You in Each frame (I'm sorta losing you, but I'll be alright) heavy T
Title: you in each frame (I'm sorta losing you, but I'll be alright)
Rating: heavy T (language, situations)
Author:
daybreak25
Summary: "You don't remember anything, we play the same show, the same songs, to the same crowd, and Jesus, if I have to deflower you again, I'm gonna kill someone." 5,440 words.
Disclaimer: None of this is real. If it is, seriously, I wouldn't be writing about it.
Rating: heavy T (language, situations)
Author:
daybreak25 Summary: "You don't remember anything, we play the same show, the same songs, to the same crowd, and Jesus, if I have to deflower you again, I'm gonna kill someone." 5,440 words.
Disclaimer: None of this is real. If it is, seriously, I wouldn't be writing about it.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music.
It's P!ATD, and it's loud, and Pete knows he fell asleep with his headphones on -- because, it's the only way you can get to sleep when you're on a fucking twenty-five city, twenty hours a day tour -- but he does wonder when and how it got so fucking loud. There's not enough room in his head for a headache and music, so he switches the CD player off and goes back to sleep. Most of his dreams are about Patrick.
*
Jeanae calls him later, and she sounds happy, which is weird, coming from Jeanae. "I can't believe you did that!"
"Y'see," Pete yawns into his pillow, "When my mom says that, I've probably run the neighbor's dog over or something. That's exactly why we can't have children."
"Shut up." Jeanae still sounds happy. "It was cool of you to do that, you know. I didn't even notice it, Morgan had to point it out."
"Point out what?" This is not the right way to wake up after dreaming about your best friend, really. Pete's already losing the pep, "Have you been on the Internet?"
"'I don't get the whole 'girlfriend' Jeanae thing, really,'" she reads, and Pete swears it gets quieter. "She's great, yeah, and it's like, one day we'll get married, or another day we won't. She's a girlfriend, yeah, but it's really just girl and friend put together, right?"
Pete tries to say something, then realizes he's swallowed his tongue.
*
There's fifteen copies of the issue of Rolling Stone on his "porch." Joe is going to fucking die.
He calls the magazine, gets a busy signal, hangs up, calls again, hangs up before anyone can answer and pinches his nose. Then he calls Patrick.
"If she's the girlfriend, what the hell does that make me?" Patrick asks when he answers, and good God does he sound amused.
"I may have been high," Pete says, with the same amount of amusement. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I was high. That's not the point. Can you come get me? We have sound check, right?"
"Thought you loved me, Pete," Patrick mumbles, then laughs.
"I still do, Trick." Pete hopes Patrick can hear him.
*
They sound check -- Joe manages to play 'The Wedding March' halfway through before Pete socks him -- and gig all night long. On the way back to the hotel, Pete slings an arm around Patrick and pulls him close. He's close enough to kiss -- and God, Pete really does want to. He nips at Patrick's ear instead.
"What're you doing?" Patrick is sleepy, and scrubs his eyes and yawns, but doesn't move.
"Shush. Teddy bears don't talk." Pete goes to sleep.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. He sings along with Beyonce and Jay-Z on his way to the shower.
Hotels don't let him and Patrick share a bed, so they suck on default. Pete has to walk all the way down the hall just to have breakfast. "Open up, I'm feeling like toast and a hell of a lot of strawberries."
There's a click and ruffling and then a page slides out from under the door, dirty and ripped.
"'I don't get the whole 'girlfriend' Jeanae thing, really. She's great, yeah, and it's like, one day we'll get married, or another day we won't. She's a girlfriend, yeah, but it's really just girl and friend put together, right?"
"Jesus fucking Christ, what do you want me to say to that, Trick?" Pete screams, anything else would have be conformation.
The door stays closed.
"I love you." Pete says.
*
Pete sits outside for about three minutes, stands up, repeats himself and goes to find Joe. "The G-word's on print."
"You've been reading porn?" (Joe really is the coolest Jew ever.) He laughs and goes hunting for breakfast. "Mazel tov!"
"No, stupid, the G-word. Not a wife but a...?"
Joe freezes and crosses his index fingers in a anti-hex sign. "No waffles for you,dude."
"Trick saw it and he won't come out of his room and I need to talk to him. Because after that, he can hit me, and I can let him, and we can be friends again."
"If he hasn't hit you already, then I don't think he wants to." Joe says.
Pete finds a wall, and bangs his head against it.
*
They have a gig, big stadium, four hours long, and sound check's in two hours and Patrick will not come near him.
Pete feels like the fucking plague, the way Joe won't talk to him anymore and Andy's being oblivious, so he won't ask. Pete goes through three songs like this before dropping the bass and grabbing Patrick and walking until they're away from it all. "I like her, but I want you. Mull it over."
"I've been doing that for three hours, so it's pretty much moot." Patrick glares at him. "Now, go away."
"You're seriously not going to pull the Patitude with me, are you?" Pete tries to grin, "Because, really, it's going to suck trying to cheer you up."
"This isn't something we can get over, Pete, and you can just cheer me up or something."
"Damn right, because this isn't a thing. This is me, telling you, that I want you." Pete flicks his forehead twice. "I know I've taught you enough to know when I'm being fucking serious."
"It's your word against the Stone," Patrick says, and walks away.
*
They gig all night long. Pete falls asleep against an amp.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. "What the fucking fuck?"
Pete's been awake for at least half of his high school year -- but dammit, he knows that a ceiling is not sky and vice versa, and an amp is not a greasy hotel mattress and that his desk has no right being near the stadium. So then he knows it's his room; that's not to say he knows how he got here.
He shuts off Kanye and checks the bathroom, under the bed, and the windows. Pete pauses.
"What the fucking fuck?"
*
Patrick answers on the first bang, thank God. Despite circumstances, Pete just can't help but be hungry. "I just feel a diabetes streak coming on."
Patrick sighs and rolls his eyes and looks adorable, "Jesus, I can not wait 'till we head home and your mother can control that black hole you call a stomach." He holds the door open anyway, "I think we have sound check in a few hours, you woke up late."
"I'm a musical deity, Trick, we don't have to be awake like you normies." Pete takes the cap off for about five seconds to plant a nice one on his forehead. "Now be a good housewife and order pancakes. Big ones."
Patrick fakes socking him, but orders anyway.
*
On the way to sound check, Pete pulls Patrick over and thanks him, long and hard, for breakfast.
*
They sound check, then gig. In between "Saturday" and "whatever else they were going to play," Pete shuts off Patrick's mike for about two minutes, so his is loud enough to be heard. He tells Arizona that he loves his best friend. Then he pauses. Then he tells Arizona that it's no use recording this, they won't remember it tomorrow.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. "Viva La White Girl."
He shuts it off and goes back to sleep.
*
Pete does not come out of his room until sound check. When Patrick asks for problems, Pete doesn't give him any.
*
They sound check, gig, and drive all the way back to the hotel. Pete doses on Patrick's thigh and thinks about how lucky he is.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music, more specifically, Pete wakes up to Daughtry. (He didn't know 'Idol contestant' was still a genre.)
He shuts off the music and takes a shower and checks out of the hotel. It takes three minutes to find a bus, four minutes to drive down to a rental center, and five minutes to rent a Civic. With that, he drives to the nearest jewelry store/company/whatever.
The clerk stares, but in the end, they locate the perfect ring. Pete pays with what's left of his credit.
The Civic stays in the parking lot. Pete runs all the way back to the hotel.
*
Patrick answers on the first bang, thank God. He splutters when he sees the ring, "You jackass." he says automatically.
"It's for you." Pete points out, and waits.
Patrick splutters some more. "You're fucking screwing with me, right?"
Pete waits.
"You jackass!" Patrick says again, because really, there's nothing to say at this point, so Pete drops to his knees. "Mexico's too hot to run away to, so come away to Canada with me. We can be those fake Canadians who don't really like maple trees or syrup."
"No. You have a girlfriend." Girlfriend sounds sleezy and wrong when out of Patrick's mouth.
"But it's not for her." Pete says it like it's obvious, because it is.
"It's not for me, either." Patrick shuts the door and locks it. "So flush it." comes his voice from the other side.
Pete eventually does.
*
They sound check and gig. Pete turns off Patrick's mike for about two minutes.
"I'm in love with Patrick Stump, but he doesn't want me," Pete says. "Feel free to shame him."
The crowd does.
*
They gig for half the night, so Patrick has enough time to drag Pete into the dressing room. "What the hell do you want from me?" he starts off, because that's how they always start off, and usually, someone gets socked.
Pete's supposed to say something snarky or unnecessary, but he just shrugs. "An orgasm."
Because telling the truth is so much easier.
It's not really that long before he has Patrick against the door, jeans down and enough friction to make it hurt, like Pete's never gonna have Patrick like this again.
He isn't.
*
They don't sleep in the dressing room. That would be cliche.
They actually sleep in Pete's room, because the empty bed space reminds him of Jeanae.
It's scarier than you think.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. (AC/DC. There really is nothing like the classics.)
He tries to remember Jeanae's number, and kicks himself for not having her on speed dial. He gets it eventually.
"Hello?" she sounds sleepy and hello? -- time difference -- but Pete has to do this now.
"What'd I miss? You sound out of it." Even now, there some concern in his voice, because until otherwise, she is his girlfriend. Sorta. Almost.
She pauses. "You're to talk. What the hell are you doing -- you sound like a blender."
"You know, the words hangover and long night come to mind. I just called..."
"To?" Jeanae prompts when he doesn't say anything after a minute. Because breaking up with her seems harder than it was in his head.
Like, very harder.
He sounds so pathetic.
"I'm sorta in love with Patrick," Pete starts out.
Pause. "Motherfucker," Jeanae says, and hangs up.
*
She calls him later.
"In love, like how?" she asks, and there's curiosity in her voice.
Pete pauses. "Do you have me on speaker?"
"Answer the question, jackass. Like how?"
Pete sums up words. "The kind of love that's time consuming and stupid, that makes you grin a lot. That makes your mother proud of you and actually wants her to be a grandmother. I think I actually want to cook for him too, and you know I suck at that."
"And you kept me going, knowing this?"
"I don't--" Pete punches a pillow. "I didn't know how to tell you."
"Whatever, Pete, that's not the point. You fucking know me, you know I'm going to ride you about this for years. I want to see fucking tabloids. Don't fuck up with me and not take Patrick on -- I will carve your balls out if you hang this back, Wentz. Know it."
"I hear and obey, master," is the only thing Pete can say, because he's so speechless that snark is a thing of the past.
"I mean it, ass. Talk to him." Jeanae says, and hangs up.
*
Pete waits a few hours, then goes for lunch. Patrick is talking on the phone when he gets there, and holds up a finger. Pete goes for ravioli.
"Sound check in ten," comes Patrick's voice from the other side, then he starts talking again, and Pete hears quote and Stone and mix-up and journalist and Jeanae, and damage control.
Not a day goes by where Pete doesn't really love this boy.
*
They sound check, and break for pre-gig stressing, in which Patrick pulls him over. "I don't even want to know," he tells Pete and Pete's okay with that as long as Patrick kisses him and Patrick does.
*
They gig. Pete stops by a convenient store later and picks up three pads Sticky Notes, takes Patrick back to his room, and writes down various phrases on each pad, then sticks every single one to his wall. Most of the phrases don't make sense. Patrick doesn't say anything, just watches, because it's not a time for talking.
Pete tips up Patrick's hat just before they sleep, writes lover on a Sticky Note and attaches it to Patrick's forehead.
Pete sleeps.
*
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. There is no Patrick, no Sticky Notes.
Pete throws his CD player at the wall. It doesn't break.
*
The fans are like therapy without the money.
jesus, i really miss my saturdays. this isn't one of mine, it's too sunny and not cold enough.
somethings wrong. i don't know what. i don't want to know what. i'm sleepy, we have a gig later -- arizona, chico/as -- sound check in a few and i'm feeling patrick-less. i think this is the hangover without the alcohol. or the relapse without the crack.
missing you. hope to see your face among the crowds with the mouths.
Wait two seconds and refresh the page. The fans are, and forever will be, demented. Pete feels proud that he's had a hand in that.
i miss my saturdays too, chores are such a drag and mmymom's like the biggest joke formakng me do them
falloutgirl_21
dude, arizona's fucking lucky to get you. you guys should come down to texas, we need a break from the rap crap
panic!attheclubb
you should get patrick to make you feel better cos he's awesome like that rite?
i'msopatricksgirlbitches
i'm sorry to hear your day is bad, saturdays are s'posed to be fun, go out and do something
oxymoronscousinirony
Pete shuts off the laptop. Two hours later, there's one hundred and fifty nine replies. The fans, the fans.
*
They sound check. Pete makes one more change without telling anyone.
*
They gig. Between breaks, fireworks entertain the fans. Pete loves Pat rains down on the crowd, and Pete can hear girls screaming.
Patrick makes a face that looks surprised, when he shouldn't be. He doesn't say a word.
*
Pete falls asleep on the ride home and doesn't get out, not even when they reach the hotel.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. David Bedingfield, techno, he thinks.
He pays a visit to the fans.
i'm gonna make the critics say my name over and over, and yeah, emo's gonna be somewhere in the sentence too.
still don't know what' s wrong, am a bit curious tho. i'm in love with patrick, but he doesn't want me and it might break up the band, so those talk show groupies might not be lying. gonna apologize to everyone who's put their faith in us, wasn't worth going on, was it?
Wait two seconds and refresh the page.
omgno! you gotta talk to patrick and work things out
iknewiknewit i knew you love patrick patrick/pete forever bitzatches
doesthat mean you're not coming to olkahoma, pete?
i havegot to tell everyone int he world abou thtis, i'm so sorry pete omg
patrick you totallyevffin suck now.
omg pete i'm still here call me okay, i threw my number onstage when you went to ny, i was that blonde chick with the eyes
The fans are, and forever will be, demented.
*
Patrick doesn't do the Internet, so he doesn't call Pete on it.
They sound check and gig, and Pete doesn't mind. He sleeps the normal way -- peaceful.
*
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. Snow Patrol. No comment.
He lets it run for however long it needs to, grabs a shower and makes the barefoot trip necessary to reach Patrick.
He answers on the first knock and Pete kisses him all cliched and happy in the hallway, and doesn't care who sees it. "I just have to do this okay, Trick? Let me do this."
Patrick blinks, but doesn't say no.
*
They do not sound check, do not gig, and do not fight. They spend the day in bed, hot warm cold freezing under the sheets, where Pete can make all the love bites he wants and Patrick lets him, no protests.
*
Pete falls asleep against a hat-less Patrick head.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. It's too loud to recognize.
He turns off the CD player, showers, orders room service, eats. Waits for Patrick to call sound check. Tells Patrick to come early.
*
Pete's the only one in the stadium when Patrick gets there, and Pete kisses him and asks him not to get mad, because Patrick will, eventually. But he doesn't, not even after Pete has his jeans down and they're perfectly fine in their little web of touching, because that's all Pete will ever have to know, just the way Patrick gasps around an orgasm.
*
They sound check and Pete makes these weird grins in Patrick's direction the entire time. Patrick just laughs, head thrown back, like he doesn't notice, or care, but he does, and Pete feels lucky just for that.
*
They gig, and it's the best Pete's ever had. He sleeps without Patrick, but peacefully, though.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. He turns it off within a second of waking.
Ashlee Simpson. Enough said.
*
Pete takes breakfast in Patrick's suite, in which they fight later about Pete suggesting less pancakes -- Patrick really does have to watch the weight -- than usual and Patrick's this close to punching him, so Pete kisses him hard, drowning the curse words on Patrick's tongue and making some more in his head.
*
Pete takes most of the day in Patrick's bed, making as many love bites as he can on Patrick's neck, just to see him sweat a little. Joe comes for sound check later, and whistles innocently all the way there.
*
Pete tells Arizona that he and Patrick plan to marry later, and adopt a Japanese child, because Angelina can't have all the fun.
The fans are, and forever will be, demented.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. He calls Patrick, tells him to come.
Patrick's voice gets all low like it does when it worries, and it tells him it'll be over right away. Pete's voice says no, that's not what I meant.
Patrick's voice gets high and confused and asks, well, what did you mean?
Pete's voice gets happy, what're you wearing?
*
Patrick can't stop laughing during sound check. It's kinda cute.
*
They gig all night long. Pete sleeps on the ride home, and won't get out unless Patrick plans to carry him.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. It's one of his, actually. Racetraitor, he thinks. Jesus Christ, he's a classic.
He pauses during the second verse, pads to the door, and locks it. Then he listens to the entire song, and the one after it. And the one after that.
And the five after that.
And the ten after that.
Then he throws his CD player at the wall. It doesn't break.
*
It's three hours later that anyone goes looking for him. Joe, more specifically. "Pete, dude, sound check in a few, you in there?"
"Go away." Pete hasn't said a word in the past hours, making sure his voice was scratchy enough to use. Joe pauses. "Dude, are you sick?"
"m not sick."
"Then--"
"Go away."
*
Fifteen minutes and Joe returns with Andy. "Fuck, Wentz, if you're doing what I think you're doing, I'm going to kick your ass."
"You'll need my key first, Hurley." Pete tells the door. "Go away."
"What do you want, Pete?"
"God or Patrick. And if I can't have that, I want a pony."
*
Two minutes later and Pete can hear Patrick telling people to go away.
"Are you sure?" comes the Joe voice, worried.
"Just go. And cancel sound check for me. Dunno if we can play tonight." says the Patrick voice and then silence.
Three minutes later, a succession of knocks come from Pete's door and a notebook is jammed in. It's fresh, 'cept for the writing on the first page.
If you're jacking off to YouTube, I'm not gonna make you feel better at all.
Pete snorts. Like YouTube is that godworthy. It's Playboy without the Hugh, in which it's not really Playboy at all.
Lovely, "pretty boy." You want to tell me what's up or down, or whatever you call it in the head of yours.
No. You wouldn't believe me.
When have I not, Wentz?
Sidekick incident, Stump.
*
They do this for three hours. Patrick tells him the gig is off.
We missed sound check too. Andy's a little pissed, and Joe's being worried again.
What about you? You mad?
Pause. Not much. I was. Just want to know if you're okay.
No, I'm not. Pete writes.
But I hope to God I'm gonna be.
*
Pete sleeps in his room.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. He shuts it off and goes to sleep.
*
Later, he calls the stadium and cancels the show. He goes back to sleep.
*
"What the fuck is your problem?" comes Patrick's voice a little later, and Pete pulls the sheets over his head before speaking. "I don't feel so well."
Pause. "Are you sick?"
"No. It's that other kind of hurt. I think something's wrong, Trick."
Pause. "Open the door, Wentz."
*
"I didn't know how to explain it at first, 'cause it's been weird." Pete says. "I go through the day, do something a little different each time, go to sleep and wake up. And it's the same day again. And I don't know what to do. You don't remember anything, we play the same show, the same songs, to the same crowd, and Jesus, if I have to deflower you again, I'm gonna kill someone."
Patrick blushes from across Pete, but doesn't look any less serious. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?"
"There's no point. The day's on rewind." Pete sneaks a glance at Patrick. "I've tried everything from blogging to the fucking rumor mill, and it's like everything's wiped the next day."
Patrick doesn't say anything, just types out a beat on Pete's comforter. "So, what? What do you do now?"
"I don' t know," Pete says, because it's the truth. "Go back to sleep, I guess."
*
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Andy says when they tell him, and Patrick shakes his head grimly and Pete shakes his head grimly and Joe starts laughing. Pete doesn't sock him, because it is sorta funny, and it's the kind of way he'd react too, if he wasn't so numb to it now. "You're telling me we've been on freakin' rewind and none of us know it?"
Pete shrugs. "It's easy to get used to. I can change what's happening, but not how the day starts. I wake up to music, everytime."
"Same song?"
Pete thinks. "No. Never the same song. It was always something different."
"Ipod?"
"CD player."
Andy scrubs his eyes and puts his face in his hands. He says something.
*
"No." Pete says and it's that. "I'm not going to see your therapist, dude."
"She's not my therapist, she's not even a therapist." Andy presses his ear to his face and holds up his middle finger for silence. They wait for ten minutes while he says a bunch of shit that doesn't really register with Pete before speaking again, "She wants to know when it starts again. The loop stuff."
"Midnight," Pete says tightly, and doesn't say much else.
Fifteen minutes later, Andy hangs up. "She's coming."
*
She tells them to call her Nothing. Pete briefly wonders if she's trying to be emo before hiding his laughter. Nothing is short, blond and looks fierce, like she wants to kick Pete in the balls just for existing. She walks like she's head of something, and talks like she's shouting. Five minutes in and Pete already kind of hates her.
She immediately whacks Andy and shames him for not calling her sooner. "If we could catch all of this shit on the second day, there'd be less of it, you ass." Andy mumbles something to her, and then she's really shouting, "This is utter bullshit! You don't know how many times he's been redoing this, the aftereffects could fuck up just about anyone right now."
"Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?" Pete asks, and then they remember he's in the room, so then comes the questions. Patrick stays quiet the entire time, half looking out the window, half listening. (His ears redden when Pete has to number the more intimate parts.)
Nothing turns to Patrick next. "You."
"What?" It sorta comes out a really menacing squeak, and the blush hasn't faded yet. Pete sorta wants to hug him.
"Were you a virgin? Before, the time loops, I mean, " she adds and Pete chokes on his tongue. "That's fucking irrelevant and you know it!" he shouts, because it gets too quiet.
Nothing ignores him. "Were you, Patrick?"
Patrick glares at her. "No."
That shuts Pete up, down, and sideways.
*
Nothing asks Patrick a few more questions on her own. Pete doesn't protest.
When she comes back out, Nothing asks Pete to repeat his explanation to Andy. He doesn't protest.
"You wake up to music?" she repeats. "Ipod or CD player?"
"CD player."
"How many songs?"
"There's supposed to be around forty." Pete tells her, and it then it kicks him.
Nothing looks surprised for a moment. She starts pacing. "You ever sit down and listen to it full way?"
"Once," Pete says, because it's half-true, "But halfway through, I sorta flung it."
Nothing stops suddenly and gives him such a look. "You broke it?"
*
Nothing disappears for thirty minutes and returns with a boom-box, or something like it. She tells Pete to get the CD.
*
"You sit here, and listen to this," she tells him and holds the CD up, so it sorta catches the light, for dramatic effect, Pete thinks. "I'm not sure how long it'll go for, but it looks a lot like this is the problem. And if it's not this, then I don't know, the fates probably hate you, or something."
Pete glares at her. "What if it never stops?"
"Then you're in for one hell of a ride."
Pete's supposed to listen to it alone, but the guys won't leave, so Nothing makes them migrate into Patrick's room to wait. Pete doesn't watch them go, just sets up for his session. He's hoping they all leave, but surprise!, Patrick's just one sneaky son of a bitch.
"It wasn't something you needed to know," he says and Pete bites his tongue, doesn't say anything. For a moment.
"Ignorance is bliss," he quotes and hopes Patrick hears him on the way out.
*
Twenty songs in and Pete's a little crazy, but a lot hungrier. He downs a carton of noodles and taps his feet with most of the beats.
*
Fifteen songs later, he stops trying to be rational and air guitars to a few.
*
Halfway through "Cry Me A River" -- whoever made the freakin' CD was a real pop fan -- Pete turns the volume down to think. Patrick gets in the way mostly, but he can think about tomorrow, and hopes he makes it there.
*
It's around eleven that Pete dozes off. He registers a guitar riff somewhere between awake and sleep.
*
Sunday, December 08, 6: 38 -- WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. He turns the boom box off, pads with it to the window, and doesn't wait to hear the crash.
*
Is it safe to enter yet? says Andy's neat yet not handwriting. Pete unlocks his door in answer.
*
Andy gets in first and looks skeptical when he does. "What day is it?"
"Sunday." Pete says, and orders room service. "It worked."
"Beatrice is gonna love hearing that," Andy says, and Pete is so stunned that he forgets for a moment. "Beatrice? Her name is freakin' Beatrice?" And it feels good to laugh, despite everything, even the needing a shower part, which is true on so many levels. "Jesus Christ, could my life be anymore fucked up?"
Beatrice sticks her head in. "What day is it?"
"Sunday," Pete answers automatically and starts chuckling again. Andy looks sheepish.
Beatrice, however, looks pretty damn pleased. "Works all the time. Someone in the world must hate you, Wentz. I advise sucking up to the fans." She looks around. "Where's the boom box?"
"Threw it out the window." Pete says around a mouthful of milk. Beatrice curses, "Jesus Christ, rock stars." She exits via door.
"What's with her?" Pete says, and Andy glares at his shoes. Pete hacks around another mouthful of milk, "Christ, you dated her, didn't you?"
*
Joe takes the good news with a thumbs up and a "I need fucking Starbucks now." He and Andy split.
*
Pete sleeps. The only thing that hasn't been repetitive though the entire ordeal was his dreams.
Which was weird, considering they were all about Patrick.
And still are.
*
Monday, December 09, 7:19 -- WESTERN
Pete wakes to silence. It's overwhelming.
Pete wishes he had the boombox.
*
Three hours later, he wakes up again, takes a shower, and pads all the way down to Patrick's room, journal in hand. He writes Start over? and shoves it underneath Patrick's door.
Pause.
Yeah, I think that'd be...great. You wanna tell me what that article said?
No, Pete writes, it wasn't something you needed to know.
Pete can actually hear Patrick laugh. I'd rather be knowledgeable than ignorant, you know?
We don't have a choice, Trick. We never do.
We should put that in somewhere.
You bring the genius, I'll bring the words.
end.
Pete wakes up to music.
It's P!ATD, and it's loud, and Pete knows he fell asleep with his headphones on -- because, it's the only way you can get to sleep when you're on a fucking twenty-five city, twenty hours a day tour -- but he does wonder when and how it got so fucking loud. There's not enough room in his head for a headache and music, so he switches the CD player off and goes back to sleep. Most of his dreams are about Patrick.
*
Jeanae calls him later, and she sounds happy, which is weird, coming from Jeanae. "I can't believe you did that!"
"Y'see," Pete yawns into his pillow, "When my mom says that, I've probably run the neighbor's dog over or something. That's exactly why we can't have children."
"Shut up." Jeanae still sounds happy. "It was cool of you to do that, you know. I didn't even notice it, Morgan had to point it out."
"Point out what?" This is not the right way to wake up after dreaming about your best friend, really. Pete's already losing the pep, "Have you been on the Internet?"
"'I don't get the whole 'girlfriend' Jeanae thing, really,'" she reads, and Pete swears it gets quieter. "She's great, yeah, and it's like, one day we'll get married, or another day we won't. She's a girlfriend, yeah, but it's really just girl and friend put together, right?"
Pete tries to say something, then realizes he's swallowed his tongue.
*
There's fifteen copies of the issue of Rolling Stone on his "porch." Joe is going to fucking die.
He calls the magazine, gets a busy signal, hangs up, calls again, hangs up before anyone can answer and pinches his nose. Then he calls Patrick.
"If she's the girlfriend, what the hell does that make me?" Patrick asks when he answers, and good God does he sound amused.
"I may have been high," Pete says, with the same amount of amusement. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I was high. That's not the point. Can you come get me? We have sound check, right?"
"Thought you loved me, Pete," Patrick mumbles, then laughs.
"I still do, Trick." Pete hopes Patrick can hear him.
*
They sound check -- Joe manages to play 'The Wedding March' halfway through before Pete socks him -- and gig all night long. On the way back to the hotel, Pete slings an arm around Patrick and pulls him close. He's close enough to kiss -- and God, Pete really does want to. He nips at Patrick's ear instead.
"What're you doing?" Patrick is sleepy, and scrubs his eyes and yawns, but doesn't move.
"Shush. Teddy bears don't talk." Pete goes to sleep.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. He sings along with Beyonce and Jay-Z on his way to the shower.
Hotels don't let him and Patrick share a bed, so they suck on default. Pete has to walk all the way down the hall just to have breakfast. "Open up, I'm feeling like toast and a hell of a lot of strawberries."
There's a click and ruffling and then a page slides out from under the door, dirty and ripped.
"'I don't get the whole 'girlfriend' Jeanae thing, really. She's great, yeah, and it's like, one day we'll get married, or another day we won't. She's a girlfriend, yeah, but it's really just girl and friend put together, right?"
"Jesus fucking Christ, what do you want me to say to that, Trick?" Pete screams, anything else would have be conformation.
The door stays closed.
"I love you." Pete says.
*
Pete sits outside for about three minutes, stands up, repeats himself and goes to find Joe. "The G-word's on print."
"You've been reading porn?" (Joe really is the coolest Jew ever.) He laughs and goes hunting for breakfast. "Mazel tov!"
"No, stupid, the G-word. Not a wife but a...?"
Joe freezes and crosses his index fingers in a anti-hex sign. "No waffles for you,dude."
"Trick saw it and he won't come out of his room and I need to talk to him. Because after that, he can hit me, and I can let him, and we can be friends again."
"If he hasn't hit you already, then I don't think he wants to." Joe says.
Pete finds a wall, and bangs his head against it.
*
They have a gig, big stadium, four hours long, and sound check's in two hours and Patrick will not come near him.
Pete feels like the fucking plague, the way Joe won't talk to him anymore and Andy's being oblivious, so he won't ask. Pete goes through three songs like this before dropping the bass and grabbing Patrick and walking until they're away from it all. "I like her, but I want you. Mull it over."
"I've been doing that for three hours, so it's pretty much moot." Patrick glares at him. "Now, go away."
"You're seriously not going to pull the Patitude with me, are you?" Pete tries to grin, "Because, really, it's going to suck trying to cheer you up."
"This isn't something we can get over, Pete, and you can just cheer me up or something."
"Damn right, because this isn't a thing. This is me, telling you, that I want you." Pete flicks his forehead twice. "I know I've taught you enough to know when I'm being fucking serious."
"It's your word against the Stone," Patrick says, and walks away.
*
They gig all night long. Pete falls asleep against an amp.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. "What the fucking fuck?"
Pete's been awake for at least half of his high school year -- but dammit, he knows that a ceiling is not sky and vice versa, and an amp is not a greasy hotel mattress and that his desk has no right being near the stadium. So then he knows it's his room; that's not to say he knows how he got here.
He shuts off Kanye and checks the bathroom, under the bed, and the windows. Pete pauses.
"What the fucking fuck?"
*
Patrick answers on the first bang, thank God. Despite circumstances, Pete just can't help but be hungry. "I just feel a diabetes streak coming on."
Patrick sighs and rolls his eyes and looks adorable, "Jesus, I can not wait 'till we head home and your mother can control that black hole you call a stomach." He holds the door open anyway, "I think we have sound check in a few hours, you woke up late."
"I'm a musical deity, Trick, we don't have to be awake like you normies." Pete takes the cap off for about five seconds to plant a nice one on his forehead. "Now be a good housewife and order pancakes. Big ones."
Patrick fakes socking him, but orders anyway.
*
On the way to sound check, Pete pulls Patrick over and thanks him, long and hard, for breakfast.
*
They sound check, then gig. In between "Saturday" and "whatever else they were going to play," Pete shuts off Patrick's mike for about two minutes, so his is loud enough to be heard. He tells Arizona that he loves his best friend. Then he pauses. Then he tells Arizona that it's no use recording this, they won't remember it tomorrow.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. "Viva La White Girl."
He shuts it off and goes back to sleep.
*
Pete does not come out of his room until sound check. When Patrick asks for problems, Pete doesn't give him any.
*
They sound check, gig, and drive all the way back to the hotel. Pete doses on Patrick's thigh and thinks about how lucky he is.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music, more specifically, Pete wakes up to Daughtry. (He didn't know 'Idol contestant' was still a genre.)
He shuts off the music and takes a shower and checks out of the hotel. It takes three minutes to find a bus, four minutes to drive down to a rental center, and five minutes to rent a Civic. With that, he drives to the nearest jewelry store/company/whatever.
The clerk stares, but in the end, they locate the perfect ring. Pete pays with what's left of his credit.
The Civic stays in the parking lot. Pete runs all the way back to the hotel.
*
Patrick answers on the first bang, thank God. He splutters when he sees the ring, "You jackass." he says automatically.
"It's for you." Pete points out, and waits.
Patrick splutters some more. "You're fucking screwing with me, right?"
Pete waits.
"You jackass!" Patrick says again, because really, there's nothing to say at this point, so Pete drops to his knees. "Mexico's too hot to run away to, so come away to Canada with me. We can be those fake Canadians who don't really like maple trees or syrup."
"No. You have a girlfriend." Girlfriend sounds sleezy and wrong when out of Patrick's mouth.
"But it's not for her." Pete says it like it's obvious, because it is.
"It's not for me, either." Patrick shuts the door and locks it. "So flush it." comes his voice from the other side.
Pete eventually does.
*
They sound check and gig. Pete turns off Patrick's mike for about two minutes.
"I'm in love with Patrick Stump, but he doesn't want me," Pete says. "Feel free to shame him."
The crowd does.
*
They gig for half the night, so Patrick has enough time to drag Pete into the dressing room. "What the hell do you want from me?" he starts off, because that's how they always start off, and usually, someone gets socked.
Pete's supposed to say something snarky or unnecessary, but he just shrugs. "An orgasm."
Because telling the truth is so much easier.
It's not really that long before he has Patrick against the door, jeans down and enough friction to make it hurt, like Pete's never gonna have Patrick like this again.
He isn't.
*
They don't sleep in the dressing room. That would be cliche.
They actually sleep in Pete's room, because the empty bed space reminds him of Jeanae.
It's scarier than you think.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. (AC/DC. There really is nothing like the classics.)
He tries to remember Jeanae's number, and kicks himself for not having her on speed dial. He gets it eventually.
"Hello?" she sounds sleepy and hello? -- time difference -- but Pete has to do this now.
"What'd I miss? You sound out of it." Even now, there some concern in his voice, because until otherwise, she is his girlfriend. Sorta. Almost.
She pauses. "You're to talk. What the hell are you doing -- you sound like a blender."
"You know, the words hangover and long night come to mind. I just called..."
"To?" Jeanae prompts when he doesn't say anything after a minute. Because breaking up with her seems harder than it was in his head.
Like, very harder.
He sounds so pathetic.
"I'm sorta in love with Patrick," Pete starts out.
Pause. "Motherfucker," Jeanae says, and hangs up.
*
She calls him later.
"In love, like how?" she asks, and there's curiosity in her voice.
Pete pauses. "Do you have me on speaker?"
"Answer the question, jackass. Like how?"
Pete sums up words. "The kind of love that's time consuming and stupid, that makes you grin a lot. That makes your mother proud of you and actually wants her to be a grandmother. I think I actually want to cook for him too, and you know I suck at that."
"And you kept me going, knowing this?"
"I don't--" Pete punches a pillow. "I didn't know how to tell you."
"Whatever, Pete, that's not the point. You fucking know me, you know I'm going to ride you about this for years. I want to see fucking tabloids. Don't fuck up with me and not take Patrick on -- I will carve your balls out if you hang this back, Wentz. Know it."
"I hear and obey, master," is the only thing Pete can say, because he's so speechless that snark is a thing of the past.
"I mean it, ass. Talk to him." Jeanae says, and hangs up.
*
Pete waits a few hours, then goes for lunch. Patrick is talking on the phone when he gets there, and holds up a finger. Pete goes for ravioli.
"Sound check in ten," comes Patrick's voice from the other side, then he starts talking again, and Pete hears quote and Stone and mix-up and journalist and Jeanae, and damage control.
Not a day goes by where Pete doesn't really love this boy.
*
They sound check, and break for pre-gig stressing, in which Patrick pulls him over. "I don't even want to know," he tells Pete and Pete's okay with that as long as Patrick kisses him and Patrick does.
*
They gig. Pete stops by a convenient store later and picks up three pads Sticky Notes, takes Patrick back to his room, and writes down various phrases on each pad, then sticks every single one to his wall. Most of the phrases don't make sense. Patrick doesn't say anything, just watches, because it's not a time for talking.
Pete tips up Patrick's hat just before they sleep, writes lover on a Sticky Note and attaches it to Patrick's forehead.
Pete sleeps.
*
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. There is no Patrick, no Sticky Notes.
Pete throws his CD player at the wall. It doesn't break.
*
The fans are like therapy without the money.
jesus, i really miss my saturdays. this isn't one of mine, it's too sunny and not cold enough.
somethings wrong. i don't know what. i don't want to know what. i'm sleepy, we have a gig later -- arizona, chico/as -- sound check in a few and i'm feeling patrick-less. i think this is the hangover without the alcohol. or the relapse without the crack.
missing you. hope to see your face among the crowds with the mouths.
Wait two seconds and refresh the page. The fans are, and forever will be, demented. Pete feels proud that he's had a hand in that.
i miss my saturdays too, chores are such a drag and mmymom's like the biggest joke formakng me do them
falloutgirl_21
dude, arizona's fucking lucky to get you. you guys should come down to texas, we need a break from the rap crap
panic!attheclubb
you should get patrick to make you feel better cos he's awesome like that rite?
i'msopatricksgirlbitches
i'm sorry to hear your day is bad, saturdays are s'posed to be fun, go out and do something
oxymoronscousinirony
Pete shuts off the laptop. Two hours later, there's one hundred and fifty nine replies. The fans, the fans.
*
They sound check. Pete makes one more change without telling anyone.
*
They gig. Between breaks, fireworks entertain the fans. Pete loves Pat rains down on the crowd, and Pete can hear girls screaming.
Patrick makes a face that looks surprised, when he shouldn't be. He doesn't say a word.
*
Pete falls asleep on the ride home and doesn't get out, not even when they reach the hotel.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. David Bedingfield, techno, he thinks.
He pays a visit to the fans.
i'm gonna make the critics say my name over and over, and yeah, emo's gonna be somewhere in the sentence too.
still don't know what' s wrong, am a bit curious tho. i'm in love with patrick, but he doesn't want me and it might break up the band, so those talk show groupies might not be lying. gonna apologize to everyone who's put their faith in us, wasn't worth going on, was it?
Wait two seconds and refresh the page.
omgno! you gotta talk to patrick and work things out
iknewiknewit i knew you love patrick patrick/pete forever bitzatches
doesthat mean you're not coming to olkahoma, pete?
i havegot to tell everyone int he world abou thtis, i'm so sorry pete omg
patrick you totallyevffin suck now.
omg pete i'm still here call me okay, i threw my number onstage when you went to ny, i was that blonde chick with the eyes
The fans are, and forever will be, demented.
*
Patrick doesn't do the Internet, so he doesn't call Pete on it.
They sound check and gig, and Pete doesn't mind. He sleeps the normal way -- peaceful.
*
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. Snow Patrol. No comment.
He lets it run for however long it needs to, grabs a shower and makes the barefoot trip necessary to reach Patrick.
He answers on the first knock and Pete kisses him all cliched and happy in the hallway, and doesn't care who sees it. "I just have to do this okay, Trick? Let me do this."
Patrick blinks, but doesn't say no.
*
They do not sound check, do not gig, and do not fight. They spend the day in bed, hot warm cold freezing under the sheets, where Pete can make all the love bites he wants and Patrick lets him, no protests.
*
Pete falls asleep against a hat-less Patrick head.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. It's too loud to recognize.
He turns off the CD player, showers, orders room service, eats. Waits for Patrick to call sound check. Tells Patrick to come early.
*
Pete's the only one in the stadium when Patrick gets there, and Pete kisses him and asks him not to get mad, because Patrick will, eventually. But he doesn't, not even after Pete has his jeans down and they're perfectly fine in their little web of touching, because that's all Pete will ever have to know, just the way Patrick gasps around an orgasm.
*
They sound check and Pete makes these weird grins in Patrick's direction the entire time. Patrick just laughs, head thrown back, like he doesn't notice, or care, but he does, and Pete feels lucky just for that.
*
They gig, and it's the best Pete's ever had. He sleeps without Patrick, but peacefully, though.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. He turns it off within a second of waking.
Ashlee Simpson. Enough said.
*
Pete takes breakfast in Patrick's suite, in which they fight later about Pete suggesting less pancakes -- Patrick really does have to watch the weight -- than usual and Patrick's this close to punching him, so Pete kisses him hard, drowning the curse words on Patrick's tongue and making some more in his head.
*
Pete takes most of the day in Patrick's bed, making as many love bites as he can on Patrick's neck, just to see him sweat a little. Joe comes for sound check later, and whistles innocently all the way there.
*
Pete tells Arizona that he and Patrick plan to marry later, and adopt a Japanese child, because Angelina can't have all the fun.
The fans are, and forever will be, demented.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. He calls Patrick, tells him to come.
Patrick's voice gets all low like it does when it worries, and it tells him it'll be over right away. Pete's voice says no, that's not what I meant.
Patrick's voice gets high and confused and asks, well, what did you mean?
Pete's voice gets happy, what're you wearing?
*
Patrick can't stop laughing during sound check. It's kinda cute.
*
They gig all night long. Pete sleeps on the ride home, and won't get out unless Patrick plans to carry him.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. It's one of his, actually. Racetraitor, he thinks. Jesus Christ, he's a classic.
He pauses during the second verse, pads to the door, and locks it. Then he listens to the entire song, and the one after it. And the one after that.
And the five after that.
And the ten after that.
Then he throws his CD player at the wall. It doesn't break.
*
It's three hours later that anyone goes looking for him. Joe, more specifically. "Pete, dude, sound check in a few, you in there?"
"Go away." Pete hasn't said a word in the past hours, making sure his voice was scratchy enough to use. Joe pauses. "Dude, are you sick?"
"m not sick."
"Then--"
"Go away."
*
Fifteen minutes and Joe returns with Andy. "Fuck, Wentz, if you're doing what I think you're doing, I'm going to kick your ass."
"You'll need my key first, Hurley." Pete tells the door. "Go away."
"What do you want, Pete?"
"God or Patrick. And if I can't have that, I want a pony."
*
Two minutes later and Pete can hear Patrick telling people to go away.
"Are you sure?" comes the Joe voice, worried.
"Just go. And cancel sound check for me. Dunno if we can play tonight." says the Patrick voice and then silence.
Three minutes later, a succession of knocks come from Pete's door and a notebook is jammed in. It's fresh, 'cept for the writing on the first page.
If you're jacking off to YouTube, I'm not gonna make you feel better at all.
Pete snorts. Like YouTube is that godworthy. It's Playboy without the Hugh, in which it's not really Playboy at all.
Lovely, "pretty boy." You want to tell me what's up or down, or whatever you call it in the head of yours.
No. You wouldn't believe me.
When have I not, Wentz?
Sidekick incident, Stump.
*
They do this for three hours. Patrick tells him the gig is off.
We missed sound check too. Andy's a little pissed, and Joe's being worried again.
What about you? You mad?
Pause. Not much. I was. Just want to know if you're okay.
No, I'm not. Pete writes.
But I hope to God I'm gonna be.
*
Pete sleeps in his room.
Saturday, December 07 -- 14:25, WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. He shuts it off and goes to sleep.
*
Later, he calls the stadium and cancels the show. He goes back to sleep.
*
"What the fuck is your problem?" comes Patrick's voice a little later, and Pete pulls the sheets over his head before speaking. "I don't feel so well."
Pause. "Are you sick?"
"No. It's that other kind of hurt. I think something's wrong, Trick."
Pause. "Open the door, Wentz."
*
"I didn't know how to explain it at first, 'cause it's been weird." Pete says. "I go through the day, do something a little different each time, go to sleep and wake up. And it's the same day again. And I don't know what to do. You don't remember anything, we play the same show, the same songs, to the same crowd, and Jesus, if I have to deflower you again, I'm gonna kill someone."
Patrick blushes from across Pete, but doesn't look any less serious. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?"
"There's no point. The day's on rewind." Pete sneaks a glance at Patrick. "I've tried everything from blogging to the fucking rumor mill, and it's like everything's wiped the next day."
Patrick doesn't say anything, just types out a beat on Pete's comforter. "So, what? What do you do now?"
"I don' t know," Pete says, because it's the truth. "Go back to sleep, I guess."
*
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Andy says when they tell him, and Patrick shakes his head grimly and Pete shakes his head grimly and Joe starts laughing. Pete doesn't sock him, because it is sorta funny, and it's the kind of way he'd react too, if he wasn't so numb to it now. "You're telling me we've been on freakin' rewind and none of us know it?"
Pete shrugs. "It's easy to get used to. I can change what's happening, but not how the day starts. I wake up to music, everytime."
"Same song?"
Pete thinks. "No. Never the same song. It was always something different."
"Ipod?"
"CD player."
Andy scrubs his eyes and puts his face in his hands. He says something.
*
"No." Pete says and it's that. "I'm not going to see your therapist, dude."
"She's not my therapist, she's not even a therapist." Andy presses his ear to his face and holds up his middle finger for silence. They wait for ten minutes while he says a bunch of shit that doesn't really register with Pete before speaking again, "She wants to know when it starts again. The loop stuff."
"Midnight," Pete says tightly, and doesn't say much else.
Fifteen minutes later, Andy hangs up. "She's coming."
*
She tells them to call her Nothing. Pete briefly wonders if she's trying to be emo before hiding his laughter. Nothing is short, blond and looks fierce, like she wants to kick Pete in the balls just for existing. She walks like she's head of something, and talks like she's shouting. Five minutes in and Pete already kind of hates her.
She immediately whacks Andy and shames him for not calling her sooner. "If we could catch all of this shit on the second day, there'd be less of it, you ass." Andy mumbles something to her, and then she's really shouting, "This is utter bullshit! You don't know how many times he's been redoing this, the aftereffects could fuck up just about anyone right now."
"Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?" Pete asks, and then they remember he's in the room, so then comes the questions. Patrick stays quiet the entire time, half looking out the window, half listening. (His ears redden when Pete has to number the more intimate parts.)
Nothing turns to Patrick next. "You."
"What?" It sorta comes out a really menacing squeak, and the blush hasn't faded yet. Pete sorta wants to hug him.
"Were you a virgin? Before, the time loops, I mean, " she adds and Pete chokes on his tongue. "That's fucking irrelevant and you know it!" he shouts, because it gets too quiet.
Nothing ignores him. "Were you, Patrick?"
Patrick glares at her. "No."
That shuts Pete up, down, and sideways.
*
Nothing asks Patrick a few more questions on her own. Pete doesn't protest.
When she comes back out, Nothing asks Pete to repeat his explanation to Andy. He doesn't protest.
"You wake up to music?" she repeats. "Ipod or CD player?"
"CD player."
"How many songs?"
"There's supposed to be around forty." Pete tells her, and it then it kicks him.
Nothing looks surprised for a moment. She starts pacing. "You ever sit down and listen to it full way?"
"Once," Pete says, because it's half-true, "But halfway through, I sorta flung it."
Nothing stops suddenly and gives him such a look. "You broke it?"
*
Nothing disappears for thirty minutes and returns with a boom-box, or something like it. She tells Pete to get the CD.
*
"You sit here, and listen to this," she tells him and holds the CD up, so it sorta catches the light, for dramatic effect, Pete thinks. "I'm not sure how long it'll go for, but it looks a lot like this is the problem. And if it's not this, then I don't know, the fates probably hate you, or something."
Pete glares at her. "What if it never stops?"
"Then you're in for one hell of a ride."
Pete's supposed to listen to it alone, but the guys won't leave, so Nothing makes them migrate into Patrick's room to wait. Pete doesn't watch them go, just sets up for his session. He's hoping they all leave, but surprise!, Patrick's just one sneaky son of a bitch.
"It wasn't something you needed to know," he says and Pete bites his tongue, doesn't say anything. For a moment.
"Ignorance is bliss," he quotes and hopes Patrick hears him on the way out.
*
Twenty songs in and Pete's a little crazy, but a lot hungrier. He downs a carton of noodles and taps his feet with most of the beats.
*
Fifteen songs later, he stops trying to be rational and air guitars to a few.
*
Halfway through "Cry Me A River" -- whoever made the freakin' CD was a real pop fan -- Pete turns the volume down to think. Patrick gets in the way mostly, but he can think about tomorrow, and hopes he makes it there.
*
It's around eleven that Pete dozes off. He registers a guitar riff somewhere between awake and sleep.
*
Sunday, December 08, 6: 38 -- WESTERN
Pete wakes up to music. He turns the boom box off, pads with it to the window, and doesn't wait to hear the crash.
*
Is it safe to enter yet? says Andy's neat yet not handwriting. Pete unlocks his door in answer.
*
Andy gets in first and looks skeptical when he does. "What day is it?"
"Sunday." Pete says, and orders room service. "It worked."
"Beatrice is gonna love hearing that," Andy says, and Pete is so stunned that he forgets for a moment. "Beatrice? Her name is freakin' Beatrice?" And it feels good to laugh, despite everything, even the needing a shower part, which is true on so many levels. "Jesus Christ, could my life be anymore fucked up?"
Beatrice sticks her head in. "What day is it?"
"Sunday," Pete answers automatically and starts chuckling again. Andy looks sheepish.
Beatrice, however, looks pretty damn pleased. "Works all the time. Someone in the world must hate you, Wentz. I advise sucking up to the fans." She looks around. "Where's the boom box?"
"Threw it out the window." Pete says around a mouthful of milk. Beatrice curses, "Jesus Christ, rock stars." She exits via door.
"What's with her?" Pete says, and Andy glares at his shoes. Pete hacks around another mouthful of milk, "Christ, you dated her, didn't you?"
*
Joe takes the good news with a thumbs up and a "I need fucking Starbucks now." He and Andy split.
*
Pete sleeps. The only thing that hasn't been repetitive though the entire ordeal was his dreams.
Which was weird, considering they were all about Patrick.
And still are.
*
Monday, December 09, 7:19 -- WESTERN
Pete wakes to silence. It's overwhelming.
Pete wishes he had the boombox.
*
Three hours later, he wakes up again, takes a shower, and pads all the way down to Patrick's room, journal in hand. He writes Start over? and shoves it underneath Patrick's door.
Pause.
Yeah, I think that'd be...great. You wanna tell me what that article said?
No, Pete writes, it wasn't something you needed to know.
Pete can actually hear Patrick laugh. I'd rather be knowledgeable than ignorant, you know?
We don't have a choice, Trick. We never do.
We should put that in somewhere.
You bring the genius, I'll bring the words.
end.