Busted Lips and Lust-Bruised Hips

She watched as the sunlight glossed over him, amused by how his expression shifted at the images painted on his eyelids, and restrained her heart forming a puddle in her chest. It had been too long since she had been able to remain love-drowned and savouring every sleep-drugged moment he slept away. She'd missed every detail: his pillow-scruffed hair, his weighted eyelids and the gentle coating of stubble across his jaw. As she memorised every feature, she cursed the plans and continents that raised up between them, determined to keep them apart. Yet, even as she birthed her denunciation, she knew it wasn't just the tour dates and time zones that kept them distant. It was the fear they both nurtured inside them with every move they made towards each other, the eggshells they scattered like an obstacle course within the relationship and tried desperately not to trip over, it was every "I love you" they never said and every obscenity that they did.

Pete stirred as he slipped from dream to reality, still reluctant to leave the comfort in his sleep. The limited space on his mattress spun a web of confusion across his expression, forcing his eyes open to find the reason. His heartbeat tremored to a stop seeing Jeanae beside him, a love-warmed smile on her lips. The events of the day before slowly trickled into his mind and a mix of trepidation and happiness formed a cocktail in his heart. He allowed her to strum her fingers through his hair, watching her analytically as he attempted to decipher her emotions.

"I thought you were never going to wake up," Jeanae told him softly, her smile developing in amusement.

"I didn't want to," Pete admitted, leaning his head into Jeanae's touch. Despite his foreknowledge about how this relationship would go, he still reveled in the thrill of having her beside him; the last person who knew him for him and not the fame. It was a sliver of security that he needed at that moment when his mind was written in confusion and he couldn't seem to make sense of anything.

Smiling broader at his movement, Jeanae trailed her fingers to his jaw and watched the slow smile grow on his lips. "So what's the plan for today?" she asked him.

"Well, I said I'd meet the guys in the Pick Me Up café later on," Pete explained.

Jeanae laughed at Pete's answer, resting her hand against his cheek. "You guys just can't stay away from each other, can you?"

Pete smiled. "Nope," he answered.

"Kind of like us then," Jeanae stated simply, her gaze taking in the back of her hand shyly.

Pete watched Jeanae's cautious show of affection with a touched interest. She seemed almost afraid to let her feelings drift through her lips to him. Her eyes hadn't raised from her hand even though he could tell they were keen to gauge his reaction. Turning his head, he placed a careful kiss on her palm and watched her raise her gaze in pleasant surprise with a smile. "Just like us." he told her.

Taking Pete's subliminal permission to continue, she moved closer to him until she was pressed against his side. "I never stopped thinking about you," she admitted, her head leant against his shoulder. "Never stopped loving you either."

"Me neither," Pete answered. "Not for one second."

Jeanae lifted her head to smile directly into Pete's eyes. "That says something." she almost whispered.

Pete smiled back at her. "It sure does." Feeling released from months of his pent-up emotions, he surveyed Jeanae with a passionate relief. Their lips met halfway and he kept his eyes sealed for a few more seconds to savour the feelings he'd missed.

"I love you," Jeanae murmured, her breath gliding over Pete's lips.

"I love you too."

It never failed to amuse Pete that, regardless of how many tables there were in the Pick Me Up café, the band always sat at the same one. The others were already gathered around the table that had nursed their initial hopes for the band, their excited ideas for their first album and the ecstasies of finally getting signed without collapsing under the pressure. Drinks were scattered across it and conversation flitted across the rim of the glasses as Pete approached. Andy glanced up at the approaching footsteps and grinned widely at the bassist.

"Finally!" he exclaimed.

Pete slid in beside Patrick with a smile, clutching eagerly at the cherry coke that was waiting for him. "I'm happy to see you too, Andy." he said, taking an initial drink.

"Oh, I'm not happy to see you," Andy teased. "It's just with you here now, we can order. I'm starved."

Laughing, Pete rested back next to Patrick. He watched Andy order his food with a slight smile before adding his own request to the list. "So what's new?" he questioned the band generally as the waitress walked away.

"Nothing much really," Joe answered with a shrug. "Just enjoying being home."

"It's so nice being back," Andy stated. "I'm intending on camping out on my couch permanently until we go back into the studio. Set a new record." He rested back satisfied with an amused grin as the rest of the band laughed at his response.

"What's new with you, Wentz?" Joe questioned, twisting to face the bassist. "Written anything to keep us busy yet?"

Pete glanced up nervously, surveying his friends' expectant expressions. "Um...not yet," he replied to the depths of his drink.

"Unpacking and stuff?" Joe asked, frowning slightly at Pete's reaction.

Hearing the confusion in Joe's tone, Pete raised his eyes once more to view the questions in the guitarist's expression. "Something like that." he mumbled, guilt lowering the volume of his voice.

"Jeanae's been around, hasn't she?" Patrick asked as he placed his glass on the table, letting it ring with subtle aggravation.

"Yeah," Pete murmured, his eyes falling lower to his lap to avoid the expressions he knew would be covering his friends' faces. "We're back together." He would have preferred to have been pummeled by an onslaught of criticism than to suffer through the silence that plugged his ears. Winding his hands tightly around his glass in an attempt to occupy them, he wished that the atmosphere would either be purged or choke him so that he could escape the foreboding at his shoulder. "I know I said I wouldn't," Pete tried to explain, using his words to pad the silence. "I don't know. I just couldn't help it. I love her more than I hate her right now and, when I'm with her, it's like I'm that regular guy before all this chaos happened. I know it seems like a lousy explanation but it's the best one I can offer. I'm sorry."

Letting out a guilt-written sigh, Patrick placed a hand on Pete's arm to silence his words. "Save your apologies, Pete. You're going to need every last one for her."

Pete's heart was deflated as he stepped into his house, letting the door swing closed behind him. Jeanae's voice glided through to him in a gentle lilt, punctuated with soft laughter. Despite the band's reaction and thoughts that still rung in his mind, Pete couldn't restrain the smile that glossed his face. As he stood in the hall, listening to the tumble and climb of her voice, he felt rushed by the determination in his system. Regardless of the fears and doubts bombarding him, he was going to put every last strain of himself into this last effort, he was going to stitch up their wounds and make the relationship work.

The smile on Pete's face broadened as he stepped into the main room and viewed Jeanae curled on the floor beside an excited Hemingway. He watched the pair as they played, oblivious to his presence and felt the resolution that he had made in the hall further in his mind. This relationship wasn't a mistake. It was destiny and the repetitions were there to prove it to him. He just had to prove it to everyone else.

Jeanae's head raised at the sound of steps and she smiled brightly up at Pete. "Hey you," she greeted. "Didn't hear you come in."

Pete walked over to the pair, crouching down in front of them. "Looks like you were too occupied to," he said, running an affectionate hand over Hemingway.

"Sorry, he's a bit of an attention whore," Jeanae explained with a grin.

"Just like his owner," Pete added, watching Hemingway as he nuzzled his palm eagerly.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Jeanae reassured. Waiting for Pete to raise his head with a smile, she sat up and rested back against a chair. "Have fun at the café?" she asked.

"Kind of," Pete answered, his gaze tumbling to the floor at the memory of the meeting. He lifted his heavy eyes to look at Jeanae's worried glance. "I told them we were back together." he explained.

"Oh," Jeanae stated plainly. She nodded in realisation of what that simple statement conveyed. "I bet they weren't happy."

"Well, you know, they support me and all," Pete began. "But no. They weren't."

At that confession, Jeanae's posture slumped into insecurity. She clutched at her knees as if she was hoarding the last fragment of Pete's affection and allowed her head to fall onto them in support. "But you have no regrets though...right?" she asked, her tone muffled with trepidation.

Taking in Jeanae's show of weakness, Pete moved over to her, cupping her cheek and kissing her lips in reassurance. "No," he replied, pulling back. "No regrets at all."