Saturday // Peterick Oneshots

84.5 Half-Way Across the World: Part 2

Once again, mild angst, hiatus era.

Patrick finds himself on Pete's doorstep two days after he gets back from London. He would've flown straight to L.A., but he owed his mom dinner and stories from his trip and reassurance that he wasn't going off the deep end. Pete, the lucky bastard, gets an entirely different version of Patrick than the one he showed his mom: as soon as Pete opens his front door, Patrick's eyes fill with tears and he collapses into Pete's arms. Pete doesn't ask him what's wrong, just holds him and lets him cry, encouraging Patrick to relax on the couch with a blanket when he's done while Pete makes him tea.

Patrick falls asleep, curled up on one end of Pete's couch.

When he woke up, Pete didn't hesitate to dote on him. They ate mountains of Chinese takeout and watched their favorite movies, and Pete politely didn't bring up Patrick's album or the fact that he's clearly on the verge of a breakdown. He doesn't pry about London, either; he asks Patrick how his trip was, of course, but he leaves it at that and doesn't press for details.

When Patrick starts feeling sleepy again, Pete hands him a pair of pajamas and tugs him into his bedroom. They climb into bed and Pete pulls him close and holds him tight. He wishes Patrick good night, and Patrick barely returns it before drifting off again.

Patrick wakes up again in the middle of the night. Pete's still awake, because of course he is, rubbing Patrick's back. Patrick shivers, cold where he's not touching Pete and the blankets aren't covering him properly. Patrick shuffles closer to Pete.

"Shh, it's okay," Pete coos, tugging Patrick closer and wrapping the blankets around him tighter.

Patrick hums and settles against Pete again. "Thank you," he mumbles.

"No problem." Pete kisses the top of his head. He starts running his fingers through Patrick's hair, making Patrick sigh. He keeps rubbing Patrick's back, and Patrick thinks he might go back to sleep when Pete asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Patrick says without thinking. A beat of silence passes. "I think so," he adds quietly.

"Are you sure?" Pete asks softly. Patrick knows he should pull back, look Pete in the eyes, and give him an honest answer.

But he feels so safe, hiding here in the space Pete has carved out for him. He doesn't want to make Pete stop stroking his spine and carding his fingers through his hair and treating him with care. He had felt so claustrophobic when he left for London, but now, in Pete's arms, he didn't mind being a little crowded. He feels at home.

Patrick keeps his face hidden in Pete's chest and takes a deep breath. "No," he admits. Patrick can feel the moment Pete processes it. "I let everyone down, Pete," he whispers.

"What? Patrick, no—"

"I did," Patrick insists. "Folie flopped, and now Soul Punk is flopping, and I don't know what I did wrong but I hate knowing everyone can see that I failed." He lets out a sob. "I'm not golden anymore, Pete."

"Patrick, Patrick, no." Pete forces Patrick back and locks eyes with him. "Patrick, you'll always be golden. This is just a bit of a rough patch, alright? You'll find your groove again and you'll realize you didn't fail at all, you were just a little worn out."

Patrick sniffles and nods. "I just wish it wasn't so obvious. I don't like feeling like everyone's watching my every move."

"Yeah, I feel that way too," Pete says quietly. "I know how hard it can be, feeling like you can't get a break from the world."

"My trip helped, I think," Patrick says. Pete smiles softly and gives him an encouraging nod. "I felt kind of alone, but it was freeing, too, cause I knew that no one else was looking over my shoulder."

"That's good," Pete says. They're both silent for a moment, and Pete pulls Patrick back to his chest. "We can talk more tomorrow. Get some more rest, Pattycake."

Patrick giggles. "Yeah, okay. Thanks Pete."

Pete kisses the top of his head. "No problem." He pauses. "I'm glad you're home."

Patrick closes his eyes. "Me too."