"When you say little, in what sense do you mean?"
"That I have a little headspace, which is a set different from my usual mind that makes me act more in a childlike and younger manner."
"Oh thank good, I thought you meant a little dick."
Pete's a li...
What's up yo, blessing you all with an update cus I'm in such a good groove with this fic (:
Go and check out 'Flowers on the Floor' bros, I'm so excited for it as I need y'all to hype me up x
Show me some love and I'll show ya all some love <3
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When Pete was 7, they had fallen out of a tree. It had been their own fault because the minute Pete had set their mischief and curious eyes on the marvellously huge tree dead centre of their back yard, Dale Wentz had been all but too keen to quickly tell her child not to climb that tree, Pete, because you'll fall and you'll hurt yourself. Pete had indeed fallen out of that tree, half way up and all too cocky because look mom, I'm half way up and I haven't fallen yet! They had fallen, they had gotten hurt, they had cried. They were 7.
When Pete was 12, they got into a car crash. It had been their Dads fault, no matter how much Pete knew that their father blamed the whole accident on them. Pete had suffered a head injury, one with lasting side effects of chronic migraines, and had broken their arm while shielding their face from the powerful blast of the air bag. Pete could still remember their shrieks of pain as they were loaded into the ambulance, the tears dripping down their bloodied face as their Dad stood at the side of the road, unharmed and ashamed.
None of those moments of pain amounted to what Pete was feeling now
"Swing at me, I fucking dare you because I'll knock you sideways Mikey Way, you and I both know that I will."A familiar voice is yelling, so full of rage and protectiveness that it actually makes Pete feel so much better even when they are lying in a face full of their own blood and tears. Cautiously, Pete turns their head and a sudden warmth fills their chest when they catch sight of Frank violently shoving Mikey up to the nearest wall with Dallon by his side to hold him there.
There's on their back and Pete feels so ashamed at how harshly that they flinch from the touch, almost cowering because as much as they can see that Mikey is detained to a wall, it doesn't stop the bubbling fear and anxiety within Pete from telling them that there are hands on me when I don't want there to be, please stop touching me!
"I'm telling you, this all happened 'cus of your stupid pink hair."And then there's the hands talking, Ryan who is kneeling in the blood that's gushed from Petes nose. His face is so filled with worry, fear and anger despite the snark in his words. Pete has never seen Ryan look so distressed and it has their heart skipping a beat in their chest, a bubble of a laugh escaping their lips, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob because they never thought they'd be happy to see Ryan Ross' stupid face.
"Fuck off Ryan."Pete gurgles, spitting out onto the bathroom floor as those familiar, soft hands continue to touch their body and help them to sit up so that the damages can be inspected and Ryan can fuss like the Mother Hen he truly is. Pete tenses when there's a hand cupping their tender face and Ryan is quick to recoil his touch, a frown etching on those lips of his.
