Yes, this is ANOTHER fanfic.
Author: xtimxpagnottax
Title: Then Again, Maybe I Won’t
Pairing: Pete/Patrick…kinda.
Rating: PG, like the rest of my stories.
About: Pete thinks about Patrick.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Pete. Or Fall Out Boy. But Fall Out Boy owns me.
Author’s Notes: This is rated PG for brief language, and brief drug use. The song is called, "There Is" by Box Car Racer, and it's the best song in the entire universe. Go download it, or just buy Box Car Racer's CD, because it's fucking amazing.
[This vacation’s useless; these white pills aren’t kind. I’ve given a lot of thought on this thirteen-hour drive. I missed the grinding concrete where we sat past eight or nine, and slowly finished laughing in the glow of our headlights.]
I drove down the road. I was thirteen hours out of Chicago. The bottle of aspirin rattled in the passenger seat next to me. I had two in my hand, and I quickly swallowed them down with a sip of water. My vision was beginning to blur, and I pulled over on the side of the road, and thought.
Patrick ducked slightly as Joe did a three-sixty over him, and landing gracefully on the street.
“Hey, Pete,” Patrick said. “What time is it?”
“Um…it is…” Pete looked at his watch, a gift from his grandma, “nine-seventeen.”
“Wow, time flies, huh?” Patrick asked.
“Yeah, I guess it does.” The two of them laughed as Joe and Andy collided, sending them both sprawling to the ground. The Clash slowly drifted out of the open windows of Pete’s car.
“God,” Andy said coming up, examining a scratched up elbow. “Oh, hey. I know this song.”
“When they kick down your front door, how you gonna come?” Pete sang.
Patrick bobbed his head along to the music. “With your hand on your head, or on the trigger of your gun?”
“Come on, guys. Let’s go home,” Joe said, loading everything into the car. Pete climbed into the driver’s seat, and turned the volume up louder. Patrick climbed into the passenger seat, and Joe and Andy climbed into the back.
“You can crush us,” they sang, “you can bruise us, but you’ll have to answer, too…”
[I’ve given a lot of thought to the nights we used to have. The days have come and gone, our lives went by so fast. I faintly remember breathing on your bedroom floor, where I laid and told you, but you swore you loved me more.]
I smiled faintly, remembering the nights at the skate park, when we would sneak in at ten o’clock, sometimes eleven, only to get caught, and grounded. Those days were over, though. They went by so fast. I floated off into another memory.
Pete laid on Patrick’s floor, looking around at all the posters. His view got blocked by Patrick flopping down next to him.
“Hi,” Pete said, grinning.
“Hello!” Patrick replied, overenthusiastically.
Pete laughed. “Somebody’s happy today.”
“And that person is meeee!” Patrick said, gleefully.
“I love you, Trick,” Pete said, running his fingers through Patrick’s hair.
Patrick closed his eyes briefly. “I love you, too, Petey.”
“I love you more.”
Patrick shook his head. “No. I love you more.”
“No,” Pete said, smiling. “There’s no way you can beat the love I have for you.”
“It’s raining love, my love for you,” Patrick replied.
“I love you a gazillion times twenty-seven.”
Patrick smiled. “I love you a gazillion and one times twenty-eight.”
“Alright, fine, you win,” Pete said, laughing.
[Do you care if I don’t know what to say? Will you sleep tonight, or will you think of me? Will I shake this off? Pretend it’s all okay that there’s someone out there who feels just like me. There is. There is.]
I sighed, and closed my eyes, leaning back in my seat. It was a night that my breath was taken away by the stars, it was a night that I didn’t know what to say to the air, or to the quiet, but all too loud, crickets that hid themselves in the tall grass. I wondered what Patrick was doing. Sleeping, as it was 3:42 in the morning, or maybe laying awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking the same things I am. I wondered if Patrick was thinking, ‘I wonder what Pete’s doing right now…maybe I should call him.’ I grabbed my cell phone from the backseat, and wrapped my hand around it tightly, begging for it ring, pleading with the piece of technology, which, of course, did not ring.
I tossed the phone to the seat next to the aspirin. It’s my fault that Patrick doesn’t love me anymore. It’s my fault that Patrick never called. I sat up again, and turned the car on, pulling out of my makeshift parking spot, and back onto the road. It’s scary to think that at one point, this great guy was in love with Peter Wentz, and it’s scary to think that the same great guy could still be in love with Peter Fuck-up.
[Those notes you wrote me, I kept them all. I’ve given a lot of thought of how to write you back this fall. With every single letter, in every single word, there will be a hidden message about a boy that loves a girl.]
Peter,
I’m sad, as I’m sure you know. I loved you so much, and now your doing all of these drugs, and drinking all the time. I’m really sorry to say that we can’t be together anymore.
All of my love,
Patrick.
Petey!
I misss yooouuu! When are you coming back from Florida? They’re shutting down the skate park, and when you get back we’re throwing a protest! Just the four of us! Good times, Petey!
Love,
Trick!
Peter Wentz! I could kick your lily ass!
Love,
Patrick
There are cops in the doughnut shop, Petey. So walk like an Egyptian…
:D,
Patrick
Pete,
I’m going to the midnight showing of Peter Pan. I don’t wanna go all alone. Go with me? Please?
I love you so much!
Trick
Some of those notes were so useless. I took out a piece of paper, and began to write back, trying to keep my eyes on the road, and on the paper.
Patrick,
I’m really sorry I screwed up. Please take me back.
I love you,
Pete.
“Patrick, I miss you,” I whispered. I threw the letter out the window, and watched it fly away in the rearview mirror. I sighed contentedly. Maybe that letter would find it’s way back to Chicago. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll still be alive.
Then again, maybe I won’t be.
Title: Then Again, Maybe I Won’t
Pairing: Pete/Patrick…kinda.
Rating: PG, like the rest of my stories.
About: Pete thinks about Patrick.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Pete. Or Fall Out Boy. But Fall Out Boy owns me.
Author’s Notes: This is rated PG for brief language, and brief drug use. The song is called, "There Is" by Box Car Racer, and it's the best song in the entire universe. Go download it, or just buy Box Car Racer's CD, because it's fucking amazing.
[This vacation’s useless; these white pills aren’t kind. I’ve given a lot of thought on this thirteen-hour drive. I missed the grinding concrete where we sat past eight or nine, and slowly finished laughing in the glow of our headlights.]
I drove down the road. I was thirteen hours out of Chicago. The bottle of aspirin rattled in the passenger seat next to me. I had two in my hand, and I quickly swallowed them down with a sip of water. My vision was beginning to blur, and I pulled over on the side of the road, and thought.
Patrick ducked slightly as Joe did a three-sixty over him, and landing gracefully on the street.
“Hey, Pete,” Patrick said. “What time is it?”
“Um…it is…” Pete looked at his watch, a gift from his grandma, “nine-seventeen.”
“Wow, time flies, huh?” Patrick asked.
“Yeah, I guess it does.” The two of them laughed as Joe and Andy collided, sending them both sprawling to the ground. The Clash slowly drifted out of the open windows of Pete’s car.
“God,” Andy said coming up, examining a scratched up elbow. “Oh, hey. I know this song.”
“When they kick down your front door, how you gonna come?” Pete sang.
Patrick bobbed his head along to the music. “With your hand on your head, or on the trigger of your gun?”
“Come on, guys. Let’s go home,” Joe said, loading everything into the car. Pete climbed into the driver’s seat, and turned the volume up louder. Patrick climbed into the passenger seat, and Joe and Andy climbed into the back.
“You can crush us,” they sang, “you can bruise us, but you’ll have to answer, too…”
[I’ve given a lot of thought to the nights we used to have. The days have come and gone, our lives went by so fast. I faintly remember breathing on your bedroom floor, where I laid and told you, but you swore you loved me more.]
I smiled faintly, remembering the nights at the skate park, when we would sneak in at ten o’clock, sometimes eleven, only to get caught, and grounded. Those days were over, though. They went by so fast. I floated off into another memory.
Pete laid on Patrick’s floor, looking around at all the posters. His view got blocked by Patrick flopping down next to him.
“Hi,” Pete said, grinning.
“Hello!” Patrick replied, overenthusiastically.
Pete laughed. “Somebody’s happy today.”
“And that person is meeee!” Patrick said, gleefully.
“I love you, Trick,” Pete said, running his fingers through Patrick’s hair.
Patrick closed his eyes briefly. “I love you, too, Petey.”
“I love you more.”
Patrick shook his head. “No. I love you more.”
“No,” Pete said, smiling. “There’s no way you can beat the love I have for you.”
“It’s raining love, my love for you,” Patrick replied.
“I love you a gazillion times twenty-seven.”
Patrick smiled. “I love you a gazillion and one times twenty-eight.”
“Alright, fine, you win,” Pete said, laughing.
[Do you care if I don’t know what to say? Will you sleep tonight, or will you think of me? Will I shake this off? Pretend it’s all okay that there’s someone out there who feels just like me. There is. There is.]
I sighed, and closed my eyes, leaning back in my seat. It was a night that my breath was taken away by the stars, it was a night that I didn’t know what to say to the air, or to the quiet, but all too loud, crickets that hid themselves in the tall grass. I wondered what Patrick was doing. Sleeping, as it was 3:42 in the morning, or maybe laying awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking the same things I am. I wondered if Patrick was thinking, ‘I wonder what Pete’s doing right now…maybe I should call him.’ I grabbed my cell phone from the backseat, and wrapped my hand around it tightly, begging for it ring, pleading with the piece of technology, which, of course, did not ring.
I tossed the phone to the seat next to the aspirin. It’s my fault that Patrick doesn’t love me anymore. It’s my fault that Patrick never called. I sat up again, and turned the car on, pulling out of my makeshift parking spot, and back onto the road. It’s scary to think that at one point, this great guy was in love with Peter Wentz, and it’s scary to think that the same great guy could still be in love with Peter Fuck-up.
[Those notes you wrote me, I kept them all. I’ve given a lot of thought of how to write you back this fall. With every single letter, in every single word, there will be a hidden message about a boy that loves a girl.]
Peter,
I’m sad, as I’m sure you know. I loved you so much, and now your doing all of these drugs, and drinking all the time. I’m really sorry to say that we can’t be together anymore.
All of my love,
Patrick.
Petey!
I misss yooouuu! When are you coming back from Florida? They’re shutting down the skate park, and when you get back we’re throwing a protest! Just the four of us! Good times, Petey!
Love,
Trick!
Peter Wentz! I could kick your lily ass!
Love,
Patrick
There are cops in the doughnut shop, Petey. So walk like an Egyptian…
:D,
Patrick
Pete,
I’m going to the midnight showing of Peter Pan. I don’t wanna go all alone. Go with me? Please?
I love you so much!
Trick
Some of those notes were so useless. I took out a piece of paper, and began to write back, trying to keep my eyes on the road, and on the paper.
Patrick,
I’m really sorry I screwed up. Please take me back.
I love you,
Pete.
“Patrick, I miss you,” I whispered. I threw the letter out the window, and watched it fly away in the rearview mirror. I sighed contentedly. Maybe that letter would find it’s way back to Chicago. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll still be alive.
Then again, maybe I won’t be.