I really like his eyes. They're like...intense. I always wanted eyes like that.
"Where are you going?" Gerard asks him, stepping aside to make room.
"Food," he says, by way of explanation. "I was voted to go meet the pizza guy at the fence." He's looking at me with some kind of curious interest.
Gerard slides an arm around his shoulders and says to me, "Dude, this is my brother. This is Mikey."
Mikey-that's it. Note to self.
I shake his hand too. "I'm Pete."
He nods. "Yeah, I know." He flicks a piece of his dirty-blond hair out of his eyes and, remembering the heated discussion between Joe, his brother and I, I think maybe this is how Peter Parker looked pre-radioactive spider bite. I believe the word is "adorkable."
"Man, pizza," Frank says to Gerard, around Mikey's back. "Fuck introductions, we can do that later. I'm starving."
"Yeah, yeah, alright." He looks back at me. "Pete, you want some lunch?"
How was I ever afraid of this guy? Seriously? "Yeah, sure," I agree, more to Mikey than to him, who I realize I'm still kind of staring at. "I could eat."
"Great." He thumps Frank on the back to get him moving and bums a cigarette off him as we begin to walk in the opposite direction, away from our row of buses. Mikey and I trail behind the other two and we don't talk, but I find myself strangely entertained by just discreetly watching him out of the corner of my eye.
It's not until later, on my second slice of pizza in the lounge of the MCR bus that I remember I should probably go see Bill later on. If not just to salvage Patrick's sanity.