Archive of Our Own ^beta

By the time the band ended their hiatus, Patrick was certain he had his feelings for Pete under control. They had changed from being attached at the hip to barely talking, and the ache of being apart had turned from a sharp knife to a dull ache. But getting back into the recording studio, reading through the lyrics, humming out melodies, and watching Pete’s smile spread across his face, Patrick felt that knife bury into his chest once more.

Patrick tried to move on many, many times. When he and Pete started to drift apart, he tried to put his feelings into women, men, whoever to try and pull that knife out. He had some longish relationships, but they all ended before they could take more steps like moving in together. Most of Patrick’s partners told him that he wasn’t putting his heart into the relationship, which hurt the most. He put his heart in everything, but “everything” seemed to always connect back to Pete.

Part of it was just how close Patrick had come to losing him. Patrick still replays the call he got informing him that Pete was in the hospital from an overdose in his head. The number of nights he has woken up and held his thumb over the call button to Pete’s number only to force himself to go back to sleep are uncountable. While the nightmares surrounding the whole ordeal have lessened, there are nights that Patrick wakes up in a cold sweat, the world of 2005 stuck right behind his eyelids.

Once the band went on an “indefinite” hiatus, Patrick changed himself. He lost weight, started doing soul-punk, and even went on tour with different bands and singers. It reminded him of his time with Pete, Joe, and Andy, but it was so different at the same time. Being woken up on the tour bus in the morning and for a split second hoping to see Pete when he opened his eyes wasn’t uncommon.

Deciding to release new music was an easy decision. He missed their fans, he missed the tours, and most importantly, he missed his friends. Of course they kept in touch. Weddings came and went. Birthday messages were sent. But nothing topped the feeling of finding just the right notes for a song together.

The first time they were back in the studio together, Patrick’s heart was expanding in ways it hadn’t in a long time. In one moment he was the last four years, and the next it was the first time they finished a song together. Andy on the drums connecting everything that Joe, Pete, and Patrick had been working on. It was Joe and Pete on the guitars, their idea of Fall Out Boy being a dream and becoming a reality. And it was Patrick, hands on his mic and lyrics in front of him, hitting just the right notes to bring Pete’s words to life. It was perfect, and the moment he locked eyes with Pete, Pete’s smile reaching his eyes with a shimmer, Patrick was just as lost on him as he was in 2001.

Once the album was out and they started their tour, Patrick’s life felt old and new at the same time. They were healthier now. They had worked on their communication. And they still had fun. Pete and Andy were sharing one bus, while Joe and Patrick were on the other, but during breaks they all piled into one bus.

Patrick stretched out against the faux-leather couch and smiled to himself as his friends discussed pizza options for the night. None of them were in the mood to go out to an actual restaurant even though they didn’t have a show that night. Pizza was the go-to option, and inevitably they would be ordering multiple, as one large for four men and the bit of crew hanging out with them was not enough. Still, they started a back and forth about who gets what amount of meat and what pizzas would have any vegetables at all. Patrick breathed in the sounds of Joe teasing Andy for his veganism for the thousandth time and let it wash over him.

Pete was letting some of his energy out by walking up and down the bus, but decided to sit down next to Patrick. He gave Patrick’s arm a poke and grinned at him.

“Weird, huh?”

Patrick looked up at him, giving him a questioning look.

“Weird what?” he asked.

Pete gestured around the bus. “All this. Being back. I never… I didn’t know if we’d ever have this again…” He looked around, examining the tour bus like it was a foreign world that needed to be explored. Patrick felt like it was home, ready to be returned to after a long time away.

“I guess,” Patrick responded. “I didn’t know either. But it doesn’t feel wrong… and not like it was before.” Patrick looked up at Pete, who was staring back at him intently.

“I’m glad we’re back,” Pete said softly. “I know we needed time apart…” he trailed off. “I know we needed it,” he continued. “But I didn’t know how much I missed it until I had it back.”

Patrick nodded, his chest becoming tight. Pete had put one hand on Patrick’s knee, absentmindedly tapping his fingers along the cap. His leg felt alight where Pete’s hand was, like his very touch was sending electric currents up into Patrick’s heart.

“I missed it too.” Patrick said, then, tentatively, “I missed you.”

Pete’s smile went a bit soft as he looked at Patrick. “I missed you too, more than you know.”

Patrick’s heart threatened to stop, but his brain immediately went into protection mode. Just because Pete missed him, and apparently Patrick didn’t know how much, didn’t mean he felt the same way. There was no way that Patrick would be able to press the topic and perhaps confess just based on one sentence. Pete was an emotionally driven guy. He probably just meant that he missed a friend that he didn’t realize he wanted to be away from. That’s a completely platonic feeling that he probably felt to Joe and Andy as well.

As Patrick was about to open his mouth, get Pete to clarify a bit more, Joe let out a whoop of victory as one of the crew backed him up on his pizza decisions. “We’re having my pizza and then Andy can have his vegan shit on his own,” he yelled.

Pete laughed, moving his body to face away from Patrick and to Joe and the rest of the bus. “Andy’s shit isn’t that bad if you actually tried it!” Joe gave him a glare while Andy poked Joe’s leg triumphantly.

Pete slipped back into conversation with the others, and Patrick allowed himself to just watch Pete. His dark hair wasn’t flat ironed into a fringe across his face and his eyes were clear of eyeliner. There was a part of Patrick that wanted to mourn the looks his friend once had, but that version of him had outstayed its welcome. Patrick guessed he could say the same about his sideburns.

“What do you think, Trick?” Pete called from where he had sat himself on the floor.

Patrick startled out of his thoughts, focusing his vision back to the entire room. He felt his face flush, hoping that no one noticed him staring at Pete.

“Huh?” he said, very intelligently.

A chuckle went around the room.

“Do you have an opinion on the pizza or should we just make a decision now?” Pete said, clearly amused that Patrick hadn’t been paying attention.

“Get whatever,” he replied. “You guys don’t have awful taste and it will take another goddamn hour of decision making if I mess up any plans now, and honestly, I’m starving.”

Andy lifted his bottle of water up. “A man of sense.”

Patrick giggled and leaned forward. He would have plenty of time to stare at Pete throughout the tour. For now, he could join his friends and lose himself in the fun of it all.

Patrick went to bed feeling full from pizza and the joy that came with being with his friends. He heard Joe getting into his own bed, so Patrick pulled the curtains for a mix of privacy and the ability to check his phone without the light keeping Joe awake.

He scrolled through Twitter for a bit, amused at the amount of interactions he had been getting on his posts ever since the announcement of the reunion and tour. Everyday someone would find out that they had gotten back together and had to tweet their excitement. Even though the reunion decision was already solidified in his mind months before they officially announced it, the reactions from the fans made it even better.

Patrick was just about to put his phone away when it buzzed one more time. The notification on his screen read:

Pete Wentz: u up?

Patrick felt a tinge of worry at Pete’s text. Pete being up and alone at night worried Patrick, but he tried to force the feeling down. Getting used to sleeping on the bus, no matter how many times they had done it, was always a learning process. They had only done a couple of shows so far and they had many more to go, so Pete probably was just struggling with the confined space. He tapped out:

Patrick Stump: yeah, what’s up?

Patrick watched the little bubble pop up in the corner of his screen as Pete typed. The feeling in his chest worsened as the bubble continued to type and nothing was being sent. Finally, the message popped up.

Pete Wentz: can’t sleep, feel weird. idk, just wanted someone to talk to i guess

The feeling in Patrick’s chest didn’t go away, but it didn’t expand anymore than it already had. Pete could be feeling weird about a lot of things, and like he had thought earlier, it was probably the bus.

Patrick Stump: i get it. sleeping on the bus has been weird for my sleep too

Patrick waited again as the text bubble came back up.

Pete Wentz: idk, i don’t think it’s the bus. i keep going to bed feeling like something’s missing and idk what. i’m saying idk a lot lol

Patrick frowned. He didn’t know what Pete’s nighttime routine was, but he was pretty sure it didn’t involve other people. At least, he hoped it didn’t.

Patrick Stump: do u want to talk about it or do u want to be distracted?

Pete Wentz: i kinda wanna talk about it. i’ve been trying to do that now, the whole talking about it thing. don’t want to make past mistakes

Patrick didn’t know what to make of that. At least if something is wrong, Pete is willing to reach out to fix it. That’s a good thing. But the fact something is wrong to begin with worried him.

Patrick waited as Pete’s typing bubble continued cycling in the corner.

Pete Wentz: i guess i just got so used to being alone that i forgot what it’s like to be surrounded by people again… it’s addicting and when i go to bed i feel more alone than i have in years

The ache in Patrick’s chest started expanding again. In a dream scenario he would get out of the bus and head over to Pete right this second. They could sit on the couch and Patrick could talk to him or sing to him until he’s able to sleep through the night. But right now he only has his words.

Patrick Stump: i can’t call u without waking joe up but i can just text until you fall asleep if u want

Pete Wentz: do u mind? i don’t want to keep you up too long…

Patrick huffed out a laugh.

Patrick Stump: it’s no problem. what do u want to hear about?

Patrick thought about all the things he could talk about for a while, and all of them came back to Pete. Somehow that didn’t scare him.

Pete Wentz: can u talk about you, us, the band? remind me im not alone?

Patrick guessed that was a sign as anything to just talk about Pete. He imagined they were sitting together, laying side by side in bed, as he started typing what he would say.

“I told you earlier that I missed you,” he would say. “At first, I thought I’d be okay. When the band separated, I told myself that it was for that best, that we needed to be apart to move forward. But it hurt. I always knew you’re my best friend, but I didn’t realize I couldn’t be away from you without everything feeling wrong.” He pressed send, waited to see if Pete would reply before starting typing again.

“I guess that’s something I got used to. You’re right about loneliness. You get used to it and then it goes away, and when you’re alone again it comes back ten times worse. Don’t tell Andy and Joe but I didn’t have that with them, at least, not as much as it was with you. You’re my best friend, I know I already said that but I’m not retyping. I tried to find people around me, but it was never as good as when I was with you. You bring out the best in me and I cannot be 100% when I’m not with you.”

Patrick knew he was crossing a line that he might not want to, but it was the only thing that he could think of. It was the only thing on his mind since the first time he saw Pete again.

“I worried about you the entire time. I don’t think you ever knew about the nightmares I had, even before the split. I dream about you dying, and I wake up scared. You may have been sleeping weird on the bus, but I’ve been sleeping better than I do when I don’t see you. You terrify me in so many ways, ways I can’t explain with a tired brain, but being scared of you is better than being scared for you. I can withstand anything you throw at me as long as you’re by my side.”

Patrick stopped for a moment, silently hoping Pete was asleep now. But he had to finish his thoughts.

“You said you missed me more than I know, but I think I can say the same for you. But this may give you an idea. I would retype this every night if it meant you sleep better. I will stand beside you no matter what if it means I can be with you. I don’t know what that means, really, but it’s the only thing I can think of. I’m scared a lot, but you make me feel brave.”
Patrick held his phone to his chest and waited for five minutes. After getting no response and deciding Pete fell asleep, Patrick sent one more message: “Good night, Pete.”

With a definitively lighter chest, Patrick slept soundly.

Patrick woke up abruptly to Joe ripping his curtain open, bright sunshine and artificial bus light flooded his bunk. He groaned, putting a hand over his eyes as he adjusted to being woken up. “What the fuck?” he whined.

Joe started poking him until Patrick moved his hand away from his eyes to swat him away. “We’ve got to get going soon and Pete won’t let the buses start until he sees you. Get up so we don’t run behind schedule.” Joe walked off, leaving Patrick muttering how Joe’s a hypocrite about who messes up their schedules.

The weight of what Joe said seemed to hit a moment late. Pete was holding up the schedule because he wanted to see Patrick? There’s no way this isn’t about last night. Patrick swung his legs out from the bunk and pulled on some day clothes. He could focus on getting everything else together once they’re on the road. Besides, they’ve all seen each other in states of undress thousands of times; Patrick in some wrinkly sweats and an oversized t-shirt was downright modest.

Patrick made his way out of the bus, steeling himself for the conversation he’s about to have. Maybe he said too much. Maybe Pete needed more general reassurance about how they’re all still friends and he’s not alone, not a deep dive into some of the feelings Patrick has been having for the last three years. Patrick took a deep breath and walked up to Pete.

Pete, for his part, looked well rested but slightly frantic. The member of the crew that was talking to him had a look of relief as he saw Patrick and scurried off to who knows where, leaving the two men alone. Pete looked at him, his eyes staring into Patrick’s with an intensity Patrick wasn’t used to.

“They said you’re delaying take off because you want to see me,” Patrick said timidly. He didn’t know what to expect. Was Pete angry with him? Did he think too much about what Patrick said and figured out his incredibly non-platonic feelings for him? Patrick just had to wait.

Pete didn’t say anything and wrapped his arms around Patrick, pulling him close to his chest. Patrick froze for a second before tentatively returning the hug. Pete was pushing his face between Patrick’s neck and shoulder, breathing in steadily as he held on. Of all the reactions Patrick was anticipating, this wasn’t one of them.

“You okay?” he mumbled into Pete’s chest, his voice being muffled by the closeness.

“I fell asleep as you were texting. I only read all of it this morning.” Pete said and Patrick could feel his voice vibrate against his neck.

Patrick tried not to tense at Pete’s words. He didn’t think it was a bad reaction anymore, seeing as he was literally being held by Pete, but he still had no idea what this reaction was to begin with.

“I didn’t realize how much you cared. I know we haven’t always been great to each other…” Pete sighed for a second. “I know we haven’t always been great to each other, but you saved my goddamn life. And I don’t think I told you that. And I don’t think I realized just how much it affected you too. I thought that if I died, no one would care, and then when I didn’t, I didn’t appreciate just how much you did.” Pete pushed his face deeper into Patrick’s neck, seemingly trying to merge his body with Patrick’s.

“You needed to focus on yourself. You shouldn’t have had to think about me.” Patrick’s voice felt wobbly but he tried to ignore it.

Pete kept holding on to him, which was starting to concern Patrick.

“I just…” Pete started. “I just needed you to know that you’re my best friend too. I need you. And I’m sorry for not expressing that more.”

Patrick almost felt like crying. Part of him wished that Pete would have read into his words more, but he could live with being his best friend. He could. Even if the feeling of being wrapped up in
Pete’s arms was everything he’s ever wanted.

“Hey assholes,” Joe called out from his seat on the bus’s steps. “I’m glad you’re working out whatever you need to work out, but we need to go.”

Pete finally pulled back, but only a short distance. “I already asked Andy to switch buses with you. Go get your stuff.” He nodded at Joe and walked onto his own bus.

Patrick felt woozy. He didn’t know what was going on anymore, but he forced himself to move. Thankfully, Joe had gathered most of his stuff already so Patrick only had to pick up some of the random bits and bobs around the bus that he would need over on Pete’s. Joe and Andy were thankfully silent about what was going on, though Joe had a perpetually raised eyebrow. Patrick just shrugged.

By the time Patrick was on the other bus and they had gotten on the road, Pete was stretched out on the couch. He saw Patrick come on and sat himself up, leaving space for Patrick next to him.
Patrick sat down, leaning one arm against the top of the couch, body tilted to face Pete. Pete subtly moved closer to him. He was intently aware that the crew was on their own bus, Joe and Andy were on theirs, and Pete and Patrick were completely alone besides the driver, who was separated from them by a wall.

“Can you do it again?” Pete asked him, leaving Patrick confused.

“Do what?”

Pete looked away, seemingly embarrassed. “Help me sleep. I kinda hoped you could actually talk this time. That’s why I asked Andy to switch buses.”

Patrick felt warmth spread across his body. Pete still wasn’t completely making eye contact, just glancing between Patrick and the wall across from them.

Patrick cleared his throat. “I mean, if it helps, of course.”

Pete finally met his eyes completely, his smile reaching up to his own. He patted Patrick’s leg, just as he had done the night before. Patrick looked down at the hand on his leg, wishing he could hold it. He’d barely been awake for an hour and he’d already had enough of an emotional rollercoaster that his mind couldn’t parse through what was his own hopes and what was really happening. He decided against holding it, he couldn’t risk it, but he gave Pete a smile and rested his head on his hand on the back of the couch.

They lapsed into casual conversation after that, talking about the tour, Joe and Andy, and just whatever came to mind. It was comfortable and Patrick found himself laughing along to whatever Pete said, barely aware of the time passing around them. Pete kept himself in Patrick’s personal space, occasionally brushing thighs with him as the bus jolted them around. It wasn’t too out of their usual; Pete is generally a very touchy person and especially when he’s comfortable. But something in the air felt different, though that could have just been the revival of their friendship. Patrick knew he couldn’t read into this, but damn it if he didn’t want to. Just like being on the bus, he decided he would be along for the ride.

Once the bus parked outside of their venue, the spell was broken. They were no longer two best friends talking, they were Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump, bassist and lead singer of Fall Out Boy. They met with Joe and Andy and the crew to do sound check and practice and then were ushered along to their different corners to get the show going. Patrick rarely saw his bandmates until an hour before they were to go on and could already hear the crowd streaming in and cheering to the opening acts. By the time he got to see Pete again, his hair was styled up and out of his face and Pete had his bass across his chest.

“You ready?” Pete asked, bumping shoulders with Patrick.

Patrick smiled at him, nodding. “Do you think the weirdness will wear off? Performing old songs again, I mean.”

Pete shrugged. “It will, give it time. Three years feels like forever sometimes.”

Patrick thought back to their conversation the night before. He knew how long three years feels like, and maybe it was the same for Pete. He had said that Patrick was his best friend and that he didn’t realize that he needed to be there for him after his suicide attempt, but he had never said how he coped for those three years. Did he also stay up at night wishing he could just walk down the hall and see Patrick? Did he also throw himself into people who didn’t matter and couldn’t matter anymore than Patrick did? Was Patrick naive for wishing he did?

“You said it,” is what he said instead.

Patrick gave him a small smile and glanced around the room. Andy’s drum set was being rolled behind the curtains to its position on the stage. Andy himself was talking with Joe and their set director, his hands tapping rhythmically on his thigh. Joe was pointing at something backstage and Patrick had a thought to go check it out, but he didn’t particularly feel like leaving Pete.
Looking back at Pete, he found that the other man’s eyes hadn’t moved; he was still staring at Patrick. Patrick felt his face flush, hoping that Pete wouldn’t notice how much he preened under his attention. Pete was giving him a comfortable smile. Patrick bumped his shoulder against Pete’s for a second, smiling back at him.

“Sometimes, I’d love to know what goes through your mind,” Pete mused.

Patrick shook his head, slightly horrified at the idea of Pete reading his mind. “Nah, you really don’t.”

Pete rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. After a second of continued eye contact, Patrick pulled himself out of the spell and nodded in Andy and Joe’s direction. “We should probably get going,” he said, though he desperately wanted this moment to last longer. Pete hummed and started to walk off. Patrick stayed behind for a second, willing his heart to beat normally again. Pete was going to be the death of him and Patrick would die willingly.

The rest of the pre-show set up was finished and Patrick was practically buzzing with the energy resonating from the crowd. He stood in position so he could get to his cue on stage and waited, hearing the sound they used to prelude their entrance play and the crowd began to cheer. As the track ended, he quickly got on stage, getting his hands on his guitar and leaning into the microphone, singing along to The Phoenix.

Normally, he got lost in the performance of it all. While he was always aware of Pete, today he felt like he could feel every step he made, his fingers running along the chords of his bass reverberated onto Patrick. Pete got into his space all the time on stage, it was part of the deal of performing with him. Maybe it was the same as always, maybe it was completely different.
Patrick felt all the words that Pete had written individually as he sang them. Every dark emotion curled around a sexual innuendo felt like a secret between the two of them that they were suddenly exposing to everyone at the venue. Every person could see the glances shared between them and the way Patrick stared at him as he sang “wishing to be the friction in your jeans.” Maybe he could pass it off by the fact that Pete was further up the stage than Patrick was, maybe that would be enough to explain it, but maybe he didn’t want to explain anymore. He just wanted to feel for a little bit after years of pushing everything down. Maybe once they get off stage those walls would come back up, but at this moment, it’s him and Pete, no holds barred.

The show felt electric, as Joe noted during the brief break before their encore. Patrick just shrugged, telling him that they’ve been rejuvenated with the reunion. But he felt it too and a part of him worried that they wouldn’t be able to recreate this energy again if whatever was going on with Pete and him fizzled out and they went back to where they were before. They worked great before, but this was another level.

After downing a water bottle in record time, Patrick followed his bandmates back on stage, ready to perform Save Rock and Roll. He had gotten his imitation of Elton John down, pulling some of the skills he built during his soul-punk hiatus. The encore felt special to him; a culmination of what they all had learned and created, going back in time from where they were now, all the way back to Saturday.

The stage went dark, the crowd cheered one last time and Patrick ducked backstage. They were all laughing as they handed their guitars and Andy’s drumsticks off to their crew for safe keeping. They went through the motions of clearing out backstage interspersed with bathroom breaks and little chill sessions in between moving equipment. Finally, they were able to head out to the buses and fully decompress from the show.

They grouped together on what was now Joe and Andy’s bus, spreading out along the two couches and the floor in between. Joe took one couch, stretching his legs out and up onto the arm of the couch, while Patrick and Andy got the other, and Pete sat on the floor. He sat against Patrick’s legs, letting his legs expand out in front of him. Patrick felt the warmth of Pete’s back against his calves and the tickle of his hair against his knees. Pete wasn’t just sitting against him, he was leaning back, having his body be fully supported by Patrick’s. If Patrick wanted to, he could run his fingers through Pete’s hair with the vantage point that he had.

They pulled out some beers, and a bottle of water for Andy, and began to fall into their usual post-show conversations. What parts of the show worked, what didn’t, what inspiration they had for set designs and music videos, all the usual stuff. Well, and the unusual.

“I don’t know what got into you, Patrick,” Joe was saying. “But you absolutely killed it tonight!”

“You kill it every night,” Andy added. “But yeah, tonight was different.”

Patrick flushed, not really sure what exactly to say. He couldn’t just say that he was somehow possessed by his love for his bandmate to the point he stopped giving a shit for two hours.

“I don’t really know what happened,” Patrick said, lying through his teeth. “It must have just been a really good night.”

“You were awesome, ‘Trick.” Pete twisted to look up at him as he said it. He still had the same soft look in his eyes that he had before the show. He raised his beer can up and Patrick tapped his own against Pete’s. Patrick let the moment sit for a second, before turning back to Joe and Andy, giving them their own congratulations on the show.

The moment moved on and the conversation slipped away from the show and Patrick got lost in his friends. By the time Andy started yawning, Patrick had managed to forget that he would be going back to Pete’s bus for the night. A thrum of nervousness went through his body. He would have to talk Pete to sleep again tonight. Could he do that again? If he started, would he be able to stop? Patrick couldn’t think about it too much because Pete was getting up, patting Andy on the shoulder and telling him to get some sleep.

Pete held out his hand and Patrick grabbed on, letting Pete pull him up from the couch. Patrick waved at Joe, who nodded back at him, and walked off the bus. Pete quickened his steps to walk in line with him. Pete brushed his shoulders against Patrick’s, just like he had done earlier that day. Patrick gave him a smile as he opened the door to the bus, letting Pete walk in first.

Patrick walked to the bag he had dropped by his bunk earlier that day and grabbed a pair of lounge pants and an oversized shirt to sleep in. He ducked into the small bus bathroom to get changed. All his friends had no problem changing in front of each other, hell, Andy did most of their shows shirtless, but Patrick didn’t like people seeing him without his shirt on. By the time he walked out, Pete had his shirt off and was reaching into his bunk, his back muscles moving along with his arms. Patrick dropped his gaze to the floor, not allowing himself to look.

Pete shimmied out of his pants and pulled on his own pair of sweats while Patrick purposely looked away, only turning away from his bunk and back to Patrick once he was done. Patrick tried to pull his gaze back up at the same time; Pete would have brought up the fact that he wasn’t looking.

Pete sat down on his bunk, the curtain having already been pulled back for him to do so. “Are you still okay with what we talked about earlier?” Pete asked. He was almost shy about it, startling Patrick.

“Of course,” he assured him. “I told you I don’t mind.”

Pete nodded, mostly to himself. He swung his legs onto the bed but kept the curtain open. Patrick flipped the light switch to dim the lights on the bus and positioned himself on the bunk across from Pete. In this position they were facing each other across the hall of the bus. Pete had an arm under his pillow while the other rested by his side. Patrick propped himself up on his elbow to meet Pete’s gaze.

“You gotta close your eyes, man” he told Pete. “You can’t sleep if your eyes are open.” It would also help Patrick be able to talk. He wasn’t sure he could spill his heart if he was staring into Pete’s deep, dark eyes. Pete obeyed and shut his eyes, tightly at first before breathing for a second and allowing himself to rest. Patrick took a deep breath and started talking.

“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t been such a band nerd with Joe? Would we have met? You had already built a bit of a reputation in the Chicago scene and I wasn’t on the market as a singer. I was a drummer for fuck’s sake. And you didn’t like the MP3s that Joe showed you. If he hadn’t dragged you to hear me sing in person, god, I don’t know what would have happened.” Patrick paused for a second and listened for Pete’s breathing. It wasn’t fully sleep-breathing yet, so he continued.

“I don’t like to think about that honestly. I thought about it a lot on break. Everything I was able to build on my own was based on what you had made me. I became myself with your care. I guess I was lost while we were apart. I enjoyed what I was doing, of course, but I don’t know how long it could have lasted. You came to shows that I played sometimes. Those shows felt more right than any other I performed. Joe and Andy came to a few as well, and I feel that way with them too, but with you? You, it’s something more.” Patrick took a deep breath, silently hoping Pete was asleep by now but he couldn’t stop talking.

“It’s always been something more with you,” he started, pausing again to wait for Pete to wake up, to yell at him, to tell him to stop. Nothing came.

“Always. I thought… I thought I could be apart from you. I really tried. But it wasn’t working. I almost called you a lot more than I actually went through with it. Sometimes I wanted to call and for you not to answer just to hear your voicemail. At least either way I would hear your voice. I tried to become my own person, but I didn’t like that person. I don’t like who I am when I’m not with you.” Patrick felt his voice becoming tight. He was going to have to wrap this up if he wanted not to cry.
“I told you last night that you make me brave. It’s more than that. You make me who I am. You’re a part of me that I can’t take out, and I don’t want to. I want to stay with you. Forever. If you’ll let me.”

Patrick waited, but Pete’s breathing was slow and deep, coming out with a slight snore. His eyes were gently shut, no fluttering or clenching. His face was pressed into his pillow and the arm that had been by his side had moved to hold the pillow. He looked peaceful, beautiful.

Patrick sighed and let his arm drop and flop onto his bed. The pillow felt soft and his eyes were threatening to close without his brain telling them to. He took one last glance at Pete before closing his eyes and letting sleep take him.

Waking up the next morning was much less stressful than Joe ripping his curtain open. For one, the curtain was already open, having been left that way when Patrick fell asleep looking at Pete. Pete was still asleep in his bunk. During the night he had rolled onto his other side, facing the wall of the bus. His hair was slightly messed up, though not as bad as it would get when it was longer. Patrick smiled and pulled himself out of his bunk, grabbing his bag and headed into the bathroom.

He combed through his hair and splashed some water on his face, shaking off the sleepiness. He shucked off his shirt and pants and switched into his day clothes. He didn’t bother putting on anything fancy, he knew they had a few hours of driving to get to the next location and he didn’t feel like sitting in his good pants for the entire time. Deciding he looked decent, Patrick left the bathroom.

He opened the storage area above his bunk to put his bag back, his shirt exposing his stomach slightly. As he was closing the door, a pair of arms wrapped around his waist. Patrick kept his arms in the air, frozen. There was only one other person on the bus and that terrified him.

Pete had rested his head against Patrick’s shoulder and his arms were still wrapped around his waist. Patrick finished closing the door and let his hands fall against Pete’s. He stood there for a second, letting Pete hold onto him and just feel his warmth. Finally, he moved.

“What’s going on?” he asked, shifting in Pete’s arms so he could look at him in the face.

“I slept amazing. We need to change the band. We’re not a pop-punk band anymore, we do meditation tracks now.”

Patrick chuckled, patting Pete’s head. He hoped that one day they could move from headpats to Patrick being able to run his fingers through Pete’s hair.

“So the talking helped again?” Patrick asked. He hoped that it got Pete down fast enough so that he didn’t hear Patrick’s honesty. He should be more careful about what he was revealing, but he seemed unable to stop once he got going.

“It really, really did.” Pete smiled warmly at him. “Your voice is very calming. I haven’t been able to sleep so quickly so often before.”

“I guess the line 'we only want to sing you to sleep’ is pretty accurate, huh?” Patrick joked. It seemed like actually talking to Pete was better than texting as he would forget some of the more personal stuff towards the end instead of having it immortalized in text.

“Gotta keep you with me once this tour is over. My bed is big enough,” Pete mused, his arms still wrapped around Patrick’s waist.

Patrick’s body felt like he was on fire. It’s one thing to be on the same bus helping with some insomnia. It’s another to be invited into Pete’s own bed.

“We can figure something out,” Patrick choked out.

“You’ll have to deal with me,” Pete teased. “I’m quite the cuddler.”

Patrick turned red and gently pulled out of Pete’s arms. He couldn’t bolt without worrying Pete, so he gently stretched in a fake yawn to signal they needed to continue waking up. Pete patted his sides and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Allowing himself a moment of silence, Patrick forced himself to take deep breaths. It’s so much. Pete is even more cuddly than normal. They’ve been on the same wavelength better than they ever had before. And Patrick was becoming dangerously close to telling Pete he loves him and there’s a traitorous voice in his head that says that all of this proves that Pete would reciprocate.
He was stuck on Pete’s words. My bed is big enough. The words shot lightning rods down his spine and out his nerves. He and Pete had what they called “cryptophasia”. They could talk and write with the littlest bits of words and still know exactly what the other menat. Now, then, why couldn’t Patrick get a read on Pete? He was more touchy, he was offering a place in his bed, but if someone else could sing him to sleep, figuratively, would he act the same way. Or was it Patrick specifically he wanted in his bed?

Patrick sighed and opened his phone, checking on Joe and Andy on the other bus and running through some tasks the crew needed to get done before the actual performance the next day. They were lucky enough to have done the drive overnight and they got the whole day to themselves, a night in an actual hotel, and then the performance. Wait. Hotel.
Patrick’s heart raced. They had enough money to get individual rooms by this point; no more sharing rooms to save on cash. Some of the crew shared, but Patrick was normally lucky enough to have his own bed. Would he be texting Pete again? Would Pete want… would he want him to be in his bed? Patrick’s heart felt like it could have burst from his chest, but as the bathroom door opened, he forced himself to look normal.

“What’s the hotel situation like tonight, we have enough to have rooms of our own?” Patrick asked. He would rather have Pete prompt him than make any assumptions. Pete shrugged.

“I figured you and I could bunk together, no use in wasting a perfectly good room.” Pete dropped onto the other couch, his by one pillow and his body and legs stretching out the length of the couch to prop themselves up on the other pillow.

“So…” Patrick breathed. Forcing himself to speak louder, he said, “So double beds or one king?” If this question went wrong, Patrick might just force them to drive to DC to get a military burial because this is a war he’s dying for.

“I was thinking of a king,” Pete said nonchalantly. He had his phone in front of his face and his fingers were moving along the keys. “It just makes more sense. Less bedsheets to worry about and you’re gonna be talking to me anyway and we don’t need you shouting across the room.” Pete said everything so matter of factly while Patrick felt like he was falling into some kind of dream sequence. “I’ll text management and tell them what we’re doing.”
Patrick nodded, not trusting his voice and just moved back to his phone. He put in his headphones and opened GarageBand and started poking around with some melodies he had thought of that he still needed good lyrics for. Once he gets the sound down, he’ll play it for Pete to take apart and add his own stuff. Pete sometimes did the same thing; he would bring Patrick a set of lyrics that he had come up with and Patrick would tinker with it to make some kind of score for it and bam! A new song has been brought into the world. Now it just needs to be nurtured by a good Joe Trohman guitar riff and be exposed to the absolute legendary drum sets of Andy Hurley.

Patrick almost lapsed into a sense of ease when his phone buzzed. It was a text from Joe.

Joe Trohman: what is this that i’m hearing about you and wentz sharing a king bed @ the hotel?

Patrick’s face burned, though he was impressed at just how fast news spread.

Patrick Stump: i promise it isn’t what you think

Joe Trohman: is it NOT that two of my best friends who have been pining over each other for years have finally got their shit together. because if it isn’t, we need to have a serious talk.

Patrick stared at Joe’s message. He had said that it was a mutual thing. That they both had been pining for years. A little bit of hope fluttered in his chest, only to be eaten by the demon in his gut that refuses to let him have nice things.

Patrick Stump: pete’s been having trouble sleeping and i’ve been talking to him to help him get down. that’s ALL.

Joe Trohman: and you needed a king instead of two queens or two doubles because….?

Patrick Stump: … ask pete about that

Joe Trohman: if you two don’t get your shit together soon i’ll get involved and we don’t want that. i’ll even make andy make sad puppy eyes at you, and you REALLY don’t want that.

Joe’s bubble popped up once more: “buck up stump and ask the man out, u’ve got this”

Patrick dropped his phone next to him and held in a groan. Joe was right, he couldn’t use Pete like this. He couldn’t keep bouncing around the truth because Pete was asleep. He had to tell him. And he had to be awake. This could be the last day with his heart intact and he would relish in every loving glance Pete sent his way.

The day was unbearably long and unfairly short. By the time they got to the hotel, Joe was taking every second to glare at Patrick, who kept giving him nods and hand signs that showed “yes, yes, I know, I’m working on it.” Joe and Andy’s rooms were on a floor below, leaving Patrick and Pete alone in the elevator.

“I want you to stay awake this time, ok?” Patrick said, trying to keep his voice strong and avoided looking at Pete.

“Why?” Pete asked, confused. “Isn’t it supposed to get me to sleep?”

Patrick sighed. “I can tell you another story afterward but I have something I need to get off my chest and I need you to be awake for it.”

Pete looked at him worriedly, but nodded and didn’t say another word. Fortunately, all their plans were to get cleaned up and head to bed; they had already got their alcohol fix (water in Andy’s case) at the hotel bar, so the night was already over. It was time for bed, and that had never been so scary to Patrick before.

They stepped into the hotel room and the single king bed stared menacingly at Patrick. This is where not telling Pete his feelings has gotten him, and honestly, it could be worse. But it could also become worse in about 20 minutes. Patrick dropped his bags by one side of the bed while Pete took the other. Pete let him take the bathroom first and if Patrick took a few moments to psyche himself up. He took a deep breath and walked into the bedroom.

Pete took his place in the bathroom and Patrick started trying to figure out the best position to sit on the bed to have this conversation. He ended up sitting cross-legged by the headboard; casual, but intimate enough for a late night conversation.

Pete walked out of the bathroom with a pair of boxers and no shirt, clearly relishing in the privacy of a hotel room. He walked over to the bed, flopped onto his side and supported his head with his hands. “So what’s this pre-bed time story you wanted to tell me?”

Patrick took all the preparations he had been telling himself and turned them out to this conversation,

“I’ve been telling you the truth the past two nights. I tell you everything and I tell it bare, but I don’t think that can be 100% true.” Pete raised his eyebrows, about to say something, but Patrick stopped in. “All the care I’ve shared with you is true. All the misery in missing you is true. I just haven’t told you why they’re true.”

Patrick felt shaky but continued. “I missed you so damn much because I love you. I want to be with you all the time because I love you. You took care in crafting me into who I am today and you managed to build a place near my heart just for you. I don’t know how to function without you because I don’t know how to love without you. I can’t bare to be apart because it feels like the only person who could ever understand me is gone and I feel like I’m lost in the desert with no one to help.
I am so helplessly in love with you and I have been since you hated my MP3s and since you overdosed and since the issues with Folie and through the hiatus and every day since. I wanted so bad to love someone else, someone who could love me back, but it invariably comes back to you.
I’ve been selfish and letting some of this out while helping you sleep. I let myself think you can love me back and I’ll be able to hold you and wake up to you in the morning and sing to you on stage even when there are thousands of people who I should be singing to instead.”

Patrick paused, not looking at Pete. “And I know I can’t have that. You don’t feel that way about me and that’s why this needs to stop. I can’t keep pouring myself into you and you giving me so much more than I deserve and giving me threads to hang onto. I can’t keep holding on to these things because one day you’ll move on too and I’ll be left being one half of a whole that doesn’t need me. So please, if any part of you cares about me, just tell me no. I need to hear you say no, and maybe, just maybe, I can finally rest.”

Patrick didn’t know when he started crying but fat, wet, warm drops were rolling down his cheeks and his body was shaking. He was still looking at Pete’s shoes, standing very still compared to his usual bounces on his heels. Suddenly, a finger lifted his head up.

Pete was staring at him, a smile of wonder on his lips and eyes shining. Maybe they were shining because of tears; Patrick couldn’t tell.

“I never knew,” Pete whispered.

Patrick sniffed. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“You should have told me,” Pete said. Patrick started to talk, but Pete cut him off. “If you had told me sooner, I could have woken up to you every morning and told you the lyrics I’m thinking about and we could make millions of songs. I could have told you that every love song and innuendo was written for you and that every performance sends adrenaline through me in the hope and fear that one day you’ll realize you’ve been my muse this entire time. I could have continued holding you at night well after we got out of that godforsaken van. You should have told me so I could tell you I love you too.”

Patrick was full on sobbing now and Pete had made his way into his personal space, close enough to touch but neither seemed brave enough to reach out first. "I thought you’d hate me and we’d have to disband.”

Pete scoffed. “We managed to do that for a bit without this. And maybe we wouldn’t have if you and I could’ve been real with each other.” Patrick chuckled at that.

“So what next?” Patrick whispered.

“I’d like to kiss you now, if that’s ok?” Pete said, his hands coming up to cup Patrick’s cheeks. Patrick nodded slightly and tilted his head to the side as Pete leaned in.

Pete’s lips were soft, tender, and tentative in a way that made Patrick feel like that Pete was trying not to spook a deer on the road. Patrick leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Pete’s neck. He used one of his hands to start to play with the strands of hair, just like he had been wanting to do. Pete kept the kisses chaste but meaningful. They had all the time in the world tonight, and these kisses were apologies for the past, what comes next would be a promise for the future.

With every kiss, Patrick felt every “stage gay” moment, every time Pete dropped his body weight on him, every time Patrick turned all of his jokes to Pete instead of anyone else, every time they said that they were one person split into two. The kisses were promises, slick with spit but connected in a beautiful warmth.

Patrick pulled back for a second and looked at Pete. Pete’s cheeks were flushed and his lips were puffy and shiny. He looked beautiful and Patrick never wanted to tarnish him but also wanted to ravish him at the same time. Before he could decide which one, Pete dropped his hands to Patrick’s waist. “How about we go to bed and you tell me a story. The real one this time.”

Patrick smiled, laying down next to Pete. “I think that can be arranged.”