In This Twilight
Title: In This Twilight
Summary : Patrick thinks about the end of the world. Pete thinks about Patrick.
Author :
burgerking
Rating : PG-13?
Took a tiny break from my chaptered fic to write a drabble. Almost didn't post this, but my fiance said I should, so I figured it couldn't hurt. If this idea has been done, I promise I didn't know about it. ...Be gentle?
It's the end of the world as we know it.
Patrick stared blankly at the laptop in front of him. He was working on a new song - or trying to, at least - before it came time for him to hit the stage. What else was he supposed to do all day, anyway? Andy and Joe had run off together like they always did, leaving him alone on the bus as usual.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Pete was on the bus as well, shuffling around audibly in his bunk. Patrick was used to the noises of his bassist by now, and it was obvious to him what Pete’s intentions were: he was getting ready for another day of mingling with celebrities, and possibly getting into a few fights along the way.
But Patrick didn’t want him to go. He didn’t want to spend another day working on something that his band-mates would probably reject; he just wanted a little bit of human contact that didn’t involve one party screaming “I love you,” and the other party replying shyly, “Thanks.” Was that too much to ask? No, he decided, not at all! He would simply insist that Pete stay inside today and --
Suddenly, the noises from the other end of the bus became less frantic. This could only mean one thing: Pete was almost ready to leave, and Patrick still had yet to come up with anything to keep him from doing so. The vocalist desperately began searching for something - anything at all - to say to his friend to deter him. Work your magic, Patrick told himself, Pull something poetic out of your ass!
“Remember what you said about dancing this morning?”
The noises in the bunk ceased. Pete had indeed heard the question, and seconds later he swaggered out into Patrick’s view. He had obviously been in the middle of changing - as was indicated by the fact that he was carrying his shirt rather than wearing it - and though Patrick, along with the rest of the world, had seen him half-naked countless times, the vocalist still seemed to enjoy it.
“What about dancing?” Pete asked, sounding a bit dazed.
“This- This morning,” Patrick stammered, “When you couldn’t sleep. You kept asking me what you should do to tire yourself out. And you said that you were going to -”
“Dance like there’s no tomorrow,” Pete finished with a grin. “Yeah, I remember now. What about it?”
Patrick shrugged. “It’s just a weird way of wording things, if you think about it. Like there’s no tomorrow. Would you really be dancing if there was no tomorrow?”
Pete just laughed, unsure of whether or not his friend was being serious. He playfully tossed his shirt at Patrick’s face, missed, and ended up with the shirt dangling from his cap - but Patrick didn’t seem to mind. He just kept looking expectantly at the man in front of him, eyes wide and curious. “Okay,” Pete said at last, “I probably wouldn’t be dancing. So what?”
“So… I don’t know. It just made me wonder what you would really be doing if today was your last day on Earth.”
“Assuming that I knew today was my last day?”
“Yeah-huh.”
Pete glanced at the clock. “And are we starting now? Because dude, I would have been up all morning doing shit…”
“Whatever. Fine print aside. I’m just curious,” Patrick said, waving away Pete’s inquiries. The latter shrugged and then settled himself into an empty seat, where he promptly became lost in thought.
“This is hard,” he eventually murmured, and Patrick just stared; surely Pete Wentz could come up with something more elaborate than that. He went on: “What is there to do? I wouldn’t go streaking, because that wouldn’t really be breaking new ground… maybe I’d get high. But not just high… like, completely and utterly wasted.”
“That’s stupid,” Patrick argued, “Try again. And be honest.”
“Sure.” Pete smirked. “Uh… I guess I’d just tie up all of my loose ends. I mean, for once in my life, I think I’d actually be less insane than the rest of the world. People would be gorging themselves and starting orgies and shit, but I’d be the one, stupid, hopeless romantic - I’d tell a certain someone that I’m in love with them, and if - God willing - they were okay with that, I’d probably just spend the rest of the day sitting with them, watching as the stars go out one… by… one.” He made vague little hand gestures as he said this, perhaps to create the illusion of stars being extinguished, and it seemed to be amusing him greatly… Patrick, on the other hand, was as serious as ever.
“Hypothetically?” he asked, fascinated by Pete’s answer.
“Of course it’s hypothetical. But I do have someone in mind, if that’s what you mean.”
“Who?”
“If I wouldn’t tell you thirty seconds ago, what makes you think I’ll tell you now?”
“Because you trust me.”
“It’s not about trust.”
“Then you should just tell me.”
Pete raised his eyebrow and studied Patrick carefully. “You’re just like the magazines, always trying to get me to say the most incriminating thing possible.”
“It usually works.”
“For them, maybe, but how dumb would I have to be to let you get one over on me? Pretty fuckin’ dumb, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Really dumb, like, getting-your-nudes-leaked-onto-the-inter
Pete glared, and Patrick smiled back weakly. In a hasty attempt to atone for his fatal mistake, he tossed the shirt that was on his head back to his band-mate. Pete caught it, and though he already knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold a grudge against Patrick, he still nodded as if accepting an apology. He put the shirt on and stood. “Well, anyway, I’ve gotta…” he jerked his thumb toward the door, “…go.”
Patrick nodded sadly. “Right.”
“It was cool talking to you,” Pete called over his shoulder as he began to walk away, “And… have you seen my hoodie?”
“Depends. Have you seen my hat?” Patrick answered grimly, attempting to make a point.
“I mean… the one with the little…” Again, Pete was making strange shapes in the air, stopping only to let out a frustrated sigh. “I think I let Andy borrow it. Fuck. Whatever, I’ll go without a hoodie today.”
“Are you sure you can survive?”
Pete popped the collar of his shirt and smiled. “Certain,” he assured the other as he opened the door.
Then he hesitated.
“Hey, Trick… Look, I can’t leave you here thinking about something as depressing as the apocalypse... It’s not the end of the world, okay?”
Patrick nodded. Right, sure, of course. It wasn’t the end of the world. But for one reason or another, he found himself wishing that it was.
Summary : Patrick thinks about the end of the world. Pete thinks about Patrick.
Author :
burgerkingRating : PG-13?
Took a tiny break from my chaptered fic to write a drabble. Almost didn't post this, but my fiance said I should, so I figured it couldn't hurt. If this idea has been done, I promise I didn't know about it. ...Be gentle?
It's the end of the world as we know it.
Patrick stared blankly at the laptop in front of him. He was working on a new song - or trying to, at least - before it came time for him to hit the stage. What else was he supposed to do all day, anyway? Andy and Joe had run off together like they always did, leaving him alone on the bus as usual.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Pete was on the bus as well, shuffling around audibly in his bunk. Patrick was used to the noises of his bassist by now, and it was obvious to him what Pete’s intentions were: he was getting ready for another day of mingling with celebrities, and possibly getting into a few fights along the way.
But Patrick didn’t want him to go. He didn’t want to spend another day working on something that his band-mates would probably reject; he just wanted a little bit of human contact that didn’t involve one party screaming “I love you,” and the other party replying shyly, “Thanks.” Was that too much to ask? No, he decided, not at all! He would simply insist that Pete stay inside today and --
Suddenly, the noises from the other end of the bus became less frantic. This could only mean one thing: Pete was almost ready to leave, and Patrick still had yet to come up with anything to keep him from doing so. The vocalist desperately began searching for something - anything at all - to say to his friend to deter him. Work your magic, Patrick told himself, Pull something poetic out of your ass!
“Remember what you said about dancing this morning?”
The noises in the bunk ceased. Pete had indeed heard the question, and seconds later he swaggered out into Patrick’s view. He had obviously been in the middle of changing - as was indicated by the fact that he was carrying his shirt rather than wearing it - and though Patrick, along with the rest of the world, had seen him half-naked countless times, the vocalist still seemed to enjoy it.
“What about dancing?” Pete asked, sounding a bit dazed.
“This- This morning,” Patrick stammered, “When you couldn’t sleep. You kept asking me what you should do to tire yourself out. And you said that you were going to -”
“Dance like there’s no tomorrow,” Pete finished with a grin. “Yeah, I remember now. What about it?”
Patrick shrugged. “It’s just a weird way of wording things, if you think about it. Like there’s no tomorrow. Would you really be dancing if there was no tomorrow?”
Pete just laughed, unsure of whether or not his friend was being serious. He playfully tossed his shirt at Patrick’s face, missed, and ended up with the shirt dangling from his cap - but Patrick didn’t seem to mind. He just kept looking expectantly at the man in front of him, eyes wide and curious. “Okay,” Pete said at last, “I probably wouldn’t be dancing. So what?”
“So… I don’t know. It just made me wonder what you would really be doing if today was your last day on Earth.”
“Assuming that I knew today was my last day?”
“Yeah-huh.”
Pete glanced at the clock. “And are we starting now? Because dude, I would have been up all morning doing shit…”
“Whatever. Fine print aside. I’m just curious,” Patrick said, waving away Pete’s inquiries. The latter shrugged and then settled himself into an empty seat, where he promptly became lost in thought.
“This is hard,” he eventually murmured, and Patrick just stared; surely Pete Wentz could come up with something more elaborate than that. He went on: “What is there to do? I wouldn’t go streaking, because that wouldn’t really be breaking new ground… maybe I’d get high. But not just high… like, completely and utterly wasted.”
“That’s stupid,” Patrick argued, “Try again. And be honest.”
“Sure.” Pete smirked. “Uh… I guess I’d just tie up all of my loose ends. I mean, for once in my life, I think I’d actually be less insane than the rest of the world. People would be gorging themselves and starting orgies and shit, but I’d be the one, stupid, hopeless romantic - I’d tell a certain someone that I’m in love with them, and if - God willing - they were okay with that, I’d probably just spend the rest of the day sitting with them, watching as the stars go out one… by… one.” He made vague little hand gestures as he said this, perhaps to create the illusion of stars being extinguished, and it seemed to be amusing him greatly… Patrick, on the other hand, was as serious as ever.
“Hypothetically?” he asked, fascinated by Pete’s answer.
“Of course it’s hypothetical. But I do have someone in mind, if that’s what you mean.”
“Who?”
“If I wouldn’t tell you thirty seconds ago, what makes you think I’ll tell you now?”
“Because you trust me.”
“It’s not about trust.”
“Then you should just tell me.”
Pete raised his eyebrow and studied Patrick carefully. “You’re just like the magazines, always trying to get me to say the most incriminating thing possible.”
“It usually works.”
“For them, maybe, but how dumb would I have to be to let you get one over on me? Pretty fuckin’ dumb, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Really dumb, like, getting-your-nudes-leaked-onto-the-inter
Pete glared, and Patrick smiled back weakly. In a hasty attempt to atone for his fatal mistake, he tossed the shirt that was on his head back to his band-mate. Pete caught it, and though he already knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold a grudge against Patrick, he still nodded as if accepting an apology. He put the shirt on and stood. “Well, anyway, I’ve gotta…” he jerked his thumb toward the door, “…go.”
Patrick nodded sadly. “Right.”
“It was cool talking to you,” Pete called over his shoulder as he began to walk away, “And… have you seen my hoodie?”
“Depends. Have you seen my hat?” Patrick answered grimly, attempting to make a point.
“I mean… the one with the little…” Again, Pete was making strange shapes in the air, stopping only to let out a frustrated sigh. “I think I let Andy borrow it. Fuck. Whatever, I’ll go without a hoodie today.”
“Are you sure you can survive?”
Pete popped the collar of his shirt and smiled. “Certain,” he assured the other as he opened the door.
Then he hesitated.
“Hey, Trick… Look, I can’t leave you here thinking about something as depressing as the apocalypse... It’s not the end of the world, okay?”
Patrick nodded. Right, sure, of course. It wasn’t the end of the world. But for one reason or another, he found himself wishing that it was.