no good at saying sorry [one more chance]
Title: No Good At Saying Sorry [One More Chance]
Author:
blurred_affairs
Pairing: pete’n’trick
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Pete’s no good at saying sorry and Patrick’s no good at saying no
“You know I’m no good at saying sorry. Can we just go back?”
Your laughter was forced and hurt as it ripped it’s way out of your throat. “Go back? We’ve done that too many times already. Why can’t you just keep your fucking dick in your pants?”
He hung his head. “I’m sorry.” His voice was pitiful [and maybe even a little pathetic].
“You’ve said that so many times to me, seriously, it means shit now. You could be telling me anything for all that fucking means.”
“Patrick…I love you.”
This laughter…was something all together new. [Read: bitter and tinged with an edge of heartbreak] “Fuck you, Pete. Fuck you for making that meaningless too.”
His eyes [god damn those fucking eyes, so wide and full of the world] were wider than you could remember having seen before and full of something close to shock. “But…Trick…”
You sighed. [One full of a world weariness you really shouldn’t have at the young age of 23] “Pete.” Another sigh. “Pete.”
Shit. Not the tears.
“Patrick, I am so sorry. And I know that means nothing, but really, I...I mean it.”
Despite yourself, [those infamous instincts, your intelligent head telling you to run] you went to him and wrapped him in a hug. [Stupid heart]
“It’ll be okay.” You whispered in his ear.
He sniffled, buried his face in your chest. He tried to form a sentence, but it didn’t go anywhere, muffled by the fabric of your shirt [maybe muffling another lie? You’d never know].
“One more chance.” You said quietly to yourself [You fucking liar].
title and cut text from the early november
Author:
blurred_affairsPairing: pete’n’trick
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Pete’s no good at saying sorry and Patrick’s no good at saying no
“You know I’m no good at saying sorry. Can we just go back?”
Your laughter was forced and hurt as it ripped it’s way out of your throat. “Go back? We’ve done that too many times already. Why can’t you just keep your fucking dick in your pants?”
He hung his head. “I’m sorry.” His voice was pitiful [and maybe even a little pathetic].
“You’ve said that so many times to me, seriously, it means shit now. You could be telling me anything for all that fucking means.”
“Patrick…I love you.”
This laughter…was something all together new. [Read: bitter and tinged with an edge of heartbreak] “Fuck you, Pete. Fuck you for making that meaningless too.”
His eyes [god damn those fucking eyes, so wide and full of the world] were wider than you could remember having seen before and full of something close to shock. “But…Trick…”
You sighed. [One full of a world weariness you really shouldn’t have at the young age of 23] “Pete.” Another sigh. “Pete.”
Shit. Not the tears.
“Patrick, I am so sorry. And I know that means nothing, but really, I...I mean it.”
Despite yourself, [those infamous instincts, your intelligent head telling you to run] you went to him and wrapped him in a hug. [Stupid heart]
“It’ll be okay.” You whispered in his ear.
He sniffled, buried his face in your chest. He tried to form a sentence, but it didn’t go anywhere, muffled by the fabric of your shirt [maybe muffling another lie? You’d never know].
“One more chance.” You said quietly to yourself [You fucking liar].
title and cut text from the early november