I'm Sorry Every Song's About You

Chapter 4

((wow what a surprise, another time skip anyway tbh idk what this chapter is i kinda got carried away but whatever its not my greatest but hopefully the next chapter will make u guys happier i actually like where its going))

"So, I noticed you and Pete aren't really talking anymore," Patrick tried to say casually at lunch. I choked and dropped my sandwich in my lap. It's been a month since Pete and I shared that kiss in Patrick's kitchen. That month was filled with awkward eye contact and too formal conversations. It wasn't hard to notice the tense atmosphere.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to remain calm, "I guess we just don't really connect." I even knew how fake that sounded.

"Mikey," Patrick tried to hide his upset puppy dog eyes, "I know."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I remarked, looking around the cafeteria and avoiding my friend's stare.

"Pete told me after Frank's birthday," Patrick said and I froze. He told Patrick? Three weeks ago? Well, there was no sense in fucking lying now. "Mikey, hey. You look like you're about to puke. It's okay, man. I think Pete's a total asshole for doing that to you," he said, giving me a concerned look and patting my shoulder.

"That's the problem," I replied, my voice shaky, "He is an asshole, but I still can't stop thinking about him."

Patrick laughed. "He says the same thing about you," he shook his head. My stomach turned.

"Really?" I asked, wringing my hands together.

"Of course. Do you honestly believe that bull he fed to you about not being able to go through a relationship right now or whatever?" Patrick answered, rolling his eyes. I sighed.

"I don't know. I don't know what to think. I just kinda miss him," I said and Patrick pulled me in for a hug.

"Then I think you should talk to him. Pete is an oblivious idiot that needs to be convinced 24/7 that people genuinely like him," Patrick explained, shaking his head.

"That's actually really sad. Why didn't you tell me that before?" I answered. Pete was insecure? And I had no fucking idea? Ridiculous.

"Oh, well. It never really came up. I mean, when he was younger, it was worse. Much worse. I really thought this one time," Patrick paused, becoming a little choked up. "I honestly thought he was going to kill himself," he finished in a small voice and I stared at him. Jesus fuck-

"He's been in the hospital for overdosing before. I was really young but I still remember Pete being so angry. So angry that he couldn't-" Patrick covered a hand over his mouth, his eyes welling up with tears.

I gathered Patrick in my arms and he kept blabbering. "I felt so useless because I was only like 11 and didn't completely understand the concept of suicide. Pete was so fucking sad all the time and I never knew how to cheer him up. All I knew was that music kept him alive for the most part," he added, wiping at his wet cheeks. He chuckled humorlessly, and fiddled with the ends if his sweater.

"Pat, it's okay. Pete's better, right? He's better and that's what matters right now. You did a hell of a good job keeping him above the water," I reassured him, and he gave me a small grin.

I gave a sad smile in return. "I really wish someone told me this. I feel horrible now and like such an asshole," I groaned, running my hands through my hair.

Of course he rejected me. He thought I would reject him, which was not the case, but he couldn't possibly understand that. When you're panicked and don't feel good enough about yourself, you push out all possible situations that offer consolation. I knew this from experience.

"Well, you know now. I hope Pete does come to his senses soon," Patrick answered and I just nod, not fully paying attention.

"Just promise me he's getting better, okay?" I pleaded, heart aching.

"He vents through our music now so yeah, he's better," Patrick replied. Wait, what?

"Does Pete write the lyrics to your songs?" I asked.

"He does majority of them. He always asks for our input, though," he answered, nonchalantly.

"Awesome," I breathed. That's hot. And also inappropriate. Oh well.

"Ew stop," Patrick said, pushing me away from him. "That's pretty twisted that you find pleasure in Pete's pain." I smiled sheepishly, blushing.

"He plays wicked bass and writes most of the lyrics for your band, of course I find that attractive," I shrugged, pushing my glasses up my nose. Patrick laughed and continued to scold me for the rest of the lunch period.

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((just so we're clear and just in case u were wonderning, it's the middle of november in this chap and also wow this was shorter than i wanted it to be sorry this was a rlly shitty update))