Wet Matches [1/1]
Pete Wentz never can figure out why he always goes through with shit like this. He never enjoys himself, or experiences anything resembling a good time-it is the same every time he finds himself at one of these parties. He will sit on a couch, chat with random people, attempt to stay far away from the alcohol, and generally lull himself into boredom. Add a bit of depression and sleep depravation to the mix, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for disaster. And disaster is exactly what Pete knows he is whipping up.
Dim the lights, sharpen the focus, and cut to the opening scene: Pete is sitting in a straight-backed chair, his hands balled into fists and resting in the front pockets of his hooded sweatshirt. The multi-colored lights mutate and shift as they sweep over his facial features, starting off as greenish, going into blue, then purple, then red, and on it goes. The colored lights only accentuate the generally glazed-over look Pete has in his eyes; he barely blinks, his pupils completely unmoving and just generally staring into space. His face is relaxed, as is his body, with the exception of his right leg, which can’t seem to stop bouncing up and down. Pete knows he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
This does seem like a strange thing to know about in advance, but Pete has just reached that point where everything has gone as bad as it could possibly go, and the only thing left for him to do is to completely lose control of his emotions. Whatever serenity his mannerisms are communicating does not reflect his mental state in any way, shape, or form.
Which is why Pete is currently sleep-deprived. It’s not that he couldn’t sleep; although he often suffers from insomnia, he hasn’t been recently. The real reason for his current exhaustion is the otherworldly way it makes him feel. It’s like a total trip minus the drugs. It’s like an out-of-body experience. When Pete has nothing to run on but caffeine and adrenaline, he can completely separate himself from the shit that’s going down around him, and just watch his life play out as if it were a movie. His brain is on auto-drive, and all he has to do is keep his foot on the gas. His thought process is fragmented, and he often finds himself wondering how he got to thinking about something. He has no idea what’s going on half of the time. And he loves it.
Pete shifts uncomfortably in his chair as a girl across the room from him attempts to make eye contact. He is not in the mood for girls tonight, especially ones who he has not met before. Which, of course, he blames on Her, and as soon as he thinks this, he wants to smack himself in the forehead. He realizes he’s being such a stereotypical decidedly broken-hearted guy. He’s already referring to the one responsible for his current state in nothing but obnoxiously capitalized pronouns, and he can’t even begin to think Her name without cringing.
Although Pete admits he is the type to get completely hung up over a girl, that surprisingly is not his only current problem. He also just had a huge fight with Andy over something that was probably completely stupid (he can’t remember what it was at the moment), and also just received news from home about his favorite uncle falling ill. Week from hell? Oh yes.
And to end this fantastic week, he managed to get himself into some stupid party at some stupid band guy’s house, in order to spend time with a bunch of other stupid people. Pete vaguely registers some familiar faces, but aside from those few, he feels like a complete stranger to everyone in his presence.
The bass lines of the song that is playing seem to wrap around Pete’s heart and squeeze. He’s having trouble keeping his eyes open. He’s concentrating on random aspects of his surroundings and getting annoyed by them. Pete feels like he needs companionship, but he knows he won’t be getting it any time soon.
When the headache begins to come on, Pete knows it’s just about time for a change in scenery. He vaguely registers that he has to pee, so he decides to navigate his way to the bathroom. Of course, it would help if he knew where it was, and if the house weren’t this big. He realizes that in order to leave the room, he must fight his way through the crowd of people in the middle, and immediately sees his situation like a maze. After passing someone, his eyes automatically search for a new opening, and Pete vaguely thinks that he’s been playing too many video games.
At long last, the doorway appears, and he bolts through it only to find himself in a hallway with many doors. Thankfully, mere moments after entering the hallway, one of the doors opens and out steps a newly refreshed party guest, revealing the bathroom. Pete rubs his aching eyes and steps in under the fluorescent lights, casually swinging the door shut, immediately getting distracted by his own reflection.
His skin is two shades lighter than it usually is, his eyes are unfocused and bloodshot, his hair is frizzy, and he generally looks like hell. Pete wrinkles his nose in disgust and turns away from the mirror, instead choosing to observe the rest of the room he is in.
It’s quite big for a bathroom, and has two levels: one with the sink and shower, and the other with the toilet and bathtub. The upper level is raised on a step that elevates it slightly, giving the room a generally elegant look.
Pete steps up to the second level and relieves himself in a clumsy fashion, letting his belt buckle clang to the floor, and allowing the toilet to make a slamming noise as he closes the lid. After zipping his pants back up, he heads over to the sink and stares in the mirror again while washing his hands.
He seems to have a perpetual pout on his face. A shadow moves somewhere behind him and he whips his head around, only to discover it was a branch of a tree blowing across one of the windows. Pete braces himself by clutching the edge of the sink and stares back into his own eyes.
Whenever he focuses on his pupils, he sees the room behind him shaking, but when he looks away it stops. His mind is causing earthquakes, he thinks absently, and returns to staring, enjoying the feeling of his world collapsing under his feet, but only because he knows it really isn’t.
Pete eyes the cabinet above the toilet, thinking briefly that there’s probably a razor in it. But Pete has been down the road of self-mutilation, and he knows it’s not somewhere he wants to go again, particularly not in someone else’s bathroom.
Back to the mirror, and Pete feels like he’s being watched. He glances in the mirror and doesn’t see anybody, but he thinks maybe there’s a vampire behind him, staring at him, and that’s why he can’t see him in the mirror. So he turns around, but there’s still nobody. Pete realizes he’s going insane, but he doesn’t particularly care. So he laughs at his situation, trying to stifle the noise by covering his mouth with one of his own hands, but it’s not working so he bites the spot between his index finger and thumb, and that makes him stop laughing. Instead, his eyes begin to water, and before he knows what’s going on, he’s crying.
Tears are streaming down his face, choked sobs are coming from somewhere in the depths of his lungs, and his eyes are clamped shut, not wanting to see anything if it isn’t going to help him out of this mess.
And the door opens.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry, didn’t know someone was in-” The guy’s voice sounds vaguely familiar, but Pete doesn’t bother to look up. “Wentz? Are you okay? Shit.”
Pete looks up at the sound of his name, and sees Mikey Way standing in the doorway, looking very awkward with some sort of liquid spilled down the front of his shirt. And somehow, Pete knows Mikey Way is the anything that will help him out of this mess.
[//]
Years later, Mikey will wonder why nobody noticed he was missing for so long, or questioned where he’d disappeared to, or went to look for him. At the moment, in his self-pitying way of thinking, he figures nobody notices his presence, so theoretically, nobody should notice his absence, either. Later on, he will chalk it up to a series of coincidences, and nothing more. However, this is completely inconsequential, and Mikey realizes this. The only thing that matters is the fact that Mikey is in an extremely odd situation. The scene is as follows:
His band was on one of its rare breaks in an obscure city on the east coast, and he had managed to get himself invited to a party. Well, he didn’t particularly want to go, as he never had fun at parties, but he likes to be optimistic and give it a shot. As usual, Mikey finds himself being a wallflower, not even able to strike up a conversation with anybody. He wishes Gerard were with him, but he was off somewhere, spending some quality time with a friend of his, who Mikey suspected was more than just a friend. Besides, Gerard would never agree to go to a party. There is too much temptation to slip back into the alcohol thing, and Mikey doesn’t want that to happen.
Mikey finds himself continuously glancing at his watch, keeping track of how long he’s been standing in one place, and wondering when something exciting is going to happen. Mikey gets what he wishes for, in the form of his drink spilling on his shirt when someone knocks into his arm. Cursing under his breath, Mikey sets down his glass and looks down at his soiled shirt, groaning. Well, he thinks, this gives him an excuse to leave the room.
Mikey finds himself in a hallway with a vast amount of doors, but only one of them has light coming out from under it, allowing a blue glow to spread across the carpet. Mikey approaches the door and listens carefully; he doesn’t hear any movement, but he figures someone’s probably inside, so he leans up against the wall and waits.
The hallway is dark, and Mikey’s feeling jumpy, so after a few minutes of waiting, he tries the knob. It turns easily, so he opens the door.
Instantly, he realizes that doing so was a mistake, because the bathroom was already occupied. Mikey starts to ramble an apology, and gets ready to back off and close the door, then go in search of another bathroom so he wouldn’t have to face this person again. However, something about the figure standing by the sink makes him hesitate. Mikey feels his jaw dropping as he recognizes the person as Pete Wentz, someone he had been a good friend with on Warped, but the two had since lost touch. This catches Mikey off guard; he did not expect to see Wentz here, especially not bent over the sink, obviously distraught.
Mikey can hear himself rambling, but doesn’t really listen to himself. Instead, he freezes when Pete finally looks up, and he sees that his eyes are red, and his cheeks tear-streaked. Mikey hesitates before making his next move; the easy thing to do would be to back off, but he can’t do that without his conscience suffering. However, even if he were to try and stick around, he isn’t sure if Pete wants him to.
Mikey takes two tentative steps forward, and he sees Pete’s back straighten. Pete lets out an audible sniff and leans against the sink, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt defensively. “Hi,” he says, his eyes appearing out of focus.
Mikey waits for him to say something else, but soon realizes that he’s not going to. “I’m sorry,” Mikey repeats, having trouble looking at Pete. “I’ll leave if you don’t want me here but, um…” Mikey clears his throat nervously. “Are you okay?”
Pete is still for a few moments, but then begins to slowly nod. However, it looks to Mikey as if he’s second-guessing himself. Mikey can see Pete thinking, wondering if he should actually tell Mikey what’s wrong, or just politely say yes, I’m okay, I just got emotional and it’s nothing to worry about. Want to go back out? I think they’re playing my song.
Mikey sees Pete’s eyes searching his face for sympathy. Apparently he finds it, because he chooses to speak up. “No,” he says finally, not adding anything descriptive to his answer, but rather allowing himself to slide to the floor and burying his face in his hands.
Mikey stares at him, vaguely realizing that this is what a nervous breakdown looks like. Mikey knows that everybody has a nervous breakdown at some point in his life, and Mikey has been unfortunate enough to have witnessed several. Gerard had multiple breakdowns, and Mikey was there for all of them, watching as his brother’s world crumbled around him, and feeling helpless to stop it. All Mikey could do was put his arm around Gerard and soothe him until it passed.
But Pete Wentz… Pete always seemed like a wet match to Mikey; the potential for combustion was always there, but there was something preventing it. Mikey never thought he’d be the one watching when the water finally evaporated. Pete obviously has a lot of people in his life who are closer to him, people who would be more suited to handle something like this, but unfortunately, nervous breakdowns just happened, regardless if the right people were present to quell them.
Mikey takes an awkward step forward, unsure of what to do. His body feels like it has more limbs than it should; like it could potentially take up the entire room and trap Pete, making his condition even worse.
A few more steps and Mikey is standing over Pete. He doesn’t look up, his face still in his hands, and Mikey sees that his ears are red with embarrassment. Thinking that if he were in Pete’s position he wouldn’t like someone standing over him, Mikey slowly lowers himself to the floor, next to Pete, with his back leaning against the sink. Mikey looks at Pete, thinking that he never quite noticed how small Pete is. Pete has this boisterous personality, bordering on obnoxious, which makes him seem to take up more space than he really does. Mikey isn’t sure how he feels about this, but at the moment, he gets the strange urge to hold Pete, or touch his hair, or something. Mikey’s hands are twitching with the urge, so he crosses his arms to repress it.
“What happened?” he asks softly, unsure if that was the right thing to say.
Pete shakes his head, his face still hidden by his hands. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, his voice muffled. “It doesn’t matter what I say, because it won’t make me feel any better. I’ll still be the emo kid crying over stupid shit.”
Mikey vaguely realizes that Pete sounds sort of delirious, or at the very least, not all there. His words have sort of a ranting quality to them, like he can’t quite hear himself. Mikey knows Pete is straight edge, but he still wonders if he may be drunk. “Wentz, are you drunk?” he asks bluntly, trying not to sound judgmental.
Pete shakes his head, sniffling. Mikey raises his eyebrows, even though he knows Pete can’t see him. “Did you take something?” he asks gently. Pete shakes his head again. “Well what is it? You’re acting weird.”
“Didn’t sleep,” Pete said simply, finally lifting his head and wiping his eyes, obviously trying to calm down.
“That explains a lot,” Mikey says, losing his fight against the urge to touch Pete and resting a hand on his shoulder. “Why not?”
“I didn’t want to,” he answers, starting to sound more normal and less weepy, tilting his head back. “It’s harder to think when I don’t sleep. And easier to not care.” Pete’s head slides sideways, resting on Mikey’s shoulder, and Mikey feels something stir in his stomach. The warm weight of Pete’s head soothes him in a way, and for a moment, he wonders who is comforting whom.
“That’s stupid. What are you trying not to think about?”
“Everything,” Pete answers. “My life has gone to hell in the past week, on so many levels, and I just can’t do it anymore.”
“Do what?” Mikey asks, both his hands returning to his lap, his fingers twisting around one another nervously. He doesn’t know why Pete’s making him so anxious, but he sort of likes it.
Pete shrugs, and Mikey feels his head shift slightly on his shoulder. “I don’t know. It. I wish nobody knew me, so I could make mistakes without the whole world knowing about them.”
Mikey understands, but he doesn’t know how to show Pete that he does. He knows that Gerard has had similar thoughts in the past, but he also knows that telling Pete this isn’t the right thing to do, because nobody wants their bad feelings compared to someone else’s bad feelings.
“And everybody who talks to me, they do it for a reason,” Pete continues a moment later. “I feel like I’m in a glass box, and everybody’s just observing me, and nothing’s ever personal.” Pete laughs softly. “I’m sorry. All this sounds so typical, and whenever I hear anyone else whine about it, I get pissed off, but now that I’m actually feeling it, I get it. And it sucks.”
Mikey still doesn’t know what to say. He was always so bad at comforting people with his words, so all he can offer is his presence. He looks down and sees that Pete’s hand is on the floor, next to Mikey’s hip, so Mikey covers it with his own. Pete shifts again, and Mikey sees the hint of a smile on his face, and it makes that something in Mikey’s belly tighten again.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, and it suddenly hits Mikey how strange his situation is. He is sitting in some guy’s bathroom with a crying Pete Wentz, and he keeps having these fleeting thoughts; fleeting thoughts he is accustomed to getting around Pete, but they seem much less appropriate now that his friend is so distraught.
However, he can’t help but be somewhat charmed by the rising and falling of Pete’s chest, and his warm weight leaning against Mikey’s body, and the feeling of his hand under Mikey’s.
[//]
Pete honestly doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. He’s seeing his surroundings in fragments, like a jumpy film, and when he speaks, the voice he hears doesn’t sound like his own. He gets vertigo in the middle of his sentences, and wonders why his mouth is moving, and forgets where he put his leg. He knows this is mostly because he’s tired, but he also knows it’s because he’s feeling awfully self-conscious. He was caught completely off guard when Mikey walked in on him, mostly because he was the last person Pete had expected to see. Not to say that he was displeased-he was actually quickly realizing that he needed someone to be with him, even if it meant just resting his head on him and ranting.
When Pete is finished talking, he just lets them lapse into a silence. There is something very comforting about Mikey Way; perhaps it’s the honest manner in which he asks questions, just cutting straight to the point and not trying to play any mind games. Pete is fucking sick of mind games, which is why he is fucking sick of girls. Girls couldn’t be honest about anything; they just had their agendas and would say anything to make sure things went their way.
In any case, Pete is greatly enjoying the way Mikey’s narrow shoulder feels underneath his head, and the way Mikey’s long-fingered hand feels over his. He vaguely thinks that he could fall asleep right there, but then he realizes that would be pretty darn rude.
Pete is hypnotized by the aesthetics of his surroundings suddenly; everything seems to have a very distinct texture, and he wants to feel it all. The tiles of the floor are black and smooth and shiny, and he feels them cold underneath his legs, leeching his heat. The light in the bathroom is dim, and he sees shadows cast over his and Mikey’s jeans. He notices the little hairs on Mikey’s arm, and really wants to run his fingers over them.
He suddenly feels a pressure on his head, and realizes that Mikey is resting his head on top of Pete’s. Pete smiles again, feeling Mikey’s flat-ironed hair tickle his ear, and remembering the day on Warped when he showed Mikey how to style it so it’d stay down. He remembers the burnt fingers, and the shrieking laughter, and thinking that they sounded like a pair of twelve-year-old girls at a slumber party, but also thinking that they didn’t care. He remembers raiding Gerard’s makeup bag and stealing his eyeliner so he could force some on Mikey, and Mikey’s hushed warnings that Gerard would have a bitch fit if he found out. Pete hears himself laughing, but it sounds distant even to his own ears.
“What’s funny?” Mikey asks, his smile audible.
“Nothing,” Pete says lightly, wondering how much longer he can stay awake before he passes out. “I think I missed you, Mikey Way.” Mikey’s name rolls together into one word when it leaves Pete’s lips.
Still smiling. “You think?”
Pete nods his head. “Mmhmm.”
“Well, Peter Wentz, I think I missed you too,” Mikey says, running his thumb over Pete’s. Pete shudders, wondering when Mikey started being so alluring. He makes a quick decision that his brain wasn’t quite part of, and suddenly pulls his hand out from under Mikey’s and lifts his head, sitting up and turning towards his friend. Mikey looks at him inquisitively, but Pete just stares into his eyes, daring him to move, or blink, or something. Mikey doesn’t even meet his eyes, looking uncomfortably everywhere else.
Another quick decision, and Pete finds himself on his knees, straddling Mikey’s legs, his hands on Mikey’s shoulders, and what the fuck is he doing?
Mikey is obviously startled; he flinches slightly, but tries to hide it behind a blank look. Pete can see the confusion in Mikey’s eyes, but he can also see the conflict, and he knows he and Mikey are on the same page.
One of Pete’s hands moves from Mikey’s shoulder to his cheek, and Mikey blinks rapidly at the contact. Pete knows Mikey is holding his breath, but only when he notices this does he realize that he too is holding his own.
Mikey’s arms are stiffly at his sides, propping him up against the sink, and they stay rigid even as Pete runs his hand over Mikey’s cheek affectionately. However, when Pete’s eyes slide closed and he begins leaning forward, one of Mikey’s arms darts up suddenly and presses against Pete’s chest, pushing him away slightly. “Pete, no.”
Pete’s eyes snap open, and he sees the deep confusion in Mikey’s eyes, coupled with a worry, and Pete somehow knows exactly why Mikey’s feeling the way he is.
“Don’t worry Mikey Way,” Pete says softly and intimately, looking straight into his fearful eyes. “I’ll keep your secrets.”
Pete leans forward, his eyes sliding closed, and he brushes his lips softly against Mikey’s. And this time, there’s no question or hesitation. He feels the vibration of the soft noise Mikey makes against his mouth before he hears it, and suddenly he’s completely infatuated with everything that Mikey does, and every move Mikey makes, and everything Mikey is, and maybe even some of the things he’s not. Pete nearly melts when he feels Mikey’s hands move up to rest on his hips, and nearly dies when he feels Mikey begin to kiss him back, tentatively at first, but quickly becoming frenzied and sexual and needy and purely passionate.
Pete’s hands slide down Mikey’s back and cross over one another, hugging Mikey closer to himself, and his knees are slipping forward and his body’s tilting back, and he’s sitting back on Mikey’s legs with Mikey’s body between his legs.
They kiss for a long time, keeping a steady pace and not trying to push things past a certain point. Pete finds it difficult to wrap his head around the concept that this is going on right now, and not before or later, or any time other than the present. It isn’t a dream and it certainly isn’t a nightmare; he really is sitting on someone’s bathroom floor, making out with Mikey Way.
A while passes, and Mikey briefly breaks away to properly catch his breath, but as soon as his lungs are filled, Pete lunges at him again, and they pick up where they left off. Pete’s hands start to roam, but Mikey catches his wrist with one of his hands, because he doesn’t want to change what they’re doing, and Pete understands so he stills his hands.
Pete doesn’t know how long they’ve been there, but eventually the kiss starts to slow down, until it’s sloppy and lazy and sleepy, and he finally lets his mouth part from Mikey’s, his head falling to Mikey’s shoulder and resting in the crook of his neck. Mikey’s hands move from Pete’s hips to his back, rubbing it affectionately. Pete nips at Mikey’s neck, and Mikey sighs softly, patting Pete’s hair.
Still they are silent, Pete inhaling Mikey’s scent as if it were a drug, and maybe it was. Maybe he should bottle Mikeyscent, and sell it to desperate souls in need of something to keep them tied to the earth. Pete snuggles up closer to Mikey and closes his eyes, breathing deeply.
“You need to get some sleep, Wentz,” Mikey says, his voice surprising Pete; his words are the first that either of them has spoken in over a half hour.
“Are you offering?” Pete mumbles into Mikey’s shirt, clutching the material in his fists.
“No. Maybe.” Mikey smiles. “Yes.” Pete smiles too, but hides it in Mikey’s shirt. “Come on,” Mikey says, nudging Pete, urging him to get up. He does, and once he’s on his feet, he offers his hand to Mikey. “No way, you’d drop me,” he says, laughing. Pete shrugs, letting his hand drop. Mikey is probably right.
Once they are both on their feet, Pete rests his hand on the small of Mikey’s back, casting a look around the bathroom so many strange things have just happened in. “Let’s get out of here.” They walk out of the door together, and the girl outside looks at them strangely. Pete doesn’t care.
[//]
Mikey admits to himself that he’s a bit nervous inviting Pete back to his hotel room after what just happened, but he’s not quite sure why; it might be because he’s afraid they will have sex. Then again, it might be because he’s afraid they won’t have sex. Or perhaps it’s just because he doesn’t like not knowing.
In any case, once they get to the hotel, Mikey is practically carrying Pete because the other man is so tired. When they’re actually in front of the door and Mikey is fumbling with the card key, he remembers that he’s supposed to be sharing the room with Gerard. However, when he opens the door and the room is empty, he remembers that Gerard went to see his “friend.” He must be staying the night.
Pete stumbles into the room and collapses on the nearest bed, not even bothering to get under the covers. Mikey smiles at him and walks past, towards the other bed, but Pete catches his wrist and pulls, so that Mikey falls on top of him. Mikey laughs and throws his arm over Pete’s waist, and Pete kisses him gently. Before Mikey can even worry about where they’re going, however, Pete’s asleep, his breathing even and his eyes closed softly. He’s beautiful, Mikey thinks right before he falls asleep.
[//]
It’s seven in the morning and Gerard really hopes Mikey was distracted last night, because, knowing his brother, he’d be worried if he weren’t. Gerard knows he should have called or something, but last night was very… engaging, and he hadn’t even thought of it.
Once he’s in front of the door, he presses his ear to it and hears soft breathing. Gerard sighs with relief; if Mikey’s asleep, chances are he wasn’t worried. He struggles for a few moments with the card key (no matter how many hotels he stays at, Gerard always has trouble with the damn things) and opens the door quietly, peeking in.
Gerard has to bite on his fist to hold back a laugh at the sight that greets him. His brother is sprawled across the bed, and Pete Wentz, of all people, is practically wrapped around him. It’s kind of cute, but Gerard doesn’t want to think of what he was doing there, so he quickly backs out and closes the door, a smile still on his face. He has to find somewhere else to go, since it looks like Mikey and Wentz need some privacy.
Strolling down the hallway, he stops in front of a door and knocks, wondering if anyone will be awake to hear it. He hears a grumble, and a minute later, Frank comes to the door, rubbing his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here? What time is it?” he says irritably, standing out of the way so Gerard can enter his room.
Gerard laughs at the look on Frank’s face.
“Hey Frank? You'll never guess who’s in Mikey’s room with him.”
End
Dim the lights, sharpen the focus, and cut to the opening scene: Pete is sitting in a straight-backed chair, his hands balled into fists and resting in the front pockets of his hooded sweatshirt. The multi-colored lights mutate and shift as they sweep over his facial features, starting off as greenish, going into blue, then purple, then red, and on it goes. The colored lights only accentuate the generally glazed-over look Pete has in his eyes; he barely blinks, his pupils completely unmoving and just generally staring into space. His face is relaxed, as is his body, with the exception of his right leg, which can’t seem to stop bouncing up and down. Pete knows he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
This does seem like a strange thing to know about in advance, but Pete has just reached that point where everything has gone as bad as it could possibly go, and the only thing left for him to do is to completely lose control of his emotions. Whatever serenity his mannerisms are communicating does not reflect his mental state in any way, shape, or form.
Which is why Pete is currently sleep-deprived. It’s not that he couldn’t sleep; although he often suffers from insomnia, he hasn’t been recently. The real reason for his current exhaustion is the otherworldly way it makes him feel. It’s like a total trip minus the drugs. It’s like an out-of-body experience. When Pete has nothing to run on but caffeine and adrenaline, he can completely separate himself from the shit that’s going down around him, and just watch his life play out as if it were a movie. His brain is on auto-drive, and all he has to do is keep his foot on the gas. His thought process is fragmented, and he often finds himself wondering how he got to thinking about something. He has no idea what’s going on half of the time. And he loves it.
Pete shifts uncomfortably in his chair as a girl across the room from him attempts to make eye contact. He is not in the mood for girls tonight, especially ones who he has not met before. Which, of course, he blames on Her, and as soon as he thinks this, he wants to smack himself in the forehead. He realizes he’s being such a stereotypical decidedly broken-hearted guy. He’s already referring to the one responsible for his current state in nothing but obnoxiously capitalized pronouns, and he can’t even begin to think Her name without cringing.
Although Pete admits he is the type to get completely hung up over a girl, that surprisingly is not his only current problem. He also just had a huge fight with Andy over something that was probably completely stupid (he can’t remember what it was at the moment), and also just received news from home about his favorite uncle falling ill. Week from hell? Oh yes.
And to end this fantastic week, he managed to get himself into some stupid party at some stupid band guy’s house, in order to spend time with a bunch of other stupid people. Pete vaguely registers some familiar faces, but aside from those few, he feels like a complete stranger to everyone in his presence.
The bass lines of the song that is playing seem to wrap around Pete’s heart and squeeze. He’s having trouble keeping his eyes open. He’s concentrating on random aspects of his surroundings and getting annoyed by them. Pete feels like he needs companionship, but he knows he won’t be getting it any time soon.
When the headache begins to come on, Pete knows it’s just about time for a change in scenery. He vaguely registers that he has to pee, so he decides to navigate his way to the bathroom. Of course, it would help if he knew where it was, and if the house weren’t this big. He realizes that in order to leave the room, he must fight his way through the crowd of people in the middle, and immediately sees his situation like a maze. After passing someone, his eyes automatically search for a new opening, and Pete vaguely thinks that he’s been playing too many video games.
At long last, the doorway appears, and he bolts through it only to find himself in a hallway with many doors. Thankfully, mere moments after entering the hallway, one of the doors opens and out steps a newly refreshed party guest, revealing the bathroom. Pete rubs his aching eyes and steps in under the fluorescent lights, casually swinging the door shut, immediately getting distracted by his own reflection.
His skin is two shades lighter than it usually is, his eyes are unfocused and bloodshot, his hair is frizzy, and he generally looks like hell. Pete wrinkles his nose in disgust and turns away from the mirror, instead choosing to observe the rest of the room he is in.
It’s quite big for a bathroom, and has two levels: one with the sink and shower, and the other with the toilet and bathtub. The upper level is raised on a step that elevates it slightly, giving the room a generally elegant look.
Pete steps up to the second level and relieves himself in a clumsy fashion, letting his belt buckle clang to the floor, and allowing the toilet to make a slamming noise as he closes the lid. After zipping his pants back up, he heads over to the sink and stares in the mirror again while washing his hands.
He seems to have a perpetual pout on his face. A shadow moves somewhere behind him and he whips his head around, only to discover it was a branch of a tree blowing across one of the windows. Pete braces himself by clutching the edge of the sink and stares back into his own eyes.
Whenever he focuses on his pupils, he sees the room behind him shaking, but when he looks away it stops. His mind is causing earthquakes, he thinks absently, and returns to staring, enjoying the feeling of his world collapsing under his feet, but only because he knows it really isn’t.
Pete eyes the cabinet above the toilet, thinking briefly that there’s probably a razor in it. But Pete has been down the road of self-mutilation, and he knows it’s not somewhere he wants to go again, particularly not in someone else’s bathroom.
Back to the mirror, and Pete feels like he’s being watched. He glances in the mirror and doesn’t see anybody, but he thinks maybe there’s a vampire behind him, staring at him, and that’s why he can’t see him in the mirror. So he turns around, but there’s still nobody. Pete realizes he’s going insane, but he doesn’t particularly care. So he laughs at his situation, trying to stifle the noise by covering his mouth with one of his own hands, but it’s not working so he bites the spot between his index finger and thumb, and that makes him stop laughing. Instead, his eyes begin to water, and before he knows what’s going on, he’s crying.
Tears are streaming down his face, choked sobs are coming from somewhere in the depths of his lungs, and his eyes are clamped shut, not wanting to see anything if it isn’t going to help him out of this mess.
And the door opens.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry, didn’t know someone was in-” The guy’s voice sounds vaguely familiar, but Pete doesn’t bother to look up. “Wentz? Are you okay? Shit.”
Pete looks up at the sound of his name, and sees Mikey Way standing in the doorway, looking very awkward with some sort of liquid spilled down the front of his shirt. And somehow, Pete knows Mikey Way is the anything that will help him out of this mess.
[//]
Years later, Mikey will wonder why nobody noticed he was missing for so long, or questioned where he’d disappeared to, or went to look for him. At the moment, in his self-pitying way of thinking, he figures nobody notices his presence, so theoretically, nobody should notice his absence, either. Later on, he will chalk it up to a series of coincidences, and nothing more. However, this is completely inconsequential, and Mikey realizes this. The only thing that matters is the fact that Mikey is in an extremely odd situation. The scene is as follows:
His band was on one of its rare breaks in an obscure city on the east coast, and he had managed to get himself invited to a party. Well, he didn’t particularly want to go, as he never had fun at parties, but he likes to be optimistic and give it a shot. As usual, Mikey finds himself being a wallflower, not even able to strike up a conversation with anybody. He wishes Gerard were with him, but he was off somewhere, spending some quality time with a friend of his, who Mikey suspected was more than just a friend. Besides, Gerard would never agree to go to a party. There is too much temptation to slip back into the alcohol thing, and Mikey doesn’t want that to happen.
Mikey finds himself continuously glancing at his watch, keeping track of how long he’s been standing in one place, and wondering when something exciting is going to happen. Mikey gets what he wishes for, in the form of his drink spilling on his shirt when someone knocks into his arm. Cursing under his breath, Mikey sets down his glass and looks down at his soiled shirt, groaning. Well, he thinks, this gives him an excuse to leave the room.
Mikey finds himself in a hallway with a vast amount of doors, but only one of them has light coming out from under it, allowing a blue glow to spread across the carpet. Mikey approaches the door and listens carefully; he doesn’t hear any movement, but he figures someone’s probably inside, so he leans up against the wall and waits.
The hallway is dark, and Mikey’s feeling jumpy, so after a few minutes of waiting, he tries the knob. It turns easily, so he opens the door.
Instantly, he realizes that doing so was a mistake, because the bathroom was already occupied. Mikey starts to ramble an apology, and gets ready to back off and close the door, then go in search of another bathroom so he wouldn’t have to face this person again. However, something about the figure standing by the sink makes him hesitate. Mikey feels his jaw dropping as he recognizes the person as Pete Wentz, someone he had been a good friend with on Warped, but the two had since lost touch. This catches Mikey off guard; he did not expect to see Wentz here, especially not bent over the sink, obviously distraught.
Mikey can hear himself rambling, but doesn’t really listen to himself. Instead, he freezes when Pete finally looks up, and he sees that his eyes are red, and his cheeks tear-streaked. Mikey hesitates before making his next move; the easy thing to do would be to back off, but he can’t do that without his conscience suffering. However, even if he were to try and stick around, he isn’t sure if Pete wants him to.
Mikey takes two tentative steps forward, and he sees Pete’s back straighten. Pete lets out an audible sniff and leans against the sink, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt defensively. “Hi,” he says, his eyes appearing out of focus.
Mikey waits for him to say something else, but soon realizes that he’s not going to. “I’m sorry,” Mikey repeats, having trouble looking at Pete. “I’ll leave if you don’t want me here but, um…” Mikey clears his throat nervously. “Are you okay?”
Pete is still for a few moments, but then begins to slowly nod. However, it looks to Mikey as if he’s second-guessing himself. Mikey can see Pete thinking, wondering if he should actually tell Mikey what’s wrong, or just politely say yes, I’m okay, I just got emotional and it’s nothing to worry about. Want to go back out? I think they’re playing my song.
Mikey sees Pete’s eyes searching his face for sympathy. Apparently he finds it, because he chooses to speak up. “No,” he says finally, not adding anything descriptive to his answer, but rather allowing himself to slide to the floor and burying his face in his hands.
Mikey stares at him, vaguely realizing that this is what a nervous breakdown looks like. Mikey knows that everybody has a nervous breakdown at some point in his life, and Mikey has been unfortunate enough to have witnessed several. Gerard had multiple breakdowns, and Mikey was there for all of them, watching as his brother’s world crumbled around him, and feeling helpless to stop it. All Mikey could do was put his arm around Gerard and soothe him until it passed.
But Pete Wentz… Pete always seemed like a wet match to Mikey; the potential for combustion was always there, but there was something preventing it. Mikey never thought he’d be the one watching when the water finally evaporated. Pete obviously has a lot of people in his life who are closer to him, people who would be more suited to handle something like this, but unfortunately, nervous breakdowns just happened, regardless if the right people were present to quell them.
Mikey takes an awkward step forward, unsure of what to do. His body feels like it has more limbs than it should; like it could potentially take up the entire room and trap Pete, making his condition even worse.
A few more steps and Mikey is standing over Pete. He doesn’t look up, his face still in his hands, and Mikey sees that his ears are red with embarrassment. Thinking that if he were in Pete’s position he wouldn’t like someone standing over him, Mikey slowly lowers himself to the floor, next to Pete, with his back leaning against the sink. Mikey looks at Pete, thinking that he never quite noticed how small Pete is. Pete has this boisterous personality, bordering on obnoxious, which makes him seem to take up more space than he really does. Mikey isn’t sure how he feels about this, but at the moment, he gets the strange urge to hold Pete, or touch his hair, or something. Mikey’s hands are twitching with the urge, so he crosses his arms to repress it.
“What happened?” he asks softly, unsure if that was the right thing to say.
Pete shakes his head, his face still hidden by his hands. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, his voice muffled. “It doesn’t matter what I say, because it won’t make me feel any better. I’ll still be the emo kid crying over stupid shit.”
Mikey vaguely realizes that Pete sounds sort of delirious, or at the very least, not all there. His words have sort of a ranting quality to them, like he can’t quite hear himself. Mikey knows Pete is straight edge, but he still wonders if he may be drunk. “Wentz, are you drunk?” he asks bluntly, trying not to sound judgmental.
Pete shakes his head, sniffling. Mikey raises his eyebrows, even though he knows Pete can’t see him. “Did you take something?” he asks gently. Pete shakes his head again. “Well what is it? You’re acting weird.”
“Didn’t sleep,” Pete said simply, finally lifting his head and wiping his eyes, obviously trying to calm down.
“That explains a lot,” Mikey says, losing his fight against the urge to touch Pete and resting a hand on his shoulder. “Why not?”
“I didn’t want to,” he answers, starting to sound more normal and less weepy, tilting his head back. “It’s harder to think when I don’t sleep. And easier to not care.” Pete’s head slides sideways, resting on Mikey’s shoulder, and Mikey feels something stir in his stomach. The warm weight of Pete’s head soothes him in a way, and for a moment, he wonders who is comforting whom.
“That’s stupid. What are you trying not to think about?”
“Everything,” Pete answers. “My life has gone to hell in the past week, on so many levels, and I just can’t do it anymore.”
“Do what?” Mikey asks, both his hands returning to his lap, his fingers twisting around one another nervously. He doesn’t know why Pete’s making him so anxious, but he sort of likes it.
Pete shrugs, and Mikey feels his head shift slightly on his shoulder. “I don’t know. It. I wish nobody knew me, so I could make mistakes without the whole world knowing about them.”
Mikey understands, but he doesn’t know how to show Pete that he does. He knows that Gerard has had similar thoughts in the past, but he also knows that telling Pete this isn’t the right thing to do, because nobody wants their bad feelings compared to someone else’s bad feelings.
“And everybody who talks to me, they do it for a reason,” Pete continues a moment later. “I feel like I’m in a glass box, and everybody’s just observing me, and nothing’s ever personal.” Pete laughs softly. “I’m sorry. All this sounds so typical, and whenever I hear anyone else whine about it, I get pissed off, but now that I’m actually feeling it, I get it. And it sucks.”
Mikey still doesn’t know what to say. He was always so bad at comforting people with his words, so all he can offer is his presence. He looks down and sees that Pete’s hand is on the floor, next to Mikey’s hip, so Mikey covers it with his own. Pete shifts again, and Mikey sees the hint of a smile on his face, and it makes that something in Mikey’s belly tighten again.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, and it suddenly hits Mikey how strange his situation is. He is sitting in some guy’s bathroom with a crying Pete Wentz, and he keeps having these fleeting thoughts; fleeting thoughts he is accustomed to getting around Pete, but they seem much less appropriate now that his friend is so distraught.
However, he can’t help but be somewhat charmed by the rising and falling of Pete’s chest, and his warm weight leaning against Mikey’s body, and the feeling of his hand under Mikey’s.
[//]
Pete honestly doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. He’s seeing his surroundings in fragments, like a jumpy film, and when he speaks, the voice he hears doesn’t sound like his own. He gets vertigo in the middle of his sentences, and wonders why his mouth is moving, and forgets where he put his leg. He knows this is mostly because he’s tired, but he also knows it’s because he’s feeling awfully self-conscious. He was caught completely off guard when Mikey walked in on him, mostly because he was the last person Pete had expected to see. Not to say that he was displeased-he was actually quickly realizing that he needed someone to be with him, even if it meant just resting his head on him and ranting.
When Pete is finished talking, he just lets them lapse into a silence. There is something very comforting about Mikey Way; perhaps it’s the honest manner in which he asks questions, just cutting straight to the point and not trying to play any mind games. Pete is fucking sick of mind games, which is why he is fucking sick of girls. Girls couldn’t be honest about anything; they just had their agendas and would say anything to make sure things went their way.
In any case, Pete is greatly enjoying the way Mikey’s narrow shoulder feels underneath his head, and the way Mikey’s long-fingered hand feels over his. He vaguely thinks that he could fall asleep right there, but then he realizes that would be pretty darn rude.
Pete is hypnotized by the aesthetics of his surroundings suddenly; everything seems to have a very distinct texture, and he wants to feel it all. The tiles of the floor are black and smooth and shiny, and he feels them cold underneath his legs, leeching his heat. The light in the bathroom is dim, and he sees shadows cast over his and Mikey’s jeans. He notices the little hairs on Mikey’s arm, and really wants to run his fingers over them.
He suddenly feels a pressure on his head, and realizes that Mikey is resting his head on top of Pete’s. Pete smiles again, feeling Mikey’s flat-ironed hair tickle his ear, and remembering the day on Warped when he showed Mikey how to style it so it’d stay down. He remembers the burnt fingers, and the shrieking laughter, and thinking that they sounded like a pair of twelve-year-old girls at a slumber party, but also thinking that they didn’t care. He remembers raiding Gerard’s makeup bag and stealing his eyeliner so he could force some on Mikey, and Mikey’s hushed warnings that Gerard would have a bitch fit if he found out. Pete hears himself laughing, but it sounds distant even to his own ears.
“What’s funny?” Mikey asks, his smile audible.
“Nothing,” Pete says lightly, wondering how much longer he can stay awake before he passes out. “I think I missed you, Mikey Way.” Mikey’s name rolls together into one word when it leaves Pete’s lips.
Still smiling. “You think?”
Pete nods his head. “Mmhmm.”
“Well, Peter Wentz, I think I missed you too,” Mikey says, running his thumb over Pete’s. Pete shudders, wondering when Mikey started being so alluring. He makes a quick decision that his brain wasn’t quite part of, and suddenly pulls his hand out from under Mikey’s and lifts his head, sitting up and turning towards his friend. Mikey looks at him inquisitively, but Pete just stares into his eyes, daring him to move, or blink, or something. Mikey doesn’t even meet his eyes, looking uncomfortably everywhere else.
Another quick decision, and Pete finds himself on his knees, straddling Mikey’s legs, his hands on Mikey’s shoulders, and what the fuck is he doing?
Mikey is obviously startled; he flinches slightly, but tries to hide it behind a blank look. Pete can see the confusion in Mikey’s eyes, but he can also see the conflict, and he knows he and Mikey are on the same page.
One of Pete’s hands moves from Mikey’s shoulder to his cheek, and Mikey blinks rapidly at the contact. Pete knows Mikey is holding his breath, but only when he notices this does he realize that he too is holding his own.
Mikey’s arms are stiffly at his sides, propping him up against the sink, and they stay rigid even as Pete runs his hand over Mikey’s cheek affectionately. However, when Pete’s eyes slide closed and he begins leaning forward, one of Mikey’s arms darts up suddenly and presses against Pete’s chest, pushing him away slightly. “Pete, no.”
Pete’s eyes snap open, and he sees the deep confusion in Mikey’s eyes, coupled with a worry, and Pete somehow knows exactly why Mikey’s feeling the way he is.
“Don’t worry Mikey Way,” Pete says softly and intimately, looking straight into his fearful eyes. “I’ll keep your secrets.”
Pete leans forward, his eyes sliding closed, and he brushes his lips softly against Mikey’s. And this time, there’s no question or hesitation. He feels the vibration of the soft noise Mikey makes against his mouth before he hears it, and suddenly he’s completely infatuated with everything that Mikey does, and every move Mikey makes, and everything Mikey is, and maybe even some of the things he’s not. Pete nearly melts when he feels Mikey’s hands move up to rest on his hips, and nearly dies when he feels Mikey begin to kiss him back, tentatively at first, but quickly becoming frenzied and sexual and needy and purely passionate.
Pete’s hands slide down Mikey’s back and cross over one another, hugging Mikey closer to himself, and his knees are slipping forward and his body’s tilting back, and he’s sitting back on Mikey’s legs with Mikey’s body between his legs.
They kiss for a long time, keeping a steady pace and not trying to push things past a certain point. Pete finds it difficult to wrap his head around the concept that this is going on right now, and not before or later, or any time other than the present. It isn’t a dream and it certainly isn’t a nightmare; he really is sitting on someone’s bathroom floor, making out with Mikey Way.
A while passes, and Mikey briefly breaks away to properly catch his breath, but as soon as his lungs are filled, Pete lunges at him again, and they pick up where they left off. Pete’s hands start to roam, but Mikey catches his wrist with one of his hands, because he doesn’t want to change what they’re doing, and Pete understands so he stills his hands.
Pete doesn’t know how long they’ve been there, but eventually the kiss starts to slow down, until it’s sloppy and lazy and sleepy, and he finally lets his mouth part from Mikey’s, his head falling to Mikey’s shoulder and resting in the crook of his neck. Mikey’s hands move from Pete’s hips to his back, rubbing it affectionately. Pete nips at Mikey’s neck, and Mikey sighs softly, patting Pete’s hair.
Still they are silent, Pete inhaling Mikey’s scent as if it were a drug, and maybe it was. Maybe he should bottle Mikeyscent, and sell it to desperate souls in need of something to keep them tied to the earth. Pete snuggles up closer to Mikey and closes his eyes, breathing deeply.
“You need to get some sleep, Wentz,” Mikey says, his voice surprising Pete; his words are the first that either of them has spoken in over a half hour.
“Are you offering?” Pete mumbles into Mikey’s shirt, clutching the material in his fists.
“No. Maybe.” Mikey smiles. “Yes.” Pete smiles too, but hides it in Mikey’s shirt. “Come on,” Mikey says, nudging Pete, urging him to get up. He does, and once he’s on his feet, he offers his hand to Mikey. “No way, you’d drop me,” he says, laughing. Pete shrugs, letting his hand drop. Mikey is probably right.
Once they are both on their feet, Pete rests his hand on the small of Mikey’s back, casting a look around the bathroom so many strange things have just happened in. “Let’s get out of here.” They walk out of the door together, and the girl outside looks at them strangely. Pete doesn’t care.
[//]
Mikey admits to himself that he’s a bit nervous inviting Pete back to his hotel room after what just happened, but he’s not quite sure why; it might be because he’s afraid they will have sex. Then again, it might be because he’s afraid they won’t have sex. Or perhaps it’s just because he doesn’t like not knowing.
In any case, once they get to the hotel, Mikey is practically carrying Pete because the other man is so tired. When they’re actually in front of the door and Mikey is fumbling with the card key, he remembers that he’s supposed to be sharing the room with Gerard. However, when he opens the door and the room is empty, he remembers that Gerard went to see his “friend.” He must be staying the night.
Pete stumbles into the room and collapses on the nearest bed, not even bothering to get under the covers. Mikey smiles at him and walks past, towards the other bed, but Pete catches his wrist and pulls, so that Mikey falls on top of him. Mikey laughs and throws his arm over Pete’s waist, and Pete kisses him gently. Before Mikey can even worry about where they’re going, however, Pete’s asleep, his breathing even and his eyes closed softly. He’s beautiful, Mikey thinks right before he falls asleep.
[//]
It’s seven in the morning and Gerard really hopes Mikey was distracted last night, because, knowing his brother, he’d be worried if he weren’t. Gerard knows he should have called or something, but last night was very… engaging, and he hadn’t even thought of it.
Once he’s in front of the door, he presses his ear to it and hears soft breathing. Gerard sighs with relief; if Mikey’s asleep, chances are he wasn’t worried. He struggles for a few moments with the card key (no matter how many hotels he stays at, Gerard always has trouble with the damn things) and opens the door quietly, peeking in.
Gerard has to bite on his fist to hold back a laugh at the sight that greets him. His brother is sprawled across the bed, and Pete Wentz, of all people, is practically wrapped around him. It’s kind of cute, but Gerard doesn’t want to think of what he was doing there, so he quickly backs out and closes the door, a smile still on his face. He has to find somewhere else to go, since it looks like Mikey and Wentz need some privacy.
Strolling down the hallway, he stops in front of a door and knocks, wondering if anyone will be awake to hear it. He hears a grumble, and a minute later, Frank comes to the door, rubbing his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here? What time is it?” he says irritably, standing out of the way so Gerard can enter his room.
Gerard laughs at the look on Frank’s face.
“Hey Frank? You'll never guess who’s in Mikey’s room with him.”
End