This Is A Love Song In My Own Way
Part Four
There were some situations Patrick found himself in with Pete he could not force himself to admit to.
A majority of them were just too personal to be brought up in the conversations of millions. The times when they both battled with what was best for the band and what was best for each other. Needless to say, the health of the band won countless times. Still, what they both wanted shined on and off stage almost every night.
Pete made it a point to himself to note Patrick's change in breathing after the last word's air hit his neck. Only slightly deeper than any of the other times. His eyes opened when he heard the one supporting the weight of his head part his lips and inhale. They didn't focus correctly with the lighting until halfway through the stuttered sentence, "<i>I never thought you were lying.</i>" He watched his jaw line closely. He didn't blink with the thought of missing any small detail of what he could see of his reaction. Pete always thrived on the reactions of others, whether they be negative or positive. Patrick's were his favorite.
His next move required no thought process. Pete didn't even start thinking about what came after his left arm reached to place itself on the side of the man's neck he couldn't see. His mind held little solid thought when he kissed where he had been focusing, and even less when their lips collided. It was forceful, but smooth enough to be ended without much frustration. He didn't let go of the grip of his best friend's neck after the kiss was broken. Instead, Pete attempted pulling Patrick back in for a rematch of mouth's. Pete's insides dropped when he declined and stood up.
"<i>That's not what I came here for at all. I wish every time you said you were thinking about me, that you were actually thinking about me and not just what you wanted from me. I don't know what else you can expect.</i>" Patrick was antsy way beyond the point of recognition. Pete could see his hands shaking and for a moment hoped he would take back the three sentences and fall on him. With someone as impatient and temper driven as Wentz, his luck never had the time to kick in.
"I sure as hell didn't expect you to come over and screw with my head anymore than you already have been." Now even he was stuttering. "You know as well as anyone else that even just you being here was going to give me the spark of hope I needed to carry on believing we'll all just be perfect again. Like all this shit can drive itself back into place." Pete regretted every syllable of that last speal even as he was speaking it. Once he got the first six words in he knew there was no reason to turn back. What's said is said, afterall. The one left sitting on the couch expected a "<i>Fuck you. Seriously, fuck you.</i>" He just didn't expect himself to launch off the furniture to catch Patrick as he made the front door his destination afterwards.
They were standing five feet apart when Patrick clung onto the door knob and spoke in a tone Pete had only heard a few times in the years they had been friends. "<i>I'm going to be happy. In case that mattered.</i>" The floor took on the responsibility of his bed on that night. A bed that rarely ever saw what most people considered rest.
The ending note of a song, while was at full volume against his ear drums, he had forgot he was listening to finalized the memory. Sweat on the back of his neck became apparent as he turned his head to find the ipod. His right arm was close to it, but his left forced itself over his torso to grab it. The phone that held so many saved promises in an inbox he hounded over on a regular basis caught his eye. Pete skipped through at least ten songs before he found one that suited what he wanted to feel. The beat felt uplifting enough for him to gather the courage to look at what would have bothered him.
Instead of seeing a sight that had grown familiar enough to be considered comfortable, an alert sent his fingers in a frenzy trying to open it.
A majority of them were just too personal to be brought up in the conversations of millions. The times when they both battled with what was best for the band and what was best for each other. Needless to say, the health of the band won countless times. Still, what they both wanted shined on and off stage almost every night.
Pete made it a point to himself to note Patrick's change in breathing after the last word's air hit his neck. Only slightly deeper than any of the other times. His eyes opened when he heard the one supporting the weight of his head part his lips and inhale. They didn't focus correctly with the lighting until halfway through the stuttered sentence, "<i>I never thought you were lying.</i>" He watched his jaw line closely. He didn't blink with the thought of missing any small detail of what he could see of his reaction. Pete always thrived on the reactions of others, whether they be negative or positive. Patrick's were his favorite.
His next move required no thought process. Pete didn't even start thinking about what came after his left arm reached to place itself on the side of the man's neck he couldn't see. His mind held little solid thought when he kissed where he had been focusing, and even less when their lips collided. It was forceful, but smooth enough to be ended without much frustration. He didn't let go of the grip of his best friend's neck after the kiss was broken. Instead, Pete attempted pulling Patrick back in for a rematch of mouth's. Pete's insides dropped when he declined and stood up.
"<i>That's not what I came here for at all. I wish every time you said you were thinking about me, that you were actually thinking about me and not just what you wanted from me. I don't know what else you can expect.</i>" Patrick was antsy way beyond the point of recognition. Pete could see his hands shaking and for a moment hoped he would take back the three sentences and fall on him. With someone as impatient and temper driven as Wentz, his luck never had the time to kick in.
"I sure as hell didn't expect you to come over and screw with my head anymore than you already have been." Now even he was stuttering. "You know as well as anyone else that even just you being here was going to give me the spark of hope I needed to carry on believing we'll all just be perfect again. Like all this shit can drive itself back into place." Pete regretted every syllable of that last speal even as he was speaking it. Once he got the first six words in he knew there was no reason to turn back. What's said is said, afterall. The one left sitting on the couch expected a "<i>Fuck you. Seriously, fuck you.</i>" He just didn't expect himself to launch off the furniture to catch Patrick as he made the front door his destination afterwards.
They were standing five feet apart when Patrick clung onto the door knob and spoke in a tone Pete had only heard a few times in the years they had been friends. "<i>I'm going to be happy. In case that mattered.</i>" The floor took on the responsibility of his bed on that night. A bed that rarely ever saw what most people considered rest.
The ending note of a song, while was at full volume against his ear drums, he had forgot he was listening to finalized the memory. Sweat on the back of his neck became apparent as he turned his head to find the ipod. His right arm was close to it, but his left forced itself over his torso to grab it. The phone that held so many saved promises in an inbox he hounded over on a regular basis caught his eye. Pete skipped through at least ten songs before he found one that suited what he wanted to feel. The beat felt uplifting enough for him to gather the courage to look at what would have bothered him.
Instead of seeing a sight that had grown familiar enough to be considered comfortable, an alert sent his fingers in a frenzy trying to open it.