TheThreshold.07
Title: The Threshold.
Summary : The most popular boy in school walks through the door of a local shop. In the time it takes for him to walk back out, he's done something that will drastically change his entire world.
Author : burgerking. I claim nothing but the story itself!
Rating : Soft R, for language and scary things.
Author's Notes : I want to dedicate this chapter to my friend Dean, because he's shown nothing but support for me.
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06
Six AM, the clock screamed through the darkness to anyone who would listen, It’s Six AM.
The eyes that received this glaring message through the blackness were ones that were terribly tired - not unlike the boy who owned them. They were framed by sharp, black lines; lines that were far more worrisome than the ones the boy usually drew on himself.
Really, everything about the boy seemed tired and broken at this moment, at this Six AM bathroom visit. Even the hands that he gripped the countertop with were shaking, though perhaps that was for the better.
Moments earlier, he had tried to pour out the contents of his favorite little bottle, but his hands would not cooperate. He dropped it. Pills scattered everywhere. And now he could do nothing but look from the bottle, to the clock, to the reflection of the boy who connected them all.
He wouldn’t kill himself, that much he knew. He couldn’t. He was a coward, and always had been. But God, it would make things so much easier. Wouldn’t it? He’d be free of all this crap: no more boy problems, no more worries, no more anything. But more importantly, the world would be free of him.
Still, he hadn’t managed to do it, and this was what distressed him the most. Over and over in his head, he had planned how it would go - Ever since he was 15, in the prime of his teenage angst, to the recent weeks when his visions of suicide had become so much more vivid. Again and again he saw himself swallowing the pills, sometimes being found the next morning by his parents, or perhaps not until a few days later. But never had he seen this ending, where the pills spilled everywhere but down his throat.
Finally, he couldn’t bear to stare at those empty eyes in the mirror any longer. He hated them more than anything; they had broken him apart inside. And so, choking back sobs, he let himself slip to the floor, his skin becoming familiar with the cold tile. This, too, was different from what he’d foreseen. He’d dreamt of lying lifelessly on the floor, not with tears streaming down his cheeks. Oh, why couldn’t life be as horribly dramatic as it was in his head?
Suddenly, fleetingly, Pete wondered what Patrick was doing right at that moment. Was he getting some gut feeling that something was wrong? That’s how it was in the movies… The hero always had his own hero to rescue him in the nick of time. Realistically, though, Pete imagined that Patrick was peacefully tucked into bed, and Pete liked that idea much better than the first one. He didn’t want Patrick to be concerned. And he didn’t want to be rescued, anyway… Did he?
Somewhat contrary to Pete’s thoughts, Patrick was not, in fact, peaceful. He’d been up all night worrying about Pete, just as he had every other night that week. Something about his friend had changed lately, and not for the better. He was constantly disheveled, tired, and completely devoid of his usual noisy personality. But why?
“Fuck,” Patrick groaned, covering his face with his hands. He was taking this far too seriously, he knew. Surely Pete was fine, he was probably sleeping comfortably at that very moment. But what if he wasn’t? Pete had said once that he needed him…
Patrick reluctantly reached out to his nightstand for his cell phone, and hit number one on his speed-dial. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this.
Back in the Wentz household, Pete heard his ringtone faintly cry out from his room. He jolted up from the floor and stared, unbelieving, toward the tiny speck of light across the hall that was his phone. He got to his feet quickly and scrambled toward it; To his surprise, the name TRICKY STUMP blinked up at him. His heart began racing so fast that he was sure it would explode.
My hero.
“H-hello?” he gasped into the phone.
Patrick let out a sigh of relief at the sound of his friend’s voice. “Pete,” he breathed, “Shit, I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”
“No,” Pete replied. “I’m, uh, really glad you called.”
“Awesome. I just wanted to talk. But if this is a bad time…”
“It’s not!” Pete interjected. “Can I come over?”
“Come over…?” Patrick mumbled, caught off guard. He certainly hadn’t expected that. “Um, yeah, if you want to. I just - ”
“Great, I’ll be over in a second.” With that, Pete hung up his phone and raced to his dresser, where he immediately grabbed a shirt and threw it on. He wasn’t going to waste any time if it meant being away from Patrick. This being the case, it was only a matter of minutes before he was backing his mom’s car out into the street. She wouldn’t miss it.
Meanwhile, Patrick was fussing over himself in his living room mirror. Why had Pete chosen tonight, of all nights, to come over? Oh, he looked a wreck… his hair was messy, his skin looked more pale than usual, and where had all that extra weight come from?
Naturally, when a knock sounded at the door, he was more than reluctant to answer it. He looked just as awful as he felt, and then there was Pete, who was… well, he was unkempt too, but at least it was a look he could pull off.
“Hi,” said Pete, sounding slightly flustered.
“Hi,” Patrick replied.
“So, what… ah… what did you want to talk about?” Pete’s shoes were already off, and he was looking expectantly at Patrick. The latter took this cue and began moving toward his room, with his visitor close behind.
“I don’t think you’ve been getting any sleep,” he said finally. Pete grinned.
“How could I? People calling me at six in the morning…”
“Oh, shut up.” Patrick stepped inside of his room, waited for Pete to follow suit, then closed the door. “Be serious, Pete. I’m worried about you.”
Pete nodded and shuffled over to the bed, where he sat and let his smile fade gradually. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Patrick sat next to him apprehensively.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” A pause. “I guess I’ve had this feeling that…” He was struggling to find the words. Why now? Why here? He always seemed to know what to say when it was just him and his notebook. But there was no paper now, just Patrick. “I don’t know how to explain it, really. I feel like I don’t belong. I don’t fit in anywhere. I could disappear and no one would care.” He stopped again, swallowed hard, and looked at the boy beside him. Patrick was leaning forward a bit, hands clasped in his lap, a genuinely concerned look in his eyes. Realization hit Pete hard: Someone would care. He would care.
“…But now that I’m here, I don’t feel like that anymore,” Pete finished quietly.
Patrick tried not to blush - though to no avail - and he laughed as though Pete had made some sort of joke. “I’m glad you stopped feeling that way, because it’s completely fucking wrong. Plenty of people would be torn up if you disappeared. But… how did I change your mind?”
“Well,” Pete said slowly, “You’re the only one who I know really cares.”
“Bullshit. You have so many friends. And what about your boyfriend?”
Pete scoffed. “Mikey? I’m breaking up with him.”
“Oh... Uh... After only a couple of weeks?”
“Look, don’t worry about it,” Pete demanded, shaking his head. “Things in my world are only just now starting to make sense. Breaking up with him is the right thing, and that’s all I’m sure of at this point.”
“Okay.” Patrick didn’t dare to intervene. As long as Pete had peace of mind, that’s all that mattered. As long as he was happy. As long as he was single.
“So what’s new with you, Stumpy?” asked Pete, sounding as though he hadn’t just been on the verge of a mental breakdown. He leaned back casually and let his back lie flat on the bed, his feet still on the floor. Patrick’s eyes strayed shamelessly to the patch of skin that was revealed between Pete’s shirt and pajama pants; almost instinctively, he pulled his own shirt down to cover up whatever might be exposed.
“I’ve just been thinking about how I’m suffocating in this town,” he said at last.
“Do tell.”
“What’s to tell? I’m sure you know how it is. Everything about this place has gotten so old. I’m sick of it.” He stopped and turned to look out of his window, just in time to see the sun rising over the city. “But things are looking up. Summer’s coming, Pete. I’m gonna get out of here.”
Immediately, Pete’s stomach dropped. He had been putting off this conversation for so long… The talk of how Patrick would be leaving for college, and how Pete would be stuck in school for another year.
“Lucky town still gets to keep its star soccer kid though, huh? How are you gonna survive without us dorks next year?”
“I have no fuckin’ idea,” Pete admitted, his eyes on the ceiling. “Can we not talk about it?”
“Of course, anything for you, ” Patrick said agreeably. He shifted on the bed and settled back until he was lying next to Pete. They were quiet for a few moments, and suddenly Patrick turned to his side, pulling the thin boy into a hug. “Don’t worry, Wentz. You do belong somewhere.”
And Pete nodded in agreement, because in that instant when Patrick’s arms were around him, he knew that this was exactly where he would belong for the rest of his life.
Summary : The most popular boy in school walks through the door of a local shop. In the time it takes for him to walk back out, he's done something that will drastically change his entire world.
Author : burgerking. I claim nothing but the story itself!
Rating : Soft R, for language and scary things.
Author's Notes : I want to dedicate this chapter to my friend Dean, because he's shown nothing but support for me.
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06
Six AM, the clock screamed through the darkness to anyone who would listen, It’s Six AM.
The eyes that received this glaring message through the blackness were ones that were terribly tired - not unlike the boy who owned them. They were framed by sharp, black lines; lines that were far more worrisome than the ones the boy usually drew on himself.
Really, everything about the boy seemed tired and broken at this moment, at this Six AM bathroom visit. Even the hands that he gripped the countertop with were shaking, though perhaps that was for the better.
Moments earlier, he had tried to pour out the contents of his favorite little bottle, but his hands would not cooperate. He dropped it. Pills scattered everywhere. And now he could do nothing but look from the bottle, to the clock, to the reflection of the boy who connected them all.
He wouldn’t kill himself, that much he knew. He couldn’t. He was a coward, and always had been. But God, it would make things so much easier. Wouldn’t it? He’d be free of all this crap: no more boy problems, no more worries, no more anything. But more importantly, the world would be free of him.
Still, he hadn’t managed to do it, and this was what distressed him the most. Over and over in his head, he had planned how it would go - Ever since he was 15, in the prime of his teenage angst, to the recent weeks when his visions of suicide had become so much more vivid. Again and again he saw himself swallowing the pills, sometimes being found the next morning by his parents, or perhaps not until a few days later. But never had he seen this ending, where the pills spilled everywhere but down his throat.
Finally, he couldn’t bear to stare at those empty eyes in the mirror any longer. He hated them more than anything; they had broken him apart inside. And so, choking back sobs, he let himself slip to the floor, his skin becoming familiar with the cold tile. This, too, was different from what he’d foreseen. He’d dreamt of lying lifelessly on the floor, not with tears streaming down his cheeks. Oh, why couldn’t life be as horribly dramatic as it was in his head?
Suddenly, fleetingly, Pete wondered what Patrick was doing right at that moment. Was he getting some gut feeling that something was wrong? That’s how it was in the movies… The hero always had his own hero to rescue him in the nick of time. Realistically, though, Pete imagined that Patrick was peacefully tucked into bed, and Pete liked that idea much better than the first one. He didn’t want Patrick to be concerned. And he didn’t want to be rescued, anyway… Did he?
Somewhat contrary to Pete’s thoughts, Patrick was not, in fact, peaceful. He’d been up all night worrying about Pete, just as he had every other night that week. Something about his friend had changed lately, and not for the better. He was constantly disheveled, tired, and completely devoid of his usual noisy personality. But why?
“Fuck,” Patrick groaned, covering his face with his hands. He was taking this far too seriously, he knew. Surely Pete was fine, he was probably sleeping comfortably at that very moment. But what if he wasn’t? Pete had said once that he needed him…
Patrick reluctantly reached out to his nightstand for his cell phone, and hit number one on his speed-dial. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this.
Back in the Wentz household, Pete heard his ringtone faintly cry out from his room. He jolted up from the floor and stared, unbelieving, toward the tiny speck of light across the hall that was his phone. He got to his feet quickly and scrambled toward it; To his surprise, the name TRICKY STUMP blinked up at him. His heart began racing so fast that he was sure it would explode.
My hero.
“H-hello?” he gasped into the phone.
Patrick let out a sigh of relief at the sound of his friend’s voice. “Pete,” he breathed, “Shit, I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”
“No,” Pete replied. “I’m, uh, really glad you called.”
“Awesome. I just wanted to talk. But if this is a bad time…”
“It’s not!” Pete interjected. “Can I come over?”
“Come over…?” Patrick mumbled, caught off guard. He certainly hadn’t expected that. “Um, yeah, if you want to. I just - ”
“Great, I’ll be over in a second.” With that, Pete hung up his phone and raced to his dresser, where he immediately grabbed a shirt and threw it on. He wasn’t going to waste any time if it meant being away from Patrick. This being the case, it was only a matter of minutes before he was backing his mom’s car out into the street. She wouldn’t miss it.
Meanwhile, Patrick was fussing over himself in his living room mirror. Why had Pete chosen tonight, of all nights, to come over? Oh, he looked a wreck… his hair was messy, his skin looked more pale than usual, and where had all that extra weight come from?
Naturally, when a knock sounded at the door, he was more than reluctant to answer it. He looked just as awful as he felt, and then there was Pete, who was… well, he was unkempt too, but at least it was a look he could pull off.
“Hi,” said Pete, sounding slightly flustered.
“Hi,” Patrick replied.
“So, what… ah… what did you want to talk about?” Pete’s shoes were already off, and he was looking expectantly at Patrick. The latter took this cue and began moving toward his room, with his visitor close behind.
“I don’t think you’ve been getting any sleep,” he said finally. Pete grinned.
“How could I? People calling me at six in the morning…”
“Oh, shut up.” Patrick stepped inside of his room, waited for Pete to follow suit, then closed the door. “Be serious, Pete. I’m worried about you.”
Pete nodded and shuffled over to the bed, where he sat and let his smile fade gradually. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Patrick sat next to him apprehensively.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” A pause. “I guess I’ve had this feeling that…” He was struggling to find the words. Why now? Why here? He always seemed to know what to say when it was just him and his notebook. But there was no paper now, just Patrick. “I don’t know how to explain it, really. I feel like I don’t belong. I don’t fit in anywhere. I could disappear and no one would care.” He stopped again, swallowed hard, and looked at the boy beside him. Patrick was leaning forward a bit, hands clasped in his lap, a genuinely concerned look in his eyes. Realization hit Pete hard: Someone would care. He would care.
“…But now that I’m here, I don’t feel like that anymore,” Pete finished quietly.
Patrick tried not to blush - though to no avail - and he laughed as though Pete had made some sort of joke. “I’m glad you stopped feeling that way, because it’s completely fucking wrong. Plenty of people would be torn up if you disappeared. But… how did I change your mind?”
“Well,” Pete said slowly, “You’re the only one who I know really cares.”
“Bullshit. You have so many friends. And what about your boyfriend?”
Pete scoffed. “Mikey? I’m breaking up with him.”
“Oh... Uh... After only a couple of weeks?”
“Look, don’t worry about it,” Pete demanded, shaking his head. “Things in my world are only just now starting to make sense. Breaking up with him is the right thing, and that’s all I’m sure of at this point.”
“Okay.” Patrick didn’t dare to intervene. As long as Pete had peace of mind, that’s all that mattered. As long as he was happy. As long as he was single.
“So what’s new with you, Stumpy?” asked Pete, sounding as though he hadn’t just been on the verge of a mental breakdown. He leaned back casually and let his back lie flat on the bed, his feet still on the floor. Patrick’s eyes strayed shamelessly to the patch of skin that was revealed between Pete’s shirt and pajama pants; almost instinctively, he pulled his own shirt down to cover up whatever might be exposed.
“I’ve just been thinking about how I’m suffocating in this town,” he said at last.
“Do tell.”
“What’s to tell? I’m sure you know how it is. Everything about this place has gotten so old. I’m sick of it.” He stopped and turned to look out of his window, just in time to see the sun rising over the city. “But things are looking up. Summer’s coming, Pete. I’m gonna get out of here.”
Immediately, Pete’s stomach dropped. He had been putting off this conversation for so long… The talk of how Patrick would be leaving for college, and how Pete would be stuck in school for another year.
“Lucky town still gets to keep its star soccer kid though, huh? How are you gonna survive without us dorks next year?”
“I have no fuckin’ idea,” Pete admitted, his eyes on the ceiling. “Can we not talk about it?”
“Of course, anything for you, ” Patrick said agreeably. He shifted on the bed and settled back until he was lying next to Pete. They were quiet for a few moments, and suddenly Patrick turned to his side, pulling the thin boy into a hug. “Don’t worry, Wentz. You do belong somewhere.”
And Pete nodded in agreement, because in that instant when Patrick’s arms were around him, he knew that this was exactly where he would belong for the rest of his life.