Saturday // Peterick Oneshots

88. Love Letter

Hey guys! Sorry it's been a bit since I've updated, I've been sidetracked by school stuff and I haven't had a lot of inspiration. Thanks for sticking with me. SRAR era.

Dear Patrick,

This may come as a shock, but I've never actually written a love letter. Sure, I've come close with blog posts and lyrics and stuff, but that's not the real deal, is it? I'm kind of unsure how to start this. Knowing you though, I think the best way is just to jump right in and hope for the best.

It started out as something purely musical. How could it not? I've said for years that you've got the best voice in the world and I mean it— you sing like an angel, Trick, how could I not fall for you in that way?

And then, then, we started writing together, and you were such a genius, even when you were sassing me for making stupid comments, and you got me in a way no one else did. You took my mess of poetry, my word vomit of angst, and you made it make sense. You created a soundtrack for my head. You blew me away without even knowing it, and you continue to do it to this day.

It didn't stop there. The band got bigger, and we got closer, and I remember one night we were watching movies in the bus lounge and you were putting up with me invading your space. I had my head on your shoulder, you had your arm around me, and when you started to drift off to sleep your head rolled over to rest against mine and I thought, I want to stay like this forever.

And I knew. You're it for me, Trick.

In a weird way, I started to miss you, even when you were sitting across from me, because all of a sudden all I wanted was to hold you in my arms and be held by you in return. You'd smile at me in your special Patrick way and I would have to pinch myself to keep from leaning in to kiss you. We told each other secrets and not-so-scary ghost stories on the nights when we were too wired to sleep and I would long to protect you from anything that could ever hurt you. 

But then, you did get hurt. The whole band got hurt.

We needed the hiatus, I can admit that now. Nothing good could have come from forcing the broken parts of Fall Out Boy— of us— back together instead of letting them heal properly, but it didn't mean I didn't hate every lonely second of it.

I had grown so used to you being there, right within my grasp even if I never had the guts to reach out and pull you in, that I thought I was going to die without you. And maybe that was a problem too; I was too dependent on you for anything between us to grow. But the fact of the matter is that I spent a lot of time missing you and wishing we were still sharing a tour bus, a bunk, a hotel room. If it weren't for the fact that you didn't cut me off completely, that you still came over for movie marathons and writing sessions, I might've gone insane.

But now the band is back together, and we're better than ever, and I've been sitting on these feelings for over a decade.

If you don't feel the same way, it's okay. I just wanted to get this off my chest— be honest with you and make sure we go into our new chapter with a clean slate. No secrets. You can read this and throw it out, we never have to talk about it, and I'll be okay with it.

On the other hand...

Patrick, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You have to know that. So if you feel the same way, if you want to give this, us, a shot, tell me, and I promise I'll make you the happiest man on the planet. I promise to protect you and cherish you, to love you with everything I have, with everything I am.

God, I just love you so fucking much, Patrick. And I'm sorry it took me so long to say it.

Yours, always,

Pete