Stardust
00.
Pete crawled into bed with Patrick, cuddling into his side and nuzzling his neck.
"Pete?" a deep, groggy voice - one that usually sent chills down Pete's spine - breathed into his ear, lips tickling.
"Patrick," Pete's voice came out as just a whisper, it's all he could manage, "you know how we always joke that I'm Peter Pan?"
"And I'm your Wendy," Pete can feel Patrick's smile against his skin, just above his ear, face buried in his hair. It was a moment Pete wished to stay frozen in, trapped forever with Patrick by his side. Wishing he could stay curled in Patrick's arms, pressed against him murmuring sweet promises against pale skin. He wished. Pete's old enough to know wishes will never come true for him.
He worked his fingers up Patrick's arms, resting them on his cheeks, stroking reassuringly.
"Maybe I wasn't joking as much as you thought I was," he said, sadness present in each syllable. He felt Patrick tense against him. Patrick knew Pete better than he did himself, and he could already tell something was wrong.
"Pete, what are you talking about?" his voice was serious, warning Pete he better not be joking around. Better not be playing any games just to get Patrick riled up.
Pete wished it was all a joke. Wished the punch line would come so they could laugh, and he could apologize for being a jerk and worrying Patrick. The only thing Pete knew would come was broken hearts and tears. Pete really hated tears.
"I have to leave, lunchbox," the old nickname slipped past Pete's lips without a second thought. He could already feel his eyes stinging with the presence of tears. He didn't want to cry in front of Patrick, no matter how many times the younger man had seen him at his lowest; he wanted to stay strong for Patrick. Had too.
"What do you mean you have to leave, Pete?" Patrick's hands gripped painfully at Pete's biceps, but Pete didn't mind. He hoped they'd bruise forever, a permanent reminder of what he once had.
"I...I can't explain 'trick. I'm sorry, I just needed to tell you," the bassist's voice wavered, thickening with emotion and tears he refused to let fall. "I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry."
Before Patrick could respond, he was pulled into a tight hug by the older man. Awkward because of their positions on the bed, but Patrick could care less about the elbow digging into his rib, as long as he woke up to find this was all a terrible nightmare.
Pete could just barely make out the soft chant Patrick was mouthing against his neck; "Pete, please. Please."
"I love you, Patrick. I love you so much it hurts. I would give up anything, everything, as long as I could stay with you. I'd even let you take out that one part in our new song that you dislike so much, I swear, I swear."
Pete rubbed his cheek against Patrick's, hardly noticing that both of them we're crying now. It was all choked sobs, heavy breathing, roaming hands and sad kisses now.
Pete's mouth moved softly against Patrick's, a silent apology.
"No," Patrick pulled back, face looking so broken that it made Pete's own heart twist painfully. "This is not a goodbye."
"I don't know what else it would be, Patrick," he whispered into his singers cheek, pressing kisses along Patrick's strong jaw. Pete wanted this for eternity, wanted them to be eternity.
A sob, deep breath, a sniffle, "Anything but goodbye, Pete."
Pete could hear the faint ticking of a clock, each a second closer to him leaving Patrick. It almost felt normal with them wrapped around each other in bed, close enough to feel their breath on each others lips. But the sadness surrounded them like a heavy blanket, and his heart felt clenched in a lock of dread. Not even his biggest fears could compare to this; he wished for the time of endless thoughts and sleepless nights. Anything if he could stay.
"Patrick, I love you," and it was only a whisper of words against Patrick's cheek, a sweet kiss added for emphasis.
"Peter Pan," Patrick said, leaning in to give Pete one last kiss, "just leave me your stardust to remember you by."
"Pete?" a deep, groggy voice - one that usually sent chills down Pete's spine - breathed into his ear, lips tickling.
"Patrick," Pete's voice came out as just a whisper, it's all he could manage, "you know how we always joke that I'm Peter Pan?"
"And I'm your Wendy," Pete can feel Patrick's smile against his skin, just above his ear, face buried in his hair. It was a moment Pete wished to stay frozen in, trapped forever with Patrick by his side. Wishing he could stay curled in Patrick's arms, pressed against him murmuring sweet promises against pale skin. He wished. Pete's old enough to know wishes will never come true for him.
He worked his fingers up Patrick's arms, resting them on his cheeks, stroking reassuringly.
"Maybe I wasn't joking as much as you thought I was," he said, sadness present in each syllable. He felt Patrick tense against him. Patrick knew Pete better than he did himself, and he could already tell something was wrong.
"Pete, what are you talking about?" his voice was serious, warning Pete he better not be joking around. Better not be playing any games just to get Patrick riled up.
Pete wished it was all a joke. Wished the punch line would come so they could laugh, and he could apologize for being a jerk and worrying Patrick. The only thing Pete knew would come was broken hearts and tears. Pete really hated tears.
"I have to leave, lunchbox," the old nickname slipped past Pete's lips without a second thought. He could already feel his eyes stinging with the presence of tears. He didn't want to cry in front of Patrick, no matter how many times the younger man had seen him at his lowest; he wanted to stay strong for Patrick. Had too.
"What do you mean you have to leave, Pete?" Patrick's hands gripped painfully at Pete's biceps, but Pete didn't mind. He hoped they'd bruise forever, a permanent reminder of what he once had.
"I...I can't explain 'trick. I'm sorry, I just needed to tell you," the bassist's voice wavered, thickening with emotion and tears he refused to let fall. "I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry."
Before Patrick could respond, he was pulled into a tight hug by the older man. Awkward because of their positions on the bed, but Patrick could care less about the elbow digging into his rib, as long as he woke up to find this was all a terrible nightmare.
Pete could just barely make out the soft chant Patrick was mouthing against his neck; "Pete, please. Please."
"I love you, Patrick. I love you so much it hurts. I would give up anything, everything, as long as I could stay with you. I'd even let you take out that one part in our new song that you dislike so much, I swear, I swear."
Pete rubbed his cheek against Patrick's, hardly noticing that both of them we're crying now. It was all choked sobs, heavy breathing, roaming hands and sad kisses now.
Pete's mouth moved softly against Patrick's, a silent apology.
"No," Patrick pulled back, face looking so broken that it made Pete's own heart twist painfully. "This is not a goodbye."
"I don't know what else it would be, Patrick," he whispered into his singers cheek, pressing kisses along Patrick's strong jaw. Pete wanted this for eternity, wanted them to be eternity.
A sob, deep breath, a sniffle, "Anything but goodbye, Pete."
Pete could hear the faint ticking of a clock, each a second closer to him leaving Patrick. It almost felt normal with them wrapped around each other in bed, close enough to feel their breath on each others lips. But the sadness surrounded them like a heavy blanket, and his heart felt clenched in a lock of dread. Not even his biggest fears could compare to this; he wished for the time of endless thoughts and sleepless nights. Anything if he could stay.
"Patrick, I love you," and it was only a whisper of words against Patrick's cheek, a sweet kiss added for emphasis.
"Peter Pan," Patrick said, leaning in to give Pete one last kiss, "just leave me your stardust to remember you by."