Hope in the Mirror [3/4]
Title: Hope in the Mirror [3/4]
Authors: trollsttroll & mildly_neurotic
Beta: slash_scion
Fandom: Fall Out Boy
Rating: R
Pairing: Pete Wentz; this is not a typo.
Word Count: 5,006 this part; 20,532 overall
Disclaimer: Not real, not assumed to be real. It’s fiction and it’s fun.
Summary: Pete Wentz has spent his entire life fighting off sleep; his adulthood, not just his childhood, haunted by recurring nightmares. One night, while on tour, he falls asleep and wakes up inside the very world he’d been trying to escape. But that’s not the end of it…
Peter let his hands skim over the different textures and colors that were his other self’s clothes. They were amazing… like really amazing. Fingers clinging tightly to the material, he finally pulled what his own thoughts supplied as a pale pink hoodie and white shirt with a cartoon rabbit on it… and what the fuck was a rabbit any ways? Oh. …and a pair of bright red cargo pants. Pausing for a moment, Peter glanced over at Pete ordering lunch on something he now realized was a telephone.
Wow, his head hurt from all the new…ness.
He bit his lip and quickly snagged himself a pair of boxers before dropping all of the items to the floor. Toeing his feet through the legs of the boxers, he managed to get them halfway up his legs before a squawk from across the room stopped him.
"Wait!" Pete called out, setting the phone in the cradle. "The opening goes to the front, Peter." Pete brow knit as he watched his counterpart blush and turn the underwear around. Reality highlighted by Peter being unaware he'd want that easy access later made Pete wonder briefly if he just didn't introduce Peter to food and drink, he could avoid later some extremely uncomfortable weird explanations, but then dismissed the idea as cruel.
”S-sorry…” Peter gave the clothing a perplexed look before sliding it up over his hips. The flush on his face darkened when the pant legs proved to be a harder obstacle to overcome.
How was it that he’d ever existed without doing this himself? How had he ended up in even the most basic decay-covered scraps?
He barely had flashes of coats and scarves stolen off macabre looking masses of shadows… which he was slowly beginning to accept may have once been just like him. Their faces had certainly felt familiar but he’d always written it off as just another trick of the Night. When he failed to actually get the pants even over his feet, Peter kicked them angrily and slumped onto the bed behind him. Pulling his knees to his chest, he pressed his face to his arm. He loved the light in this world… he did… but why did everything have to feel so … alien?
"Oh man... here, I'll help." Pete gently got his other self to unfold enough for him to get his legs into the pants. "Now you can pull them up and then I'll help you get the shirt on. You can do it." he encouraged, rubbing Peter's shoulder and smiling at him. Inside he was panicking a bit. He couldn't bath himself, dress himself, a hundred bucks says I'll have to show him how to eat and oh fucking hell... wipe his ass.He kept that fear bottled up for Peter's sake, which in a warped way was for his own as well.
Somewhat subdued, Peter pulled the pants up and over his hips carefully as to not screw up his boxers. He fumbled with the zipper but pulled away a little when Pete made a move to help him. Brow furrowed in concentration, he let his thoughts focus on the abstract images and bits of knowledge blossoming into existence within. But when he turned to pick up the shirt, he sighed. Peter quietly allowed the other man to pull the shirt over his frame only to tense up and jerk away when the rough pads of Pete’s fingertips skimmed over his skin. Something was definitely wrong. Cradling his stomach, he forced a smile at Pete and murmured, “..thanks.”
Not missing Peter flinching away, him withdrawing, Pete frowned and got up, crackling open the beverage fridge. "Here, you can drink this while we wait for lunch. I hope you like grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches. I don't eat meat... er I try not to." He walked across the room, handing Peter a diet Pepsi and opening one of his own.
Though still upset with himself for not being able to accomplish what appeared to be the simplest of tasks, he decided to just keep trying new things.
He’d get everything… eventually… wouldn’t he?
Peter watched his counterpart carefully; mimicking his action, he held the can to his lips. Sputtering when the cold and harsh feeling liquid flowed over his tongue, he did the only thing he could such a predicament… he swallowed. Eyes wide at the shock of it all, Peter held the can in front of him and studied it. Awed at the reaction the strange liquid seemed to cause within him, he glanced over at Pete then attempted another drink. Despite the bite of it, Peter found himself guzzling the Pepsi down.
Pete smiled and sipped his can, watching the surprise on Peter's face them him gulping the drink. "Hey, slow down Tiger. You're gonna get hiccups."
A dark feeling washed over Pete and he wrinkled his brow. As Dream-Peter became more real... did that mean he would become less so? What was the balance? What would be the price?
“H-hiccups?” Peter gasped out once he finished off the soda. Cocking his head to the side, he held his hand over his stomach as the liquid sloshed around inside. He paled a bit at the feeling that washed over him, but tried to ignore it.
It was like his mind was at war with itself. He wanted to run out and discover and experience everything… yet he wanted to stay here alone with Pete even if that meant he was succumbing to his fear that one simple action could throw himself or both of them back into the Night. It was beyond him to even ponder the how and why of their current circumstances… just surviving had become so much more complex. And at least he had Pete to guide him in this world… right?
"It's hard to explain. You'll know them if you get them. They feel just like the word sounds. But they go away. No harm." Pete sat down beside Peter and patted his knee.
"One way or another everything's gonna be cool." Pete wasn't going to let himself disappear, but neither was he going to give up Peter. They were part of each other and he had a notion rescuing one would save the other. He really hoped he was right. There was a knock at the door.
"Ah, food's here!" He got up to answer the door.
Blushing as his stomach made an awful sound, Peter scooted back further onto the bed and crossed his legs in front of himself. He paused for a moment and regarded the voice on the other side of the door. It wasn’t Joe. It was odd, but Peter could almost sense that Pete didn’t want to let this voice see him. What was even more odd, however, was trying to figure out why not. If there were so many others that existed alike and unlike themselves… why didn’t Pete want him to see?
The door slid shut behind Pete and Peter’s thoughts were pulled from their current path as the smell of the food wafted throughout the room. Just the scent of it seemed to make his stomach react stronger. He didn’t even have words for how strange that felt or seemed. Peter shyly returned the amused grin Pete was giving him as he approached the bed.
Setting the tray between them on the comforter Pete uncovered it. "There's a sandwich for each of us. But I'm not that hungry. I was mostly stalling Joe. So eat as much as you want."
And Pete wasn't very hungry. He picked up half of one of the sandwiches and took a bite, chewing, demonstrating to Peter what was expected. He was still worried about the fact he had to somehow explain Peter's presence, and more so that he still had no concrete idea what the hell was happening to them. He took another bite, more to prove to himself he was still real.
Peter lifted the sandwich to his mouth and repeated what Pete had shown him. The toast’s edges pressed into his gums as he chewed but did not harm him. He swallowed and watched Pete silently almost wishing that he could share the other man’s thoughts and not just his appearance.
Taking another bite, he attempted to speak over the mouthful. “…are you okay?” Peter asked in garble of teeth, tongue, spit and food.
Laughing Pete patted Peter on the back. "Yeah I'm ok. Swallow first, then talk. Just thinking about how freaking weird this all is. It's not every day you figure out you have a like separate dream self that suffers your nightmares as life and then drag them back out of that world with you." Peter took another bite, chewed it and swallowed. "What about good dreams? I have them once in a blue moon. Were you in those? Living them too? I like the ones where I can fly. Dude... can you fly?!"
Peter grinned and nodded with a wide smile before closing his lips over his teeth. He swallowed then answered. “… those use to scare me so bad, though. At first, I thought it was a trick of the Night… like I’d fall and never ever wake up… that never happened though…” A warm feeling had started to spread through his stomach and essentially all over his body the more he ate of his sandwich. Peter quickly reached for another half as he continued to speak. “… also use to wake up…” He stopped as soon as he’d started when a feeling of insecurity and embarrassment washed over him.
"Also used to wake up for what?" Pete asked wondering what caused the sudden flush to Peter's features. "And don't try any flying here. I'm pretty sure that now that you've been liberated from wherever you are from the laws of physics apply."
Pressing a hand to his now warm face, Peter blinked rapidly and tried to keep breathing steadily. “…s-sorry… just…” He sighed a little. “…I got warm like this then too…” The mumble barely carried between the two of them. Peter’s breathing faltered a bit when images clearer than when he’d first experienced the aforementioned awakenings presented themselves in his mind. “…erm.”
At first Pete though Peter was frightened, remembering more of the horror filled world that his brain had conjured for the poor bastard to live in. Then he remembered those other dreams. Dreams that involved him waking up in a sweat with damp spots on his sheets.
"Oh... oooh. Yeah sorry." Pete thought of some of the people he'd done in his dreams and got really embarrassed. "So do you remember other people? I mean sometimes their are people I interact with in my dreams? You don't seem to remember anyone but yourself... where are they? Like in your head?"
“J-just… pictures? …in my thoughts.” Peter dared not explain that often times, he’d wake up after that and witness those very images of other… covered in decay and half crumbled into the darkness. It was too much to really think of them as living people like himself and Pete. Yet, everything that he was learning in this other world indicated that they were at least memories of real things.
Peter was a bit confused and his face reflected it. "So like the bad dreams, the shadows and tentacles and horror show, those are real to you, but the good bits are like dreams to you?" That was too many layers for Pete's brain. It had him imagining some sunshine and rainbows third version of them that did nothing but fly and fuck.
“…not dreams… you dream when you sleep… r-right? More like memories of something that I never lived.” Peter glanced around the room and pointed at the television. “… just like how I know that’s a television, now… and that this…” He pointed at the night stand. “…is a lamp…” Shifting on the bed, Peter tried to focus his thoughts on his doppelganger. “…and how I know that…” Pressing a hand against Pete’s jaw, he sighed. “…I’m just the reflection.”
Laying his own hand over the one cupping his jaw Pete shook his head gently. "No, you were just the reflection. You're real now. You can feel and be felt, eat, drink... you aren't just a reflection Peter. Maybe you are me, but now you are also you. I think to save either of us we have to rescue each other. I'm just not exactly sure why, from what or how." he laughed sardonically.
Before he even realized what he was doing, Peter leaned over their mostly empty tray of food and clung tightly to Pete. He squeezed his frame until breathing became an issue for both of them. “… sorry!” He quickly added. “…th-that was okay, right… it just felt like I…” Peter’s gaze met Pete’s and froze.
"It's alright." Pete reassured, pushing the tray out of the way and pulling Peter into his arms. The hug was utterly one of reassurance, but it still felt weird. Sitting their essentially hugging himself. Somewhere inside his narcissistic side almost liked it. "It's all going to work out. We'll work it out somehow."
Peter, however, wasn’t so much for working it out as he was for just going with the flow. Anything and everything was better than the Night here. The moment he began to doubt Pete something would happen or he’d say something that made it all better. “… so, why are you worried about telling… Joe and whoever… do they not have Others?”
Pete stroked Peter's hair and rubbed his back soothingly. "No, they don't have others. Or maybe they do but their other halves haven't figured out how to pop outside of their dreams. Most people presented with the honest truth are going to think I'm insane, or you are, or the both of us. Or it's some kind of scam. I'm sorry. So yeah, it's going to get weird."
Peter frowned even as he leaned into Pete’s touch. He was going to miss the warmth. Wait, miss… going somewhere… it’s not like I’ll be able to stay here forever. “Sc-cam?” Were the inhabitants of this world that much like the Night? And how would they ever even consider the idea that Pete would trick them in such a dark way? “…you’d never…”
"Nah. I like to think I'm a stand up guy. No scams. Unless you consider making my living as a musician one big scam." Pete joked, still caressing Peter in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "We're going to have to face the boys soon. Joe will be freaking out. Not sure how long they'll hold out before barging in."
Pete’s joke totally missed its target as Peter just sat and absorbed what bit of the conversation that had caught his attention. Pete was a musician. The thought of that actually had Peter smiling and remembering brief interludes of song that had filtered through his thoughts as he had sought out the slimmest slivers of night and fresh air. He’d spent unimaginable blocks of time squatting in lit rooms as unfamiliar words made his heart swell and body dance. Having fallen so into his mind, Peter startled abruptly when the door to their slid slowly open.
“… yo, Pete… you awake?” Patrick furrowed his eyebrows at the dirt pressed into the carpet before looking up. “…just got done talking with Joe… think he ate some ‘shrooms or…” His voice trailed off and the door snicked shut behind him. Eyes darting between the two men pressed against one another on the bed, Patrick’s lips twitched as he tried to absorb the reality of the situation.
Pete ripped away from Peter with a surprised jerk. "Shit... uhh Hey Pat. No Joe's not trippin'." he admitted nervously, running fingers through his hair. His off hand reached for Peter's, twining their fingers, as much to reassure himself as Peter. "I'd explain... but I don't really know how. Peter this is Patrick, Patrick meet uhh me."
Gazing all at once in awe and shock, Peter tilted his head to the side as he took in Pat’s presence. He was definitely someone that Peter had once seen in his memories. Relief flooded through him as he realized that maybe, just maybe, all those faces covered in decay and shadow weren’t really gone after all. Tightening his fingers around Pete’s, Peter straightened up his posture and added softly. “…hi…”
The keycard slid from Patrick’s hand as he reached out to lean against the wall as he legs nearly gave out beneath him in the shock. Not only did the other guy looked like Pete, which yeah it would take a lot of work but Pat could see a fan pulling that off, but he sounded exactly like him, as well. There was no way this was happening.
“… I don’t understand…” Shoulders pressing against the back of the door, Patrick looked away from the duo for a moment before facing them again. “… Pete, who is this… really?”
"This is Peter Wentz." Pete said slowly as though that would make him somehow understand. "And so am I. But like he's the me that usually lives in my nightmares. Somehow I sprung him. Freaky huh?"
Remembering something he'd seen, when Peter had been climbing into the shower that had registered and been filed in his brain Pete stood up. "Look, Pat... Look at it." Pete dropped his pants around his thighs and twisted, showing off a scar that graced the back of his thigh. "I got that in freaking grade school. No one knows about that shit. Peter, show him."
Flustered, Patrick waved his hands in front of him in protest as not only Pete but ‘Peter’ stood and dropped their pants in front of him. What was really creepy was how the second one hadn’t even spared Pete a shocked glance at the request. Seriously creepy. But upon realizing that neither of them were going to pull their damn pants up unless he looked, Patrick inched forward on shaky legs and looked at Pete’s thigh and then Peter’s. “…oh my God…”
He slid to his knees a few feet away from them and stared wide-eyed. “…but, but that doesn’t make sense… you can’t just spring one someone from your dreams… this is reality… this is…”
Peter shifted his clothes slowly back on; mimicking the movements that Pete had shown him earlier and managed to do everything but button them. Falling back onto his place on the bed, he gazed at Patrick shyly through his eyelashes. He didn’t really know what to say to convince him that this wasn’t a scam… that they weren’t luring him into anything like bait with their actions… he simply was part of this world now… no one knew why. “…paradise. This is paradise.” Peter said in a shockingly solid tone.
Brows knit in response to both Patrick's shock ad Peter's statement, Pete reached over and button Peter's jeans.
"No one that doesn't know me personally has ever seen that scar Pat. You know that. I couldn't sleep. I walked out of the hotel and I was in my dreamscape, the bad one. And Peter was there. And I dragged him back here to the hotel. When morning came he was in my world just like I'd been in his at night. I know it doesn't make any fucking sense." Pete got a bit frantic, one arm snaking around Peter's waist and pulling him against his side.
"But he has to stay... he can't go back, Pat. You don't understand what it's like there. I've seen it, it's... its just... I've seen the things that come... the Night. Yeah to Peter this world would be fucking paradise. Just trust me, please, it's no trick." It was eye opening to Peter, that his normal everyday existence could be paradise, made him more appreciative.
Patrick crawled across the floor on his knees and reached out to run his hand over the hoodie covered arm of ‘Peter’. “…oh, my God…” His fingers pressed into the solid muscle beneath the material. Inhaling rapidly, the scent of the hotel’s shampoo and soap filled his senses as he gripped the man’s arm tighter and tighter. “..y-you… you never told me they were that bad…”
"It was always that bad. Why do you think I never sleep? Why are you bunking in with Andy and Joe these days?" Pete said, bitterness tingeing his tone.
Trying not to hiss when Patrick’s grip tightened, Peter gave Pete a helpless look before turning his attention back to the man kneeling before him. He had really fascinating hair. It wasn’t dark and thick like their own. Peter decided that if Patrick could touch him that the same allowances must be made for himself. It had never crossed his mind to not touch Pete; but Patrick, Patrick wasn’t his other, he was someone other.
Patrick started to pull away when Peter reached out to touch his hair again but stopped when Pete shook his head.
Lock pressed tightly between the pads of his thumb and index finger, he twirled the palely hued hair between his digits curiously. He didn’t know how to respond to all the nightmare talk; he couldn’t respond to all the nightmare talk. It had, after all, been his life. Instead, he hummed softly to himself, one of the many tunes he’d just remembered from his time in the light.
Jerking back from Peter, Patrick shot Pete an unreadable look. “…you showed him our music?”
"I didn't have to show him anything Pat. He's part of me. Get it? He knows the music because it's in him too." Pete explained, hoping Patrick wouldn't ask for more explanation than that. He just didn't have it to give. "I don't know what's going to happen. I think Peter and I should stay out of sight for now. Till I have some answers."
"I didn't have to show him anything Pat. He's part of me. Get it? He knows the music because it's in him too." Pete explained, hoping Patrick wouldn't ask for more explanation than that. He just didn't have it to give. "I don't know what's going to happen. I think Peter and I should stay out of sight for now. Till I have some answers."
Patrick was nodding; guilt etching its way across his face. “…and Joe? What about Joe??” Glancing over Peter’s arm, Patrick met Pete’s. “…and tomorrow’s sh-show?” He yelped the last part as Peter’s finger pressed into his cheekbone. Patrick let out a helpless noise at his band mate.
Peter withdrew his hand at the sound. It was strange seeing things in this world. Patrick seemed like a being made out of light or something. His hair and skin were several shades lighter than their own. His voice, was smooth and comforting even when he was obviously agitated. When he finally made the connections of Patrick’s words, Peter’s attention peaked. “A show? Like of your music…you, you sing our words?!”
"Yeah Peter, Pat sings our words." Pete told his dream clone, putting his arm around his shoulder protectively. "Pat you'd better call Andy and tell him Joe ain't tripping. I'm sorry."
He turned and bumped his forehead lightly against Peter's temple. "We'll do the show. Want Peter to see it anyway, see how far from the night we can be. In the spotlight it's never really dark is it? We'll just dress him up real nondescript; keep a hood pulled up all night." His own words were a revelation to Pete. Sometimes he abhorred the fame. Hated how people who didn't get him or their music thought he was a douche bag on some fucked up principal. But in the end his career, the stage, was everything he'd worked for, everything he'd wanted.
Peter nuzzled his forehead against Pete’s and glanced sideways at their company. He hadn’t realized just how much he wasn’t usual for this world until he’d seen Patrick’s reaction. It worried him… a lot. Pete’s breath was ghosting over his cheek and lips as he held Patrick’s gaze. He swallowed loudly and exhaled.
It was almost like the very ticking from his watch was echoing like so much screaming through out the hotel room as Patrick stared at Peter. This was just too creepy. ‘Peter’ was just too creepy. “… I dunno, man… that doesn’t seem like such a good idea. What if he gets recognized? Can’t he just stay here at the hotel ‘til after the show?”
"Recognized as who? Me? With me on stage? Worse case they think he's a really intensely good look-alike. No, he's coming Pat... or I'm not." He didn't mean it as a threat, he didn't. It was just a fact. He couldn't leave Peter alone, especially not once night fell. Also the idea had seized him for Peter to see him, in a way them, under the stage lights.
Patrick frowned and turned his attention towards the wall. He knew at this point that there was no reason to bother even arguing with Pete. Once the guy got something in his head it either led to a physical fight or… as it would end in this case… him digging his heels in and fucking up shit.
“…fine.” He said shortly.
Cutting his eyes for a brief moment at Peter and his overly earnest face, Patrick finally decided that this was legit. Even so, he was going to keep a special eye on both of them. It wasn’t exactly above or below his radar to expect some crazy fan to pull this shit on Pete. And Pete falling for some whacked out claim… like alternate dream realities.
Focusing on the warmth of Pete beside him and his own breathing, Peter tried not to let the fear swelling in his belly unfurl. He could feel its dark tentacles within him almost as surely as he once felt the Night’s touch slithering over his wrists and arms. Peter exhaled slowly and attempted to change the course of the conversation. “… P-patrick? …do you dream?”
Nodding at Patrick, recognizing when he was being given in to. He could see Patrick was still skeptical but there was nothing he could do about it. He knew this was crazy fucked up shit, but Patrick and the others would have to come to grips with it. "Of course he does, everyone does. That's why I was kinda surprised you are so alone."
Patrick’s eyes widened slightly and he cocked his head to listen to Peter’s reply. The details were what made this whole scenario… and he wanted to hear just what ‘Peter’ would come up with.
”…not exactly…” It was time to come clean. Trying to ignore Patrick, Peter licked his lips and sighed. “…there are others, but they… they never survived…” He glanced at Pete for reassurance to continue. “…when you… fell asleep? And I woke up… there was always… faces in the darkness. And they smelled so bad…” Peter’s voice tapered off as his gaze fell to his own lap.
"Faces that smell bad?" Pete asked gently, he wasn't sure he got it really, but it sounded awful and the 'never survived' part scared him shitless. He wanted Peter to open up and tell him more, but wasn't sure if Patrick's presence was helpful or not. So far it seemed as though the other man being here wasn't inhibiting him though, so maybe it was good for Peter to be exposed to another living being at the very least. Plus deep down he knew Pat was a good guy who always had his back.
Patrick’s entire stance changed. Here he was on guard with some guy that was obviously very affected by the horrors of his past. Whether or not his story was true… in that he really came from Pete’s dreams… Actually Patrick prayed that that story was real because thinking about how fucked up someone had to be to make up this shit all for the attention of a rock star… actually sickened him a little. …at the world, not ‘Peter’. He was just as curious as Pete about what the guy had just described but felt his silence served the situation best.
“… they had bodies, too.” Peter explained realizing that yeah, that was something he’d need to clarify; he’d came from elsewhere after all. “… they were…” Searching his mind for the knowledge that had seemingly just came to him, Peter finally added. “… they were dead.” He shivered and pressed closer to Pete.
Pete wrinkled his face in distaste and pulled Peter into a hug. He decided being surrounded with nothing but stinking corpses was really probably worse than being alone. It disturbed him that these were the images his subconscious crafted for Peter to reside in. Did he really fear all his family and friends dying and leaving him so greatly? "I'm sorry Peter... so fucking sorry." he murmured, holding him tightly.
Catching Pete’s eyes, Patrick decided it was clearly time for him to make his exit. They’d have plenty of time to decide how to deal with the reality of the situation. For now, he was going to call up Andy and try to explain that Joe wasn’t tripping on a damn thing. Patrick offered a small wave to his friend as he slipped out the door.
Pete spared the retreating Patrick a nod. He was pretty sure, comfortable or not, Patrick would help smooth the way, help him shield Peter. He trusted his friends; Joe and Andy would come around too.
He loosened his grip, patting Peter on the back. "People die here too, and it's something that obviously frightens me. Maybe something I need to come to grips with for your sake... my own... hell our sakes. I think maybe you are here to force me to deal with the issues I've dumped onto your head all my life."
Bonus Content
Master Post
Back to Chapter Two: No more darkness for a while
On to Chapter Four : A garden of thoughts
Authors: trollsttroll & mildly_neurotic
Beta: slash_scion
Fandom: Fall Out Boy
Rating: R
Pairing: Pete Wentz; this is not a typo.
Word Count: 5,006 this part; 20,532 overall
Disclaimer: Not real, not assumed to be real. It’s fiction and it’s fun.
Summary: Pete Wentz has spent his entire life fighting off sleep; his adulthood, not just his childhood, haunted by recurring nightmares. One night, while on tour, he falls asleep and wakes up inside the very world he’d been trying to escape. But that’s not the end of it…
Peter let his hands skim over the different textures and colors that were his other self’s clothes. They were amazing… like really amazing. Fingers clinging tightly to the material, he finally pulled what his own thoughts supplied as a pale pink hoodie and white shirt with a cartoon rabbit on it… and what the fuck was a rabbit any ways? Oh. …and a pair of bright red cargo pants. Pausing for a moment, Peter glanced over at Pete ordering lunch on something he now realized was a telephone.
Wow, his head hurt from all the new…ness.
He bit his lip and quickly snagged himself a pair of boxers before dropping all of the items to the floor. Toeing his feet through the legs of the boxers, he managed to get them halfway up his legs before a squawk from across the room stopped him.
"Wait!" Pete called out, setting the phone in the cradle. "The opening goes to the front, Peter." Pete brow knit as he watched his counterpart blush and turn the underwear around. Reality highlighted by Peter being unaware he'd want that easy access later made Pete wonder briefly if he just didn't introduce Peter to food and drink, he could avoid later some extremely uncomfortable weird explanations, but then dismissed the idea as cruel.
”S-sorry…” Peter gave the clothing a perplexed look before sliding it up over his hips. The flush on his face darkened when the pant legs proved to be a harder obstacle to overcome.
How was it that he’d ever existed without doing this himself? How had he ended up in even the most basic decay-covered scraps?
He barely had flashes of coats and scarves stolen off macabre looking masses of shadows… which he was slowly beginning to accept may have once been just like him. Their faces had certainly felt familiar but he’d always written it off as just another trick of the Night. When he failed to actually get the pants even over his feet, Peter kicked them angrily and slumped onto the bed behind him. Pulling his knees to his chest, he pressed his face to his arm. He loved the light in this world… he did… but why did everything have to feel so … alien?
"Oh man... here, I'll help." Pete gently got his other self to unfold enough for him to get his legs into the pants. "Now you can pull them up and then I'll help you get the shirt on. You can do it." he encouraged, rubbing Peter's shoulder and smiling at him. Inside he was panicking a bit. He couldn't bath himself, dress himself, a hundred bucks says I'll have to show him how to eat and oh fucking hell... wipe his ass.He kept that fear bottled up for Peter's sake, which in a warped way was for his own as well.
Somewhat subdued, Peter pulled the pants up and over his hips carefully as to not screw up his boxers. He fumbled with the zipper but pulled away a little when Pete made a move to help him. Brow furrowed in concentration, he let his thoughts focus on the abstract images and bits of knowledge blossoming into existence within. But when he turned to pick up the shirt, he sighed. Peter quietly allowed the other man to pull the shirt over his frame only to tense up and jerk away when the rough pads of Pete’s fingertips skimmed over his skin. Something was definitely wrong. Cradling his stomach, he forced a smile at Pete and murmured, “..thanks.”
Not missing Peter flinching away, him withdrawing, Pete frowned and got up, crackling open the beverage fridge. "Here, you can drink this while we wait for lunch. I hope you like grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches. I don't eat meat... er I try not to." He walked across the room, handing Peter a diet Pepsi and opening one of his own.
Though still upset with himself for not being able to accomplish what appeared to be the simplest of tasks, he decided to just keep trying new things.
He’d get everything… eventually… wouldn’t he?
Peter watched his counterpart carefully; mimicking his action, he held the can to his lips. Sputtering when the cold and harsh feeling liquid flowed over his tongue, he did the only thing he could such a predicament… he swallowed. Eyes wide at the shock of it all, Peter held the can in front of him and studied it. Awed at the reaction the strange liquid seemed to cause within him, he glanced over at Pete then attempted another drink. Despite the bite of it, Peter found himself guzzling the Pepsi down.
Pete smiled and sipped his can, watching the surprise on Peter's face them him gulping the drink. "Hey, slow down Tiger. You're gonna get hiccups."
A dark feeling washed over Pete and he wrinkled his brow. As Dream-Peter became more real... did that mean he would become less so? What was the balance? What would be the price?
“H-hiccups?” Peter gasped out once he finished off the soda. Cocking his head to the side, he held his hand over his stomach as the liquid sloshed around inside. He paled a bit at the feeling that washed over him, but tried to ignore it.
It was like his mind was at war with itself. He wanted to run out and discover and experience everything… yet he wanted to stay here alone with Pete even if that meant he was succumbing to his fear that one simple action could throw himself or both of them back into the Night. It was beyond him to even ponder the how and why of their current circumstances… just surviving had become so much more complex. And at least he had Pete to guide him in this world… right?
"It's hard to explain. You'll know them if you get them. They feel just like the word sounds. But they go away. No harm." Pete sat down beside Peter and patted his knee.
"One way or another everything's gonna be cool." Pete wasn't going to let himself disappear, but neither was he going to give up Peter. They were part of each other and he had a notion rescuing one would save the other. He really hoped he was right. There was a knock at the door.
"Ah, food's here!" He got up to answer the door.
Blushing as his stomach made an awful sound, Peter scooted back further onto the bed and crossed his legs in front of himself. He paused for a moment and regarded the voice on the other side of the door. It wasn’t Joe. It was odd, but Peter could almost sense that Pete didn’t want to let this voice see him. What was even more odd, however, was trying to figure out why not. If there were so many others that existed alike and unlike themselves… why didn’t Pete want him to see?
The door slid shut behind Pete and Peter’s thoughts were pulled from their current path as the smell of the food wafted throughout the room. Just the scent of it seemed to make his stomach react stronger. He didn’t even have words for how strange that felt or seemed. Peter shyly returned the amused grin Pete was giving him as he approached the bed.
Setting the tray between them on the comforter Pete uncovered it. "There's a sandwich for each of us. But I'm not that hungry. I was mostly stalling Joe. So eat as much as you want."
And Pete wasn't very hungry. He picked up half of one of the sandwiches and took a bite, chewing, demonstrating to Peter what was expected. He was still worried about the fact he had to somehow explain Peter's presence, and more so that he still had no concrete idea what the hell was happening to them. He took another bite, more to prove to himself he was still real.
Peter lifted the sandwich to his mouth and repeated what Pete had shown him. The toast’s edges pressed into his gums as he chewed but did not harm him. He swallowed and watched Pete silently almost wishing that he could share the other man’s thoughts and not just his appearance.
Taking another bite, he attempted to speak over the mouthful. “…are you okay?” Peter asked in garble of teeth, tongue, spit and food.
Laughing Pete patted Peter on the back. "Yeah I'm ok. Swallow first, then talk. Just thinking about how freaking weird this all is. It's not every day you figure out you have a like separate dream self that suffers your nightmares as life and then drag them back out of that world with you." Peter took another bite, chewed it and swallowed. "What about good dreams? I have them once in a blue moon. Were you in those? Living them too? I like the ones where I can fly. Dude... can you fly?!"
Peter grinned and nodded with a wide smile before closing his lips over his teeth. He swallowed then answered. “… those use to scare me so bad, though. At first, I thought it was a trick of the Night… like I’d fall and never ever wake up… that never happened though…” A warm feeling had started to spread through his stomach and essentially all over his body the more he ate of his sandwich. Peter quickly reached for another half as he continued to speak. “… also use to wake up…” He stopped as soon as he’d started when a feeling of insecurity and embarrassment washed over him.
"Also used to wake up for what?" Pete asked wondering what caused the sudden flush to Peter's features. "And don't try any flying here. I'm pretty sure that now that you've been liberated from wherever you are from the laws of physics apply."
Pressing a hand to his now warm face, Peter blinked rapidly and tried to keep breathing steadily. “…s-sorry… just…” He sighed a little. “…I got warm like this then too…” The mumble barely carried between the two of them. Peter’s breathing faltered a bit when images clearer than when he’d first experienced the aforementioned awakenings presented themselves in his mind. “…erm.”
At first Pete though Peter was frightened, remembering more of the horror filled world that his brain had conjured for the poor bastard to live in. Then he remembered those other dreams. Dreams that involved him waking up in a sweat with damp spots on his sheets.
"Oh... oooh. Yeah sorry." Pete thought of some of the people he'd done in his dreams and got really embarrassed. "So do you remember other people? I mean sometimes their are people I interact with in my dreams? You don't seem to remember anyone but yourself... where are they? Like in your head?"
“J-just… pictures? …in my thoughts.” Peter dared not explain that often times, he’d wake up after that and witness those very images of other… covered in decay and half crumbled into the darkness. It was too much to really think of them as living people like himself and Pete. Yet, everything that he was learning in this other world indicated that they were at least memories of real things.
Peter was a bit confused and his face reflected it. "So like the bad dreams, the shadows and tentacles and horror show, those are real to you, but the good bits are like dreams to you?" That was too many layers for Pete's brain. It had him imagining some sunshine and rainbows third version of them that did nothing but fly and fuck.
“…not dreams… you dream when you sleep… r-right? More like memories of something that I never lived.” Peter glanced around the room and pointed at the television. “… just like how I know that’s a television, now… and that this…” He pointed at the night stand. “…is a lamp…” Shifting on the bed, Peter tried to focus his thoughts on his doppelganger. “…and how I know that…” Pressing a hand against Pete’s jaw, he sighed. “…I’m just the reflection.”
Laying his own hand over the one cupping his jaw Pete shook his head gently. "No, you were just the reflection. You're real now. You can feel and be felt, eat, drink... you aren't just a reflection Peter. Maybe you are me, but now you are also you. I think to save either of us we have to rescue each other. I'm just not exactly sure why, from what or how." he laughed sardonically.
Before he even realized what he was doing, Peter leaned over their mostly empty tray of food and clung tightly to Pete. He squeezed his frame until breathing became an issue for both of them. “… sorry!” He quickly added. “…th-that was okay, right… it just felt like I…” Peter’s gaze met Pete’s and froze.
"It's alright." Pete reassured, pushing the tray out of the way and pulling Peter into his arms. The hug was utterly one of reassurance, but it still felt weird. Sitting their essentially hugging himself. Somewhere inside his narcissistic side almost liked it. "It's all going to work out. We'll work it out somehow."
Peter, however, wasn’t so much for working it out as he was for just going with the flow. Anything and everything was better than the Night here. The moment he began to doubt Pete something would happen or he’d say something that made it all better. “… so, why are you worried about telling… Joe and whoever… do they not have Others?”
Pete stroked Peter's hair and rubbed his back soothingly. "No, they don't have others. Or maybe they do but their other halves haven't figured out how to pop outside of their dreams. Most people presented with the honest truth are going to think I'm insane, or you are, or the both of us. Or it's some kind of scam. I'm sorry. So yeah, it's going to get weird."
Peter frowned even as he leaned into Pete’s touch. He was going to miss the warmth. Wait, miss… going somewhere… it’s not like I’ll be able to stay here forever. “Sc-cam?” Were the inhabitants of this world that much like the Night? And how would they ever even consider the idea that Pete would trick them in such a dark way? “…you’d never…”
"Nah. I like to think I'm a stand up guy. No scams. Unless you consider making my living as a musician one big scam." Pete joked, still caressing Peter in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "We're going to have to face the boys soon. Joe will be freaking out. Not sure how long they'll hold out before barging in."
Pete’s joke totally missed its target as Peter just sat and absorbed what bit of the conversation that had caught his attention. Pete was a musician. The thought of that actually had Peter smiling and remembering brief interludes of song that had filtered through his thoughts as he had sought out the slimmest slivers of night and fresh air. He’d spent unimaginable blocks of time squatting in lit rooms as unfamiliar words made his heart swell and body dance. Having fallen so into his mind, Peter startled abruptly when the door to their slid slowly open.
“… yo, Pete… you awake?” Patrick furrowed his eyebrows at the dirt pressed into the carpet before looking up. “…just got done talking with Joe… think he ate some ‘shrooms or…” His voice trailed off and the door snicked shut behind him. Eyes darting between the two men pressed against one another on the bed, Patrick’s lips twitched as he tried to absorb the reality of the situation.
Pete ripped away from Peter with a surprised jerk. "Shit... uhh Hey Pat. No Joe's not trippin'." he admitted nervously, running fingers through his hair. His off hand reached for Peter's, twining their fingers, as much to reassure himself as Peter. "I'd explain... but I don't really know how. Peter this is Patrick, Patrick meet uhh me."
Gazing all at once in awe and shock, Peter tilted his head to the side as he took in Pat’s presence. He was definitely someone that Peter had once seen in his memories. Relief flooded through him as he realized that maybe, just maybe, all those faces covered in decay and shadow weren’t really gone after all. Tightening his fingers around Pete’s, Peter straightened up his posture and added softly. “…hi…”
The keycard slid from Patrick’s hand as he reached out to lean against the wall as he legs nearly gave out beneath him in the shock. Not only did the other guy looked like Pete, which yeah it would take a lot of work but Pat could see a fan pulling that off, but he sounded exactly like him, as well. There was no way this was happening.
“… I don’t understand…” Shoulders pressing against the back of the door, Patrick looked away from the duo for a moment before facing them again. “… Pete, who is this… really?”
"This is Peter Wentz." Pete said slowly as though that would make him somehow understand. "And so am I. But like he's the me that usually lives in my nightmares. Somehow I sprung him. Freaky huh?"
Remembering something he'd seen, when Peter had been climbing into the shower that had registered and been filed in his brain Pete stood up. "Look, Pat... Look at it." Pete dropped his pants around his thighs and twisted, showing off a scar that graced the back of his thigh. "I got that in freaking grade school. No one knows about that shit. Peter, show him."
Flustered, Patrick waved his hands in front of him in protest as not only Pete but ‘Peter’ stood and dropped their pants in front of him. What was really creepy was how the second one hadn’t even spared Pete a shocked glance at the request. Seriously creepy. But upon realizing that neither of them were going to pull their damn pants up unless he looked, Patrick inched forward on shaky legs and looked at Pete’s thigh and then Peter’s. “…oh my God…”
He slid to his knees a few feet away from them and stared wide-eyed. “…but, but that doesn’t make sense… you can’t just spring one someone from your dreams… this is reality… this is…”
Peter shifted his clothes slowly back on; mimicking the movements that Pete had shown him earlier and managed to do everything but button them. Falling back onto his place on the bed, he gazed at Patrick shyly through his eyelashes. He didn’t really know what to say to convince him that this wasn’t a scam… that they weren’t luring him into anything like bait with their actions… he simply was part of this world now… no one knew why. “…paradise. This is paradise.” Peter said in a shockingly solid tone.
Brows knit in response to both Patrick's shock ad Peter's statement, Pete reached over and button Peter's jeans.
"No one that doesn't know me personally has ever seen that scar Pat. You know that. I couldn't sleep. I walked out of the hotel and I was in my dreamscape, the bad one. And Peter was there. And I dragged him back here to the hotel. When morning came he was in my world just like I'd been in his at night. I know it doesn't make any fucking sense." Pete got a bit frantic, one arm snaking around Peter's waist and pulling him against his side.
"But he has to stay... he can't go back, Pat. You don't understand what it's like there. I've seen it, it's... its just... I've seen the things that come... the Night. Yeah to Peter this world would be fucking paradise. Just trust me, please, it's no trick." It was eye opening to Peter, that his normal everyday existence could be paradise, made him more appreciative.
Patrick crawled across the floor on his knees and reached out to run his hand over the hoodie covered arm of ‘Peter’. “…oh, my God…” His fingers pressed into the solid muscle beneath the material. Inhaling rapidly, the scent of the hotel’s shampoo and soap filled his senses as he gripped the man’s arm tighter and tighter. “..y-you… you never told me they were that bad…”
"It was always that bad. Why do you think I never sleep? Why are you bunking in with Andy and Joe these days?" Pete said, bitterness tingeing his tone.
Trying not to hiss when Patrick’s grip tightened, Peter gave Pete a helpless look before turning his attention back to the man kneeling before him. He had really fascinating hair. It wasn’t dark and thick like their own. Peter decided that if Patrick could touch him that the same allowances must be made for himself. It had never crossed his mind to not touch Pete; but Patrick, Patrick wasn’t his other, he was someone other.
Patrick started to pull away when Peter reached out to touch his hair again but stopped when Pete shook his head.
Lock pressed tightly between the pads of his thumb and index finger, he twirled the palely hued hair between his digits curiously. He didn’t know how to respond to all the nightmare talk; he couldn’t respond to all the nightmare talk. It had, after all, been his life. Instead, he hummed softly to himself, one of the many tunes he’d just remembered from his time in the light.
Jerking back from Peter, Patrick shot Pete an unreadable look. “…you showed him our music?”
"I didn't have to show him anything Pat. He's part of me. Get it? He knows the music because it's in him too." Pete explained, hoping Patrick wouldn't ask for more explanation than that. He just didn't have it to give. "I don't know what's going to happen. I think Peter and I should stay out of sight for now. Till I have some answers."
"I didn't have to show him anything Pat. He's part of me. Get it? He knows the music because it's in him too." Pete explained, hoping Patrick wouldn't ask for more explanation than that. He just didn't have it to give. "I don't know what's going to happen. I think Peter and I should stay out of sight for now. Till I have some answers."
Patrick was nodding; guilt etching its way across his face. “…and Joe? What about Joe??” Glancing over Peter’s arm, Patrick met Pete’s. “…and tomorrow’s sh-show?” He yelped the last part as Peter’s finger pressed into his cheekbone. Patrick let out a helpless noise at his band mate.
Peter withdrew his hand at the sound. It was strange seeing things in this world. Patrick seemed like a being made out of light or something. His hair and skin were several shades lighter than their own. His voice, was smooth and comforting even when he was obviously agitated. When he finally made the connections of Patrick’s words, Peter’s attention peaked. “A show? Like of your music…you, you sing our words?!”
"Yeah Peter, Pat sings our words." Pete told his dream clone, putting his arm around his shoulder protectively. "Pat you'd better call Andy and tell him Joe ain't tripping. I'm sorry."
He turned and bumped his forehead lightly against Peter's temple. "We'll do the show. Want Peter to see it anyway, see how far from the night we can be. In the spotlight it's never really dark is it? We'll just dress him up real nondescript; keep a hood pulled up all night." His own words were a revelation to Pete. Sometimes he abhorred the fame. Hated how people who didn't get him or their music thought he was a douche bag on some fucked up principal. But in the end his career, the stage, was everything he'd worked for, everything he'd wanted.
Peter nuzzled his forehead against Pete’s and glanced sideways at their company. He hadn’t realized just how much he wasn’t usual for this world until he’d seen Patrick’s reaction. It worried him… a lot. Pete’s breath was ghosting over his cheek and lips as he held Patrick’s gaze. He swallowed loudly and exhaled.
It was almost like the very ticking from his watch was echoing like so much screaming through out the hotel room as Patrick stared at Peter. This was just too creepy. ‘Peter’ was just too creepy. “… I dunno, man… that doesn’t seem like such a good idea. What if he gets recognized? Can’t he just stay here at the hotel ‘til after the show?”
"Recognized as who? Me? With me on stage? Worse case they think he's a really intensely good look-alike. No, he's coming Pat... or I'm not." He didn't mean it as a threat, he didn't. It was just a fact. He couldn't leave Peter alone, especially not once night fell. Also the idea had seized him for Peter to see him, in a way them, under the stage lights.
Patrick frowned and turned his attention towards the wall. He knew at this point that there was no reason to bother even arguing with Pete. Once the guy got something in his head it either led to a physical fight or… as it would end in this case… him digging his heels in and fucking up shit.
“…fine.” He said shortly.
Cutting his eyes for a brief moment at Peter and his overly earnest face, Patrick finally decided that this was legit. Even so, he was going to keep a special eye on both of them. It wasn’t exactly above or below his radar to expect some crazy fan to pull this shit on Pete. And Pete falling for some whacked out claim… like alternate dream realities.
Focusing on the warmth of Pete beside him and his own breathing, Peter tried not to let the fear swelling in his belly unfurl. He could feel its dark tentacles within him almost as surely as he once felt the Night’s touch slithering over his wrists and arms. Peter exhaled slowly and attempted to change the course of the conversation. “… P-patrick? …do you dream?”
Nodding at Patrick, recognizing when he was being given in to. He could see Patrick was still skeptical but there was nothing he could do about it. He knew this was crazy fucked up shit, but Patrick and the others would have to come to grips with it. "Of course he does, everyone does. That's why I was kinda surprised you are so alone."
Patrick’s eyes widened slightly and he cocked his head to listen to Peter’s reply. The details were what made this whole scenario… and he wanted to hear just what ‘Peter’ would come up with.
”…not exactly…” It was time to come clean. Trying to ignore Patrick, Peter licked his lips and sighed. “…there are others, but they… they never survived…” He glanced at Pete for reassurance to continue. “…when you… fell asleep? And I woke up… there was always… faces in the darkness. And they smelled so bad…” Peter’s voice tapered off as his gaze fell to his own lap.
"Faces that smell bad?" Pete asked gently, he wasn't sure he got it really, but it sounded awful and the 'never survived' part scared him shitless. He wanted Peter to open up and tell him more, but wasn't sure if Patrick's presence was helpful or not. So far it seemed as though the other man being here wasn't inhibiting him though, so maybe it was good for Peter to be exposed to another living being at the very least. Plus deep down he knew Pat was a good guy who always had his back.
Patrick’s entire stance changed. Here he was on guard with some guy that was obviously very affected by the horrors of his past. Whether or not his story was true… in that he really came from Pete’s dreams… Actually Patrick prayed that that story was real because thinking about how fucked up someone had to be to make up this shit all for the attention of a rock star… actually sickened him a little. …at the world, not ‘Peter’. He was just as curious as Pete about what the guy had just described but felt his silence served the situation best.
“… they had bodies, too.” Peter explained realizing that yeah, that was something he’d need to clarify; he’d came from elsewhere after all. “… they were…” Searching his mind for the knowledge that had seemingly just came to him, Peter finally added. “… they were dead.” He shivered and pressed closer to Pete.
Pete wrinkled his face in distaste and pulled Peter into a hug. He decided being surrounded with nothing but stinking corpses was really probably worse than being alone. It disturbed him that these were the images his subconscious crafted for Peter to reside in. Did he really fear all his family and friends dying and leaving him so greatly? "I'm sorry Peter... so fucking sorry." he murmured, holding him tightly.
Catching Pete’s eyes, Patrick decided it was clearly time for him to make his exit. They’d have plenty of time to decide how to deal with the reality of the situation. For now, he was going to call up Andy and try to explain that Joe wasn’t tripping on a damn thing. Patrick offered a small wave to his friend as he slipped out the door.
Pete spared the retreating Patrick a nod. He was pretty sure, comfortable or not, Patrick would help smooth the way, help him shield Peter. He trusted his friends; Joe and Andy would come around too.
He loosened his grip, patting Peter on the back. "People die here too, and it's something that obviously frightens me. Maybe something I need to come to grips with for your sake... my own... hell our sakes. I think maybe you are here to force me to deal with the issues I've dumped onto your head all my life."
Bonus Content
Master Post
Back to Chapter Two: No more darkness for a while
On to Chapter Four : A garden of thoughts