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“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.”
― Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding
Patrick’s felt this way for so long that sometimes he almost… forgets. Well, no, that’s not the right term; he could never really forget these feelings. But the want and desire, the ever-present ache in his chest, they’ve fallen into a low background hum over the years.
They make themselves known occasionally, flaring and sparking bright before dying back down to hide in the quiet dark spaces. In his bunk during the nights when he’s feeling a bit more lonely than usual, in Pete’s broad and genuine smile over coffee in the morning, in the jealous tug he feels and tamps down when Pete and Meagan are being quietly affectionate in the back lounge of the bus.
The Hiatus had been a much-needed break for the whole band, allowing all of them to pursue projects there had been no time for while Fall Out Boy was going full-steam. It also had the side-benefit for Patrick of a little distance from Pete, something he hadn’t really known he’d needed.
~~~~~
It wasn’t until he was going to bed after a too-late night in the studio that he realized the tightness in his chest, which had plagued him nearly every day for as long as he could remember, wasn’t there. He thought about it as he drifted off to sleep.
He awoke the next morning to the special Pete-specific notification on his phone and groaned, rolling over to reach for it. He could just barely make out the red numbers of his alarm clock, telling him it was way too early, but Pete was on Bronx-time and Bronx-time usually meant waking up at 6:30AM. For Pete that wasn’t really a problem, Patrick knew, since Pete had told him last time they talked that his insomnia has been going full-force in recent weeks. He fumbled across the bedside table for his glasses, squinting and blinking as he put them on, before peering at the phone more closely.
The notification was a short email asking how Patrick’s studio time was going and detailing Pete and Bronx’s beach adventure of the day before, including Bronx’s fascination with a little crab they’d seen scuttling across the sand. Patrick scrolled down and his breath caught, sleepy eyes still squinting past his glasses, as he stared at a picture of Pete and Bronx, sandy and grinning.
He had a couple hours before he had to get up so he collapsed back against his pillows, and when he awoke a second time he had a vague recollection of dreams featuring waves and sea foam and laughter.
~~~~~
Patrick’s sitting at the kitchen table in the bus with a bowl of cereal (who cares if it’s 2pm, breakfast is breakfast!), and thinking back over the last few years. He’s not sure he’d call it reminiscing, but he’s definitely thinking of all the things that have changed along the way, and a few that have persisted, remaining perfectly intact as if encased in amber.
He’s thinking about their last tour before The Hiatus and the weird combination of freedom and loneliness that had accompanied The Hiatus itself. It had given him some breathing room, some space to distance himself from some of the feelings that had begun to overwhelm him (mainly the war within himself between loving Pete to death and wanting to strangle him with his own mic cord to hasten its approach).
But it was also as if he were building something and the foundation had been ripped from underneath him, forcing him to start from scratch. He’d had to learn to build, and then to perform, without Pete and Andy and Joe.
He’s jarred out of his reverie when Pete slides into the booth seat next to him. He reaches for the box of lucky charms in the middle of the table and grabs a handful, eating it out of his palm like it’s trail mix. He waits until Patrick starts eating again before asking, “Hey, did I uhhh, did I do something to piss you off? Because I’ve been trying to figure out what but I’m coming up blank here. Usually if you’re avoiding me, you’ve got a good reason.”
“No, oh-, no of course not,” Patrick stumbles to get out, quickly swallowing what’s left of the bite. “No, I’m sorry. I’ve just… I’ve been in a weird headspace the last couple days. Didn’t want it to rub off on anyone else, ya know?”
Pete nods, reaching for another handful. They eat in silence for a few minutes before Pete leans closer, hand on Patrick’s shoulder, and tells him, “If you wanna talk about it, I will totally listen. I know I’m generally shit at advice but nobody on this tour’s a better listener.”
Patrick smiles at that, nodding, and Pete removes his hand, sliding back off the bench seat and heading toward the lounge. He stops to snag a last handful of cereal as he goes.
Unfortunately, Patrick thinks, this just wasn’t something he could talk to Pete about. Somehow he couldn’t picture ‘I’ve been in love with you for ages now and I’d forgotten how much until I was stuck spending all my waking hours in a cramped moving home with you and your goddamned smile’ going over too well.
~~~~~
Several nights later, Patrick is settling into the back lounge after a signing that seemed to take forever- in large part because he is on vocal rest. It’s just so hard to not say anything in response when people are telling him so many heartfelt and genuine things!
He’s flipping through a DVD folder, trying to figure out what to watch, when Pete comes in carrying two steaming mugs. He hands one to Patrick, adding in a cheeky, “Throat Coat for His Majesty,” before settling in on Patrick’s left side, cradling his cocoa between his palms.
“So, what’s on the schedule for tonight?” Pete asks him, peering over as Patrick flips through the discs. He doesn’t expect a verbal answer and isn’t surprised when Patrick shrugs, setting his tea on the small table in front of them, and keeps flipping through. Patrick stops and points at a disc, glancing questioningly at Pete for his opinion.
“Dude, we’ve seen that one a million times! Which means you’ve probably seen it two million, because half the time you watch it without me.” Patrick mock-pouts, before moving on, resolving to watch Ghostbusters at least once on this tour.
He flips through a few more pages, both of them “hmm-ing” over various titles before moving on, until they get to the page holding Nightmare Before Christmas. By this point, Pete has his chin hooked over Patrick’s shoulder, and he lights up when he sees it. Patrick tries to quickly flip the page, so Pete hastily sets down his drink to fight for the DVD folder. He uses his right hand to dig in and tickle Patrick’s ribs while using his left to grab at the folder.
They end up a giggling mess, and Patrick is NOT supposed to be laughing! He pulls himself together and tries to look stern but Pete’s giving him puppy dog eyes, or at least as close to them as Pete can manage, and Patrick feels his heart melt a little.
He finally gives in, nodding and slipping the disc from its sleeve to hand to Pete, communicating, “fine, but you’ve gotta do the work.”
They settle in to watch, Pete settled close against his side, and Patrick leans his head against Pete’s, content to watch the familiar film. It’s about halfway through the movie, Jack donning his Santa garb while arguing with Sally, when Patrick hears a soft whuffle and then Pete’s even breaths, telling him that Pete’s drifted off to sleep. He stays where he is, unmoving, for the remainder of the film, reluctant to disturb Pete’s sleep.
He does this partly because he remembers a time when four hours of sleep was a good night for Pete, and although he tends to sleep better these days, Patrick still can’t help but want him to get all of the rest possible. His other reason is not so altruistic, not that it’s easy to admit to himself. It’s just so easy for him to stay there, basking in the warmth of their bodies curled together, hoarding every little detail, each of Pete’s steady breaths on Patrick’s neck.
He lets the credits roll and the main menu cycle through a few times before finally finding the willpower required to extricate himself from Pete and gently nudge him awake. When Pete just groans, grabbing for Patrick in an attempt to pull him back down onto the seat, Patrick instead grabs Pete’s hand, dragging him to his feet. He has to clamp down on his tongue in order to not say aloud, ‘c’mon you ass, I’m not carrying you to your bunk,’ as he would have at any other time.
He carefully gathers their mugs, holding the handles of both in one hand. He pulls Pete along, catching most of his weight, and pushes him toward his bunk when they get there. Pete reels him in by his hand though, giving him a half-hug and a sleepy, “g’night, Tricky,” that makes Patrick laugh, the nickname mumbled a bit as Pete presses his lips to Patrick’s temple.
He climbs into his bunk and Patrick heads to the small kitchenette, depositing the mugs in the sink to be cleaned tomorrow. He heads to his own bunk, slipping beneath the covers and pulling his curtain closed. He drifts at the edge of consciousness for a long while, thinking of the press of Pete’s lips against his skin and the warmth of him cuddled close, before finally allowing sleep to claim him.
~~~~~
Pete’s done this thing for years where he loves to make Patrick blush by talking about how much he loves Patrick in interviews. Someone will ask who his celebrity crush is and he’ll immediately drop Patrick’s name, talking about how his palms go sweaty around him, or he’ll get the question, “If you were given a free pass to do anyone…” and he just can’t seem to help replying with “I’d totally do Patrick Stump.”
It’s happened so often over the years that it doesn’t faze most people anymore. For Patrick though, those little joking comments serve as a reminder that Pete just doesn’t feel the same way about him. There’s no way he’d be able to be so glib and carefree about it if he actually felt that way – it’d be too big of a deal to just idly drop comments in interviews, to spew that kind of constant affection and love.
Patrick was never hurt by it though. He knew it was Pete’s way of telling everyone ‘This dude’s my best friend, and I think he’s awesome’ and Patrick was more than used to Pete’s unique way of going about things. Patrick though, he knew that if he were to attempt to say things the way that Pete did, he’d probably choke on the words, laughter falling flat, voice cracking at the truth of it all. In Patrick’s own interviews, he’s too afraid that the love in his tone will completely give him away, and he steers clear of those types of things.
Instead he’ll talk about how Pete’s an amazing lyricist, how great Pete is at soccer, how much Pete genuinely loves being a dad. He focuses on how Pete is his best friend in the world and how he wouldn’t be a singer without him. It’s his way of telling the truth without telling all of the truth. And it’s worked for him for this many years, why should that change now?
~~~~~
Patrick and Joe are hanging out with Bronx on the bus, keeping him occupied by building all kinds of lopsided Lego monstrosities while they wait for Pete and Meagan to return. Bronx is chatting away, telling them about how a girl in his pre-school had told him that the trick to building a really tall tower out of the blocks was that “you have to build a lighter structure! Otherwise it’ll fall over! That’s what she said. And she’s smart -I think that’s maybe true.”
Joe nods along, saying, “Makes sense, yeah,” as Bronx reiterates his point, reaching across to grab the blue block that Patrick had intended to grab himself.
Bronx turns to Patrick, looking at him thoughtfully before asking hesitantly, “Uncle Patrick, how do you build a lighter structure?” Patrick bites back a laugh and tries to explain it in kid-terms, looking to Joe for help when he ends up using bigger words than a four-year-old probably understands.
Joe figures a practical demonstration is a better approach and starts to show Bronx how to build a tower with a solid foundation that leaves spaces so that the blocks aren’t so densely packed, Bronx scooting closer on his knees to help. Patrick smiles as he looks over to see them both bent over their work surface, blonde curls pressed close to dark ones as they build “the ultimate mega tower!”
Patrick decides to leave them to it for a few minutes, heading toward the kitchen area to grab something cool to drink. He passes Andy, who’s lying in his bunk, curtain open but headphones on, and gives him a quick nod as he does. He’s just finishing a glass of water when he hears the bus door opening, the front lounge area suddenly bright with sunshine as Meagan and Pete come up the stairs.
“You guys have fun?” Patrick asks them, and they both reply in the affirmative, Meagan adding, “It was nice to walk, got to stretch our legs a bit. And didn’t bump into any annoying idiots with cameras, so that’s always a plus.” She smiles, then finishes off the last of the smoothie in the cup she’s holding, reaching past Patrick to deposit it in the small trash can before going to sit on what the bus designers generously described as a sofa.
He hears Pete’s, “Hey duder, whatcha making?” and follows the familiar voices back down the hall, arriving just as he hears Pete tell Bronx, “That’s awesome! But it’s time to put the blocks away, you’ll have to build awesome towers with Uncle Joe some other time, ‘kay? Megs wants some Bronx time, said something about you guys going to explore the venue.”
This last bit causes Bronx to cut off his grumbling at having to put away his toys, because he heard one of his dad’s friends say something about ghosts in lotsa places and maybe he and Meagan can find a real-life one!
Patrick watches as Bronx scrambles to put the blocks away, sweeping them into the tub and crawling under the table to retrieve the ones he’s knocked off of it. He reminds himself to double check later, because Legos under feet are the worst sort of pain, one he’d hesitate to subject his worst enemies to.
Bronx tries to climb over Joe, and Joe snatches him up instead, tossing him over his shoulder. He holds onto Bronx’s feet as he heads out of the lounge, zooming down the hall to deliver Bronx unceremoniously into Meagan’s lap, Bronx in a fit of giggles the entire time.
Soon enough Pete and Patrick are essentially alone on the bus, Joe roped into go ghost-hunting with Bronx and Meagan, Andy drawing his curtain shut, and no sign of crew in sight.
Patrick reaches for the bucket of Legos, storing it in one of the low cupboards dedicated solely to toys and books for the little dude and then settles into one of the corner seats to relax, maybe do a little reading. Pete comes out of the tiny bathroom a few minutes later and sprawls gracelessly on the seats next to Patrick.
With no warning at all, Pete says, “So, Patrick, I hear you’ve got the hots for me.”
Patrick splutters, trying simultaneously to deny the allegation and to tell Pete that it’s not a big deal when Pete goes, “Woah, dude-- I was kidding.”
Patrick goes pale as Pete tacks on, “Well, mostly, a few of the dudes have been not so subtly hinting that we need to talk.” Patrick is panicking inside, trying to figure out what to say or do to diffuse this situation, to get Pete to just forget that he ever mentioned it because the last thing he wants to do is fuck up their friendship. That was the most important thing here.
Pete must be able to sense Patrick’s panic because he reaches his hand out, grabbing Patrick’s and squeezing as he says, “Woah, hey, no. Patrick, calm down.”
Patrick shakes his head, still dumbstruck and scrambling, not fully listening as Pete tells him, “Hey, Patrick, it’s okay.”
He tries to rise, wanting nothing but to escape the lounge and be able to think but Pete tugs him back, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s shoulders and asking him to please stay, telling him again that it was okay, and not to worry.
When Patrick’s breathing has mostly returned to normal, he looks over at Pete, who is watching him steadily. He can think of nothing to say but, “I’m sorry,” a twisted look of anguish and guilt on his face.
Pete just tells him, “Hey, no, you don’t have to apologize. I just, I wanted to get this out in the open, but I probably shouldn’t have been such a dick about doing it. I wasn’t really sure how to bring it up.”
Patrick nods, silent approval for Pete to continue talking.
“Dude, you know this doesn’t change things between us, right? You’re still my best friend, and I still love you, no matter what else is goin’ on. Don’t ever think that’s not true.”
“So you don’t have a problem with the fact that I’ve had feelings for you for years, and that I kept that from you? That doesn’t weird you out?” Patrick asks him, skeptically.
“Nah, dude. I mean, can you change the way you feel?”
Patrick shakes his head, “I tried, but-”, and Pete cuts him off, saying, “Okay then, then it’s a moot point. You can’t change how you feel about someone just because it’s more convenient. Trust me, I know that one. And you’re seriously my best friend. I don’t want that changing anytime soon. I’m not gonna say I wasn’t surprised when I caught on” (Patrick inwardly snorts at that, thinking that Pete’s been pretty clueless to it. Someone must have said something to him), “but dude. Don’t ever think that I’ll love you less because of something like that. We clear?”
Patrick nods again, the movement beginning to feel a bit robotic. His mind, meanwhile, is racing. Over the years he’s imagined Pete finding out in various ways, from him telling Pete and magically winning him over at some perfect moment where they’re both romantically unattached, to Pete finding out and being utterly disgusted that Patrick had kept it from him. This isn’t a fairytale ending, he knows, but as long as Pete’s not freaked out by it, there are definitely worse outcomes. As long as he’s still got Pete as his best friend he imagines they can work it all out, one way or another.
Once again, Pete knows him as well as he knows himself and tells Patrick earnestly, “I don’t care, dude, I mean, like I understand if it’s hard for you to be around me sometimes or whatever, I know what that’s like, but I don’t want this-” he gestures between himself and Patrick, “-to change. Nothing about this has to be different. I mean, just because I’m not wanting to suck your dick or whatever doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
It’s an attempt to lighten the mood, and it works, Patrick shoving at Pete’s arm and calling him an asshole. When Pete just laughs in response, Patrick mutters, “uggh, I don’t know why I have such poor taste anyway,” causing Pete to shove him right back.
The conversation quickly devolves into casual insults and roughhousing, and Patrick feels a bit weightless at the thought that now Pete knows. And Pete doesn’t hate him for it. Doesn’t feel disgusted by it. And now they’re acting just the same as always.
But a thought comes to mind that he figures he’d better bring up now, while all of this was in the open, before they go back to business as usual - or as close to that as they’re ever going to be able to get.
“Shit, Meagan’s probably gonna hate me, isn’t she?”
Pete laughs at that, and tells Patrick, “No, dude, totally not. She’s the one who told me I needed to talk to you in the first place. She’s been making comments for months and I only recently caught on what she actually meant. I’m pretty sure she thinks it’s adorable or something. And she knows we’re solid.”
Patrick lets out another sigh of relief at that. He hated the thought of spending the rest of the tour stuck on a bus that he’s sure would start to feel absolutely tiny if someone were actively pissed at him.
“So we’re… okay then?” Patrick asks, the slightest tinge of hesitance in his voice.
“Yeah,” Pete agrees, “Yeah, we’re good. Wanna go see if the Scooby Gang have encountered any ghosts yet?”
“In that scenario, who’s who? You’re not casting me as Velma, are you?”
Patrick allows Pete to drag him up from his seat and trails him through the bus, smiling to himself. So maybe things aren’t perfect, and maybe he still loves Pete a little too much, but he hasn’t lost him. And that’s what matters most.