This Is A Love Song In My Own Way
Part Two.
A sharp intake of air was held. Pete shut his eyelids long enough to let the oxygen back out into the room. His naked left foot took the initiative to get to the door in a speed walk. The glass pane began another series of this stomach-rollercoaster. Through it he saw the top right corner of Patrick's head. Pete's eyebrows nearly came together trying to figure out why from his view, a couple more steps away, he could see no hat.
His best friend's trademark. Something that had become associated with his image, and something he never arrived in public without. Something he expected. Already, ten questions formed in the writer's mind and only to be followed by ten more with what he saw next; no glasses. His right hand turned the door knob faster than he previously planned to. Situations like this, Pete planned every motion. The words were about to spill out faster than he could think about saying them.
"Woah. What?" He made it clear to the one standing before him that his eyes were traveling. The twenty questions now failed him. "<i>I really could ask you the same thing. Is.. Are those monkeys or ducks?</i>" Patrick's confusion pointed to the lower half of Pete's body, referring to his pajamas. He laughed and he didn't know if it was from shock, confusion or actual amusement. "Uh, those are ducks and bubbles, because it's bath themed." He bent his torso forward slightly to analyze his clothing, making sure they were what he said they were. Patrick laughed too and Pete caught the ending of the smile with his own eyes.
Pete never had a discouraging word or thought about Patrick's appearance. At every stage of the years they had been friends, he was perfect. It had only been half a year since he had seen the man in person and he had changed drastically. Pete feared he was being unhealthy because of the way he viewed himself physically. Patrick was never comfortable in the skin he was given at birth. No outfit, accessory or style could make him feel right. What he didn't know is his best friend was fully aware of it. Pete never vocalized what he saw because he knew Patrick would determine himself, possibly to the point of damaging his health. He would be a liar if he claimed to not be scared of what he couldn't help control, now that they didn't spend as much time together. His lips almost processed it, almost transferred the concerned words his head created.
"<i>I feel like I have something on my face. You're staring again.</i>" Patrick paused, knowing the last word was out of habit. Again. Pete found himself staring, or at least staring in the direction, at his friend more times than the entire band could count. There was something in his face that kept him wondering, and he had no clue what he was wondering about. He became lost just trying to figure it out. "Pizza. There's a lot of pizza in this kitchen." Pete turned to walk into the dark house, his voice taking a lower volume. "I got really hungry and got the bright idea to order. So, the pizza guy kept slamming me with all these deals and I gave in and bought three large ones for like, thirty bucks." Patrick followed, shutting the door quietly. Mama Wentz was never one to antagonize in the middle of the night.
The light in the kitchen was bright enough to make both men squint. Pete's eyes adjusted to the large pizza boxes. The three had been stacked together and uneaten. He opened the top box with both hands as if he was revealing something with a lot more importance. Patrick's teeth were shown again at the sight. "<i>Dude, that's not even extra cheese.</i>" "What? I said I requested five pounds of extra cheese. Not that they actually gave me five extra pounds of cheese." Pete's grin lasted through the comment.
A laugh was shared, one that felt way too familiar to be real. His friend's body swayed towards him, but not for him. Their shoulders met again for the first time in months.
Pete knew when to hold back. He knew when pushing things would only lead to more complication. His mind knew not, however. The back side to his eyes saw a rematch between himself and what he always wanted to say to him.
He was about to lose this one.
His best friend's trademark. Something that had become associated with his image, and something he never arrived in public without. Something he expected. Already, ten questions formed in the writer's mind and only to be followed by ten more with what he saw next; no glasses. His right hand turned the door knob faster than he previously planned to. Situations like this, Pete planned every motion. The words were about to spill out faster than he could think about saying them.
"Woah. What?" He made it clear to the one standing before him that his eyes were traveling. The twenty questions now failed him. "<i>I really could ask you the same thing. Is.. Are those monkeys or ducks?</i>" Patrick's confusion pointed to the lower half of Pete's body, referring to his pajamas. He laughed and he didn't know if it was from shock, confusion or actual amusement. "Uh, those are ducks and bubbles, because it's bath themed." He bent his torso forward slightly to analyze his clothing, making sure they were what he said they were. Patrick laughed too and Pete caught the ending of the smile with his own eyes.
Pete never had a discouraging word or thought about Patrick's appearance. At every stage of the years they had been friends, he was perfect. It had only been half a year since he had seen the man in person and he had changed drastically. Pete feared he was being unhealthy because of the way he viewed himself physically. Patrick was never comfortable in the skin he was given at birth. No outfit, accessory or style could make him feel right. What he didn't know is his best friend was fully aware of it. Pete never vocalized what he saw because he knew Patrick would determine himself, possibly to the point of damaging his health. He would be a liar if he claimed to not be scared of what he couldn't help control, now that they didn't spend as much time together. His lips almost processed it, almost transferred the concerned words his head created.
"<i>I feel like I have something on my face. You're staring again.</i>" Patrick paused, knowing the last word was out of habit. Again. Pete found himself staring, or at least staring in the direction, at his friend more times than the entire band could count. There was something in his face that kept him wondering, and he had no clue what he was wondering about. He became lost just trying to figure it out. "Pizza. There's a lot of pizza in this kitchen." Pete turned to walk into the dark house, his voice taking a lower volume. "I got really hungry and got the bright idea to order. So, the pizza guy kept slamming me with all these deals and I gave in and bought three large ones for like, thirty bucks." Patrick followed, shutting the door quietly. Mama Wentz was never one to antagonize in the middle of the night.
The light in the kitchen was bright enough to make both men squint. Pete's eyes adjusted to the large pizza boxes. The three had been stacked together and uneaten. He opened the top box with both hands as if he was revealing something with a lot more importance. Patrick's teeth were shown again at the sight. "<i>Dude, that's not even extra cheese.</i>" "What? I said I requested five pounds of extra cheese. Not that they actually gave me five extra pounds of cheese." Pete's grin lasted through the comment.
A laugh was shared, one that felt way too familiar to be real. His friend's body swayed towards him, but not for him. Their shoulders met again for the first time in months.
Pete knew when to hold back. He knew when pushing things would only lead to more complication. His mind knew not, however. The back side to his eyes saw a rematch between himself and what he always wanted to say to him.
He was about to lose this one.