The Silence in my head is deafening (Peterick)

I'm tempted to learn just what secret you hide.

Buildings, and street lights illuminate the night, masses of people crowding throughout the area, and Pete can almost smell the alcohol. Drunken idiots parading around the sidewalks as if they own the place. This is the tragedy Pete has to deal with every time he walks home from the subway, he shakes his head, exhaling quietly, breath visible from the chilled cold, it's practically in the negatives, and Pete really needs to get his ass home before it freezes.

Speeding up somewhat, to avoid drawing unwanted attention, he already attracts enough from the drunkards, always getting called out, and he fucking hates it, whether it's an insult, or a cheesy pickup line, he still wants to march over, and punch their lights out, but the thought of him lying face down, beaten to a pulp in the middle of a dark alley way, makes resisting temptation an easy task.

Pete knows he's a wimp...He just doesn't need other people addressing it. The only thing he needs is to make it back to his apartment, make some steamy hot chocolate, and curl up on the couch with Hemmy, he'll probably just end up passing out, while watching a movie.

Pete wraps his arms around his middle, shivering, and his teeth chattering, he really should've remembered to grab his coat before he left for work, late from the persistent annoyance of insomnia, and the fear of what his head will decide to thrust upon him in the form of nightmares.

Growling quietly, he picks up the pace, from what he can tell, he's about three minutes away, thank god.

He tries setting his mind on something other than the cold, flashes of the train ride come to him, he scrunches his face up, embarrassment, and shame pooling in the bottom of stomach, feeling like it's affecting him more than it should be, he should be used to it by now, but from the obvious pain in his chest, he knows now that he'll never be.

Pete cannot actually believe he managed to fall onto a famous musician, just his luck. It's pretty typical for him to screw up like that, from all his experiences in high school, from bumping into someone, and spilling his tray on them in the cafeteria, to being tripped in the hallway by some stupid jock, what an asshole.

Lost in his thoughts, he doesn't even realize when he makes it to his destination. Thus succeeding in stumbling over the stairs, and landing on his face, body sprawled out, and wow, he's as graceful as a fucking butterfly today, isn't he?

Groaning, he stands up, wiping dust off his jeans, and now his face hurts, wonderful. Scowling at said stairs, he huffs, and continues up, all the way to his door. Pulling out his key, he unlocks it, slowly stepping in, he begins to remove his shoes, smiling when he hears a familiar whimper, coming from his dog, standing up straight, he starts to pull off his sweater, stopping when a voice shouts out, "Pete?! Is that you?!"

Rolling his eyes, he responds, "No, Mikey, its a burglar, who just so happens to have a key to the front door." Mikey's head appears, peeking out from the bathroom door, he saunters out, opening his mouth to retort, before pausing, "What happened to your face?"

Pete wasn't even aware it left a bruise, perfect. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, before opening them, "The stairs decided to talk shit, so I stood up for myself." Or should he say fell, "And let me tell you, I did not win." Giving a slight grin, he crosses the room to the kitchen, famished, and if he could, he'd probably eat the entire fridge.

"Clearly." Mikey laughs, trailing behind him, "Your poor little face, at least you didn't break your glasses."

Shit, Pete didn't even think about that, well..they didn't fall off so he'll give himself an A for effort.

Pete hums in agreement, "Yeah, I guess." Shrugging, he opens the fridge, nothing, God damn it. He pouts, turning to face Mikey, "I thought it was your turn to go shopping for groceries." He whines, wiggling from side to side.

Mikey's eyes widen, "Oops." He says, grinning sheepishly, "Why not just order a pizza?" He suggests, plucking his phone off the table,

"Fuck yes, but you're calling."

"Yeah, yeah."

-

Pete staggers awake, blinking wearily, he's lying on the couch, back aching, Hemmingway is asleep on top of his chest, and, oh, okay, his dog kind of needs to go on a diet.

Groaning, he turns his neck, gazing at the beeping clock across the room, announcing that it's four in the morning.

Sighing, he glances around the room, the table's surrounded in mostly eaten boxes of pizza, slices somewhat hanging out, a movie menu's repeating continuously on the television screen, He squints his eyes, noticing a figure curled into a ball on the floor, he snorts when he realizes it's Mikey.

Pete shrugs his dog off gently, standing up, and stretching, his neck cracks and pops while his back does the same, he grimaces, that can't be healthy.

Mikey snuffles in his sleep, wriggling slightly against the floor, Pete giggles at the sight. Grabbing a pillow, and a blanket, he steps over to Mikey, bending down, he lifts Mikey's head, placing the pillow underneath, and then throws the blanket over him, gently tucking him in.

Pete gives a sluggish grin, before turning around, and stumbling to his room.

Yawning, he slumps into his bed, not quite ready yet to give in to sleep, he sits up, leaning forward to turn on his lamp, he grabs at his laptop, pressing the power button, and taps his fingers impatiently against the mouse.

After his computer has finally started up, he opens up a word pad, cracking his fingers, before he begins to type out the events of today, as they repeat through his head. Hands faltering slightly when he gets to the point of the train, shaking his head, he continues. 

Inhaling deeply, he saves it, and shuts his computer, shoving it under his bed.  Leaning over again to turn off his lamp, he twists, and turns onto his side, slowly closing his eyes, feeling drained just from today, which isn't actually a surprise.

The last thing on his mind, before he drifts off, being a pale man, with blue hair.

Smiling lazily, his breathing slows, as the sun begins to rise.

-

The shop is quite empty around the afternoon, actually it's sort of always empty, but that's not the point, it's basically a ghost town in here, and Pete's all alone, sitting at his desk, tinkering with his watch, a dull expression never leaving his face, while he tries to think of a way to pass the time instead of waiting around in silence.

His phone vibrates suddenly, clamoring against the table, producing a loud racket, picking it up with a frown, he recognizes it's from Mikey, and it's a photo of Hemmy...Drooling all over his sweater that he forgot to put in the wash, well, he won't forget now, thanks Mikey.

Smirking, he snaps a picture of himself, flipping the bird, and sends it to Mikey, before settling back into his innocent posture, he leans farther back into his chair, trying to blow hair out of his face, yet it's a failed attempt, and the hair doesn't budge, he should probably get it cut soon, it's starting to become a nuisance...Maybe he'll dye it? Pushing that thought to the back of his mind for now, though he'll definitely consider it.

He's interrupted from his thoughts, when a high pitched chime sounds from the door, and, okay, is someone actually coming in to buy something? The most shocking thing about his week, besides the obvious.

It's a man, at least that's what Pete can make out from the large baggy black hoodie, and the shades hiding most of his face.

Pete's sort of getting a creepy vibe from this guy, can't really tell why, maybe it's the familiarity of the situation, he's not sure.

The man freezes when he sees Pete, "U-uh, hi?"

Pete narrows his eyes in confusion at the uncomfortable greeting, while the man fidgets nervously, a small amount of pity forms in his chest at that, he certainly knows the feeling, so why not try, and make him feel better?

Pete lets loose a toothy grin, "Hi, what are you looking for?"

I FINALLY WROTE CHAPTER TWO, LOVE ME PLS