Crescendo (now press repeat)
Mikey’s sitting on the couch with a tray of grocery store sushi, which he’s eating slowly. He glances to his side at Pete, who’s devouring his Personal Pizza with a sort of single-minded intensity, and smiles fondly.
Brendon chews his lip worriedly. “Okay, like, I know it’s a bit creepy. But I didn’t do it on purpose. What was I supposed to do?”
Mikey frowns and looks up. The TV is off. He looks around the room and doesn’t see anyone.
“What?” Pete says.
William runs a hand through his hair. “I dunno…”
“I’m not doing any harm, right?” Brendon looks slightly pleading. “I just went and asked him out…”
William still doesn’t feel quite right about it, but shrugs in defeat. “I guess not.”
“There’s someone here,” says Mikey, sitting up a bit straighter.
Pete raises an eyebrow. “I don’t see anyone.”
Mikey gets up. He looks in the kitchen. There’s no one there. There’s no one in the washroom either.
When he goes back to the main room, the couch is gone. The food is gone. Pete’s gone. The room is empty.
“Hola, amigos!”
Gabe comes striding into the apartment with his usual bravado. He tosses his purple hoodie onto the chair by the door, walks over to William, and plants a kiss on his lips. William turns a bit pink; Brendon rolls his eyes. He goes to walk past Gabe and look at the books on the bookshelf, but trips over a wire and almost fall on his face, causing Gabe to burst out laughing.
“It’s amateur night at the Apollo Creed!” Gabe hoots. “Shit, man, how did you even get this job with those two left feet?”
Brendon laughs awkwardly. Gabe picks up William’s beer and examines it.
“Oh, come on. Doesn’t this guy have anything real to drink?”
William shrugs. “Dunno, haven’t checked yet. Brendon?”
Brendon sighs and goes to check the kitchen. As he leaves the room, Gabe turns his attention to the Way guy, passed out on the bed.
“Poor bastard,” he chuckles. “We can’t wake him up, can we? We’re being pretty noisy.”
William shakes his head. “Nope, can’t wake him up.”
“Cool.” Gabe looks very pleased about the fact that he can now be as noisy as he wants.
Brendon returns with a bottle of vodka and some shot glasses. Gabe smirks.
“Gentlemen,” he says solemnly. “Let’s get the evening underway.”
“I’m an open book,” Pete is saying. “Christ, Mikey, I tell you everything. I tell you everything I think.”
Mikey can hear him, but he can’t see him. His eyes are closed. He remembers that.
Pete shifts his head on Mikey’s chest. Mikey cracks his eyes open to look at him and doesn’t let his expression change when he sees Pete’s indignant look.
“I want you to tell me things,” Pete whines. “You never tell me what you’re thinking.”
Mikey shuts his eyes again. “Don’t have anything to say,” he mumbles.
“What do you mean, you don’t have anything to say?! Everyone has things to say. Everyone has thoughts. You could just fucking voice them once in a while.
“I don’t think about anything interesting.” Mikey’s voice is flat and dull. He wonders why he sounds like that.
He can practically feel Pete roll his eyes.
“Fine. Just never talk to me about anything ever, that’s fine,” Pete grumbles.
Mikey doesn’t think before snapping back, “Talking constantly isn’t communicating, Pete. In fact, it’s just fucking annoying.”
There’s a pause in which Mikey realizes exactly what he just said. Pete suddenly sits bolt upright.
“What the fuck are you implying?” His voice is scathing.
Mikey sinks into his pillow and tries to tune out Pete’s rising voice.
Brendon chews his lip worriedly. “Okay, like, I know it’s a bit creepy. But I didn’t do it on purpose. What was I supposed to do?”
Mikey frowns and looks up. The TV is off. He looks around the room and doesn’t see anyone.
“What?” Pete says.
William runs a hand through his hair. “I dunno…”
“I’m not doing any harm, right?” Brendon looks slightly pleading. “I just went and asked him out…”
William still doesn’t feel quite right about it, but shrugs in defeat. “I guess not.”
“There’s someone here,” says Mikey, sitting up a bit straighter.
Pete raises an eyebrow. “I don’t see anyone.”
Mikey gets up. He looks in the kitchen. There’s no one there. There’s no one in the washroom either.
When he goes back to the main room, the couch is gone. The food is gone. Pete’s gone. The room is empty.
“Hola, amigos!”
Gabe comes striding into the apartment with his usual bravado. He tosses his purple hoodie onto the chair by the door, walks over to William, and plants a kiss on his lips. William turns a bit pink; Brendon rolls his eyes. He goes to walk past Gabe and look at the books on the bookshelf, but trips over a wire and almost fall on his face, causing Gabe to burst out laughing.
“It’s amateur night at the Apollo Creed!” Gabe hoots. “Shit, man, how did you even get this job with those two left feet?”
Brendon laughs awkwardly. Gabe picks up William’s beer and examines it.
“Oh, come on. Doesn’t this guy have anything real to drink?”
William shrugs. “Dunno, haven’t checked yet. Brendon?”
Brendon sighs and goes to check the kitchen. As he leaves the room, Gabe turns his attention to the Way guy, passed out on the bed.
“Poor bastard,” he chuckles. “We can’t wake him up, can we? We’re being pretty noisy.”
William shakes his head. “Nope, can’t wake him up.”
“Cool.” Gabe looks very pleased about the fact that he can now be as noisy as he wants.
Brendon returns with a bottle of vodka and some shot glasses. Gabe smirks.
“Gentlemen,” he says solemnly. “Let’s get the evening underway.”
“I’m an open book,” Pete is saying. “Christ, Mikey, I tell you everything. I tell you everything I think.”
Mikey can hear him, but he can’t see him. His eyes are closed. He remembers that.
Pete shifts his head on Mikey’s chest. Mikey cracks his eyes open to look at him and doesn’t let his expression change when he sees Pete’s indignant look.
“I want you to tell me things,” Pete whines. “You never tell me what you’re thinking.”
Mikey shuts his eyes again. “Don’t have anything to say,” he mumbles.
“What do you mean, you don’t have anything to say?! Everyone has things to say. Everyone has thoughts. You could just fucking voice them once in a while.
“I don’t think about anything interesting.” Mikey’s voice is flat and dull. He wonders why he sounds like that.
He can practically feel Pete roll his eyes.
“Fine. Just never talk to me about anything ever, that’s fine,” Pete grumbles.
Mikey doesn’t think before snapping back, “Talking constantly isn’t communicating, Pete. In fact, it’s just fucking annoying.”
There’s a pause in which Mikey realizes exactly what he just said. Pete suddenly sits bolt upright.
“What the fuck are you implying?” His voice is scathing.
Mikey sinks into his pillow and tries to tune out Pete’s rising voice.