Just Once - A Peterick Fic

Chapter 21

        I don't know what to do with Pete.

        He's scaring me to death and I don't know how to help him.

        The scariest part is probably that I thought he had all this under control. Was he just not taking his medicine or did it suddenly decide to not work for him? Or was he getting worse? I realized how little I actually knew about bipolar disorder and Pete's struggles with it in that moment and resigned to finding out more very quickly.

        I could do a quick internet search and find out more about bipolar disorder in general, but if he won't talk to me, I couldn't find out about the things he's gone through.

        I spent the rest of the ride to San Francisco reading what I could find on this particular mental illness and actually learned quite a bit, but nothing on how to help Pete in his manic state. I wanted to do whatever I could for him, but I'd need to know what my options were first. This was all new to me and it's not like it came with an instruction booklet because if it had, I would've read that as quickly as possible, probably starting with the chapter on how to get them to talk to others.

        "Patrick, we're here," Andy told me when I didn't move, standing expectantly outside the van and looking in at me. Everyone, including Pete had already exited the vehicle, but Andy and Joe were the only ones still outside. Everyone else, it appears, had gone inside the hotel already.

        "Oh, whoops," I muttered to myself as I slipped my phone into my pocket and climbed out of the van, pulling the door shut behind me.

        I walked in front of Joe and Andy on our way inside, the other two men lingering behind me a little ways.

        Just as I was walking through the doorway, something Andy said floated up to me that I probably wasn't meant to hear: "Stop it, someone could see us."

        ~~~~~~~~

        "Pete, will you talk to me?"

        We were in our hotel room, getting situated when I asked him that. He hadn't even looked at me and we'd been in here close to 20 minutes if I had to guess. It may not have been that long, though, because time tended to drag when one's boyfriend was intently ignoring them from a few feet away.

        "Sure, Pattycakes. What's up?" he asked me from where he was sitting on the bed, moving the notebook from his lap to the space beside him on the mattress.

        I shot him a questioning look, asking, "Oh, not much. Just wondering why you decided to ignore everyone in the first place, and then talk to me like nothing happened."

        A concerned look crossed his face, as if he were hurt by what I'd said. "I'm sorry, I just needed to get some lyrics down is all. I didn't realize I'd made anyone angry. You know I can have tunnel vision sometimes."

        "Not like that. You didn't even react to what was going on around you. I was worried about you. Hell, I still am," I told him, the last bit sounding like an admission that I didn't want to leave my mouth. Running a hand through my hair, I knocked my fedora of my head and watched as Pete's eyes followed it to the ground. I didn't even bother to pick it up.

        His eyes soon found my face again, but not before traveling up my body painfully slowly. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm perfectly fine," he told me, sounding as if that's what he truly believed, and it probably was. That was part of a manic episode - feeling as if one is perfectly fine or even better than that - if I remembered correctly.

        I simply pursed my lips, remaining silent as I scrutinized his expression, wondering just what was going through that pretty little head of his.

        "Come here, Patrick," he told me, reaching his arms out in my direction as if he were a toddler that wanted a toy across the room.

        I cocked an eyebrow, wondering just why I was being summoned but went anyway, making my way over to the space just beside the bed and standing there with an expectant look crossing my features. "Yes?"

        "You're not here yet," he whined, patting the narrow space on the bed beside him and, as if realizing just how narrow it was, scooting over a little. Pete looked up at me with puppy dog eyes, as if begging me to climb onto the bed.

        I sighed, trying my best to keep a smile from my lips, and shook my head as I lied down next to him. He immediately pulled me closer and I complied, resting my head on his chest, sliding my eyes closed, and intertwining our legs.

        "You're such a good pillow," I told him as his arms wrapped around me, holding me tightly against him.

        "Just a good pillow?" he asked, implying he might be good for something else. When I opened my eyes once again, I saw there was a small smirk curving his lips, as if he were trying to conceal it and doing a very poor job of it.

        "Well, you're pretty good for some other things too," I admitted, intentionally leaving it vague so as to not lead him on although he could probably run with it if he tried.

        "How about we put my other talents to use?" he said, keeping his voice low and seductive, leaning down to press his lips to mine for a quick kiss to reinforce what he was saying.

        "Yeah, sure. We could play some music if you want," I told him with a smirk, knowing full well that's not what he meant.

        "I was thinking something a little more...intimate," he said, the smile evident in his voice, amused by my smart ass comment.

        "Oh yeah? Like what?" I asked, feigning innocence.

        "How about I show you," he suggested, not even hesitating before pressing his lips to mine again, leaving them there this time, and moving so he was on top of me, his body hovering just above mine.

        I didn't bother responding verbally, just going along with his actions and moving my hands up to rest on his hips. His right hand slowly trailed down my body, stopping at the waist of my jeans where he tried to unbutton them with one hand, obviously struggling a little.

        Suddenly, the article I'd read on bipolar disorder came back to me. Hypersexuality was an effect of a hypomanic episode and it would probably be a good idea to stop what we were doing.

        "Pete," I said, trying to get his attention. He didn't respond, probably thought I was just saying his name like I often do in bed.

        "Pete," I repeated, putting more force behind my words as I spoke. "Pete, stop."

        He finally did, looking up at me expectantly, cluelessly saying, "What?"

        "I'm not in the mood," I lied, not knowing how to tell him he was only horny because the chemicals in his brain were fucked up.

        A look of confusion crossed his face, probably because I'd led him on then suddenly told him no, but it quickly disappeared as if he were hiding it.

        "Oh, ok. Sorry," he said climbing off of me and going back to how he was sitting before I'd climbed onto the bed with his knees up and back against the headboard. He grabbed his notebook and disappeared into it again, shutting me and everybody else out again.

A/N: The sidebar pictures are going to be from '05 Warped for a while bc '05 Warped Patrick gives me life.

Also, I've got a new Trohley one shot out called Anna Rose so go check that out.