(no subject)
Photo-proofed Kisses I Remember So Well
(1221 words) // (PG) // Pete/Patrick
for June 16 07
Disclaimer: I'm thinking of buying them in the futere but sadly do not own these boys yet. It's actually more frienship than slash but whatever. I hope people like it, comments are appreciated :)
cantsleepcantsleepcantsleep.
I can't. My brain is physically incapable of shutting off right now as I stare into the black abyss of my surroundings. I shut my eyes and I see her crystal blues staring back at me from the inside of my eyelids. From the inside out she's breaking me. The tragic thing is how every thing in my room reminds me of another moment from long ago. Moments where she was mine, and the moment when I lost her. And myself. Even my own bedroom doesn't feel like home anymore.
Radiohead lyrics have fogged my brain and I know it's only because they're true. I sat up in bed and turned on the light that rest on my bedside table. I get up and look around for a scrap of anything to write on. Nothing's left though, after the break up I gathered every possible shred of paper and burned it all with the words that spilled over it. I kept them hidden though. I didn't want her to become a line in a song like the last girls had.
After clearing off surfaces and looking beneath many things I gave up on my search. I decided to continue the search downstairs. I opened the door and it made the same squeaking noise it always made, giving me an odd sense of joy at this small familiarity in my ever changing life. I tiptoed down the stairs treading over the old wooden steps lightly as not to wake anyone. I walked down and passed the living room where Patrick was sleeping soundly on the couch. His parents were away so he was staying here. We were only staying here for a few days anyway though. I walked into the kitchen enjoying the feel of the cool linoleum floor under my bare feet. The light over the stove gave an eerie yet somewhat comforting glow to the room and I didn't bother to turn on any more lights. I went over to the drawer beside our old refrigerator and shuffled through it silently before finally finding a small note pad. I took it, along with a pen and sat down at the table. Then I wrote. It was what I needed because it was how I coped I guess, that’s what my psychiatrist said at least. As the pen slid over the white paper I felt a indescribable release. Thoughts flowing out of my head like a broken water fountain and pouring out onto the paper. I was so engrossed in getting whatever what was in my head out that I almost didn't notice him enter the dimly lit room. But I did hear him. I heard his feet padding down the hallway before I consciously noticed what the sound meant.
He stood in the doorway just watching me intently and he looked startled when I finally looked up to meet his gaze.
“Hey" I whispered, my voice hoarse and rough sounding from being unused for so long.
“Hey" he whispered back in his ever melodic voice coming into the room fully and walking toward me. I motioned for him to sit down beside me but he shook his head vaguely. He passed me and opened up the refrigerator and I looked away, blinded by the light in contrast to the darkness in my mind. When he shut the door I looked back to see that he was pouring cereal into two bowls on the counter. I almost wanted to tell him I wasn't hungry, but I didn't. I heard the milk sloshing in the bowl as he carried it to me before placing it in my hands. Then he walked past me back out into the living room. I followed him. He sat down on the couch and I sat on the rug leaning my back against the bottom of it. I took a couple bites of the cereal before setting it down beside me. It was Cap N' Crunch, my favorite but I was lacking an appetite at the moment.
“Patrick, she's killing me" I said quietly, not even sure if he was listening. He put his bowl down on the table beside the couch and slid from his seat onto the carpeted floor next to me.” Pete, sometimes you are so dumb. Are you really going to let her get to you?" he asked bluntly. He had noticed over the past few days how distant and moody I had been for the past few days. I didn't speak for a moment.
"Yes I am, what does it even matter anyway? It helps write songs...isn't that a good thing?" I asked bitterly, trying to shut him out. I felt his hand brush against my arm.
"You know this is more than that Pete, you're worth so much more than that" he said clasping my hand in his own.
“Writing is all that I'm good for and you know it, hell, I'm not even that good at writing. I'm only worth the popularity of our next hit single" I said hopelessly. He shook his head sadly.
“I’d trade a million hit singles for you to be happy with yourself just once" he said. The honest tone of his voice took me by surprise and my heart sank to my toes. This wasn't fair. None of it. I always drew attention to myself and ruined everything that ever came my way one way or another. The only constant I had ever known was the knowledge that when I fell Patrick may not be the first one to start putting me back together but he would always be the one who stayed to help pick up those final pieces. The ones that could get lost in transition if not replaced carefully. I always wanted him to listen and tell me things I wanted to hear. He never did though and that was probably a good thing because what I wanted was usually the wrong choice anyway. He would tell me the facts and make me realize that I would have to stop blaming myself someday. I would believe in that for a while in between the breakdowns and breakups I would be golden. This time was no different. It was just a copy of a copy of a copy of every other time a girl had put a figurative gun to my spinning head. Despite my unappealing track record he still hadn’t given up on me yet. I looked at Patrick's fingers laced with mine and sighed. My heart wasn't into everything being about me anymore, for the moment at least. I moved the bowl of now soggy cereal that sat between our bodies separating us to the opposite side of me and I layer my head on his shoulder pressing my body against his side.
“I’m sorry" I said quietly, inhaling the scent of his worn out tee shirt.
“For what?" he asked.
“For everything I have ever done to make you feel like you weren't important" I said. He just nodded blankly.
“It’s fine" he said. He leaned his head on top of mine and placed a soft kiss on my forehead.
“It’s fine" I repeated quietly to myself. I think I really believed it as I shut my eyes and drifted to sleep to the sound of his breathing.
(1221 words) // (PG) // Pete/Patrick
for June 16 07
Disclaimer: I'm thinking of buying them in the futere but sadly do not own these boys yet. It's actually more frienship than slash but whatever. I hope people like it, comments are appreciated :)
cantsleepcantsleepcantsleep.
I can't. My brain is physically incapable of shutting off right now as I stare into the black abyss of my surroundings. I shut my eyes and I see her crystal blues staring back at me from the inside of my eyelids. From the inside out she's breaking me. The tragic thing is how every thing in my room reminds me of another moment from long ago. Moments where she was mine, and the moment when I lost her. And myself. Even my own bedroom doesn't feel like home anymore.
Radiohead lyrics have fogged my brain and I know it's only because they're true. I sat up in bed and turned on the light that rest on my bedside table. I get up and look around for a scrap of anything to write on. Nothing's left though, after the break up I gathered every possible shred of paper and burned it all with the words that spilled over it. I kept them hidden though. I didn't want her to become a line in a song like the last girls had.
After clearing off surfaces and looking beneath many things I gave up on my search. I decided to continue the search downstairs. I opened the door and it made the same squeaking noise it always made, giving me an odd sense of joy at this small familiarity in my ever changing life. I tiptoed down the stairs treading over the old wooden steps lightly as not to wake anyone. I walked down and passed the living room where Patrick was sleeping soundly on the couch. His parents were away so he was staying here. We were only staying here for a few days anyway though. I walked into the kitchen enjoying the feel of the cool linoleum floor under my bare feet. The light over the stove gave an eerie yet somewhat comforting glow to the room and I didn't bother to turn on any more lights. I went over to the drawer beside our old refrigerator and shuffled through it silently before finally finding a small note pad. I took it, along with a pen and sat down at the table. Then I wrote. It was what I needed because it was how I coped I guess, that’s what my psychiatrist said at least. As the pen slid over the white paper I felt a indescribable release. Thoughts flowing out of my head like a broken water fountain and pouring out onto the paper. I was so engrossed in getting whatever what was in my head out that I almost didn't notice him enter the dimly lit room. But I did hear him. I heard his feet padding down the hallway before I consciously noticed what the sound meant.
He stood in the doorway just watching me intently and he looked startled when I finally looked up to meet his gaze.
“Hey" I whispered, my voice hoarse and rough sounding from being unused for so long.
“Hey" he whispered back in his ever melodic voice coming into the room fully and walking toward me. I motioned for him to sit down beside me but he shook his head vaguely. He passed me and opened up the refrigerator and I looked away, blinded by the light in contrast to the darkness in my mind. When he shut the door I looked back to see that he was pouring cereal into two bowls on the counter. I almost wanted to tell him I wasn't hungry, but I didn't. I heard the milk sloshing in the bowl as he carried it to me before placing it in my hands. Then he walked past me back out into the living room. I followed him. He sat down on the couch and I sat on the rug leaning my back against the bottom of it. I took a couple bites of the cereal before setting it down beside me. It was Cap N' Crunch, my favorite but I was lacking an appetite at the moment.
“Patrick, she's killing me" I said quietly, not even sure if he was listening. He put his bowl down on the table beside the couch and slid from his seat onto the carpeted floor next to me.” Pete, sometimes you are so dumb. Are you really going to let her get to you?" he asked bluntly. He had noticed over the past few days how distant and moody I had been for the past few days. I didn't speak for a moment.
"Yes I am, what does it even matter anyway? It helps write songs...isn't that a good thing?" I asked bitterly, trying to shut him out. I felt his hand brush against my arm.
"You know this is more than that Pete, you're worth so much more than that" he said clasping my hand in his own.
“Writing is all that I'm good for and you know it, hell, I'm not even that good at writing. I'm only worth the popularity of our next hit single" I said hopelessly. He shook his head sadly.
“I’d trade a million hit singles for you to be happy with yourself just once" he said. The honest tone of his voice took me by surprise and my heart sank to my toes. This wasn't fair. None of it. I always drew attention to myself and ruined everything that ever came my way one way or another. The only constant I had ever known was the knowledge that when I fell Patrick may not be the first one to start putting me back together but he would always be the one who stayed to help pick up those final pieces. The ones that could get lost in transition if not replaced carefully. I always wanted him to listen and tell me things I wanted to hear. He never did though and that was probably a good thing because what I wanted was usually the wrong choice anyway. He would tell me the facts and make me realize that I would have to stop blaming myself someday. I would believe in that for a while in between the breakdowns and breakups I would be golden. This time was no different. It was just a copy of a copy of a copy of every other time a girl had put a figurative gun to my spinning head. Despite my unappealing track record he still hadn’t given up on me yet. I looked at Patrick's fingers laced with mine and sighed. My heart wasn't into everything being about me anymore, for the moment at least. I moved the bowl of now soggy cereal that sat between our bodies separating us to the opposite side of me and I layer my head on his shoulder pressing my body against his side.
“I’m sorry" I said quietly, inhaling the scent of his worn out tee shirt.
“For what?" he asked.
“For everything I have ever done to make you feel like you weren't important" I said. He just nodded blankly.
“It’s fine" he said. He leaned his head on top of mine and placed a soft kiss on my forehead.
“It’s fine" I repeated quietly to myself. I think I really believed it as I shut my eyes and drifted to sleep to the sound of his breathing.