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Patrick isn’t exactly the most romantic people; he was never really one for your typical romance cliches found in countless movies and novels. He certainly doesn’t expect anything like someone to hit his window with pebbles at midnight to be whisked on a romantic adventure type of escapade. It’s a problematic concept in itself, and really cheesy. Pete Wentz happened to be a really cheesy when it came to romance… well, he tried to be. Patrick wouldn’t count breaking the lock on his back door, tripping over half of his house, nearly scaring him to death sneaking into his room, and waking him up to make fun of his bedhead... romantic, per se.
The quiet buzz of his phone was enough to stir Patrick up from his sleep, but only just. It’s wasn’t the first time for this happen, and it certainly wasn’t the last. In fact, he was used to it. Not that he minded, of course, it didn’t occur as much as did when they were younger, but Patrick’s developed an extra sense thanks to Pete and his sleepless nights. Slowly blinking the remnants of sleep from his eyes, he shifted over to his side, lazily grasping for his phone on the nightstand, bumping other objects in the process. Letting out an elongated sigh, he brings the phone up to his face. He could never truly prepare himself for the blinding light. Clicking on the phone, Patrick squints and groans at the brightness of what seems to be the return of the Messiah. His eyes adjust to the sudden brightness amidst the dark room, before reading the lock screen message that Pete had sent 30 text messages. Concern almost kicking in before Patrick sees that 25 of them are a copy of the entire Bee Movie script… followed by some rather more strange messages, if possible.
According to all known
laws
of aviation,
there is no way a bee
should be able to fly.
Its wings are too small to
get
its fat little body off th… >
I can’t sleep so I sent you
the bee movie script 25
times
If that’s not the most
romantic thing ever then
idk what love is
‘Trick are you awake?
Wake up, get ready
I’m going to come pick
you up
Don’t say I didn’t warn
you
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” was the last message that Patrick read before nearly being scared to death. Before deciding to reply to Pete, Patrick put the phone down to reach for his glasses. Suddenly, the door to the bedroom slowly creaked open, and Patrick’s heart began to race as he kicked up his sheets, grasping them furiously as if they could protect him. Did someone break in? Was he going to die? It couldn’t have been Pete, he had a key. In a nervous and clumsy manner, Patrick shoved his glasses onto his face, sitting slightly askew. The once-fuzzy dark figure materialized by the door still unidentifiable in the darkness of the room. Heartbeat drumming in his ears, he sat there frozen and helpless amongst the blankets and sheets like a small child.
Bracing for inevitable death, there’s the click of the light switch, and the room is flooded with light, blinding Patrick once more.
Fear is quickly displaced with anger, as his “assailant” bears a familiar face with a sheepish grin. He chucked the pillow from behind him with as much force possible, directly at Pete’s head, wishing he had something harder to throw.
“You asshole!” Patrick exclaimed, voice curt and huffy.
“You scared the shit out of me! I thought I was going to die!” faced flushed, he chucks several more pillows at the crumpled, laughing heap on the floor.
Stumbling over still chuckling to himself, clutching his stomach, Pete pushes Patrick back into the bed in an attempted apology “hug.” It was more of Pete splayed onto and wrapping himself onto Patrick like a sloth than it was a hug. And okay, he’s forgiven Pete for the most part, his anger melting away. Pete nuzzles into Patrick’s neck, holding him tighter.
“I’m really, truly sorry that I scared you. Will you ever find a place in your heart to forgive me?” He murmurs into Patrick’s neck. It’s sarcastic, but there’s a sincere undertone that Patrick recognizes.
“I mean, I GUESS I could.” He punches Pete lightly in the arm, grinning.
“But why did you sneak in? You have a key,” he asks, looking at Pete, who’s eyes shift to avoid Patrick’s gaze.
“About that… I kinddaa lost said key. And I may or may not have broken the lock on your back door.” he says sheepishly.
“Pete!”
“I’m surprised you didn’t wake up before I came into the room, I tripped over a bunch of shit… But it was for a good cause, I promise!” he says now looking up at Patrick with puppy dog eyes of forgiveness.
“You didn’t break anything else, did you? What exactly were you trying to achieve?” He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses.
“Nah, I don’t think so. It was supposed to be romantic before I realized I had to break in… Which reminds me why I’m here, c’mon let’s go!” He props himself above Patrick, a toothy grin breaking upon his face.
“Pete, go where? It’s midnight?” Confusion and amusement clouding his face.
“On an adventure, throw something on!” Pete says as if he was stating the obvious. He plants a sloppy, wet kiss on Patrick’s cheek before jumping up off the bed and running out of the room.
Still dumbfounded and wondering if this was some weird fever dream, Patrick finally gets up from the bed and decides to slip on a hoodie and sneakers, leaving his pajama bottoms on. He turns to find Pete leaning in the doorway, car keys in hand and an amused smile on his face.
“What?” He asks, eyebrows scrunching up in annoyance.
“Nothing… Your hair… it’s like everywhere. But it’s okay because you look cute.” He says, his smile upturned to one side and eyes looking lovingly at Patrick. Patrick just rolls his eyes, blushing slightly at Pete’s ridiculousness.
“It’s all tousled and sticking up here and there, and it’s kinda curly in the wrong spots.” Pete giggles, teasing Patrick.
“Shut up,” he says slightly flustered, “Breaking into my house and waking me up to ridicule my bed head isn’t all that romantic last time I checked.”
“Just you wait.”
***
Pete’s “adventure” so far consisted of aimless driving, listening and “singing” to songs they don’t even know on the car radio at 1 am. Strange songs with odd beats and lyrics and every so often a today’s hit came on; which Patrick still didn’t know the words to. Pete on the other hand wholeheartedly launches into what sounds like a Taylor Swift song. Patrick loses it when Pete kicks off into a high-pitched falsetto, which sounds more like a dying cat than actual falsetto. And then they switch to the oldies and the car pretty much becomes this sweet Vegas lounge. Patrick’s tapping along and they’re singing along to UB40’s “(I Can’t Help) Falling In Love With You” and Tom Jones’ “It’s Not Unusual,” and it feels like old times. And it feels so comfortable and… like home. Patrick grabs Pete’s other hand and slips it into his own, while he’s driving.
“Hey, we need to stop for gas soon, we’ll get some good ole’ gas station breakfast.” Pete grins, running his thumb over Patrick’s.
“Oh joy, have I missed gas station food.” He says, sarcasm heavy in his tone.
They drive a while longer before stopping, the tires of the car bring a monotony as they sail over the weary gray road beneath; lingering suburbia is long behind them, those bright stripes are aged with hairline cracks.
***
They reach the gas station and Pete begins to fill up the car while Patrick goes inside to find “breakfast.” The small store is grody and ill-lit with florescent lights like any other gas station, and all Patrick can say is that he’s seen worse. It’s seemingly deserted with the exception of the zombie looking attendant, a greasy teenage boy working the register. He doesn’t so much as glance at Patrick in his hoodie and Batman pajama bottoms with his hair sticking every which way. He settles for the classic, battery acid tasting gas station coffee and semi-stale blueberry muffins. There isn’t much small talk between Patrick and the young attendant. Patrick doesn’t blame him at this ungodly hour, and the transaction goes smoothly. Patrick’s makes his way back to the filled up car, waving the muffins at Pete.
“Classic, you’ve outdone yourself.” Pete laughs and takes his “coffee” and muffin. Pete parks the car farther into the parking lot, and they hunker down to have breakfast on the hood of Pete’s shitty car. Before they know it, the sun started rising from the ground. It filled the sky with colors of red and splashed the clouds with endless rays of pink. Patrick’s pressed up to Pete, his head resting on the older man’s shoulder. His face smirks upward before Patrick realizes something. He might not have gotten your stereotypical pebbles on the window and whisked off on a romantic adventure. But this, this might just do it.