The Hardest Part Of Living Is Just Taking Breaths To Stay (Pikey/Petekey)

The Difference Between a House and a Home.

~\\ Dedicated to AMultiFandomToe for staying up late with me to write this. She's an awesome co-author and she's put up with a lot of my garbage for this story. ^^ //~

A home is where your heart is, where you want to be, not necessarily a place to live. A house is where you live, regardless of where your heart is. They are two different things and that was Pete's first lesson when he got kicked out.

"It's not fair!" Pete muttered under his breath, kicking a stone and resisting the urge to punch a hole in something as Green Day blared through his headphones. With his backpack full with three shirts, a pair of ripped jeans, a sweatshirt, a phone charger and a notebook + pen for writing song lyrics. His phone was in his pocket, half way charged. He was walking to the bridge, his favorite thinking place. The stars were sparkling just right and were the only thing in this fucked up world he could rely on always being there.

He smiled to himself. At that point, nothing mattered but him, the sky, and his notebook. Not that he didn't have a house, or that he wouldn't have a meal tonight and possibly tomorrow. Nothing mattered anymore.

Pete breathed deeply, his smile wavering as he noticed a tall, lanky man standing at the railing. Pete's hands shaking, he left his stuff and slowly walked over, noticing the tears as his heart sped up. 'Please tell me he's not..' Pete thought, his mind completely focused on the mysterious boy he didn't even know as he removed his headphones.

Pete hurried up and over to the man standing at the railing, placing his hand on the other man's. "Hey," He said awkwardly. What was he suppose to do?! He didn't know this man, he knew what he was going to do and he just had to stop it. He may not know him, but Pete knew he had feelings. Feelings that were obviously bruised over and over again.

The man jumped at the touch, instantly flinching and falling backwards off the railing, landing on his butt. Pete bit back a smile and an "aww" this was a serious matter, not a time for his stupid gay hormones.

"Uh..you weren't...I mean, it's not my business but I mean.." Pete stuttered, locking the brown eyes, muggy and uncool, that he seemed to hate with the other man's deep hazel one's. They held heartbreak and sadness and were over obviously bloodshot. Pete hissed air out. This was because of drugs? Did he take the drugs wanting to die? Did he really want to do this?.

"Hey, hey." Pete murmured. "Why? Are you high?" Pete asked, sounding like a worried mother. Why would he want to end his life? He couldn't be much older than Pete himself. He hasn't lived yet. He doesn't know. Hell, Pete doesn't even know. "Listen to me, you don't look horrible. Just broken." Pete whispered.

The man held onto his face with one of his hands, spasms being sent up and down his spine. "Yes! I'm high! Okay? Satisfied?" He growled harshly. "And yes, I'm broken. Why do you think I was standing at the edge?" Pete sighed, placing a hand gently on Mikey's face, trying not to scare him.

"Hmm." Pete hummed, pushing hair away from Mikey's face with feather light movements. "Not really satisfied. I want to know why you thought jumping was acceptable." Pete stated, trying to stay level headed. No one should feel like ending their life was okay. Even if Pete himself had felt like that, a lot, he's okay now. He was..okay. He thought.

Mikey clenched his fists at his sides, stiffening at Pete's hand touching him. "Because my life is fucked up! I haven't been able to find one safe haven besides the thought of ending it and jumping into the water!"

"There are people who care about you in this world." Pete snapped. "Regardless of if you know it or not. How will everyone one feel when they realized their lover, their son, their bother, their crush is...dead. Killed himself over something you can work out." Pete was almost begging now, desperate for his words to get through this guy's head. Suicide was a coward's way out and he knew this man was not a coward.

"First of all, I hand no parents, my brother is already a drunk sex addict, I have no friends and I SURE AS HELL DON'T A SECRET ADMIRER!" He yelled, his breathing getting shallow as he dragged air into his lungs.

"He may be a drunk but you cannot tell me he has not picked you off the ground and tended to your wounds when it feels like you've been hit with a bus?" Pete asked, running a hand through Mikey's greasy hair. "And there's a reason they are called SECRET admirers." Pete sighed. There was no getting through to this guy, hmm?

Mikey gave a sigh, feeling tired from crying. "No, he hasn't. The only time he's touched me is if he's abusing me..." he trailed away. "I just don't want to go home."

Pete's heart was breaking as he carried out this conversation. He was a sad child...He didn't deserve any of it.

"I'd say live with me but.." Pete let out an unamused snort of laughter. "Don't go home then." He shrugged, running a tanned hand through his own short black hair.

The guy just shrugged. "How about I run away with you?" He suggested, giving a small psychotic laughter.

"You can run away with me anytime you want." Pete stated, completely serious.

He smiled, his eyes drooping. "How about this, we go to my house, my brother is probably out sleeping with some chick, and I'll grab my stuff and leave."

Pete nodded. "My stuff's over there." He motioned with his hand, pulling Mikey towards his pile of belongings.

Mikey followed, his eyes looking around and wandering like a child.

Pete sighed, picking up his stuff. "Lead the way. I'm Pete, by the way." He introduced awkwardly.

"Mikey. My brother is Gerard, just to let you know in case you do meet him." Mikey stated numbly, turning round on his heels, walking down the bridge.

Pete nodded, following Mikey to his house. He was rendered speechless by the attractive, tall boy.