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After tossing and turning for what felt like an eternity, Pete got up to go for another walk to drown out his thoughts. He threw on the same sweatpants he’d been wearing for the last week over his boxers, illuminated only by the street lamps outside and the sickly green glow of his digital watch displaying 3:34 AM. He hated the damn thing, but at least it wasn’t constantly ticking like an analogue clock or bombarding him with messages from Patrick like his phone, which had died two days ago and he didn’t want to charge. He was so desperately lonely… but he didn’t want company. He had nothing to talk about except the man who inadvertently broke his heart, and yet was the only person he actually wanted to talk to. The muse of all his writings as of recent. Mikey Fuckin’ Way.
He fumbled his way to the door of his apartment while simultaneously trying to pull his hoodie over his head, tripping over a few piles of clutter in the process and muttering expletives under his breath. He awkwardly shoved his feet into his tennis shoes, not even taking the time to put on a pair of socks. He grabbed his overcoat off the rack by the door, knowing it still had his keys and wallet in the left pocket from his walk a few hours ago.
He let his intuition guide him to wherever felt right in the moment. And that felt like going down to the dock at the lake. It was drizzling a little, but he actually liked it. It was keeping him grounded in the present moment. A thousand tiny prickles on his face, like a cold shower washing away his scattered thoughts. And his nose was numb from the cold air. He liked to imagine how he looked all bundled up with his nose and cheeks turning pink. Like a sad, pathetic storybook character who was pitied by fangirls who wanted to protect him. Well, the sad and pathetic part was right. He caught a glimpse of his ghastly reflection in a dark window. His eye bags looked sinister in the low light and his hair was visibly greasy after several days without showering. He felt he was giving more “homeless lunatic” than “soft yearning sadboi.” He chuckled bitterly. He hadn’t gained any pity from this heartbreak. Only the annoyance of his friends. He might as well lean into the persona of eccentricity and insanity to deflect the vulnerability of being hurt by someone he loved.
It hurt worse than any breakup he’d had, and it wasn’t even a breakup. He met Mikey when they worked at the bar together. And the second he saw him, he knew he was going to fall hard. His shy, but sweet and welcoming voice. His adorable smile. How graceful his slender hands looked while stirring drinks. The way he could make any customer’s day, even if they came into the bar wanting to blow their brains out. Pete wasn’t sure how Mikey did it. He just seemed like a gentle and patient person. Pete loved attention and was great at putting on a show, but he felt like he lacked the ability to genuinely touch people’s hearts the way Mikey did. And Mikey had touched his heart alright.
The night they met, Pete knew he had to talk to Mikey about something, he just wasn’t sure what. Thankfully, he overheard Mikey talking about his art to a group of customers, and took his opportunity to ask about it. Mikey seemed pleasantly surprised that someone was asking about his interests, and enthusiastically rambled to him about the graphic novel he was illustrating before showing him some sketches on his phone. Pete asked what the story was about, but Mikey just giggled and said he wasn’t sure what. “Basically, my brother makes graphic novels as well, and I wanted to surprise him by making one. I love drawing just as much as he does. But unfortunately, I’m not a writer like him, so I’m just drawing stuff that looks cool. Hopefully I figure something out.”
“I should have offered to write his story!” Pete exclaimed, then realized he’d said that out loud. He cringed and looked around, before remembering he was wandering Chicago at 4 AM in the rain and the only people around were either drunk, high, or insane, so he had nothing to worry about. Except all the ways he fumbled while trying to talk to Mikey… he was usually so charismatic. But Mikey had reduced him to a blushing mess whose vocabulary consisted of awkward compliments and praise. Dammit.
Pete had managed to show Mikey some of his clothing designs while they were on the subject of art, to which Mikey responded, “Those are sweet! Keep it up!” He wasn’t sure how genuine that compliment was, and he was feeling pretty dejected until the next time they had a shift together and Mikey asked if he’d been making any more designs. And he was over the moon that Mikey remembered something about him and wanted to keep making conversation about it. And he did indeed ask Pete about his designs every time they talked after that. Mikey also noticed that Pete’s favorite drink was a whiskey sour, so he started offering one every time Pete got off work. Pete told him he didn’t have to, but Mikey insisted because “I know it makes you happy and I like seeing you happy!” And after that, Pete’s mood was through the roof for weeks. They talked all the time at work, or rather, Mikey talked and Pete waffled pathetically in response. Mikey was his serotonin, rendering his antidepressants obsolete. Until one day when the illusion started to wear off.
It had been a long and hectic shift, and Pete and Mikey were both off at closing time (2 AM). They spent an awkward amount of time standing outside, exchanging goodbyes as Mikey puffed on a cigarette. Pete was never really a fan of cigarette smoke, but after a couple years of living in an apartment complex full of smokers, he’d gotten used to the smell and found it could be oddly comforting. In that moment, it felt like they both wanted to say more. Pete didn’t want to say goodbye. He wanted to grab Mikey’s hands and kiss him on the lips, ashtray breath and all. Ask him to go home with him and spend the night. Tell him how beautiful he was. But eventually, they said goodnight and went their separate ways.
The next day, Pete came in at 4 PM to see Mikey already behind the counter. He smiled and waved, only to get a small nod and a very unenthusiastic “sup” in response. Immediately he felt his heart drop. Thank goodness he was on dish duty that day so Mikey wouldn’t see how crushed he was. After clocking in, he went about scrubbing the dishes while glancing at Mikey every few minutes. And he felt even worse seeing how friendly he was with customers. He wondered if Mikey was only nice to him because he forgot to turn off his customer service voice.
But when he stepped out on his break, Mikey was grinning and greeted him enthusiastically. Pete squinted suspiciously. “What’s got you so happy all of a sudden?” He asked. Mikey giggled. “Coffee! Not gonna lie, I got really hungover after last night but the caffeine helped after it kicked in!” He was grinning from ear to ear and it looked like he was blushing as well. Pete had never seen Mikey this… flustered perhaps? And goddamn he looked cute. “Sorry I was kinda rude to you earlier. I worked a 12-hour shift yesterday.” Pete gasped. “Holy shit! I worked 10 and I thought that was bad.” Mikey nodded. “Yup. Manager called me last minute so I wasn’t prepared at all, but I really needed the extra hours.” “Same,” said Pete. “I wasn’t expecting overtime either, but I’m not really in a position to turn it down.” Mikey patted Pete on the shoulder and Pete swore he was going to melt. “You want your regular, or did you drink too much last night as well?” “You know what Mikey? Thanks for asking. I think I’ll just have a water and whatever leftover food we have in the back.”
After that, for some unknown reason, Mikey gradually became more cold and distant, but occasionally gave Pete some crumbs of the affection he’d seen before. And Pete felt like he was slowly bleeding out. And he became obsessed with finding the feeling Mikey gave him again. Every day was torture. And then he met Patrick.
Patrick had just started working at the bar, and he was instantly drawn to Pete for some reason. He was cute and he kinda dressed like Mikey, and Pete had the feeling he might be flirting with him. Unfortunately, Patrick was just a very friendly straight guy. But he was a great friend and a great listener for when Pete felt like bitching and moaning about how hopeless he was with Mikey. And around that time, Mikey mysteriously disappeared.
After a few days of his absence, Patrick told Pete that Mikey was in rehab and wouldn’t be bartending again for obvious reasons. Patrick had overheard the manager talking on the phone about this. Pete was devastated and Patrick didn’t really know what to say to comfort him, so they just sat on the bench at the bus stop and hugged until the bus came and Patrick had to leave.
Pete didn’t even have Mikey’s phone number, and he remembered some other coworkers saying he wasn’t on social media for his mental health. So he tried to find Mikey’s brother, Gerard, who Mikey had mentioned a few times. Sure enough, he came across an Instagram profile matching the description Mikey had given him. He opened a dm.
petewentz: Hey Gerard, sorry to bother you. Mikey was my coworker and I like to think he was my friend as well. I’m just really worried about him and I want to know if he’s doing okay. He talked about you a lot so I’m sure you’re a really cool guy. Can you tell him I said hi please? Thx <3
Within seconds, a “seen” receipt popped up under the text bubble and Pete’s heart nearly stopped. He felt dread and anxiety crushing him as Gerard started typing.
gerardway: Hey, you’re Pete right? The fashion designer guy?
Pete sighed in relief. Mikey had talked about him to his brother!
petewentz: Yea that’s me haha
gerardway: Thank you for asking about Mikey. I think you were his friend because he never mentioned any coworkers besides you. Unfortunately he’s not doing so great rn. I knew he was drinking a lot but when we took him to the hospital we found out he was doing harder drugs as well and he nearly overdosed on a few different things. He and his gf broke up a few months ago and it’s been really hard on him. I’ve been calling him every day and I spoke to the rehab center as well so I know how to best support him and unfortunately rn they don’t want him talking to anyone from his last job in case he relapses. I can tell you I think he’ll be ok tho.
Pete stared at the text and read it over a few times, completely numb from the shock. Eventually he decided to respond.
petewentz: Holy shit man that’s rough. I know he seemed pretty off the last few weeks but I didn’t know he was going through all that. Just lmk if he ever wants to talk. I miss him and I wish you both the best.
gerardway: seen
And Pete hadn’t had any updates after that, but he had been holding out hope. But that was getting harder. It had been two months since his last DM with Gerard, who hadn’t blocked him but might as well have. A younger version of him would have spammed Gerard’s phone, told him to go fuck himself for not getting him in touch with Mikey, and probably sabotaged the whole situation from ever being repaired again. But he was more mature now after years of therapy and learning DBT skills. So he left Gerard alone. He had also quit his job and started working at a Starbucks instead. Same skill set, but without the alcohol. He didn’t feel like engaging with such a deadly substance anymore after what happened with Mikey.
And every moment in time was agony. He was only living to get to his next task. Wake up. Get ready for work. Walk to work. Eat shitty Starbucks food for breakfast because it’s free. Drink coffee. Push through the shift. Walk home. Think about Mikey. Try to channel it into something productive, but can’t do anything besides write shitty poetry and wander around the city. Can’t sleep. Text Patrick. Say the same old shit over and over.
And last week, Patrick had texted him something that actually shook him to his core.
Patrick: Hey man, I know the whole thing with Mikey sucks. But I think at this point, and I’m tryna be nice… maybe try to move on
And just like that, he didn’t want to talk to Patrick anymore, or anyone else for that matter. He was taking unpaid time off from work. He could pay rent from his savings account this month. But he was too much of a mess to do anything at the moment. He knew Patrick was right. There were plenty of fish in the sea and Mikey likely wasn’t “the one.” But while his mind knew that, his heart refused to accept it.
He was about halfway to the lake and it had started really pouring. And then there it was: a haven for a delirious, sleep deprived soul. A Denny’s, one of those places that felt like a fever dream and a spiritual awakening all in one. A gateway to some other dimension, like a manmade fairy circle.
He stepped inside and embraced the familiar atmosphere. The little red lights over every booth. The smell of bacon, pancakes, and coffee with a hint of mildew and Windex. “Hi, how can I help you?” Asked the woman behind the counter. “Table for one please,” Pete muttered shyly. He ended up ordering eggs, sausages, hash browns, and a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream. He half expected Mikey to walk in the door like some cliche romcom, but this was real life and he knew that wasn’t going to happen. The food was mediocre at best, not as amazing as he remembered Denny’s being as a kid. But he still left a generous tip for the poor waitress who had to work overnight. He knew he didn’t have to money for that kind of spending, but he really didn’t care about long term consequences at the moment. Life was a stream of chaos and he was just going with the flow. Anything to fill the Mikey-shaped hole in his heart, or to make a stranger’s day.
He got a to go box for the food he didn’t finish and then continued towards the lake. He was thoroughly soaked at this point and was starting to feel a bit annoyed at the weather, but he was driven by sheer determination to go anywhere but home and avoid any reminders of reality or responsibilities for a little while longer.
Finally arriving at the lake, he made his way down a little pathway to the beach. He sat down on the soaking wet sand, unable to see anything besides pitch black. But he imagined Mikey holding his hand and laughing as they got rained on together. Mikey was his sunshine, no clouds, rain, or dark night could take that away. He imagined the next time they would see each other, both completely sober and slightly awkward. He be the first to tear up and tell Mikey how glad he was that he was okay. And then they would embrace for longer than most friends would and finally admit they were in love and everything would be alright. But that was just a fantasy. Pete had a lot of those about Mikey. They ranged from mundane yet deep conversations, to marriage, to sob stories of star crossed lovers. And they all filled him with a deep sense of longing.
He was hit with the sudden realization that he couldn’t picture Mikey’s face in his mind’s eye anymore. He could see the general outline of his lanky frame, his square-framed glasses, his warm toned dirty-blond hair peaking out from under his grey beanie. And he remembered Mikey had hazel eyes like his own. But he couldn’t picture the smile that first captured his heart. He realized he had fantasized so much about Mikey that his memory had warped over time, like a one-man game of telephone. He desperately wanted to go back and get another look at Mikey, take a picture so it would last longer. But he realized that it would only be more painful to stay in the past like this. Forgetting was part of moving on. This moment felt bittersweet. The rain was starting to clear up and he could see the sky starting to brighten. He didn’t realize how long he’d been there until he checked his watch. It was almost 5:30 AM. He felt his eyelids getting heavier. But he wanted to stay for a little while longer.
He walked down to the shore and picked up a pebble. He tried to skip it across the water, but was unsuccessful. So he grabbed another and chucked it as far as he could. It landed in the water with a satisfying plop. This was cathartic, so he kept going while his mind wandered.
He told himself that whatever happened with Mikey, he would accept it. Whether or not their paths crossed again. He was no longer going to put his life on hold for a potential soulmate who wasn’t in any position to love him back. He was going to plug in his phone, pick up his regular work hours again, and practice self care. Maybe even meet someone new. Publish his poetry just for the sake of it, no matter how shitty it was. He began to make his way home, ready for whatever life threw his way.