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Wade rolled over in bed, settling on his side so he was looking out the window at the moon. He couldn’t sleep tonight, which, he had to admit, wasn’t rare, but it was still annoying. He could hear Peter breathing steadily behind him, and it calmed him somewhat. Everything felt so solid and real, but most of the time he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was fake, created by his fucked up mind. It was just too nice. A stable relationship, a home to return to at the end of the day that wasn’t an absolute shit hole… It just didn’t make sense. But, even if it was all fake, if it was all some weird dream, he didn’t want to wake up. He finally felt content, even with that wriggling unease at the back of his mind, and he’d rather the illusion not fade so quickly. So, he avoided thinking about it as much as possible.
He wiggled again, trying to adjust so he was comfortable. It was too damn hot. He threw off the blankets, and stood up and walked over to the window. He opened it, letting the breeze waft into their small bedroom.
“Ah,” he murmured to himself. “The sweet scent of old piss.”
He folded his arms on top of each other, resting them on the windowsill and leaning out over the fire escape. The city was pretty at night. There were still people walking around, albeit mostly the drunks. It was the middle of the night, but the streets were still brightly lit so you could see the going-ons of every corner. Wade let a small smile play at the corner of his lips as he observed. But the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that this was all in his head. The sweet boyfriend, the apartment, the whole damn city. It just didn’t make any sense.
“Well,” he said to himself, “I guess if I’m dying, I’ll die in my sleep.”
He’d much rather die like this anyways. Happy and all that. But the more he thought about it, the more his position changed. The boxes were quieter now, only supporting the theory that this was all fake.
Is this really how you’re gonna die? White spoke up. Ah. Quieter, but still not fucking gone. Isn’t it kind of pathetic? Dying while stuck in a dream? He bit his lip, a little upset.
But I’d much rather stay here! Yellow fought back. Y'know, Superman once said, ‘Of course it’s all happening in your head, but why on earth does that mean it’s not real?’
I don't think he said that.
Shut up. My point stands.
Does it? For all we know, we’re just dying in a hole somewhere.
Wade rolled his eyes. “Just so you know, neither of you are helping at all,” he growled. The boxes just ignored him, choosing to continue their chatter. He groaned, lowering his head so it was resting on top of his folded arms.
He heard the bed creak behind him. “Wade?” came a very sleepy voice.
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, acutely aware of how exhausted he sounded. “Go back to sleep.”
“Are you ok?” Peter asked, sounding more awake now. “‘Cause you don’t seem it.”
“Just… Just go back to bed.”
Peter was radiating concern. The floorboards creaked behind him as Peter moved closer to Wade. He turned around, so his back was against the windowsill, to face the other man.
“I’m just thinking, and you know how bad that is for me.” Wade said, following the statement with a dry chuckle.
Peter looked at him, concern written clearly across his face.
“It’s just,” Wade continued with a sigh. “All the things I could’ve done, could’ve been, but I didn’t have the balls.”
Peter offered a small smile at that, silently saying he knew the feeling.
“And this life… Your love… I don’t deserve it.”
Peter looked nearly angry at that. “Don’t fucking say that.”
“But it’s true!”
“It’s not and you know it!” Peter raised his voice near the end of the phrase, not whispering anymore, but talking at a normal volume.
“Peter—” Wade tried, voice breaking.
“No, Wade,” Peter continued, softer. “I know you have issues, but I thought we were over this one. I love you. I will KEEP loving you. Please don’t try and undermine it, because it just hurts my feelings.”
“But can’t you see? None of this is REAL!”
“What in the goddamned hell are you talking about—”
Wade moved to the other side of the room, strides quick and powerful. “I need to wake up.”
“Wade—”
“I love you, Petey, but it’s time now—JUST TAKE ME!” he yelled.
“You’re going to wake up the neighbors—”
“Fuck the neighbors, Petey! Haven’t you realized? This is all fake! Not real! An illusion, made up by my incredibly fucked up brain!”
Peter just stared at him incredulously.
“They say we are asleep until we fall in love,” he mumbled to himself, looking at the floorboards as he paced alongside their bed. “I did that, I fell in love, so it’s time to wake up.”
His head snapped up. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered, pacing faster. “I want to wake up now!” He shouted to the heavens. “I’m ready! I’m so ready to wake up now!”
He stopped, hands outstretched towards the ceiling. “I wanna wake up!” he shouted, more desperately this time. “God, don’t let me die while I’m like this! It’s time! When are you gonna take me you miserable, old bastard!!” It was like there was an orchestra in his head, playing faster and faster, increasing the tempo until—
“Stop!!”
Peter had shouted. That was enough to make Wade stop in his tracks. Peter almost never yelled. His voice was also pitched higher than usual, sounding more like a pubescent boy than the nearly-thirty-year-old man he was. His hand flicked out, grabbing Wade’s wrist and pulled it down, capturing Wade’s attention. The music cut out abruptly, and he was back in the silent apartment, looking into the angry face of his boyfriend.
“First of all, we are absolutely going to get reported for that.” The scowl softened. “Second of all, Wade, holy shit, what was that?”
Wade felt like the entire weight of the world had just been dropped on his shoulders. “Uh. This didn’t seem possible. So, I may have convinced myself that it wasn’t real.”
Suddenly, Peter was pushing him down so he was sitting on the bed, and pushing his way between his legs. Sadly, not for the fun reasons. He put his hands on Wade’s face, palms on his cheeks and fingers near his ears, and leaned in to rest his forehead against Wade’s, forcing Wade to look him in the eyes.
“All your fears,” he began, “are lying to you.”
He took a deep breath, then continued. “When they tell you you’re not good enough, not right, not loved, not strong, not beautiful, they are lying. And I want you to know and understand this.”
Wade could begin to feel his eyes begin to burn.
“You can’t listen to that. That fear? It will lie, and lie, and lie, until they win. Until they’ve taken everything from you. Taken your rest, taken your path, taken your fucking breath. And you can’t let them do that.” Peter smiled sadly at him. “Please, babe. For me. Don’t listen to them, okay?”
Wade could tell they were both crying at this point.
“Yeah, okay.” he choked out.
Peter kissed him swiftly, chastely. It was a beautiful mix of salty and sweet. “Good. Really good.”
Wade smiled at him, and Peter returned it earnestly.
“Now can we go back to sleep? I don’t know what you do all day, but I have work in the morning.”
“Callin’ me lazy?” Wade joked back. It was an old routine they were both used to, something normal to help them reset.
“Well, I don’t see you bringing home a paycheck.” The usual reply came swiftly.
Both were exhausted at this point. Peter took Wade’s hand, guiding him gently back into bed, before flopping down unceremoniously next to him.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”