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“Dude,” Pete snaps, wrestling to get his arms out of Patrick’s iron grip. “Just let me cuddle, okay, motherfuck—”
“No, Pete, dude, Pete, get off,” Patrick commands, and finally Pete complies, a sulk taking over his features.
“Why?” he pouts, looking dejected like a kicked puppy.
“I already told you, I'm sick and if I get you sick, too, you're going to be fucking pissed,” Patrick explains reasonably, too reasonably, and Pete sulks some more.
“Well who am I supposed to cuddle with then?” he whines, folding his arms tightly over his chest and slumping further and further down the couch until his butt is practically hanging off of it.
“How about him,” Patrick suggests as the bus door opens and then closes, looking behind Pete, and Pete turns around to see who Patrick is talking about.
The bassist from My Chem is standing there like a deer in headlights, the beanie and the stupid glasses and the straightened hair that covers more of his eyes than it probably should, all of the weird bracelets, and he's wearing a black hoodie even though it's gotta be more than 100 degrees out, but he's pushed up the sleeves to his elbows as if that's gonna help. Pete can't remember his name, Mark or Mac or something like that, he doesn't really care to be completely honest.
“Uh,” My Chem’s bassist Mark or Mac or something like that says, and wow, real eloquent. “Uh,” he stutters again after another moment of the three of them staring at each other like it’s a competition, or more like Patrick and Pete staring at—Mikey, that's his name!—because it's always Patrick and Pete against everyone else. Mikey looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.
His shoulders slump a little. “They wanted me to tell you that soundcheck got moved to five thirty,” he informs them, sniffing a little. His awkward moment seems to have ended, now perfectly calm and collected and looking as bored as ever. He sniffs again.
“Do you have cocaine?” Pete blurts out without thinking, and his eyes widen on their own accord and he's slapping a hand to his mouth.
Patrick looks shocked, and he turns to look at Pete and then back at Mikey. “I'm sorry,” he apologizes earnestly. “He's an idiot and says really stupid things all the time without thinking them through.”
Pete expects Mikey to look uncomfortable at the very least, maybe even get angry or storm out, but instead, he smiles. Or, maybe smiles isn't really the right word for it. He more sort of quirks the corner of his mouth up, barely, and it's definitely not a smile, but it's probably as close to one as Mikey Way gets. Pete has seen him around these first few days of Warped, and the dude’s expression is permanently set to bored and uninterested. Pete thinks it's maybe kind of hot.
But Pete definitely thinks that his weird little almost-smile is way hotter, but he doesn't say so because even he has more self control than that.
“I wish,” Mikey sighs in answer to if he has cocaine, and Pete can't tell if it's a joke or not. He's about to open his mouth to ask, but then Mikey is shrugging slightly, sniffing again, and the bus door is shutting softly behind him.
—
The show that night is good, better than good, it's great, and Pete screams a lot and basically loses his voice entirely, but it's totally worth it. He thinks he also might have a broken neck or something from throwing himself into the crowd so violently, but who cares. It was a lot of fun.
My Chem goes on right after Fall Out Boy, but Pete doesn't stay to watch their set because he isn't really friends with the guys in the band, at least not yet. Truth be told, their one guitarist’s hair scares him a little. It’s so big and voluminous and Pete thinks he can hide a monument in there if he wants to.
Another reason Pete doesn't stay to watch the set is because he really, really wants a hot pocket, and he has like almost the entire show, and if he doesn't get one soon, he’s actually going to die. Pete successfully escapes to the bus without much fan interaction, gets his hot pocket, eats it, decides to make another one, maybe for Patrick, and then decides to go and watch whatever is left of My Chem’s set.
When he gets backstage, he spots Joe flirting with a tech girl in the wings and rolls his eyes, scanning around for Patrick or Andy. Andy is nowhere to be seen, but Patrick is standing a little off the side, checking out some of the guitars in the stands. Pete grins and sneak attacks Patrick from the back, emitting a small squeak from the singer’s mouth. Pete smiles wider.
“Hey, ‘Trick,” he greets, holding the hot pocket out proudly. “Look what I made.”
“Wow, good job, Pete,” Patrick mutters sarcastically, rolling his eyes, but he's smiling. “You used the microwave all by yourself.”
Pete frowns. “I made it for you, asshole,” he tells Patrick.
“Dirty just got me a sandwich,” Patrick says, pressing a kiss into Pete’s hair, and Pete looks really confused, because he made Patrick a fucking hot pocket and he doesn't want it, “but maybe give it to one of the My Chem guys. I bet they'll be hungry.”
—
Pete doesn't end up giving the hot pocket to any of the My Chem guys. He eats it himself a little sullenly instead, sitting on the ground with his chin in the hand that isn't holding the hot pocket, watching the rest of My Chem’s set glumly.
He was really excited to give Patrick his hot pocket, and Patrick had been little to none impressed. Oh well.
When My Chem’s set finally ends with a dramatic flourish of the lead singer moaning—Gerad? Gerald? It’s Mikey's brother and they're both equally weird so it doesn't really matter—Pete stands up, brushing his hands off on his black skinny jeans, probably making his hands even dirtier, but it's the principle of the thing that counts.
Pete is about to leave and go back to his bus to get another hot pocket (hey, fancy tour food is limited, okay), but he gets caught up in saying good job to the guys because that's the polite thing to do and they did the same when him and the rest of Fall Out Boy came offstage, giddy and buzzed off of a post-performance high.
Mikey stops in front of Pete, hair all sweaty and in his eyes, face equally as sweaty, too, and Pete has the weird urge to lick him, or his neck. Huh.
“What's up?” Pete asks, even though it's a really dumb question.
Mikey doesn't seem to care, just answers honestly and not at all sarcastic or condescending. “Just played a sick show,” he tells him. And then, “Can I take up that offer on cuddling now? I'm pretty tired.”
Maybe it's a joke, or maybe it's meant to be taken as Mikey just wanting to hang out with Pete, not actually cuddle, but Pete finds himself saying yes before he even knows what's coming out of his mouth, before he even really know what he's saying yes to.
They don't end up cuddling, but they do end up playing GTA until one in the morning, Mikey not really talking, just kind of nodding along at the appropriate times when Pete gets carried away with his train of thought and gets too excited, and Pete thinks Mikey Way is pretty fuckin’ cool.
—
The next day, Pete finds himself being absolutely wrecked by Andy in GTA, and it's pretty scary if he's being honest, because while Andy is generally soft spoken, in GTA he turns into a fucking maniac. It's the only time he ever seems to raise his voice, and Pete loves it, except that he doesn't love losing every single round.
“I don't wanna play anymore,” Pete complains when Patrick and Joe come into the bus and plop down next to them. “Andy keeps beating me.”
“That's kind of how the game works,” Patrick explains gently. “One of you has to win, and that's usually Andy.” It’s nice that he doesn't say One of you has to lose, and that's usually you. Pete gives him some props for that.
He frowns, and Patrick ruffles his hair a little. “Can we do something else?” Pete asks hopefully, and Andy shrugs and turns the game off.
“I'm gonna go smoke,” Joe says, and leaves the bus.
“I'm going for a run with Bob from My Chem,” Andy says, yawning slightly. “But we'll do something, later, Pete. Maybe I'll kick your ass in GTA again.” He pats Pete’s head and leaves.
Pete signs, turns to Patrick, eyes glimmering with hope. “Are you still sick?” he asks, and Patrick sighs.
“No,” he finally mumbles, but Pete knows he's the furthest thing from being annoyed.
“Yes!” Pete exclaims, pumping a fist in the air.
Before Patrick has time to change his mind, Pete launches himself at him, knocking him backwards into the couch, and tucking his arms under Patrick’s body, tangling their legs together. He presses his cold nose into the crook of Patrick’s neck, who inhales sharply.
“Pete, shit, relax,” he laughs, but Pete only wiggles his body around like a worm until he's comfortable and then kisses Patrick’s throat softly.
“Love you,” he murmurs into the soft, pale skin of Patrick’s neck.
“Love you, too, Pete,” Patrick replies softly.
“I'm going to take a nap, now, so try not to move, okay, ‘Trick?” Pete says, and Patrick just smiles and tries to stay still.
—
The next time Pete sees Mikey is when he gets thrown out of Fall Out Boy’s bus for “being too annoying, holy shit, Pete, we're trying to sleep in here.”
Pete sighed when Patrick said that from behind the curtain of his bunk, and then he went to go find something to do. He was mainly wandering around the grounds, not really looking for anything in particular, and then he saw Mikey walking on the other side of the parking lot with a giant Monster in his hand and Pete thought, yeah.
He quickly jogs to Mikey and chirps, “Hey!” too loud for seven in the morning, but Mikey is also drinking a Monster at seven in the morning so Pete doesn't think he's the only one super awake.
Mikey blinks like he's coming out of a deep sleep, and stares at Pete. And blinks again. And sniffs. And then he says, “‘Sup.”
Pete blinks back and grins. “I got kicked off my bus for being too loud,” he tells Mikey. “Wanna hang out?”
Mikey shrugs, indifferent. “Sure.”
“Okay!” Pete exclaims, trying to be excited, but his voice falters at the end. “I mean, we don't have to. If you don't feel like it.” He looks down at his dirty Converse and then back up at Mikey.
Mikey shakes his head. “No. I do. I'm just tired, and Gee and Frank kept all of us up all night if you know what I mean.”
Pete squints. He didn't know that Gerard—and yes, Pete mustered the decency to learn Gerard’s name—and Frank were together. Being in a band is weird, to say the least. “We can go egg someone's bus,” Pete suggests finally, and Mikey cocks an eyebrow.
“Where are we gonna get eggs?” he asks skeptically.
“There's a grocery store across the street. I can get Dirty to take us,” Pete offers.
“Dirty?” Mikey asks, eyebrow raising a little more.
“Dirty,” Pete confirms. “I owe Dirty fifty dollars, though, and I think I have six, so will you pay for the eggs?”
Mikey nods, shrugs again. Usually shrugging is annoying to Pete. But then again, it's not usually Mikey Way doing the shrugging.
—
Mikey and Pete start hanging out more and more especially when the rest of Fall Out Boy begin to grow irritated of Pete’s childish antics and constant hyperactivity.
It's a little weird, because Pete finds himself thinking things about Mikey that friends definitely do not think about each other. He doesn't even know if he can really call him and Mikey friends at all, because Mikey doesn't talk much or show emotion.
It's during soundcheck for My Chem and Pete is sitting on one of the giant amps on either side of the drumkit, swinging his legs back and forth and watching Mikey tune his bass.
Pete loves watching Mikey play bass. His face gets very concentrated and sometimes his tongue sticks out a little bit from the corner of his mouth. His head always, always stays down. Pete wishes he would look up and possibly smile, but he knows that just isn't Mikey’s style. He's figured out from hearing people talk that Mikey really isn't a fan of crowds. It makes him nervous.
He stays tucked between Gerard and Frank, but more towards the back of the stage to avoid eye contact with fans. Pete likes to watch him, anyway. His hair always covers his eyes, and his glasses slide so far down his nose Pete thinks they're going to fall off with how lowered his head is, but they never do.
And the shirts, Jesus Christ. Pete can't handle the shirts. Whenever he isn't wearing a jacket, Mikey wears tight shirts that showcase his flat stomach and Pete just wants to die. He knows how weird it is to be thinking that of someone he considers a bro, but he just can't make his brain stop.
He told Patrick about how sometimes he wants to kiss the shit out of Mikey, and Patrick just shook his head and said, “Don't.”
“But I'm not gay,” Pete whined to Patrick that day, exasperated. “It's just Mikey. Mikeyfuckinway, man.”
And Patrick just nodded sympathetically and patted Pete’s knee and told him to put that beer back where he found it because it's only two o’clock, Pete.
So now Pete is watching Mikey tune his bass and resisting the urge that grows stronger every minute to go and devour his mouth. After about ten minutes or so, Pete doesn't really know because he gets lost in watching Mikey’s fingers with googly eyes, Mikey hands his bass to a tech and walks over to Pete.
Pete doesn't even notice Mikey slide in between his legs, tap a rhythm on his knees, and then Mikey is saying, “Dude, Pete, if your jaw drops any more it's gonna hit the stage.”
Pete snaps his mouth shut, closes his eyes. “Yeah,” he says.
“What's up?” Mikey asks after a beat of silence, a hint of worry lacing his voice, and he takes a step back, pulling his hands off of Pete’s knees, and huh, that's weird.
“Nothing,” Pete quickly denies, shaking his head a little to try and clear the image his mind had so gracefully created of Mikey playing bass with his mouth hanging open and sweat on his neck.
“Okay,” Mikey replies quizzically, seeming unconvinced.
“Really. I'm fine,” Pete assures him, and Mikey just nods and sniffs, tense shoulders relaxing.
—
“Do you think something’s wrong with me?” Pete asks Patrick sadly as they cuddle in the back lounge.
Patrick hums softly under his breath and runs a hand through Pete’s hair. “No, Pete, I don't,” he says genuinely.
“Besides the fact that you're really fuckin’ dumb sometimes,” Joe nods from where he's playing video games.
Pete frowns, and Patrick shoots Joe a look, and Joe screws up his face up and goes, “Oh. Sorry.” Then he turns back around to keep playing his video game.
“Really, ‘Trick,” Pete sighs dramatically. “He's just so cute and adorable and mumbly and a monotone voice shouldn't be that hot, ‘Trick. And every time I see him I just want to hold his hand really gently and rub my thumb over it, or sometimes I want to shove my tongue down his throat until he can't breath.”
“Those desires are pretty different, Pete,” Patrick points out gently.
“I know.” Pete sighs again.
Patrick hates seeing Pete in distress, hates seeing Pete sad and confused and lost. He goes rough on himself when he gets a crush, considering all the things he could do wrong and mess up, and it wears him down. When Pete falls, he falls hard.
“You could tell him how you feel,” Patrick suggests softly, tentatively, and Patrick shakes his head quickly and tightens his hold on Patrick’s hand, shoving his nose back into his neck.
“No, Patrick,” Pete says in an urgent tone. “No, I can't do that, I'll fuck up. Sing to me, Patrick, I can’t think about it anymore.”
Joe silently turns off his video game and leaves.
“Pete…” Patrick trails off.
“Please, ‘Trick, please just sing to me. Anything,” Pete begs.
Patrick sighs and says in a soothing voice, “Okay, Pete, okay. It's okay. I'll sing to you.”
Pete lets out a shaky breath and nods. “Okay,” he whispers. “I'm sorry. I just—I need to sleep.”
“I know, Pete, it's okay,” Patrick murmurs, kissing the top of Pete’s head.
—
Things are also a little bit weird because sometimes Patrick, Joe, or Andy has to open the bus door to Mikey and make up some lie about how Pete is sleeping or sick or showering. Those are on the bad days when Pete feels too awful to get out of his bunk.
Mikey is confused, knows something is up, knows that Pete isn't just sleeping or sick or showering. But he isn't about to ask about it, he doesn't even really want to know what Pete could possibly be doing that has the whole band lying for him. Besides, Mikey thought that him and Pete were friends, and so if Pete wants to be an asshole, then fine. Mikey can play that game, too.
Except he doesn't, because Mikey maybe sort of has the tiniest crush on Pete, and he feels a little bummed that Pete is doing things seemingly behind his back. He just lets it be.
“You should tell him to fuck himself,” Ray mumbles in suggestion as to what Mikey should do about Pete.
“Or maybe Mikey should fuck him,” Frank smirks, which earns a disapproving glare from Gerard, and Frank quickly wipes the smug look off his face. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
“I'll kick his ass if he hurts you,” Bob grumbles threateningly.
“No, don't,” Mikey sighs. He turns to Gerard, who has thus far been a silent attribute to this conversation. “Gee?” he asks.
Gerard looks at his lap and then back up at Mikey. “I can tell you're happier when you're with him, Mikes, but… I get a weird vibe. Why does he feel the need to hide things?”
“I don't know,” Mikey admits.
“Besides, I've heard he's straight,” Frank says with his face screwed up. “Or like, bi above the waste. However that works. I could never give up Gee’s—”
“Stop while you’re ahead,” Mikey warns, and Frank snaps his mouth shut. “I don't care if he's bi above the waste, or whatever other bullshit. I actually really like him, I just… don't know what to do.” Mikey slumps in his chair dejectedly.
“Ask him about it,” Gerard suggests. “If he refuses to tell you, maybe it's better to just leave it be.”
“And if he tells me?” Mikey asks doubtfully.
Gerard shrugs. “Well are you ready to find out whatever he's hiding?”
—
Mikey decides to confront Pete about the situation. It's been about three weeks of Warped and he's tired of secrets. Determined, he marches himself over to Fall Out Boy’s bus with a kiss on his forehead from Gee and a glint in his eye. He's going to figure this out one way or another.
Patrick opens the door to the bus when Mikey knocks, confidence already faltering but only so. It drops a little bit more when he sees it’s Patrick, though, because that's Pete’s best friend in the whole world and Mikey can't compete with that; no one can.
Patrick’s eyes narrow when he sees Mikey and Mikey feels himself shrink a thousand sizes. “Is Pete here?” he asks, attempting to be casual.
“Yes,” Patrick says uncertainly after a second of silence. His jaw is set tightly and he says, “But you can't come in. He's…” Patrick turns and glances into the bus, somewhere Mikey can't see. Mikey watches Patrick have a frustrating-looking mouthing argument with someone in the bus and then Patrick sighs, turns back to face Mikey and rubs his eyes tiredly. “He's, uh, he's not feeling too well,” he finally mutters.
Mikey contemplates his options. Demand he see Pete and that he knows they're all lying, or give up and let it go and leave. As much as Mikey wants to find out why the fuck Pete and the rest of his band are lying, Mikey finds himself saying that it's okay and to tell Pete he dropped by, and then Patrick is looking apologetic and closing the bus door in Mikey’s face.
Mikey sulks all the way back to his own bus and when he enters to a greeting of curious, anticipating faces, he simply holds a hand up to them in silent command not to say or do anything, and gets into his bunk, closing the curtain forcefully behind him.
—
Mikey doesn't leave his bunk for the rest of the day, only accepting the food Gerard pushes past the curtain and the kisses he presses to Mikey’s hair. Mikey feels really fucking dumb for being so dramatic about this, but he just feels like he's being pushed away by Pete and it's making him feel pretty bad.
Sometime later at night—Mikey doesn't know when because he's been sleeping and trying not to cry, because fuck that, Mikey Way doesn't cry—Gerard comes to the bunk again and pulls the curtain open a little, linking his pinkie with Mikey’s loosely.
“Pete’s here,” Gerard deadpans, but his face is nervous. “What happened, Mikes?”
Mikey sighs, buries his face into the pillow and tugs on Gerard’s pinkie slightly. “Patrick said he was sick,” he mumbles into the pillow, voice muffled. “So I just left.”
Gerard exhales loudly. “Oh.”
“What time is it?” Mikey asks.
“Nine or something,” Gerard supplies. “Still early. You wanna go talk to Pete? Maybe ask him yourself? Ray is stalling and I think Frank is trying to get Bob to stop death glaring.”
Mikey doesn't even bother replying, and eventually Gerard sighs softly, kisses Mikey on the side of his head for the billionth time, and closes the curtain again.
—
“So, Mikey is ignoring me,” Pete tells no one in particular at sound check a week later. Nobody acknowledges the statement or looks at him, and Pete keeps talking. “I'm not really sure why, but since you asked, I guess we can try and figure it out together.”
Again, no one even glances in Pete’s direction. Pete sighs, pouting on the floor in the middle of the stage, in literally everyone’s way, but no one will tell Pete to move or ask what the fuck he’s doing because it’s Pete, and monologuing in the middle of soundcheck to no one but himself is not an odd occurrence in the slightest.
“Yeah,” Pete says, propping his chin in his hand. “So, it started approximately six days and nine hours ago, and it will have been ten hours in roughly thirty one minutes, but I wouldn't be the one to ask because I'm not counting.”
Now, Joe turns and throws a pitiful expression to Pete and then focuses tuning his guitar again.
“I think it might be because I'm a piece of fucking shit,” Pete continues, his tone of voice much too casual for the statement he just made. “What do you think about that?”
Silence. Everyone is focused on soundcheck, ignoring Pete and his dramatic, gay lament for Mikey Way.
“I think I should apologize,” Pete finally sighs. “Should I do that?”
“Pete, shut the fuck up,” someone yells then, and Pete frowns.
—
Mikey ignores Pete for about three more days until Pete finally confronts him about it, or tries to confront him about it. It happens after My Chem’s show, and it goes really, really shitty.
Pete hangs out after Fall Out Boy’s set to wait for Mikey, thinking that the rest of the guys are going to be so buzzing and giddy that they won't even notice Pete is there. They, too, had been ignoring Pete, or straight up giving him dirty glares, especially Gerard.
When Mikey walks off stage, handing his bass to a tech, he spots Pete almost immediately and his eyes widen considerably, for Mikey Way. His eyes dart to Gerard, who still hasn't noticed Pete, and then Mikey does the last thing Pete would have ever expected.
His eyes narrow and he makes a beeline towards Pete, wrapping one hand around Pete’s bicep in a death grip and shoving the other over his mouth to keep him silent. Using the momentum he had from storming over to Pete, he drives him back and back and back until Pete’s back hits the wall and he finds himself surrounded by giant amps, out of view from the world.
Shit, Pete thinks. If Mikey kills me right now, no will know or see. The worst part is that Pete is maybe really turned on by the way Mikey has his hand tightly over Pete’s mouth, and the way he looks so angry really shouldn’t be making Pete try not to pop a boner.
But all Mikey does is hiss, “Leave me the fuck alone,” eyes sharp, and then he let's go of Pete and takes a step back, eyes clearing like he just then realized what he had done.
Pete is shocked silent. What the fuck? That's the only thing that comes to his mind, so he says it. “What the fuck, Mikeyway?”
“I said leave me alone,” Mikey repeats without missing a beat, and then he's walking away, shoulders tense and fingers curling and uncurling, and all Pete can do is stare.
—
After parties are fucking fun, and really crazy and usually by the end of them, Pete has made an utter and complete fool of himself at least twice (despite the sober watchfulness of both Patrick and Andy), and he usually doesn't remember any of it, either. Which is kind of the best part.
Pete starts drinking halfway through Fall Out Boy’s set so that by the time it's over, he'll be buzzed enough to take a few shots (okay, maybe more than a few) and then be completely shitfaced. My Chem was on before them, so the after party happens right after Fall Out Boy finishes.
The party is filled with alcohol and drugs and tons of people Pete doesn't even know, and Pete can't fucking wait to get so drunk he can't even remember his own name. Mikey has been on his mind for the past he doesn't even know how long (yes, he stopped keeping count because Andy was making fun of him and he got embarrassed), but Pete can't wait to get his mind off of Mikey.
The first thing Pete does when he’s drunk enough to make decisions he wouldn’t make sober—okay, let’s be real, there’s not a lot Pete Wentz wouldn’t do sober, and this is one he does sober all the time, but it’s a lot funnier when he’s drunk—is find the stage closest to where most people are congregated and stumble onto it, barely stopping himself from falling over. He grabs the microphone and taps on it, getting everyone’s attention, and the people slowly quiet down until there’s only a dull chatter.
“I’d like to make an announcement,” Pete slurs into the microphone. “It’s very important.” He spots Patrick groan in the front of the crowd and grins wider. People are smiling and chuckling because things like this make it hard not to love Pete Wentz, make it hard not to envy his personality.
“I am in love with Patrick Stump,” Pete finally declares solemnly. “We are going to get married one day and go live in the clouds together. Get up here, ‘Trick!”
Patrick rolls his eyes but jumps onto the stage anyway. This isn’t the first time Pete has announced to everyone that he was in love with Patrick, so no one is at all surprised. They already know, and they find it amusing.
“Say you love me back, ‘Trick,” Pete mumbles with half-lidded eyes.
“I love you too, Pete,” Patrick gives in, rolling his eyes again, and Pete just smiles as wide as he possibly can and presses his nose into Patrick’s, kissing him quick and soft on the mouth and then giggling when he pulls away.
“Patrick and I are in love,” Pete concludes, “So beware.”
Pete is so busy trying to kiss Patrick again that he doesn’t even notice Mikey watching him and looking like he just got shot in the gut, doesn’t even notice Bob cracking his knuckles, Frank frowning and balling his fists, Ray stalking away angrily, and Gerard putting comforting arms around a crestfallen-looking Mikey and then leading him away.
The thing about My Chem is that none of them know Pete or Patrick well enough to know that this happens nearly every day, that Patrick is Pete’s lifeline, that they’re soulmates, that Pete and Patrick literally are in love, but not like that.
So Mikey just tries hard not to cry, because fuck, he knew it.
—
Needless to say, Mikey starts ignoring Pete harder, and Pete fucking hates it, doesn’t understand it. Even when people tell him that he had yet again declared his undying love for Patrick, Pete simply shrugs and moves on because he assumes that everyone knows the kind of relationship he has with Patrick.
Patrick is done with seeing Pete so worked up and sad over Mikey, so he decides to go and confront him himself because Pete won’t do it.
“I need to talk to Mikey,” Patrick tells Gerard as he stands outside the My Chem bus.
“No,” Gerard immediately responds. And then, with a sneer, “He’s not feeling too well.”
Patrick is momentarily confused but he shakes his head and insists, “It’s really important. I promise it won’t take long.”
Gerard hesitates in the doorway for what feels like hours, but finally he narrows his eyes and glares at Patrick and mutters, “You have five minutes. He’s in the back lounge, go. Say something wrong and you’ll fucking regret it.”
“Thanks,” Patrick says quickly, hurrying to the back lounge to get as much of his five minutes as possible.
Mikey is laying down on the bed, laptop open on his stomach and a cup of coffee perched in the crook of his elbow. His hair is a mess, eyes slightly red, and Patrick has seen Joe high enough to know that Mikey is really, really stoned right now.
Mikey’s eyes narrow considerably when Patrick walks in. “What?” he asks impatiently, and Patrick takes a deep breath.
“You’ve been ignoring Pete,” he says, and Mikey just nods.
“So?”
“So you’re making Pete sad,” Patrick tells Mikey.
“I’m what?” Mikey asks, a touch rude. “I don’t think Pete has time to be sad while he’s so busy with you.”
“What is that supposed to fucking mean?” Patrick throws his hands up, exasperated, and waits for Mikey to explain.
Mikey just stares at him and sniffs. “Get out,” he finally says, but Patrick stands his ground, folding his arms over his chest defiantly.
“No.”
“Just leave me alone, okay?” Mikey sighs, and for the first time since Patrick has come in can he see how worn down and defeated Mikey looks. “And tell Pete to leave me alone, too. I don’t want to interfere with whatever is happening.”
“Mikey, I ask this in the most respectful way possible,” Patrick starts slowly, “but what the fuck are you talking about?”
“You and Pete,” Mikey says as if that explains anything, waving his hand around. When Patrick keeps staring at him like a fish out of water, Mikey sighs louder. “You and Pete,” he says again. “The party kind of made it obvious?”
“Made what obvious?” Patrick asks, and okay, he’s kind of begging now.
Mikey gets frustrated, then, throwing his hands around and practically yelling. “You and Pete, Patrick! Being in love! Fucking kissing like that!”
Oh. Oh. The realization of what Mikey has been angry about this entire time settles in and Patrick actually laughs. Out loud. And Mikey narrows his eyes and frowns.
“What the fuck are you laughing at?” he mutters, clearly irritated, and Patrick just laughs again.
“Oh my god,” he says between tears. “Wait, Mikey, honest question—don’t get pissed—but do you really think that Pete and I are together?”
Mikey looks doubtful but he mumbles, “Well, kissing and saying you’re in love are kind of things you do when you’re with someone.”
Patrick takes on a serious expression now. “Dude,” he says. “Pete and I don’t think of each other like that. Pete is just—I don’t even know, dude, Pete is just like that sometimes. And he’s the most affectionate, physical guy in the world. He latches onto everyone he can, and kissing me is just another one of his weird antics.”
Mikey’s face falters only slightly, and he says, “So what about him saying he was in love with you?”
“He is,” Patrick sighs. “Just not in a romantic way. He tells me we’re soulmates or something.” At this, Patrick rolls his eyes like, You know how that goes, but Mikey really, really doesn’t. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
Patrick leans against the door and says, “And besides, I think Pete has written about thirty poems about you already, and every single day in soundcheck, he sits in the middle of the stage and recites a monologue he wrote about you in Shakespearean language. It’s all very dramatic. Seriously, dude, he memorized, like, the entire thing. It’s probably seven minutes long.”
Mikey frowns. “What’s it about?”
Patrick rolls his eyes. “Something about your mouth and your neck, I don’t know. The word adorable is in there somewhere, although now that I think about it, I’m not entirely sure that’s Shakespearean language.”
“And he just—every day? Really?”
Patrick nods. “Yeah. We started putting caution tape around him, or cones, whatever we can find, ‘cause we don’t want someone to walk by with an amp and knock him over as he acts it out. He gets really into it and forgets where he is. I think he cried once. On day four. He counts, y’know.”
“Counts what?” Mikey asks, feeling a little dazed, especially at the casualness of Patrick’s voice, like this is just something Pete does every day, something normal.
“Counts how long you’ve been ignoring him,” Patrick elaborates. “He pretended to stop counting when Andy started making fun of him, but I know he still counts because he left his journal open and I saw the tally marks. And yeah, this is totally a normal thing for Pete to do. Especially when he really likes someone.”
“Pete likes me?” Mikey asks, surprised.
“Um, yeah,” Patrick mutters, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. “I thought that would be kind of obvious by the poems and the laments and the counting.”
“Oh,” is all Mikey says.
—
Mikey tentatively makes his way to the Fall Out Boy bus a day after his conversation with Patrick so he can talk to Pete. He still wants to know what all the other times he wasn’t allowed to see Pete were about, but at least he knows now that Pete likes him and isn’t really in love with Patrick, not like that, anyway.
Joe answers the door to the bus this time, and Joe is kind of like Mikey with the always seeming bored and uninterested, and so Mikey doesn’t really feel intimidated.
“Is Pete here?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” Joe mutters, matching Mikey’s monotone. “Is he?”
Mikey squints and then sniffs. “Um.”
Joe squints too. “Yeah, he’s here. But you’ve kind of been being an asshole.”
“I know,” Mikey admits sheepishly. “I came to apologize.”
“Oh,” Joe says. “Right. Well. He’s in the back writing a symphony about you, so try not to startle him when you go in.”
Mikey scrunches his nose up. “So does he just, like, write monologues and symphonies when he’s sad or something?”
Joe sighs like he’s exhausted and nods. “Unfortunately. One time he made a screamo sonata and forced us all to watch him perform it for two hours.”
Mikey just blinks and doesn’t say anything, and then Joe is shrugging and moving aside and Mikey’s feet are carrying him to the back lounge before he can get ahold of his thoughts and figure out what the hell he’s going to say to Pete. The dude is writing a symphony about him, for crying out loud. What are you supposed to say to that?
He knocks on the door and Pete yells, “Come in!” over the sound of violins blasting. Mikey makes a face and then takes a deep breath, pushing the door open and stepping into the lounge.
Pete looks up when he sees him and immediately shuts the laptop, which silences the violins. “Oh. Hey,” he says simply.
“Hey,” Mikey echoes.
“What’s up?” Pete asks casually.
Mikey grits his teeth and tries not to laugh or sound accusatory. “Were you writing a symphony about me?” he asks carefully, cautiously.
Pete just scratches the side of his head and says, “Yeah, but it’s not done yet, so you can’t hear it right now.”
Mikey almost cracks a smile then and has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. “Why were you writing a symphony about me?”
Pete nods with an air of sensibility and says gravely, “You broke my heart, Mikeyway. There were volcanoes erupting in my head and I had to turn the lava into something other than destruction.”
Mikey blinks. “Um.”
“So what brings you here, Mikeyway?” Pete asks like he didn’t just tell Mikey that he broke his heart.
Mikey swallows, watches Pete’s eyes watch his throat. “Um,” he says again. “I broke your heart?”
Pete laughs softly and says, “You did, although I’m not sure why.”
“I thought—I mean—” Mikey stutters. “I’m not sure why, either, I guess,” he finally says. “I think I kind of misinterpreted you and Patrick.”
“Oh,” Pete says and then nods. “We are soulmates, you know, me and Patrick, but I really like you.”
Mikey opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Finally he manages to respond with a mumbled, “I like you too.”
“Good,” Pete says, and then he opens up his laptop again and leans back, continuing to work on the symphony. When Mikey just stares at him, the corner of Pete’s mouth quirks up and he says, “You look tired? We could take a nap together. I could always finish the symphony another time.” He motions to the laptop and Mikey nods weakly.
“Okay,” he agrees softly, and then Pete is pulling him onto the bed and the laptop is suddenly gone and he finds himself wrapped in Pete’s spindly limbs.
“Do you always cuddle this intensely?” Mikey asks once Pete finally settles with his nose in Mikey’s neck and his arms and legs around his body.
Pete nods. “Yeah. Endorphins, y’know?”
“Oh,” Mikey says, his mind drawing a blank. Seventh grade science was a while ago, and he’s not sure he really remembers what endorphins are, but he doesn’t want to disappoint Pete. They seem pretty important to him, whatever they are. “That’s nice, I guess,” he finally decides. “I kind of can’t breath, though.”
“Right,” Pete says, and loosens his hold. They’re both silent for a few minutes, only the sound of their breathing in the room and then Pete exhales quietly and whispers, “I really, really like you, Mikeyway.”
Mikey smiles.
—
Mikey and Pete start hanging out again, and when they’re not around fans, they hold hands and kiss and cuddle and everything in between. Pete has stopped performing his Shakespearean monologues during soundcheck much to everyone’s relief, but now he always wears shit-eating grins and zones out thinking about Mikey, and he’s totally, totally in love, and people always roll their eyes but they’re secretly really happy to see Pete happy.
Another thing they start doing is wearing each other’s clothes, from Clandestine industries hoodies to white jean jackets, and sometimes the fans catch them watching each other play but they don’t even care because they’re so infatuated with each other.
Everything is really, really good, and they don't want the summer to ever end.
The only thing still bothering Mikey is that he still doesn’t know what was going on all those times he went to go see Pete and was refused. He doesn’t want to ask, because things are really, really good right now, and he can almost get himself to forget about it when he sees Pete smile or when Pete holds his hand.
But it’s still there, pressurizing in the back of his mind, and Mikey can’t stand it.
—
Mikey doesn’t have to wait long to find out what’s going on, because it happens again. Kind of. Except this time they let him in to see Pete, but with a warning.
“Is Pete around?” Mikey asks when Joe and Patrick and Andy (seriously, all three of them, Pete has a fucking army guarding him) open the bus door. “I was looking for him earlier but he wasn’t at
soundcheck.”
Patrick looks uncomfortable and glances behind him, where the bunks are. “Felt sick,” he says, and Joe and Andy stay silent.
“Okay, well can I at least come in and say hi for five minutes?” Mikey tries. God, he feels like a ten year old kid knocking on his neighbor friend’s house to play and getting denied by the overprotective mother.
“I think it would be better if you just left,” Andy mumbles apologetically. “He really doesn’t feel good.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Mikey says, trying really hard to keep his cool because these are basically Pete’s brothers he’s talking to. “I know you guys are lying. I thought we were past the whole sneaking around bullshit, anyway.”
Joe takes a deep breath but stays silent, and then the three of them have a conversation with their eyes. Mikey watches them, trying to figure out what they could possibly be communicating with just their eyes. Their eyebrows aren’t even moving. He figures people probably wonder the same about him and his band when they do this.
Finally Patrick sighs loudly. “Alright. I’ll go see if Pete is up for it.”
Just like that, Mikey is left alone with Joe and Andy, and he’s not really sure if he should just wait in silence or attempt to make conversation with them. It seems Joe and Andy plan to stay silent, and so Mikey does the same. After what feels like an agonizingly long time, he finally comes back.
“Look,” Patrick says, glancing at both Joe and Andy before continuing as if for some kind of silent confirmation. Then he takes a huge deep breath and blurts out in one big rush, “PetereallyfeelslikeshitrightnowandifyoudosomethingstupidlikeupsethimoractwrongI’mseriouslygoingtokickyourassandJoeandAndyaregoingtohelptooandIknowwelooklittlebutwecantotallykickyourassandDirtywillhelptoosodon’tfuckup. Okay?”
Mikey stares at Patrick, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. His brain picks out the phrases I’m going to kick your ass and Don’t fuck up and that kind of worries him, but he nods anyway and promises, “Okay. Got it.”
Patrick slumps dejectedly and mutters, “He’s in his bunk.” Before Mikey has a chance to get moving, however, Patrick stops him and says, “I mean it, Mikey. Don’t fuck up.”
Mikey swallows and nods again and then walks cautiously to the bunks. There’s heavier than normal breathing behind Pete’s curtain and Mikey stops uncertainly before calling softly, “Pete?”
“Yeah?” Pete chokes out, his voice breaking a little at the end.
Mikey takes a deep breath and then opens the curtain that he’s spent so much time behind with Pete the past few weeks. Pete is facing away from Mikey, face turned into the pillow and body curled and tangled around too many sheets for how hot it is outside.
“Pete?” Mikey asks softly again, and Pete takes a quiet, shuddering breath and sits up, rubbing his eyes furiously. Then he looks at Mikey, and Mikey’s heart absolutely shatters and breaks into a million little pieces because Pete’s eyes are red-rimmed and puffy like he’s been crying for hours.
“Hey, Mikeyway,” Pete greets, but his voice is broken. Mikey’s heart thumps loudly in his chest.
“Sorry you have to finally see this part of me,” he says bitterly with eyes cast down, “the fucked up, terrified piece of shit behind the untouchable daredevil rockstar.”
Mikey makes a little oh sound in the back of his throat and pushes himself into the bunk, closing the curtain and then wrapping his body around Pete. Pete stays eerily still for a moment, which is strange for Pete not to immediately cuddle up, but then he starts sobbing into Mikey’s shoulder, gripping the younger boy’s body tightly with both arms and shaking so hard Mikey is afraid he’ll fall apart. Mikey coos soothing words into his ear, stroking his hair and his back and kissing the side of his head over and over. Slowly, Pete stops crying and pulls away.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers miserably. “I wanted to hide this part of me from you. The part of me that is really scared and the part of me that tried to kill myself in a Best Buy parking lot right before Warped. The part of me that makes Patrick, Joe, and Andy so protective and worried and nervous all the time, ‘cause when I do stupid shit, they don’t know how far I’ll take it. I get it if you don’t like me anymore, if you’re scared off, if you hate me. I’m fucking horrible.”
Mikey just leans in and wraps a hand around the back of Pete’s neck, pulling him close and then kissing him softly, more gently than he ever has before. Pete’s body relaxes into the kiss, under Mikey’s touch, and eventually he stops shaking.
“I could never hate you, Pete Wentz,” Mikey laughs softly. “You’re… perfect. In like, every single way. Even on your bad days. I know I’ve had my fair share, and so has Gee. You’re not horrible at all.”
Pete shakes his head sadly. “I just hate being so messed up sometimes, y’know? Like I’m going to ruin everything I love.”
“You’re not, though,” Mikey says. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m totally in love with you, dude. I mean it.”
“I’m in love with you, too, Mikeyway,” Pete whispers like he’s scared. “Really, really in love with you.”
“And when you’re having a bad day,” Mikey continues, “when you can’t even get out of bed, I’ll just come and lay down with you and we can cuddle as tightly as you want to. I’ll even sing to you, although I’m no Patrick.”
Pete laughs softly at this. Then he goes quiet and sad again and asks, “Can I have another kiss, please? Kiss the sad away, Mikeyway.”
Mikey smiles (which he only does for Pete, okay, he’s not turning soft) and leans in to press his lips to Pete’s.
—
It turns out that Mikey has a knack for calming Pete down whenever he’s having a really bad day, because Patrick and Joe and Andy really warm up to him. It’s like they finally trust him enough not to hurt Pete.
The two of them spend the next few weeks going to waterparks, watching fireworks or sunsets over bridges, and the stars from on top of one of their tour busses. It’s the best summer either of them have had in a long time.
Pete still has his days, but Mikey is so good at helping Pete through them that they’re not even all that bad. Mikey even has the magic superpower of helping Pete fall asleep, which he can almost never do on his own unless Patrick sings to him.
They’re absolutely meant for each other, and they’ve even almost convinced themselves that the summer will never end.
—
“Hey, Mikey?” Pete asks quietly, careful not to be too loud in case the younger boy is asleep.
“Mmhm?” comes the mumbled response from the only half-asleep boy tucked into Pete’s arms.
Pete sighs, takes a deep breath. “Nothing. Just. Nothing.”
Mikey sits up a little groggily, rubbing his eyes quickly and saying, “No, no, I'm awake. What's up?”
“It's nothing, Mikes,” Pete whispers miserably. “Really. I'm sorry I woke you up.”
“Pete,” Mikey says sternly, putting his glasses on. “Shut the fuck up. What's wrong.”
The question isn't phrased like a question anymore, and Pete sighs reluctantly. “Why do you love me?” he asks quietly, timidly. “I'm all fucked up—no one loves me, not even as a friend. Not when they know the real me. Then I just become the troublemaker who messes everything up. I know Patrick cares, because it's Patrick, y’know? But why you? I'm so scared I'm going to mess this up and you'll realize what a piece of shit I am and leave.”
Mikey looks slightly dumbfounded, and he exhales slowly, fingers curling into Pete’s shirt tighter. “Pete,” he murmurs, laying back down on Pete’s chest and nuzzling his nose into his neck. Pete shudders slightly and Mikey continues. “You're dumb, you know that? A fucking genious, but a dumb one.”
Pete’s body tenses a little. “Um,” he says, and Mikey feels him shaking, just barely.
“Hey, hey, Pete...relax,” Mikey coos, kissing Pete’s throat softly. Pete swallows nervously. “Listen. I love you a lot, okay? I don't care if you have problems. The people that don't like you for the real you don't matter. Besides, I've never met anybody else as daring and crazy and fun as you.”
“Okay,” Pete mumbles weakly, sounding defeated but not convinced.
“Pete,” Mikey repeats, slipping his hands under Pete’s shirt to draw patterns with his fingers over the tan, inked skin. Pete makes a noise in response, a pitiful one of a kicked puppy or something.
It makes Mikey sad that Pete thinks so lowly of himself. On the outside, it’s always a grand façade of being this untouchable legend who isn't scared of anything. On the inside, well. Today is a relatively good day for Pete, and it’s going pretty rough. There’s an awful whirlwind of a storm raging constantly in Pete’s mind, obliterating anything good in its path.
Mikey sighs. “You may break things all the time and jump off of things you probably shouldn't, including that time you jumped off of the moving tour bus, but you're not a burden, okay? You make touring fun. I don't know what I'd be doing at Warped if it wasn't for you. I definitely wouldn’t be this happy and in love.”
“You mean if it wasn't for me pinning you against your bus and shoving my tongue down your throat? And writing Shakespearean monologues and symphonies about you?” Pete asks gravely, a deep, serious frown on his face, almost a pout, and Mikey wants to kiss him over and over again.
Mikey smiles, glad at least that Pete is joking around. “Yeah, that. That made my whole summer.”
“But summer had just started,” Pete points out.
Mikey repeats himself seriously. “It made my whole summer. I mean it.”
Pete is silent for a long time, so silent that Mikey thinks he probably fell asleep. But then, Pete is tightening his hold on Mikey’s lanky body as if he never wants Mikey to leave and whispering, “Sleep now, Mikes.”