Disenchanted (Frerard + Petekey)

Thriller

AN: I don't like putting warnings in, but this contains a graphic description of the events at Pete's Grandmother's house. So if violence and murder bother you, skip when you see this (&) to the last couple paragraphs and you'll be good.
XO ~Saint

A thin beam of sunlight snuck it's way through the curtains, splashing carelessly across his eyes as he slept.
With a groan he stretched, his foggy brain trying to piece together the events of the day before.

That was a crazy dream...
There was so much blood and people were dead and... wait... was it a dream?

Mikey tried to open his eyes, but found them crusted shut with sleep. He felt awful. His face was hot and puffy from the two hours of sleep he'd managed to get, and his whole body ached like he'd run a marathon.

Did I run all the way to Pete's?

He glanced around the dimly lit room frantically. It was a bit of a mess, but nowhere near as bad as Gerard's. A folded pile of laundry sat near his dresser waiting to be put away, a few pairs of shoes were strewn about by the door, and the jacket and pants he'd worn the day before had been discarded carelessly in the center of the floor. All completely ordinary for his room. Even the form laying next to him in his bed had become a fairly normal staple.

Pete!

Taking care not to jostle the bed, he slipped out and made his way over to the window to close the curtains fully so the sun wouldn't wake the still sleeping Pete. With every step tiny needles of pain shot from his feet to his knees, making him wince.

It must be real then...
I did run all the way there.
That means all that stuff... all that blood... it really did happen. And Pete...

He glanced back at the bed. Pete had his back to him, curled up slightly facing the wall, the blankets bunched up in his arms in a hug.

Pete's mom really is dead then. And his Nana might be too...
Does he know?
Do I tell him?
Should we tell the cops he's here? Probably... yeah. Mom'll know what to do.

With the sunlight once again banished from the room Mikey returned to bed, digging his phone out of his pants pocket on the floor to check the time as he did so.

6:30am? Fuck that. There's no way Mom's awake yet and I could use some more sleep.

He plugged the device in on his nightstand and shuffled his way back into bed. Pete had expanded in his absence to take over most of the space in the bed. Mikey pushed his shoulder lightly against him, trying to convince him to roll back over so he could fit in.
With a grumble Pete shuffled over, allowing Mikey to slip back under what little blankets he'd left him.

They lay back to back, Pete snoring softly, Mikey with his eyes closed as the pleasant warmth of his bed and his best friend swept over him again.

I'm so glad you're okay Pete. I don't know what I'd do without you.
You can't ever leave me okay?

He turned to wipe a trickle of tears into his pillow. Any hope of returning to sleep lost as his mind replayed the awful scene he'd come upon.

***

"What do you want? I've got Cheerios, Fruit Loops, Raisin Bran?"