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This city says; Come hell or high water, when I'm feeling hot and wet, I can't commit to a thing, be it heart or hospital.
The first show of the tour had gone fantastically; it had been perfect, the first perfect show ever that Pete could remember. He had been so high on post show everything that he had somehow kidnapped Mikeyway, and now they were in the lounge of his bus. Alone. Their mouths were so close they were sharing their breaths. Mikey made a soft pitiful little sound; it was so, so desperate to Pete’s ears. Pete pushed forward sealing their lips together in the sweetest kiss he had ever experienced. Mikey made the sound again but now pushing his hips into Pete’s… and Pete found himself pulling Mikey back and down, down, down to the floor; his legs found themselves wrapped as tight around the others waist as they could possibly squeeze. The friction was the most delicious thing Pete had ever felt. Suddenly Pete knew he was falling; falling hard, fast, rough, falling in love with Mikeyway… that for the first time ever Pete let himself fall so completely in love, that he forgot what it felt like to be broken.
Mikey’s lips found their way to the soft spot of Pete’s neck, sucking, licking, biting. The moan that ripped it way from Pete’s mouth was so raw and primal, that there was no mistaking what was happening in the back of that bus. Their hands slipped under hoodies, shirts, jeans… Slowly their layers peeled away until skin touched skin, and sweat mixed, and even they couldn’t tell where Pete ended and Mikey began.
They tangled so completely with each other, their bodies hot and wet in the still air of the bus. They woke the next morning, almost unwilling to pull their bodies apart, both afraid of what ws ahead of them; But they did, and they were ready for anything.
Best friends, ex-friends till the end, better off as lovers and not the other way around.
That summer, the tour, Pete felt crazy, the good kind of crazy that you let take over your entire being without the negative consequences of regular crazy. Pete allowed himself to love, and to be loved. They spent so much time together, some days they were inseparable. Some days they didn’t spend as much time together, trying to keep it a secret was a little harder than expected. They didn’t care, Pete was in love, and Mikey was in love. Every night they shared a bunk, switching off on busses, because it was totally unfair to always be keeping one band up all night, with their noises and sounds.
The tombstones are waiting , they were half engraved. They knew it was over, just didn't know the date.
As the tour neared its end, and summer started to fade away Pete knew he had to end things. He had no idea how he was supposed to break Mikey’s heart without breaking his own, Mikey was having the same problem. How do you tell someone that you love them, but you know you can’t be with them?
Racing through the city, windows down, in the back of yellow-checkered cars.
They take a taxi to their hotel one night near the end of the tour. It’s a classic yellow taxi-cab; and they roll their windows down as far as they will go so they can feel the air… So the sound is so loud that it makes conversation impossible. Because if you can’t hear each other; you can’t break up right?
And I cast a spell over the West, to make you think of me, the same way I think of you. This is a love song in my own way, happily ever after below the waist.
It’s their final night together, their last chance to really talk it out and end it; or to talk it out and keep it, this, going. As they lie in Mikey’s bunk; sweaty, naked, tangled together the same way they have been nearly every night… They don’t speak. They kiss and lick and suck and they bite. They moan and groan and grunt and they make tiny choruses of sound escape the lips of the other. They move together in a way that should be illegal. They fuck. It’s hello and goodbye and “I love you” and it’s all unspoken. They don’t need words; only each other.
I wrote a goodbye note, in lipstick on your arm, when you passed out.
As soon as Mikey was completely asleep, Pete dug around under the mattress for a pen and paper, finding instead a lipstick pencil. He smiled and slowly, carefully wrote everything he wanted to write on the palest of arms he had ever had the pleasure of marking as his own.
He slipped away out of the bus and onto his own, hoping with all of his heart that Mikey would know exactly what he meant, exactly how hard it was for Pete to end it like this. He sniffled as the tears started rolling down his cheeks into his pillow. He was unable to stop them, But in the end he really Didn’t want to.
I couldn't bring myself to call, except to call it quits.
Two weeks later, after decompressing, after realizing that he’d done the right thing. He picked up his phone, he pressed call on the contact only listed as “My Way”.
He sighed when he was sent straight to voicemail, he was shaking as he left his message. A single word that he knew Mikey would know what he meant this time. “Sorry.”