Petekey Oneshots

Hold Me Like A Grudge (idek, 1k words)

"You fucking asshole!" Mikey sobbed, throwing Pete's hoodies at him. "Take these back, and take your stupid fucking eyeliner–" he threw entire tubes of eyeliner his direction, words like daggers. "–and get OUT of our house."

"It's my house," he said, calmly, picking up his things. "So I'd like it if you would go, actually."

"Show some fucking emotion," he yelled, sinking to his knees. His heart was pounding, rushing in his ears. "What do you have to say for yourself, you broke my heart and now you're just telling me to up and leave?!"

"Mikey, I can't stay with you."

"Why ever not?"

"Because you need someone better."

"That is a shitty-ass excuse." He sobbed. Warm tears flooded down his face. He was gasping for air, his chest heaving in and out. "Just tell me you don't want to be with me, I'd much rather you just be honest."

Pete's heart sunk into his chest. This isn't what he wanted. "Mikes–"

"Don't call me that if you're just gonna leave."

"I don't wanna leave you."

"You just told me we shouldn't be together. You make no fucking sense."

Pete screamed, "I can't get out of my fucking head!"

The room was silent. His scream echoed throughout the room and shattered the tension like a pane of glass. He collapsed into a pile of tears and sobbed at Mikey's feet. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Mikey looked at him and sighed, picking him up gently and helping him get to his feet. "Go take your medicine," he said, coolly. "I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight, okay?"

"Mikes–"

"I don't wanna talk." He pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Okay."

***

Hours later, Pete laid face-up on the mattress, clutching the blanket Mikey always used in his arms. A tear slid down the side of his face and hit the pillowcase. He tried to stifle his sobs. He was a shit boyfriend, and he knew it.

"You never tell me anything," complained Pete. "Why do you expect me to tell you everything when you don't even return the favour."

"You never ask about me, Pete."

"Should I have to?"

"You know, it's nice to have your boyfriend ask about your fucking feelings every once in a while. I understand being caught up in your life," he explained, calmly. "But it hurts sometimes."

"So I'm selfish?"
"Stop twisting my words!" Mikey stepped closer, indignantly. "You always do this, you assume everything is an attack and it's simply not."

"I do not!" His heart rate began to increase. He felt his fists clench, but also his stomach drop: why were they fighting all the time? His anxiety spiraled: will they break up? What if they never make it past this rough patch? What if they fall out of love?

Their fights were ringing in his ears. He called Mikey all kinds of things, he told him he regretted moving in with him, told him he wishes he could live without him. He was so embarrassed. He just needed to push him away, he was worried about getting too close to anyone. He rolled to his side and let out a shaky breath, tears soaking the pillowcase.

He tossed and turned for hours, heart almost throbbing, the ache of Mikey being away from him being too much to handle. His hands grabbed the blanket tighter as he gazed at the picture on the bedside table. It was them from their first few months of being together, around 2 years ago.

Things were so much simpler then. He looked away.

***

Mikey, on the couch, was staring at the ceiling and hoping he could stop crying and get some rest. But he knew he wouldn't be able to. He knew that being without Pete, worrying about him, would not help his case.

He stood up and sighed. He would have to be the weak one this time. He walked down the hall, socks shuffling on the cold wood, making his way to their room. He knocked on the door.

"Come in," he heard, from the other side.

He pushed the door open and broke down into tears.

"Mikey?"

"Pete, this isn't you. I don't know what happened..." He sniffed, crawling into bed. "I know this isn't you."

"No, it's not," he admitted. He took a deep breath, hesitating. "Mikes... I'm scared of letting you in. It doesn't excuse my behaviour, it doesn't fix anything I said, but I just can't let you in until I know I won't lose you."

"You have to trust me."

"Huh?"

"Let go. And trust me." He sighed. "Take a leap of faith."

"N-No!"

Mikey took his hand. "I let go and trusted you. And I deserve someone who is willing to take risks for me too. You and I both know that."

He sat up and turned a lamp on. "I'm so scared." He rubbed the tears out of his eyes and stared at the boy across from him. Guilt ate at him like termites, hollowing him, leaving him empty.

"You deserve better," he finished.

"No. I want you. I just need you to trust."

"Can I have another chance," he begged. "Mikes, I don't want to lose you. I need you." He laughed, desperately, squeezing his hand. "I'm a fucking train wreck, but baby, I want you in my life. Let me try to let go."

"There's no more trying. You either trust me or you don't. Just prove to me that you do," he said, calmly. "But yes, Pete, you can have as many chances as you need. I'm willing to wait for you."

"I'm sorry for everything."

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have thrown things at you or yelled, and–"

"I deserved it." He smirked, curling up in bed. He yawned. "Can you lay in here tonight, though? I can't fuckin' sleep without you."

"Why do you think I came in here?"

He smiled. "I still love you, y'know?"

"I love you too. Good night." Mikey got under the covers and turned to his side, facing away from Pete. He wasn't ready to completely forgive yet. His words hurt more than he knew.

"Good night."

"Sleep well, Petey."