I'm Not in Love, I Promise (Peterick)

8: The Two Patron Saints of Liars and Fools

(Patrick's POV)

Pete hasn't responded to any of my texts in over a week now. We haven't spoken whatsoever since the day we went for coffee. I'm doing my damnedest not to get to worried about it but it's getting harder every day. I know it isn't like last time, because all my messages say he's read them, just hasn't responded. At least he's alive.

I get out of bed, the time being 8:30am. I'm actually working in another studio today to write some shit.

We get to work and finish up by about 4:00. As I say my goodbyes to the other people I'm working with, I pull out my phone hopelessly counting on some word from Pete. Nothing. But I think I have a good plan to see the guy's face today.

I start typing lies for his own good, "car won't start. I'm at the Island Records right now. Could you give me a ride?" i hit send. I didn't take a car here. I walked considering it's only about half a mile from where I live and I'm obviously trying to keep healthy. I smile to myself at the relief of not having to come back here to pick up my car later and have to explain to him why it was working fine. I'll just tell him the truth later and make it simple.

I check my phone a few minutes later as I sit alone on the other side of the glass where tons of artists have recorded hit songs. I see he actually responded quite quickly. I knew it would work.

I make my way outside to wait for him as he texted to meet him outside 10 minutes from now.

I see him pull up. He's wearing sunglasses and all black making him look pretty badass to anyone who doesn't know what a nice dude he is. Pain in the ass, but a nice dude.

I smile as I get into the passenger seat as he stays silent and drives off. Now how to I get him to drive me to his house? Wait... I remember something...

"Could we go to your place?" I ask the man next to me. "Why?" He finally speaks.

"I left my clothes there, remember?" I inform him. His face is still washed of emotion. "Uh yeah sure," he answers. Why the fuck is Pete so determined to keep the monotone manner in his voice? I didn't do anything wrong, did I? If anyone is nothing more than just a little bit pissed, it should be me. He's the one who's been ignoring me. And even I'm not that fazed by it! Okay, well maybe I am, but I'm doing a damn good job at not showing it!

"In the bedroom," he points to where I left my belongings taking those dark glasses off his face. I nod and get them, returning from his room.

"Alright, lets go," he says heading back towards the door. "Pete, wait," I say not moving one step. "What?" He says completely oblivious to any signs showing that I actually wanna talk to him. Now I'm getting annoyed.

"What do you mean 'what?' Lets just address the elephant in the room and stop wasting our time for a second here!" I say at a steady volume, but the tone of my voice makes me question how loud I'm actually being. Yeah, I am a tiny bit pissed.

"Huh? You mean your excessive texts?" He practically sneers back at me. Where'd that come from? "Excessive? I've been worried sick about you for the past week! I know you read the messages! Is it too much trouble to respond just to let me know you're okay!?" I say. I then look at his eyes. They're dark and cold and the few emotions expressed on the rest of his face are hard to decipher as anything positive.

"I thought we were good now! What's the meaning of all this?" I ask. "That's not how it works, Patrick. What did you think would happen? We'd have coffee once and everything would okay?! That's not how it works!" He says. "Oh grow up, Wentz!" I snap back at him. "What's your problem? What the hell did I ever do this time? Yeah I made a mistake 3 years ago, but does that mean you have to continue to shut me out the second I try to get past it?!" I say in a raised voice.

I hate fighting with him, I really do, but this happens every time and I can't help myself. Some shit just needs to be said. "That's exactly what I'm talking about! You never let me in! You're so closed off from me for no fucking reason! I poured myself out to you the other week because I trust you, Patrick! I wanted to let you know how much you meant to me! Can't you take a hint?! You had my life in your hands at that moment and you saved it! Why don't you think I'd do the same?! Why are you treating me like a minor inconvenience?!"

I want to shout back once again but this time I open my mouth, and finding that nothing comes out, I close it. I stop. I think. I look him in the eye.

"What the hell has gotten into you?!" I say, voice louder than intended to be. "Get out of my house." He says. It surprises me that he says it so calmly, yet word still laced with a fire of anger.

"No."
"I said get out of my fucking house."
"Why should I?" I don't move a muscle and neither doesn't he.

"Because it was so easy for you to walk out the first time, what can't you just do it again!" He shouts at me now pointing a finger at the door.

I stand there. Just... thinking. For a few seconds all the thoughts circulating around my head make it seem like an eternity of silence. But once more, I fail to fight my demons and take the lower road. I'm no better than he is. "Wow. Fine. I'd be happy to show myself out, considering it's obviously what I do best. But first I want you to know why you're acting like this."

"Just leave."
"I told I'm not going anywhere."
"Patrick just go away."
"No-"
"Patrick!-"
"-Why must you be like this?!"
"I meant it, okay!" Pete exclaims. Is he referring to...
"What? Y-you... what did y-"

He sighs. "When I told you I loved you. I meant it. It wasn't the medications talking." He confesses.

"Pete, why would that bother me? I love you too. You know that we get angry sometimes but you're still my best friend. That's what it means to have someone as close as we are..."

"But that's not what I meant..."

"Then-"
"I've been dreading having to say this and pushing it behind me constantly... but Patrick, Just know that I'm first admitting this to myself at the same time I'm admitting it to you, and I'm terrified. I really am... but the real reason I've been ignoring you is because I think I'm in love with you... an-and I didn't want to be around you because I was desperate for it not be true. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. It's so wrong of me and I promise that I'll just forget about it now that it's off my chest..."

We stand there both completely quiet then. He just says so much and it's still all taking a while to reach me. How the hell does he expect me to feel?