Status: let's see how this goes, shall we?

Trace Your Shadows

take teardrops of mine, find yourself wetter

THEN

It had been a week and a half since they’d last spoken, one of the longest times since they’d started this interesting friendship, and Fiona was beginning to worry. Half of her wondered if maybe Pete had just got bored of her, wanted to give her the flick and thought ignoring her would be the easiest way to go about it. She almost believed this, after all, she was just some kid that Pete could be using to occupy his attention, there was every possibility that he’d eventually move on to someone much more worth his time.

But the more reasonable part of her reminded her of how much he’d told her, how much he’d opened up to her, and if he’d befriended her only to discard her so suddenly, he wouldn’t have opened up half as much as he had so maybe, maybe something wasn’t right on his end and he was waiting for her to come around.

Finally, Fiona had enough of over thinking and racking her brain for reasons why Pete had disappeared on her. After checking the time and realizing her parents wouldn’t be home for hours, she threw on some shoes and made her way next door, trying to swallow down her rapidly beating heart and tell herself that things would be okay, Pete would be happy to see her.

Fiona barely managed to finish knocking when the door opened, throwing her off guard, and she was suddenly face to face with Andrew Wentz, who looked just as confused to see her as she did him.

“Err, hi,” she started awkwardly, a little taken back because she hadn't thought he’d be home, not with all the extracurricular activities he was always caught up in (Pete was always going on that at least his mother got one good son to brag about).

“Hello,” he responded slowly, forehead creasing. “Can I, ah, help you?”

Fiona nodded quickly, not wanting to back down now. “Is your brother around? I need to speak to him.”

“Yeah, he’s upstairs,” Andrew replied, but frowned when he saw the relief on Fiona’s face.

“Oh good, can I go up and see him then?”

“I really don’t think you want to go up there,” Andrew answered seriously.

Fiona stopped, not understanding why Andrew was looking at her like that. “Why not? Look, I know it might seem a little odd or out of the blue or whatever but we’re, uh, we’re friends. I just haven’t seen him in a while and wanted to catch up.”

Andrew shook his head again. “I mean it, he’s not up for company right now.”

Somehow this just made Fiona even more desperate to see the older Wentz, and so she gave Andrew a look. “I don’t care, I’m going up to see him. Let me in?”

After half a minute of Andrew staring at her like she was some sort of crazy, he eventually shrugged, giving in and moving aside to let Fiona into the house. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the staircase.

“Third room on the left,” he mumbled before disappearing and leaving Fiona feeling suddenly alone in the large house.

Fiona decided there was no point putting this off any longer, suddenly aching to see Pete and make sure he was okay, and so she went up the stairs and quickly found herself outside his bedroom. The door was cracked open and Fiona could already see that it was dark inside, and wondered if perhaps he was asleep.

Placing a hand on the door, she pushed gently and cringed when the hinges let out a loud creak of protest. Figuring she may as well keep going, she pushed harder, the door giving way, and for the first time since she had met this boy, she was standing in Pete Wentz’s bedroom.

It was exactly how she expected it, messy, dark, and filled with books, paper, and CDs. There was a lump on the bed and it took Fiona a moment to realize it was Pete, and she was about to speak when Pete’s voice suddenly filled up the room.

“Get the fuck out!” he seethed, his words rough and hoarse but with enough power to ignite fear in Fiona. “I’m serious, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off!”

He didn't know it was her, maybe he’d stop when he did. “Pete, it’s Fiona,” she stated gently, and there was a moment of silence before Pete started thrashing on his bed, screaming words she didn't quite understand. “Pete, stop!”

“Leave me the fuck alone, I don’t wanna see you!” he managed to yell once he was free from the blanket that had been covering him.

Fiona felt the blood leave her face, watching half-terrified as Pete jumped off his bed to his feet and gave her the coldest look she’d ever seen a person give. His fists were clenched, there were dark, heavy bags under his eyes, and he looked a sickly pale.

He spoke again, his voice low, a warning. “Go away. Get out. I’m not playing around, get the fuck away.”

When Fiona didn't move, mostly because she couldn't, rooted to the ground in horror, he gave a muted scream of rage and turned to grab his bedside cabinet, shoving it over to the floor with a satisfying crash. He picked a book up from where it had fallen and threw it across the room but Fiona realised it was never aimed anywhere near her. Pete’s hands flew up to his hair and pulled tight, his breathing funny until suddenly he just collapsed back onto his bed while still holding his head in his hands.

Fiona could barely breathe, terrified of what comes next, when she suddenly heard a soft sob. She almost couldn't believe that it could be coming from Pete when she heard it again, louder this time.

“’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick from tears. “Sorry, so fucking sorry.”

Whatever fear, whatever panic Fiona had felt moments earlier disappeared and she stepped closer, knowing that it was stupid after the scene she’d just seen, but she couldn’t stand to see him in pain like this. When she was close enough to touch him, she reached out to place a hand gently on his shoulder, listening as his breathing hitched before he gave a little hum in greeting.

That seemed to settle it for Fiona and she kicked off her shoes, crawling onto the bed beside Pete and continuing to rub his shoulder as his chest heaved and tears tracked their way down his face. He looked so small and alone that Fiona moved impossibly close and began to stroke his hair and Pete calmed down instantly.

“Couldn’t make the voices stop,” he muttered. “Didn’t take my pills, thought I’d be okay. Just couldn’t stop fucking thinking.”

“It’s okay, Pete, it’s alright,” she told him, continuing to run her fingers through his hair until his breathing slowed.

Minutes passed and silence fell across the room when Pete mumbled against his hand, “wish you didn’t have to see this.”

“It’s still you, this is still you,” Fiona replied, wishing she could find words to make this better. “It doesn’t change anything.”

Pete gave a throaty laugh, his body still shaking from his efforts before. “You should be halfway to the hills by now, trying to get away.”

“You would be so lucky,” she responded dryly, and with that, nothing more is said between them as they continued to lay together, Pete’s hands constantly balling into fists, relaxing, then into fists again as he tried to fight whatever was in his head.

Fiona wasn't even sure how much time has passed but she noticed the change in lighting that snuck past the drawn across curtain and realized it’s getting late. She was about to say something to Pete when she noticed he’d fallen asleep against her, his expression finally relaxed and his breathing slow and deep.

Smiling at this, Fiona untangled herself from the older boy, making sure he remained asleep as she put on her shoes and moved to where his bedside cabinet was lying on its side, surrounded by books and pens and CDs. Within minutes she’d restored it to its former positioning, stacking Pete’s things on the top of it haphazardly because she wasn't sure how, or even if, he had these things in some sort of order.

With one last look at Pete’s peaceful expression, she made her way downstairs and found only Andy sitting in front of the telly with the rest of the Wentz family still nowhere to be seen. He gave her a weird expression as she passed him, and she knew he was dying to know what went on upstairs.

“Told ya, should’ve left him be,” Andrew stated bluntly. “The dude’s mental.”

Fiona narrowed her eyes at him evenly. “Everything’s fine, thank you. Goodbye Andrew.”

She didn’t bother to say anything more or try to defend Pete against his brother’s remarks because it would be useless and after what she saw today, maybe he was a little crazy but hell, who wasn’t these days? Seeing Pete lose control like that may have scared her but she still felt like she’d peeled back one more layer, saw a little more than he’d ever intended her to see. She had been scared for a moment, terrified even, but beyond that, she could only feel herself growing more fond of the boy next door, more intent on keeping him safe from himself at whatever cost.
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