Saturday // Peterick Oneshots

23. Tears of Joy

Hi, so I'm lonely as fuck, and in a moment of inspiration I imagined this. FAD era.

"Hey, can we talk?" Patrick's voice was soft in his ear, almost apologetic, and Pete's heart rate skyrocketed. 

Things between him and Patrick had been tense since they'd released Folie. Everyone seemed to hate it, and they all felt horrible; that, combined with the stress of touring, had them all on their wits end. They were constantly snapping at one another, and the two of them had gotten into full-blown fist fights at least twice. (At least, because Pete's been drowning his guilt and sorrow in pills and alcohol. This only causes more tension: Patrick notices, says something to Pete, Pete tells him to fuck off...)

Not to mention, Pete had been feeling particularly shitty that he couldn't fix any of it. At night, alone in his bunk, he couldn't help but wonder if it was his fault the album had flopped. (Maybe if he'd given Patrick different lyrics...or gone with that other bass line...) These thoughts had been causing him to spiral more and more into fits of self-loathing. Naturally, the self-loathing resulted in Pete feeling alone and unloved.

The only time things felt normal was when he was touching Patrick. Everything felt fine when he was pressed against Patrick's back on stage, leaning on his shoulder during a movie, or curled into his side at night.

He didn't care to give it too much thought. With everything falling down around him, and his darkest thoughts closing in every day, it wasn't worth it to contemplate his feelings for Patrick. Patrick wouldn't like him back, even if they weren't doomed; Patrick's beautiful and a genius and Pete's...a wreck. Sure, Patrick can have a mean temper, but it's not like Pete can't dish it out either.

So, with all that combined, he forced himself numb as soon as Patrick spoke to him in that tone. After all, what better time to break it to your best friend that you need a break than when you're both shrouded in the darkness of your bunk at two in the morning and pressed together to keep out the disaster that's surrounding you?

"What's up?" Pete's voice had already taken on the monotone that came with emotional vacancy.

"There's something I need to tell you."

"Okay."

Patrick pulled away and propped himself up on his elbow. "So we're...close."

Oh god, here it comes.

"And I know we've been friends for almost ten years, but things have been different lately." Patrick took a deep breath. Pete dug his nails into his palm. "And I don't mean the fights."

What?

"I know things have been tense lately, and god knows we're not in the best place, but." Patrick let out a shaky laugh. "I love you. I'm in love with you."

Pete froze. "You. You what?"

"Yeah, it's," Patrick licked his lips. "It's kind of ridiculous, but, through all this chaos you and I have still been there for each other and it made me realize that...I wouldn't be here without you. And as much as you drive me crazy I wouldn't trade you for the world because I love you."

Pete let the numbness slip away.

"Pete?" Patrick was searching his face for any reaction. "Say something. Please."

"You're not...you're not kidding me, are you?" Pete asked quietly.

Patrick's features softened. "No, Pete." He reached out and brushed Pete's bangs out of his eyes. "I promise. I wouldn't...I'd never do that to you."

Pete stared at him for a moment, awestruck. "Kiss me. Please."

Patrick nodded. He cupped Pete's face in his hands and waited. Pete closed his eyes, resting a hand on Patrick's hip.

Patrick kissed him, slow and gentle, like if he pushed too hard Pete would break. Pete kissed back just as softly, letting taste of Patrick's lips wash over him. He tilted his head a bit and slipped his hand under Patrick's shirt. He left his hand on Patrick's side, just feeling the warmth of his skin and the softness of his stomach. Patrick sighed against him and ran a hand through Pete's hair, giving it a small tug.

Patrick pulled away with no warning. Pete was about to ask what was wrong, but Patrick spoke before he could. "Hey, are you okay? You're shaking."

Pete held out his hand and sure enough, Patrick was right. Pete blinked. "I think I'm overwhelmed. That's all." He looked back to Patrick. His face was stricken.

"Oh, Pete. I'm so sorry, if you don't, you know, like me like that it's okay." He smiled sadly, and Pete knew that even if that were the case, it wouldn't have been okay, not really. "I can go, and we'll just pretend this never happened, sound good?"

He shifted, and Pete found himself lurching to pull Patrick back to him. "Don't you dare," he whispered. Tears sprung to his eyes. "Everything you said, I feel the same way. You're my fucking life line, and I would be nothing without you, do you hear me? I love you to the goddamn moon and back, Patrick. Don't ever doubt it."

Patrick still looked concerned. He cupped Pete's face again, stroking his cheek. "Then why are you shaking? And...and crying?"

"I think," Pete closed his eyes, "I think I'm shocked that you feel the same way. That you would look at me that way."

There was a beat of silence, then, "Oh, Pete." Patrick pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around Pete's shoulders. Pete buried his face in Patrick's neck. He breathed in Patrick's scent and began crying in earnest. Patrick kissed his temple and alternated between whispering words of comfort and words of praise.

When he'd calmed down enough, he pulled back enough to kiss Patrick again, thoroughly. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too." Patrick gave him another, quicker kiss. "And whatever happens the rest of the tour, hell, the rest of the year, we'll get through it. Together."

Pete stole one last kiss, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, together."