TheThreshold.09
Okay, I know this has already been done, but I drew a slashy cartoon for Valentines. It's over here (or here if you have a DeviantART account.)
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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 : PG-13.
Author's Notes : Just fyi, the song this chapter is named after is actually spelled "Padriac, My Prince," but I can't stand that spelling.
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08
Pete could still remember the first indication that something was wrong.
It had all started with Joe’s determination to get a band together; He had summoned Andy, Pete and Patrick to his house, the very day after Pete had discovered Patrick’s voice. And that day there had been a fire in Joe’s eyes which had amused Pete greatly - oh, the whole thing seemed destined to be!
But Patrick, however, did not appear interested. He politely refused the offer at first, but then was much less polite about it - he and Joe had gotten into an argument that had prompted Pete and Andy to flee.
Not like any of that made a difference now, though.
Just as the sun was beginning its slow decent toward the horizon, Pete was running down the Chicago streets with an inspiration that he had never felt inside of him before. The sounds of the city and his soles hitting the concrete were echoing into oblivion. Nothing around him mattered now, nothing mattered except getting to his destination as fast as humanly possible (though he hoped to go even faster than that.)
There was a war waging in his head: Should he hate himself? Pity himself? Should he be angry at Patrick for not telling him? Bombs were dropping left and right, taking casualties in the form of Pete’s emotions, and it seemed that every time one side chalked up a victory, it was the little voice who said, “The only thing that matters is getting to Patrick.”
The voice was right.
***
Five minutes earlier, Pete had been at Andy’s house for Movie Night. Pete loved Movie Night, and he deeply admired Andy’s uncanny talent for throwing parties. He had never imagined that several outcasts (and one not-so-outcast) could have so much fun when crammed into a room together.
But this night had been different from most: Patrick hadn’t shown up. And suddenly Pete realized that Patrick had been absent so often lately that perhaps he was becoming accustomed to not having the older boy around.
Finally he’d asked, “What’s up with Trick lately?” and uncomfortable glances were exchanged all around the room. Worry immediately seized Pete: Why did these boys all seem to know something that he didn’t know?
“Pete,” Joe said softly, with the tone of a parent explaining death to a child, “I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but I guess I might as well.”
“Tell me what?” Pete growled, taking slight offense to being left out of the loop. Nobody left Peter Wentz out of the loop.
“Okay, you know that Patrick’s miserable here, and that he’s going to go away to college.”
“Yeah?”
“Well… he’s going out of state.”
“Oh.” Pete’s heart sank.
“Yeah. And he’s actually moving out there. Like, y’know, he’s not going to come home during vacation or anything.”
“…Oh.” Now Pete’s heart had hit the floor.
“And, uh… this college is out near London, by the way.”
At this point, Pete was certain that his heart would have crashed into the basement if only it hadn’t just exploded. “He’s moving across the fucking ocean?!” Pete roared, “But why would -? Why didn’t he -? How did -?”
All of the eyes in the room were on him as he stuttered and shook and nearly suffocated in his emotions.
At that moment, Pete knew he had two options: He could collapse on the spot into a fit of tears, or he could run the ungodly distance to Patrick’s house and collapse into a fit of tears in front of his best friend.
...And there he was, running, wondering what exactly he was trying to prove.
***
After a good half hour, the Stump household finally came into view, and Pete exhaled for what seemed like the first time since he’d started out. Most people in his position would have begun to slow down as they approached the residence, but Pete was quite unlike most people.
Sweaty, exhausted, and horribly confused, he sprinted across the final stretch that was Patrick’s lawn. A noise rose up from the backyard and Pete instinctively moved toward it, because damn it, he just knew that Patrick would be there…
And he was. In fact, the pale-skinned boy was in the middle of walking his bike into the family’s shed, fairly certain that he wouldn’t be riding it again.
“Patrick!” yelled Pete, with the last bit of breath that was in his lungs. Patrick, startled, lost his hold on the bike and let it fall to the ground with an insignificant thud.
“Pete?” he replied in disbelief, gaping at the approaching boy, “What are you doing here?”
Pete looked up at his friend and swallowed hard - It was clear to Patrick that he was fighting back tears. “I can’t let you do this,” Pete said, panting slightly. “I can’t let you go.”
“Oh… I… Wentz…” Patrick stammered, with a guilty glance down at his feet. “How did you find out?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Pete, as he bent down to pick up the bike. He carefully propped it up against the wall of the shed, and Patrick observed him silently. Pete’s back was facing the older boy now, and his hands were still gripping the bike; he took a deep breath to steady himself before turning around again. “Please, just… talk to me about this, okay, Trick?” His eyes were pleading as he reached out to take Patrick’s hand. Patrick conceded, and the two walked hand-in-hand to the patio. They sat and were silent. Everything else was miles away.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Patrick said after a moment. “I’m sorry for leaving… and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you.” Pete remained quiet. “I just didn’t want to upset you,” Patrick insisted, “That’s the only reason I kept it secret.”
“Wait, do you actually think I’m angry at you?” Pete asked, marveling at the idea. “If anything, I’m angry at myself.”
“But -”
“Where are you moving to?” Pete interjected.
“England,” Patrick mumbled, as if it would be less true if he said it quietly. “They like getting students from other countries, I guess.”
“And you’re staying out there?”
A sigh. “…Yeah.”
Pete nodded and looked down at the grass. What more could he say? What more could he do? Patrick himself had just confirmed everything. If Pete had any shred of dignity left, he’d just accept it and move on…
“Why are you doing this?” he asked. Patrick frowned up at the slightly pink sky overhead.
“I’ve told you, Pete, this town is gonna be the death of me! There’s nothing for me here. There’s no future. As far as I can see, there’s absolutely no reason that I should stay.”
“What about me?” Pete said rather boldly. Patrick looked over at him, quizzically.
“What do you mean?”
There was a pause. Then - “I don’t really know what I mean,” admitted Pete, “All I know is that if it were up to me, I would be your reason to stay. I would be your future here. I would be your whatever-the-fuck. Maybe you can’t see it, but I can; I can see you and me in something great. I can see the two of us staying here together, maybe wasting our lives in dead-end jobs, maybe growing old, maybe even dying… but doing it all together. ‘Cause see, if I had it my way, that would be all you need. To tell you the truth, it’s all that I would need. And I know that I don’t deserve you, but I love you, Patrick, and I would rather rot away with you in this godforsaken city for the rest of my life than make it big in Hollywood without you.” He inhaled sharply.
Where the hell had that come from?
Patrick stared at him for a long while after that, with some sort beautiful tragedy shining through his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about Pete’s outburst (and really, Pete didn’t, either) but this seemed to be his last chance, and he wasn’t going to let the love of his life walk away. Not yet.
“Okay,” he said at long last. It was a simple enough reply, but speaking it made the whole situation that much more real. “Okay,” he repeated, with relief and excitement mingling into his voice. This gave Pete a spark of hope, and the dark-haired boy smiled sadly at the other. “Let’s go inside,” Patrick suggested. “I can’t think straight out here.”
So the two of them stood up - both shaking a little bit - and entered the house, moving like ghosts toward Patrick’s room. They stepped inside. Patrick closed the door. Pete let out a breath that he’d been holding since… well, he wasn’t sure. And Patrick, without hesitation, crawled into his bed and settled down comfortably. He met Pete’s eyes and asked, “Well? Are you coming?”
Pete raised an eyebrow, and Patrick chuckled.
“I just want to lie with you for a while. Nothing sexual. I promise.”
Pete wasn’t sure if that was good news or not, but regardless, he lifted a corner of the blanket and was soon curled up against his friend’s solid frame.
“What do we do now?” he asked.
“I haven’t the slightest clue,” Patrick replied, almost optimistically. “But I think I’m going to stay in Chicago a little longer.”
That was all Pete needed to hear. He was suddenly overwhelmed by an alien amount of happiness; he had never felt like this, not even after sleeping with the prettiest girl in school. For the first time in ages, he didn’t feel like he was drowning in expectations, and the boy beside him didn’t feel like he was too fat to be desired. There was no Pete Wentz: King of the School, or Patrick Stump: Loser Extraordinaire. There was just Pete and Patrick, two boys who happened to be perfectly content with falling asleep in each other’s arms.
-------------------
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 : PG-13.
Author's Notes : Just fyi, the song this chapter is named after is actually spelled "Padriac, My Prince," but I can't stand that spelling.
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08
Pete could still remember the first indication that something was wrong.
It had all started with Joe’s determination to get a band together; He had summoned Andy, Pete and Patrick to his house, the very day after Pete had discovered Patrick’s voice. And that day there had been a fire in Joe’s eyes which had amused Pete greatly - oh, the whole thing seemed destined to be!
But Patrick, however, did not appear interested. He politely refused the offer at first, but then was much less polite about it - he and Joe had gotten into an argument that had prompted Pete and Andy to flee.
Not like any of that made a difference now, though.
Just as the sun was beginning its slow decent toward the horizon, Pete was running down the Chicago streets with an inspiration that he had never felt inside of him before. The sounds of the city and his soles hitting the concrete were echoing into oblivion. Nothing around him mattered now, nothing mattered except getting to his destination as fast as humanly possible (though he hoped to go even faster than that.)
There was a war waging in his head: Should he hate himself? Pity himself? Should he be angry at Patrick for not telling him? Bombs were dropping left and right, taking casualties in the form of Pete’s emotions, and it seemed that every time one side chalked up a victory, it was the little voice who said, “The only thing that matters is getting to Patrick.”
The voice was right.
Five minutes earlier, Pete had been at Andy’s house for Movie Night. Pete loved Movie Night, and he deeply admired Andy’s uncanny talent for throwing parties. He had never imagined that several outcasts (and one not-so-outcast) could have so much fun when crammed into a room together.
But this night had been different from most: Patrick hadn’t shown up. And suddenly Pete realized that Patrick had been absent so often lately that perhaps he was becoming accustomed to not having the older boy around.
Finally he’d asked, “What’s up with Trick lately?” and uncomfortable glances were exchanged all around the room. Worry immediately seized Pete: Why did these boys all seem to know something that he didn’t know?
“Pete,” Joe said softly, with the tone of a parent explaining death to a child, “I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but I guess I might as well.”
“Tell me what?” Pete growled, taking slight offense to being left out of the loop. Nobody left Peter Wentz out of the loop.
“Okay, you know that Patrick’s miserable here, and that he’s going to go away to college.”
“Yeah?”
“Well… he’s going out of state.”
“Oh.” Pete’s heart sank.
“Yeah. And he’s actually moving out there. Like, y’know, he’s not going to come home during vacation or anything.”
“…Oh.” Now Pete’s heart had hit the floor.
“And, uh… this college is out near London, by the way.”
At this point, Pete was certain that his heart would have crashed into the basement if only it hadn’t just exploded. “He’s moving across the fucking ocean?!” Pete roared, “But why would -? Why didn’t he -? How did -?”
All of the eyes in the room were on him as he stuttered and shook and nearly suffocated in his emotions.
At that moment, Pete knew he had two options: He could collapse on the spot into a fit of tears, or he could run the ungodly distance to Patrick’s house and collapse into a fit of tears in front of his best friend.
...And there he was, running, wondering what exactly he was trying to prove.
After a good half hour, the Stump household finally came into view, and Pete exhaled for what seemed like the first time since he’d started out. Most people in his position would have begun to slow down as they approached the residence, but Pete was quite unlike most people.
Sweaty, exhausted, and horribly confused, he sprinted across the final stretch that was Patrick’s lawn. A noise rose up from the backyard and Pete instinctively moved toward it, because damn it, he just knew that Patrick would be there…
And he was. In fact, the pale-skinned boy was in the middle of walking his bike into the family’s shed, fairly certain that he wouldn’t be riding it again.
“Patrick!” yelled Pete, with the last bit of breath that was in his lungs. Patrick, startled, lost his hold on the bike and let it fall to the ground with an insignificant thud.
“Pete?” he replied in disbelief, gaping at the approaching boy, “What are you doing here?”
Pete looked up at his friend and swallowed hard - It was clear to Patrick that he was fighting back tears. “I can’t let you do this,” Pete said, panting slightly. “I can’t let you go.”
“Oh… I… Wentz…” Patrick stammered, with a guilty glance down at his feet. “How did you find out?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Pete, as he bent down to pick up the bike. He carefully propped it up against the wall of the shed, and Patrick observed him silently. Pete’s back was facing the older boy now, and his hands were still gripping the bike; he took a deep breath to steady himself before turning around again. “Please, just… talk to me about this, okay, Trick?” His eyes were pleading as he reached out to take Patrick’s hand. Patrick conceded, and the two walked hand-in-hand to the patio. They sat and were silent. Everything else was miles away.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Patrick said after a moment. “I’m sorry for leaving… and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you.” Pete remained quiet. “I just didn’t want to upset you,” Patrick insisted, “That’s the only reason I kept it secret.”
“Wait, do you actually think I’m angry at you?” Pete asked, marveling at the idea. “If anything, I’m angry at myself.”
“But -”
“Where are you moving to?” Pete interjected.
“England,” Patrick mumbled, as if it would be less true if he said it quietly. “They like getting students from other countries, I guess.”
“And you’re staying out there?”
A sigh. “…Yeah.”
Pete nodded and looked down at the grass. What more could he say? What more could he do? Patrick himself had just confirmed everything. If Pete had any shred of dignity left, he’d just accept it and move on…
“Why are you doing this?” he asked. Patrick frowned up at the slightly pink sky overhead.
“I’ve told you, Pete, this town is gonna be the death of me! There’s nothing for me here. There’s no future. As far as I can see, there’s absolutely no reason that I should stay.”
“What about me?” Pete said rather boldly. Patrick looked over at him, quizzically.
“What do you mean?”
There was a pause. Then - “I don’t really know what I mean,” admitted Pete, “All I know is that if it were up to me, I would be your reason to stay. I would be your future here. I would be your whatever-the-fuck. Maybe you can’t see it, but I can; I can see you and me in something great. I can see the two of us staying here together, maybe wasting our lives in dead-end jobs, maybe growing old, maybe even dying… but doing it all together. ‘Cause see, if I had it my way, that would be all you need. To tell you the truth, it’s all that I would need. And I know that I don’t deserve you, but I love you, Patrick, and I would rather rot away with you in this godforsaken city for the rest of my life than make it big in Hollywood without you.” He inhaled sharply.
Where the hell had that come from?
Patrick stared at him for a long while after that, with some sort beautiful tragedy shining through his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about Pete’s outburst (and really, Pete didn’t, either) but this seemed to be his last chance, and he wasn’t going to let the love of his life walk away. Not yet.
“Okay,” he said at long last. It was a simple enough reply, but speaking it made the whole situation that much more real. “Okay,” he repeated, with relief and excitement mingling into his voice. This gave Pete a spark of hope, and the dark-haired boy smiled sadly at the other. “Let’s go inside,” Patrick suggested. “I can’t think straight out here.”
So the two of them stood up - both shaking a little bit - and entered the house, moving like ghosts toward Patrick’s room. They stepped inside. Patrick closed the door. Pete let out a breath that he’d been holding since… well, he wasn’t sure. And Patrick, without hesitation, crawled into his bed and settled down comfortably. He met Pete’s eyes and asked, “Well? Are you coming?”
Pete raised an eyebrow, and Patrick chuckled.
“I just want to lie with you for a while. Nothing sexual. I promise.”
Pete wasn’t sure if that was good news or not, but regardless, he lifted a corner of the blanket and was soon curled up against his friend’s solid frame.
“What do we do now?” he asked.
“I haven’t the slightest clue,” Patrick replied, almost optimistically. “But I think I’m going to stay in Chicago a little longer.”
That was all Pete needed to hear. He was suddenly overwhelmed by an alien amount of happiness; he had never felt like this, not even after sleeping with the prettiest girl in school. For the first time in ages, he didn’t feel like he was drowning in expectations, and the boy beside him didn’t feel like he was too fat to be desired. There was no Pete Wentz: King of the School, or Patrick Stump: Loser Extraordinaire. There was just Pete and Patrick, two boys who happened to be perfectly content with falling asleep in each other’s arms.