Canvas (Peterick)

One

May, 2009
Pete Wentz

"Wake up, you bum." Although it was said in a whisper, my heart skipped and I jumped awake. In the process, I banged my head on God-knows-what, but at the moment I assumed it was somehow my headboard. With my palm pressing the painful area, my eyes opened to see the boy doing the same. Patrick sat extremely close to my body, clutching his forehead with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Fuck, that hurt," he whined.

"Well, what were you doing so close to my face?" My sheets fell down from my chest as I painfully sat up in the bed.

"I was just trying to wake you. I'm sorry." After a moment, Patrick began to laugh. His pain must have ceased, because he stopped holding his head and was now doubled over in my lap. He laid his head on my thighs with a comforter between each other's skin.

"Are you okay? What's so funny?" I asked, cracking a smile. Patrick had the same smile as when I met him back in high school. It's been ten years and hadn't changed a bit. He also possessed the same scar through his eyebrow. It was still just as noticeable. To me, his scar was what made Patrick, Patrick. He wouldn't be the same if it completely faded away. Maybe it was just due to my fear of change. I was so used to him having it I didn't know how I would feel if it was gone.

I patted Patrick's shoulder to tell him to sit up. "So, I have an idea of what I should do."

"Huh?"

"Like, for now on. I've had my entire life on pause for two years. I have to find something else to do now that the band is broken up." I slid off the mattress and waddled to the closet door. Inside, were paintings I created a few years ago, and one that I made a couple of days ago. I still had my talent, so I wanted to do something with it.

Patrick's eyes gleamed when he saw them. "I don't think you've ever showed me those." I wasn't shy when it came to showing people my art anymore. I slid a canvas toward him and he gently grabbed the sides with his soft hands, staring at it in awe. "This is... amazing." I bit my lip proudly.

The painting was a cross between the monster under your bed and the demons in your head. It was pretty freaky, but I liked it a lot. I felt that it was easier to show people what I've seen than try to explain it to them. Dark blues and grays splattered in the background. Tiny white dots brought out the highlights. It was truly something I was proud of.

"You should really do this more. Show it to people. Go into design and create album or book covers." Patrick seemed to already have a plan laid out for me. I definitely appreciated his support. I returned the canvases to where they were found and followed Patrick into the living room.

"That sounds like a great idea," I encouraged.

He turned to me, his hands moving around like he was really excited. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

"I thought about it as I was painting that last one. It just seems like I could do something really cool with it, you know?"

Patrick plopped down onto the sofa, crossing one leg over the other and looked up at me. "You really gonna do this?"

Our eyes stayed locked as I sat beside him. "Of course I am."

* * *

That night, Patrick whipped up some dinner and Joe and Andy stopped by. We played some card games and drank beer and talked. It was like any usual FOB night. Except it wasn't one. It was a Patrick, Andy, Joe and Pete night. For almost two years it had just been that, but for some reason it felt exactly the same.

"So, Pete," Patrick rejoiced, handing me an new bottle he opened for me and giggling at some joke Andy had just made. He practically sat in my lap, he plopped down so close to me. "Do they know about your plan?" He whispered, the rim of his bottle pressed to his lips. He was extremely giggly and cute, so I assumed he was a little tipsy. Or more.

I turned to Andy and Joe, who sat on the love seat diagonal from me. "Okay, so, Patrick wants me to tell you guys about my new plan..."

Patrick threw his arms around my body. "I'm so happy for you," he laughed.

I chuckled. "I'm going into art design. I plan on designing covers for, like, albums and books and stuff like that. It's gonna be really cool." I took a sip of my beer.

Andy raised his eyebrows with his chin resting on his fist and looked at Joe, who smiled. "I can't wait to see your work. I've seen your stuff. It's pretty sick," said Joe.

"Thanks." I looked down at Patrick, who seemed to be snoozing on my shoulder.

"He's like a little puppy," Joe perceived. I giggled and agreed. My little puppy. My whole world.

By midnight, the guys decided to head home for the night. I said my goodbyes and showed them out. Patrick was curled up with a pillow in the corner of the couch, squinting at the flickering television.

"Hey, buddy, what's up?" I sat beside him.

He pulled down his cardigan sleeves over his hands and pouted. "Tired."

"Go to bed, then."

Patrick sprawled out on the couch, holding his arms out toward me. "Take me there."

"Patrick," I laughed. Standing up to pull him up by his hands. He stumbled a bit, almost knocking me over as well. "C'mon." I led him down the hall with an arm supporting his waist. We entered his bedroom (located directly across from mine), and he lifted himself onto the bed. I slid off his shoes and gently placed them against the wall. When I turned back he was already under the heavy covers.

"Are you good like that? Do you need your clothes taken off?"

"I'm cold," he responded in his pillow, causing his voice to be muffled.

I smiled, then placed a lengthy kiss on his cheek. "Okay, 'Trick. Sleep tight."

SORRY I KNOW IT'S SHORT BUT IDK I'M LIKING IT. -MICKx