In Which Summer
1;
Pete gets the phone call some time in October, when the air is just starting to be on the edge of too cold. Pete misses the summer. He thinks things look easier in direct sunlight.
Patrick's voice sounds exuberant, like he's vibrating with energy and a new wavelength of life that Pete's not a part of anymore. For a minute the nostalgia makes him feel like he might throw up.
"Don't be a dick, Pete."
"I love it when you talk sweet to me."
He knows it isn't time for jokes, on some level knew what this phone call was about. Had known in for weeks. Known it from the first time he'd rested his hands low on her waist and made a bad decision.
"Fuck you. I mean it, Pete. Stop trying to relive the glory days of your self-destructive streak because it'll only end in disaster."
Pete closes his eyes, thinks about dark hair and big, trusting eyes and tanned skin and soft moans. Pete thinks about how he maybe never stopped hating himself.
"I just didn't want to feel so, y'know. After."
And he doesn't have to clarify because Patrick's humming down the phone at him and it's soothing. Not angry.
"Haven't you learnt by now, dude? Sleeping with the lead singer just doesn't work."
He can hear the laugh in Patrick's voice and it makes something inside of him flinch. Makes him miss long roads and long nights and scars and stories.
"We turned out all right, didn't we?"
And he knows it's dangerous territory but he doesn't care because he's always been safe with Patrick. Pete hears the singer exhale softly. Pictures him running a hand through fresh-cut hair. Wonders when their positions were reversed.
"I'll call you, like. Soon. Okay? Don't be a dick."
The line cuts off and Pete feels his own heart thumping softly and he hears the thump of knuckles on his front door.
Pete misses the summer
Patrick's voice sounds exuberant, like he's vibrating with energy and a new wavelength of life that Pete's not a part of anymore. For a minute the nostalgia makes him feel like he might throw up.
"Don't be a dick, Pete."
"I love it when you talk sweet to me."
He knows it isn't time for jokes, on some level knew what this phone call was about. Had known in for weeks. Known it from the first time he'd rested his hands low on her waist and made a bad decision.
"Fuck you. I mean it, Pete. Stop trying to relive the glory days of your self-destructive streak because it'll only end in disaster."
Pete closes his eyes, thinks about dark hair and big, trusting eyes and tanned skin and soft moans. Pete thinks about how he maybe never stopped hating himself.
"I just didn't want to feel so, y'know. After."
And he doesn't have to clarify because Patrick's humming down the phone at him and it's soothing. Not angry.
"Haven't you learnt by now, dude? Sleeping with the lead singer just doesn't work."
He can hear the laugh in Patrick's voice and it makes something inside of him flinch. Makes him miss long roads and long nights and scars and stories.
"We turned out all right, didn't we?"
And he knows it's dangerous territory but he doesn't care because he's always been safe with Patrick. Pete hears the singer exhale softly. Pictures him running a hand through fresh-cut hair. Wonders when their positions were reversed.
"I'll call you, like. Soon. Okay? Don't be a dick."
The line cuts off and Pete feels his own heart thumping softly and he hears the thump of knuckles on his front door.
Pete misses the summer