the streets are his home. the bricks that line the alleyway walls are his. except that they aren't. he just likes to tell himself that.
pete hates the word homeless. lost was a better word to describe his state. maybe insane, but he hates that word too. pete's breath swirls around him like smoke, which also bothers him. cigarettes are a part of the reason why he lives on the streets now; why he stares at the bricks now. bricks and streets seem pretty important to this story, huh.
well they are. in fact pete happens to like the bricks and the streets. but he also likes watching the people walk by his home; how they look into his eyes with such pity. 'there's really nothing to feel sorry about.' he thinks. they keep staring, however. that bothers him.
when the sun goes away the people leave with it. when the moon comes the drug dealers follow. it's a simple cycle. pete just so happens to be one of those drug dealers. now, you may be asking: 'if you deal drugs aren't you supposed to be rich? why do you live on the street?' or something like that. the truth is he could find somewhere to settle down with all the money he makes, but instead pete spends it all on more drugs to deal out. this too, is a simple cycle.
one night, he comes across a buyer that isn't one of his usuals. even in the dim light casted by the broken street lamps he can tell. pete's buyers don't wear fedoras and glasses and velcro shoes.
"what's your name?" he asks.
"is it important? are you gonna report me to the cops? please don't." the unusual buyer states.
pete laughs at this.
"if i went to the cops i wouldn't have a job. what's your name?" he asks again.
it takes the unusual buyer a while to reply. this must be his first time. buying drugs, that is.
"patrick. the last name's a mystery for now. i'm not sure if i can trust you with it yet." he reveals.
"well patrick, my name's pete. my last name is a mystery too, but that's only because i don't have one. what can i get for you?"
the buyer, patrick, looks at him. pete knows that look. he rarely encounters it, but he knows. maybe he does know more than brick walls.
"i have the typical stuff like weed, crack, heroin, pills-"
"pills." patrick cuts him off bluntly.
pete cracks a smirk, digging into his bags and pulling out a bottle of pills. he hold them out for patrick, but he keeps a tight grip on it. he doesn't like it when people take without paying.
"insomnia..." patrick reads.
"yup. ever heard of it?" pete asks.
"even better. i have it." patrick smiles.
he dips a hand into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash. patrick counts off three hundreds and offers them to pete.
"how much can this get me?" he asks.
pete opens the cap, the satisfying pop of the lid causing sparks in his veins. he tilts the bottle and shakes out five pills. but pete decides against this action and shoves the pills back in. patrick raises an eyebrow.
"what are you-"
"here," pete says, shoving the bottle towards patrick "you need 'em more than i do. plus i think you're pretty neat, patrick mystery-last-name."
patrick takes the bottle, placing the cash in pete's hand.
"it's stump. patrick stump. now my middle name is the mystery." he smiles.
"alright patrick mystery-middle-name stump. you know where i am if you need me."
