The attic demos part three (Chicago nights, Jersey days + Epilogue)
Title: Chicago nights, Jersey days + Epilogue
Author:
alles_luege
Pairing: Patrick/Mikey, Patrick/Pete, Mikey/Pete
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Patrick is torn between Pete, who doesn’t make a decision and Mikey who maybe doesn’t push enough.
Warning(s): Angst, Masturbation
Author’s Notes: Part of a three-part-series. The series title is of course stolen. Also, plays pre fame and screaming fangirls, except for the epilogue. POV changes between Patrick and Mikey.
Word Count: 2.733
Beta: tygermine
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, not real.
III. Chicago nights, Jersey days
~1~
Maybe he lied. Maybe there can’t be anyone else beside Pete. Patrick isn’t sure he does it on purpose, but sometimes…somehow there is always a purpose behind the things Pete does. Isn’t there?
“Patrick?”
“Hmm?”
“What do you mean with this?” Pete asks, handing him the paper, he wrote the lyrics on. He knew they weren’t any good. And it’s not that he doesn’t think about all this stuff, it’s just that his language is music and not words.
“Uhm…let me see,” he answers.
“If you even don’t know what you’re writing…” Pete trails of.
“I know!” Patrick says, a bit annoyed, even if he isn’t.
“Okay,” and it’s not like Pete to back off.
“Just give me your friggin lyrics already! Jesus.” If Pete’s going to mock his attempts, then he better have something to bring to the table.
“Why do you assume that I have some?”
“You’re always writing, your brain is always thinking, it makes my head hurt,” Patrick answers.
“Don’t know if they’re any good.” Pete says; Patrick rolls his eyes at him. Because, honestly! They can’t be worse than Patrick’s.
“Just give me.” He stretches his hand out. Pete digs through his bag and comes up a few seconds later with a mess of papers. Some are even napkins…Jesus, Patrick thinks.
“Can’t you use a notebook or something?” he asks while looking trough the mess, it’s like a treasure hunt, a bit. His bed is covered in Pete’s words: it’s not even a metaphor. That’s his life.
“I do,” Pete answers with a grin.
“Okay…just let me…maybe when we take this part and this one…I’ve seen it somewhere, where is the damn Starbucks napkin?!” Patrick mumbles. Pete is silent and as Patrick looks up to see what he’s up to, he finds Pete looking at him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“What are you doing?”
“Watching you.”
“You are a creep, seriously.”
“Maybe, but I’m your creep,” Pete answers honestly. Patrick is taken aback. He shakes his head and looks at the mess of papers and words again. Maybe that will help him to figure Pete out? Maybe.
It’s easier that way, because Pete doesn’t expect words from him anymore. And he has something like a direct link to Pete’s brain, but what he finds there is not always nice. More disturbing than anything else. More often than not it’s pretty scary shit, but he can use it, wrap the words in music an make it something else. Something better, something that light had touched instead of the thing that lived in the darkness for so long.
~+~
“It’s like being a voice for a dark god or something…” he says. He’s embarrassed as soon as the words are out.
“You shall not have other gods beside me?” Mikey asks.
“I…I didn’t mean it like that…it’s just that he’s living in something like a parallel world.”
“I know, I sometimes think Gerard does it too, all this things in his head? All the paintings that are coming from that dark place inside him…” Mikey says softly. Patrick likes it when Mikey tells him about Gerard, he doesn’t fell so alone then. Alone with the things Pete shows him, the parts he can’t relate to. “And don’t get me wrong, I can see that, but I can’t follow…it’s not my place to be,” Mikey adds. Patrick is somehow confused.
“What do you mean?” He asks, Mikey sighs, softly.
“It’s not that I’m not twisted…”
“But you are not like him, not twisted like him, not completely.”
“Yeah, I can see the things he sees when he shows me, but I’m not him. Even when I…” he trails off.
“Even if you have the feeling sometimes he’s making you. Shaping you to be the one person who can understand.” Patrick says.
“Yeah…”
There is silence for a while. Patrick can hear the Misfits in the background, that and Mikey breathing.
“Maybe we’re here to keep them sane,” Patrick says. Mikey laughs.
“Maybe.”
~2~
Mikey doesn’t think that Patrick is twisted. Not like Pete, or Gerard or even him. Maybe that was what attracted him in the first place to Patrick?
“You’re thinking pretty loud.”
“So not true,” Mikey answers.
“I can hear you,” Gerard says, he’s looking at the canvas critically. There is no red in that painting…yet, Mikey thinks.
“Yeah? What am I thinking about?”
“Pete’s singer, maybe Pete too…” Gerard says, he’s picking up the brush again, cigarette dangling from his thin lips.
“It’s just…” Mikey says, Gerard keeps silent, but he is focused, Mikey knows. He’s waiting for his brother to continue. “It’s like…he’s spending his days with me on the phone and his nights with Pete, writing lyrics, trying to figure out what Pete is all about, what is in his head…he doesn’t try to find out what’s inside mine.” He says with a huff of breath, yeah, that’s what he was thinking about, even if he wasn’t aware of it. That’s the thing.
“He’s Pete’s voice,” Gerard says. Mikey knows that. He waits, but Gerard keeps silent, studying the painting, the brush still in his hand, he takes a drag from his cigarette, exhales and then turns around. “He’s Pete’s voice,” he repeats as if this was some kind of universal truth.
“So, what?”
“He needs to know what Pete’s trying to say…” Gerard answers.
“Because Pete can’t do it himself…” Mikey says. Gerard nods.
Sometimes Mikey wants to know if Gerard even needs them - the band.
“I do, I can’t play guitar to save my life. And the stage would be pretty lonely without you guys.” He answers, dipping the brush in some kind of pale violet.
Mikey isn’t sure if he spoke out loud or if Gerard could read his thoughts. Sometimes it’s hard to tell; sometimes they feel like one person in two bodies.
~3~
It feels a bit like cheating to Patrick, but he can’t explain it. Not even to himself. Because he isn’t together with Pete, Pete has a lot of lovers, he’s seen some of them. And Mikey- they aren’t even in the same city. And besides…why would Mikey want to be with him?
Patrick turns frustrated on his bed just to see Pete in the doorway.
”Your mom let me in,” he says. Patrick wants to nod…but he’s lying already and besides the ceiling looks pretty today. The dip in the mattress announces that Pete is sitting down, ignoring all personal boundaries, wrapping his warm body around Patrick. “I don’t think we will get something done today…” he whispers. Patrick makes some vague ‘hmm’ noise to let Pete know he’s listening. Because he is, he always is. “I’m feeling so tired, Patrick.” Pete continues. Patrick feels tired too, tired from endless conversations with Mikey during his spare minutes of the day, tired of fighting over lyrics with Pete at night. He’s feeling like they’re tearing him apart. Maybe without even knowing it.
“We can just sleep for a while…” Patrick offers.
“Yeah…” Pete answers, pulling the blanket over them both.
He knows that Pete hardly ever sleeps, so he lets him when he can. Like now, snuggled against Patrick’s body. Pete is radiating heat like an oven and it’s not really comfortable, still he doesn’t move. He stares at the ceiling and tries not to think.
“Patrick…” Pete mumbles sleepily.
“Yeah?”
“What are you thinking about?”
“You,” and it’s the truth. Pete smiles, Patrick can feel it trough his shirt on his shoulder where Pete’s face is smashed against his body. “And Mikey.” He adds. Pete goes still. “Pete?”
“Hmmm?”
“Did you distract me?”
“What? When?”
“Last year, after, when we came back from the MCR show. Did you distract me? So I wouldn’t call Mikey?”
“How could I prevent that, if you really would have wanted to do it?” Pete asks. He rolls away from Patrick, Patrick knows he doesn’t want to have this conversation.
“I don’t know. Did you try?”
“Jesus, Patrick, what are we talking about here?” Pete asks frustrated. Patrick rolls onto his side to look at Pete who is staring at the ceiling.
“Me, we’re talking about me, for once, we are talking about me. About the voices in MY head…the endless litany of Mikey, Pete, Mikey, Pete, Mikey, Pete…” he says softly, but there is an edge to his voice.
“Okay,” Pete says exhaling, “okay, maybe, maybe I tried…because Patrick…” here he turns his head to look Patrick in the eyes. “Because you’re mine.”
“And that, right here, is not true. I don’t belong to you. Because, Pete…no, let me finish.” He says, because he can see the slight fury in Pete’s eyes, the urge to object. “Because you don’t belong to me.” He finishes quietly. He doesn’t know if Pete actually understands, but maybe.
“You’re too young for that.” Pete says.
“Whatever that means,” Patrick answers.
~+~
“I would have been better off with you…” Patrick says softly, he sounds tired Mikey thinks.
“Did he let you sleep at all?”
“No…a few hours. I don’t mind…it’s the weekend,” Patrick says.
“I would have let you sleep.”
“I know.” There is silence, heavy, but not uncomfortable. Mikey thinks it’s because Patrick actually enjoys these quiet minutes, just listening to Mikey breathing. Maybe because Pete isn’t silent. Ever. Expect when he’s sulking, or has an episode. But it’s not the same. “Your breathing is like music,” Patrick tells him and Mikey laughs.
“Everything is like music to you,” he answers.
“Maybe…but your breathing is good music…” he says, Mikey knows he’s embarrassed by saying it. He can imagine Patrick ducking his head, his cheeks colouring, his skin heating up.
“Patrick…” Mikey says and even to his own ears it sounds strangled. Desperate.
“It’s okay…I want to listen.”
“Sing something…” Mikey says, because there is no way in hell he lets Patrick just listen. And Patrick gets it, and sings softly, quietly enough that he can hear Mikey’s shallow, quick breathing anyway.
~4~
It still isn’t cheating. And it still does feel a bit like it, and not only cheating on Pete, but on Mikey too. The litany of Mikey, Pete, day, night, Mikeyday, Petenight, Mikey, Pete in his head makes him want to scream sometimes. Sometimes he does. Patrick knows he can’t do this anymore, but he doesn’t have a solution. Not for this problem. The irony is, he usually has a solution for other people’s problems.
~+~
“You can’t do this for much longer…” Gerard says; he’s sitting on the kitchen floor, cradling his mug of hot coffee as if it were the Holy Grail. For Gerard, it is.
“I know,” he doesn’t even pretend to not know what Gerard is speaking about. What good would that do?
“It’s just, it’s not fair. Patrick needs to make a decision.”
“No, Pete needs to make a decision. I’m pretty sure he will leave when Pete makes a move,” Mikey answers from his spot on the table. His coffee is going cold. Gerard lights a cigarette and the kitchen smells immediately like a German coffee shop, not that he would know…he just assumes.
“You have too little faith in yourself.”
“No, I know exactly what my chances are,” he looks down at Gerard, who makes some ‘hmmm’ noise as he exhales, thinking.
~+~
“Are you okay, Patrick?” Pete asks. He’s not. How can he possibly be okay? After…and Pete hasn’t said a goddamned word about it!
“I don’t think we will get anything done today,” Patrick says, he knows they will not, because he feels violent. Feels like throwing things at Pete’s stupid head, feels like ripping him apart to see how he works, to make him feel…like Patrick is feeling, to make him feel SOMETHING.
“That’s not what I asked,” Pete answers. Patrick sighs. Sometimes he thinks Pete wants to provoke him just for the pure joy of it or something.
“Really Pete, maybe you should go…like…meet your flower of the week.” He answers, he’s really tired, and he doesn’t want to fight, his temper, his feelings, his messed up situation.
“Her name is Shaz,” Pete says.
”Whatever…I don’t care.” Because he doesn’t, really. He just can’t. Can’t care for all of them.
“But I know you do…” Pete says low, he’s occupying Patrick’s personal space again. And that’s the straw that breaks the camels back. What the FUCK is Pete’s problem with boundaries?! And that’s why he punches Pete. It’s a relief seeing Pete stagger back, and catch himself on the wall so he doesn’t fall on his ass.
“What the fuck?!” Pete shouts. There is a trickle of blood running down his chin from a split lip.
“I’ve had it.” Patrick says, because he has and he wants to be alone. He wants to hurt alone. Or call Mikey, so they can hurt together. Pete is deadly silent as Patrick waits. And he stays silent as Patrick walks out the door.
~+~
“I punched him,”
That’s the first thing Patrick says. Mikey is standing outside a club, so he can actually understand what Patrick is saying.
“Why?”
“Because he doesn’t understand, and I was so frustrated, and it hurt, and I wanted him to hurt too…” Patrick answers. Mikey leans onto the wall, he wants to laugh.
“That was so dumb, Patrick.”
“No, it wasn’t…”
“I should punch you too…” Mikey says.
“You should,” Patrick admits. “But you’re not here to do it.”
And maybe that’s the answer. He isn’t there to do it, but Pete is.
“He will come around…some day.” Mikey says, the winter air is cold and he forgot his scarf inside, he hopes no one will steal it…it’s his favourite, his grandmother made it.
“Are we still talking about the punching?” Patrick asks, he sounds vaguely amused. Maybe punching Pete does that to a person, Mikey would like to try it some day.
“If you want,” he answers.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Patrick says.
“I know.” He does. He’s sure Patrick knows too.
“Your breathing is still the best music I’ve ever heard,” Patrick says after a while.
“Don’t you ever forget that,” Mikey answers, a smile curling around his lips.
“I won’t.” Patrick sounds sincere.
”You will…but it’s okay,” Mikey says, “Bye Patrick.” He disconnects the call before Patrick can reply. He feels like going home, so he calls Gerard to pick him up.
~+~
“Patrick punched Pete…” Mikey says.
“Must be love…”
“The funny thing is; it is.” Mikey answers, he’s staring out of the car window. Winter nights are dark but clear, and he likes that.
“Hey, you still have me,” Gerard says lightning a cigarette.
“I know.”
~5~
“I listened to Mikey Way jerking off to my voice.” Patrick says, as soon as Pete picks up the phone and then disconnects the call.
“What?!” Pete asks as he calls back a few seconds later.
“I listened to Mikey Way…”
“THE HELL! Patrick. Why are you telling me this?”
“I wanted you to know.”
“But why?!”
“You figure it out,” Patrick answers.
“Patrick…”
“I’m sick of this. Do you know how I feel? Do you care?”
“I do care…” Pete’s voice sounds small.
“Then stop jerking me around.”
“I…”
“You are playing with me…but I’m not some dumb kid. Not one of the girls you pick up…I’m your friend and I deserve some respect. So quit playing games.” Patrick interrupts him. ‘Stop hurting me.’ Patrick thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Pete is silent on his end of the phone line. Patrick waits for Pete to find the words.
“Okay,” Pete says, “okay…it’s because you’re so young…it’s because you are my friend and I don’t want to fuck things up.”
And that’s honesty. The last part, not the first, because Pete doesn’t care that much about age.
“Okay,” Patrick answers. That’s the decision, it’s not one he likes, but it’s there and he can live with it.
“But that doesn’t mean…” Pete begins, but Patrick interrupts him again.
“I know. I know…” because he does.
~End~
~Epilogue~
And it’s not that he wants to make Patrick hurt. He doesn’t…but he does.
“You and Pete?” Gerard asks. Warped is hot as hell and he’s wearing like hundred layers of black clothes.
“Seems so…”
“That’s not revenge, is it?” Gerard wants to know, one eyebrow raised, cigarette in hand.
“It’s…maybe…it was. I wanted…but it’s not. I really like him.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Mikey answers.
~end~