Quick Fixes [standalone]
Author: Rit
sympathynotlovePOV: Third person
Rating: PG-13 (or R if you're sensitive to swearing)
Pairing: Peterick
Summary: Everything that's ever gone wrong with Pete's life has been explained away or there's been a 'quick fix.' What about his inability to trust and to love?
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Author Notes: Hi. -waves- I'm Rit. This is my first post on here... and the first FOB slash I've posted anywhere. :D I mostly write Rydon slash on Slash! at the Disco. So. Enjoy. And I'm x-posting this to midnight_party.
Dedications:
retty132 (Rachel) because this is her ~present for her 11K whoredom on the FOBR boards. :D
Everything that's ever gone wrong in Pete's life has been explained away or there's been a 'quick fix.'
When Pete was young, 14 or so, he was 'misbehaving.' The solution? His parents sent him away to a 'tough love' boot camp.
Pete called home every single day in tears, because he really, really did not want to be here.
When Pete was a bit older, he was diagnosed with ADD. The solution? Pills that made him feel like the world was going about five times slower. Pills that made him feel drugged. Pills that made him feel like he was going out of his mind.
When Pete was older still, he was diagnosed with anxiety and depression problems. The solution? Yet more pills. These pills didn't make him see through the haze like his doctor had said they would, but they made his head spin and they made him feel like he was looking through a fish tank.
As he aged more, the side affects of the pills got worse, and they just upped his dosage. This, the pills and the stress and just... oh god the pressure, it was getting to Pete.
It was getting to him so bad, and his mind just would not stop. He wanted so fucking bad to get away from it; himself, his head, everyone, and he went for a drive.
He wound up in the parking lot of the Best Buy he'd been at two days previous buying CDs, and he pulled out his phone. He called everyone he could think of, words slurred by tears, and all he could hear himself saying, and he wasn't sure if it was in his mind or if he was really saying it, was 'goodbye, goodbye, goodbye,' over and over again.
Pete's mother came to the scene, picking up the empty bottle of Ativan off the floor of his car. She sat in the waiting room, waiting for news. She cried and cried and cried.
The solution to this? Yet more therapy and more pills and taking Pete off the Ativan.
But what do you do when you need the remedy to the remedy? Pete was trapped, again, internally. He got to the point where he could fool his therapist; act so well that he even fooled himself into thinking he was okay.
One person, and only one person, could see through this. See through the lies, the shield, the wall.
Patrick Martin Stump. Probably the only person alive who would or could stay up with Pete when his insomnia kicked in, or hold him when he had a breakdown.
The only person who Pete called his best friend.
The only person who Pete ever told he loved in that way and thought he meant it.
The only person who could ever see that Pete didn't mean it, as much as he thought he did.
And it hurt him. Hurt Patrick so fucking bad to know that as much as he felt for Pete, Pete was completely incapable of returning the love.
Pete was completely numb. Turned off to the world.
The solution to this? Patrick wasn't entirely sure, because it sure as hell wasn't a quick fix.