Fireflies // Peterick

5.

Pete stopped sleeping the second week of camp. Monday night he had laid down for bed, ready to pass out, but an hour later he was still awake. He grabbed his iPod and hit shuffle on Master of Puppets, then alternated between tossing and turning, writing, and watching Patrick sleep. The latter ended up being his favorite because he just looked so peaceful, alright? It didn't mean anything when he wrote a fractured fairy tale the next day about a grumpy Sleeping Beauty going off on the prince for waking him up.

Tuesday night the same thing happened.

By Wednesday, he knew his days of sleeping peacefully were over.

"How come you were able to sleep last week but not this week?" Patrick asked that night when Pete complained about not being tired. He was leaning over his desk, putting away papers he needed the next day. Pete watched him from where he was sitting on his bed, back against the wall. They were both in their pajamas, and lights out would be in a few minutes.

"I have insomnia, but for some reason I sleep easier in unfamiliar places. I'm backwards," Pete explained with a shrug.

Patrick finished packing his backpack for the next morning and walked to the light switch. "It's not going to bother you if I turn this off, is it?"

Pete shook his head. The room was plunged into darkness, but Pete didn't move. He heard Patrick's covers shifting as he climbed into bed. As his eyes adjusted, he realized Patrick was still sitting up. Staring at him.

"What?" Pete asked.

"So you're just going to sit there and wait to pass out?"

"Pretty much."

"That sucks," Patrick said softly. There was a moment of silence before Patrick spoke again. "Do you want some company?"

Pete smiled at Patrick's shadowy form. "I mean, if you want. But I know you're not a morning person, so it's cool if you'd rather go to sleep."

Patrick shook his head. "I can stay up and talk for a little while."

Once again, most of the conversation was taken up by music. Pete talked about his favorite Metallica album and Patrick told him about his favorite Elvis Costello songs. Pete mentioned that he had been playing bass since he was little, which made the conversation shift as Patrick rambled about his skills on the drums with animated hand gestures. After a few minutes, it was revealed that Patrick could also play guitar and was learning to play other instruments.

"You're like a one man band," Pete joked. "Can you sing?"

Patrick shook his head. "Not really. I'm okay, but my voice can't sell out stadiums or anything."

Pete hummed. "I can't sing at all. I just scream and hope for the best."

Patrick giggled. Pete tilted his head back, looking at the light coming in the window from the street. He heard the sheets on Patrick's bed shifting again. Patrick was laying down on his side on top of the covers. Pete couldn't tell if his eyes were closed or not.

"You still with me?" he whispered.

No response.

Pete chuckled. He hopped off his bed and walked over to Patrick before he could convince himself not to. He grabbed Patrick's blanket and wriggled it out from underneath Patrick's sleeping form. He covered Patrick with the blanket, freezing when Patrick began to stir. He sighed it relief when Patrick only tugged the fabric around himself tighter. Pete moved the edges a bit and made sure every inch of his roommate would be warm.

If he ran a hand through Patrick's- unbelievably soft- hair before crawling back into his own bed, so sue him. The content little hum he got in return was worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Patrick didn't mention anything about the previous night. He just gave Pete a soft smile and grabbed his clothes to get changed for the day. Pete changed while he was gone, then waited for Patrick to come back so they could go down to breakfast. There wasn't a moment of silence between them even when they sat down with Andy and Joe.

Pete hadn't noticed the morning chill on the way to breakfast, but when the wind blew across the campus he could feel goosebumps on his arms. He had a hoodie tied around his waist, but the sun was bright enough that he was fine.

Patrick, on the other hand, shivered with each gust of wind.

Pete glanced at him a few times and debated whether or not to say anything. Patrick wasn't complaining, so Pete almost left it alone. Then a strong gust of wind hit them, and Patrick shuddered as though there was an earthquake happening.

"Are you cold?" Pete asked.

Patrick glared at him. "No." His nose, ears, and cheeks were pink, whether from the breeze or the question Pete didn't know.

"You sure? You can borrow my hoodie if you want," Pete said, tugging on the sleeve.

Patrick looked down at the hoodie and bit his lip. A breeze hit them, and he nodded. "Yeah, okay."

Pete untied the hoodie from his waist while Patrick threw his backpack to the ground. Pete handed it over and picked up Patrick's backpack, while Patrick slipped the hoodie on and adjusted it as needed.

Patrick fixed the hood, zipped it up, then turned to Pete with a soft smile. Pete paused at the sight of Patrick's ginger hair peeking out from the red and black hood. Patrick held out his hand; the sleeve was too long, giving him sweater paws.

"Thanks." The pink tint was still clinging to Patrick's cheeks, making him appear angelic. Pete gave him a silent nod and handed Patrick his backpack back.

"Yeah. No problem."