fic: Where Summers Lasted Longer Than We Do (1/2)
Title: Where Summers Lasted Longer Than We Do
(Oh, and technically the prequel to "Made of Silver, Not of Clay")
Word Count: 9,538
Rating: R/NC-17 (maybe)
Pairings: Pete/Mikey
Disclaimer: The concept is mine, the boys are not. More's the pity.
Summary: Mikey and Pete find themselves as the only people left in the world. Since they're in love, that should be enough.
Notes: Soooo...this is the prequel to my first fic that was set in what I'm calling Alternaverse. I would HIGHLY recommend that you read that one first, because even though this comes before it chronologically and could technically stand alone, it will make far more sense if you've read Made of Silver, Not of Clay. This one will definitely explain some stuff from that one. There is currently also a sequel in the works. HUGE thanks to
monanoche for betaing and pushing me to keep going with this, AND to basically my entire f-list (and then some) for being so encouraging. Here goes.
Where Summers Lasted Longer Than We Do
Mikey met Pete Wentz through Gabe, and he should have known just from that to turn and run.
It was comforting to know that Gabe was to blame. After spending half the night crowded into the corner of a small couch at some house party, surreptitiously (he thought) watching the bassist of whatever band it was that had showed up a couple hours before in a van that looked just as miserable as the one Mikey was used to, he let Gabe grab him by the arm and haul him across the room to meet said bassist.
“Hey,” the guy said, flashing a brilliant smile that showed too much of his teeth. He stuck out one hand, and Mikey looked down at it. The guy was a lot shorter than he’d thought.
After a moment of staring, he took the proffered hand and shook it quickly. “Thanks for not leaving me hanging. I promise I wash them,” the guy joked, stepping close enough to knock his shoulder against Mikey’s. “Oh,” he added, “I’m Pete, by the way. I was the douche on bass up there.”
“Yeah, I know,” Mikey said, a smile edging onto his face even though he was pretty sure he hadn’t given it permission to. Pete was still wearing that same grin, though, stretching out his face and making him glow.
The second clue that Mikey should have just walked away was that he was thinking of Pete in terms of “glowing.”
Instead, he adjusted his glasses, completely forgot that they’d just done it, stuck out his hand, and said, “I’m Mikey Way. I play bass too.”
By the time he realized his error, Pete had already taken his hand again, and was using it to pull him back towards the little couch, saying, “Obviously we were meant to meet, then. C’mon, let’s go, you have to catch me up on all the parts of your life that I’ve missed out on so far.”
Mikey could feel himself blushing red all the way to the tips of his ears, but he went along anyway, and didn’t protest when Pete ended up practically on top of his lap.
They talked for most of the night, and Mikey was surprised that when Pete’s lead singer came to collect him and drag him back out to the van, there was no kiss goodbye. He didn’t realize until half an hour later that he hadn’t gotten Pete’s phone number, and he only hesitated a minute before calling Gabe to ask.
With conflicting tour schedules, it was hard to meet up with Pete, but they stayed in close contact through late-night phone calls and all-day text message exchanges. Mikey couldn’t have explained why, but he just…connected with Pete, as cheesy as it sounded. Besides, he liked how every once in awhile there would be a reference on Pete’s blogs to him, or to My Chem.
When Mikey asked about that, he could almost hear Pete shrug over the phone line, and then he replied casually, “Oh, you know, they’re just veiled love notes.”
There was no one but Pete who could have told Mikey something so important in such an impersonal, almost silly, fashion and still had him believe it. Especially when they’d never even kissed.
“I like love notes,” Mikey answered, and if he was a little breathless, that was only fair.
Even though their tour dates rarely came even close to matching up, Mikey saw Pete more than he’d expected. Pete showed up a couple days into one tour, standing in the parking lot with his thumb held out. When Mikey noticed him and, unable to hide his delighted smile, asked him what he was doing, Pete replied, “I’m out hitchhiking. Know anyone who could give me a ride?”
Mikey ran a hand over the back of his head and smiled at the floor. “I think I might know a guy,” he said.
They kissed for the first time in the back lounge of the tour bus, watching The Breakfast Club. They weren’t even at a meaningful part at all, but suddenly Pete said, “Hey, Mikey, hey,” and pulled him by the shoulders into an awkward, sideways sort of kiss.
It was not the first time Mikey had kissed another guy, but it was the first time Pete had.
Mikey was not the only person Pete had kissed in the last month, though Pete was the only one Mikey had.
Pete left after three days, and Mikey tried not to miss him too much, but apparently that was impossible, and besides, Pete missed him too.
They weren’t exclusive-they weren’t officially anything, actually. They just slipped together in their spare time, since Mikey wasn’t seeing anyone, and Pete and his girlfriend were off more than they were on.
Gerard did not like Pete very much, and warned Mikey accordingly, but Mikey didn’t even pretend to listen, because falling in love with Pete Wentz wasn’t the most self-destructive thing he could be doing. When he mentioned that to Gerard, Gerard just looked away, lips pressed tightly together, and went to find Bert.
Most of the time, Pete and Mikey just did friend-things, especially since they weren’t going to be touring together during Warped 04, though they were both on the bill. Besides, right after My Chem’s stint, Mikey and the guys would be going overseas. It was easier if they didn’t get too attached.
On the phone one night, Pete told Mikey, “This would be a lot simpler if the rest of the world would quit trying so hard to stop us.”
Heart racing, Mikey asked, “What would be easier?”
Pete just sighed and said, “Well, it’s not a side effect of the cocaine.”
Mikey didn’t ask again, just let them pick up the habit of platonic phone conversations when they were apart (most of the time) and long kisses when they weren’t (rarely).
Mikey thought he’d have liked Warped Tour 2004 a lot more if it hadn’t meant Gerard drunk or drugged up constantly, or maybe just if he’d had someone outside his band that he was really comfortable with around. In his head, he didn’t specifically choose that someone to be Pete, but it was true nonetheless.
They were only a couple days away from their trip to Japan, and Mikey hadn’t been sleeping well at all. On the third night that he spent tossing and turning, he gave up and texted to Pete, You awake?
The answer came within minutes. yea, but i’m the insomniac. what r u doin up mikeyway?
Instead of replying, Mikey dialed Pete’s number, not needing to use the speed dial. The key combinations were that familiar beneath his thumbs.
“You need a lullaby, kid?” Pete answered, and Mikey laughed hollowly.
“Yeah,” he replied, “I do. Sing one for me.”
Pete made a disbelieving noise, and said, “Everyone knows I can’t sing. You should’ve called Patrick.”
Yawning so loudly that his jaw cracked, Mikey said, “Oh well, now I’ve got you, so I guess you’ll have to do.”
A short pause, and then Pete said, “Wait, you’re serious?”
“I am,” Mikey told him, laying back and shutting his eyes.
Pete was right. He really didn’t have a good voice. Mikey was asleep within a few minutes regardless.
Sometime while it was still dark, Mikey woke up again, fuzzy headed. He had that itchy feeling that meant he wasn’t going to fall back to sleep without some kind of help, and he was still dead exhausted, so he padded quietly into the bathroom and shook a couple sleeping pills out of a bottle. Just this once. He swallowed them dry, and then went back to pass out again for awhile.
When he woke up next it wasn’t any lighter, but the indescribable air of evening had settled in, and Mikey made a face. His mouth tasted like cotton, and he really hadn’t meant to sleep the whole day. Gerard was probably worried as hell-if he was up. Mikey detoured past Gerard’s room on the way to the kitchen to get some cereal or something, just to make sure his brother hadn’t pulled some asshole stunt like killing himself from alcohol poisoning or something. When he glanced in, Gerard wasn’t even in his room. At least that seemed like a good sign for his health and hopefully sanity.
Stretching his arms over his head, Mikey wandered out of Gerard’s room and headed for the kitchen, prepared to be upset if Gerard hadn’t left him any coffee.
There was no coffee in the kitchen, nor was Gerard there.
Pete, on the other hand, was. He was perched on the counter, thumb raised to his mouth and turned so he could chew on his cuticle.
Mikey blinked once, twice, but his vision didn’t clear and resolve Pete into a disguised version of Gerard. “Um,” he said, “What the fuck? Pete?”
In an instant, Pete had hopped off the counter and crossed the floor to Mikey, hugging him tightly. “I knew you’d be here,” he said, “I knew it. I knew that you would be here even if the rest of the world was gone.”
“What are you talking about?” Mikey pulled back until they were at arm’s length, and was both horrified and baffled to see that Pete looked completely wrecked.
Pete’s mouth worked soundlessly for a minute, as though he couldn’t figure out how to put into words what he was thinking. That was even more disconcerting, because Pete never ran into that problem-he was usually overflowing with words. Finally he said, “I woke up this morning and the world was empty of anyone but you.”
“What?” Mikey was almost ready to smile, or laugh, or something, except that Pete looked serious, and upset.
Pete cuddled close, resting his head on Mikey’s shoulder. “Try calling someone, if you don’t believe me. There’s not even…Patrick. Just us.”
Mikey thought he had to be missing something, because Pete still wasn’t making sense. The world was empty? That wasn’t even possible. “I’m going to go get Gerard,” he said, and Pete gripped his hand immediately.
“We can check,” Pete said, crowding a little closer as though staying in contact with Mikey was of the utmost importance. Mikey didn’t really mind that much, honestly, and he was kind of flattered that Pete was here to visit at all, even if he was a little bit off the wall right now.
Even as he thought that, something was nagging at the back of his mind that felt a little bit like a premonition. Gerard had to be here, because if anyone would know what to do, it would be him. He thought about strange, impossible scenarios all the time. Mikey held firmly to the belief that Gerard would know what to do. He had to have just…not seen Gerard when he looked into his room before.
When he pushed open the door to Gerard’s room, it looked just like it always did. Except, Gerard was gone.
“You can try calling someone else,” Pete offered quietly, holding out his phone. Mikey started to take it, before realizing that the numeral display on the front was completely out.
Handing it back, he looked into Gerard’s room again and then slumped against the wall, shaking his head. “I don’t think I need to,” he replied, and then, “What happened? And how did you know to come here?”
“Let’s go back to the kitchen,” Pete suggested, and in a daze, Mikey nodded and followed along behind him.
In the kitchen, Pete puttered around and made coffee, Mikey not commenting as he rifled through cabinets to find what he wanted. Once they both had steaming mugs clenched in their hands, they moved on into the front room, curling up on the couch. It was dark, because the blinds were shut, and after a few moments of silence where they both just sipped at their coffee, Pete glanced at the blocked windows and said, “So.”
When Mikey didn’t reply, Pete heaved a sigh and set his cup down, lacing his fingers loosely together. “Okay, Mikey,” he started again, “I had an interview penciled in for 8:00 this morning. I woke up at like six, though. I think. I didn’t exactly-well, the clocks weren’t working. Anyway, it was pretty early, because I couldn’t sleep.”
Pete was starting to look shaky, and Mikey was finally pulled out of his self-absorbed shell enough to wrap an arm around Pete’s waist and pull him closer. Pete drooped against him, head just barely missing Mikey’s cup of coffee, which he held high out of the way and then set down on the table so that he could hold Pete more tightly.
With another shuddery breath, Pete continued, “I kind of thought the clock thing was a joke, but I tried to call Patrick and he wasn’t there, so I went to his house, and he wasn’t there…and there was no one on the roads, and no one was picking up their phones, and then I realized that…no one was there. Anywhere. For a little while I thought it was just one of my nightmares, but I couldn’t wake up.”
Mikey felt like he should say something, but Pete held up a hand before he could. “I tried calling you, too,” Pete said, “But you didn’t answer. I just…knew, though. I knew that even if everyone else was gone, you’d be waiting for me. Because you’re always there waiting for me, just behind my eyelids. Or maybe it was just that I went a little crazy. But whatever it was, I had to get out here. The tour bus was already waiting for us for our time on the road, and I thought-well, it was all stocked, and I wouldn’t have to really stop anywhere, and then if you weren’t here I could keep on going-so I guess I just drove over to where it was parked and got it. Spent all day driving here.”
Gaping at Pete, Mikey said, “You…drove the tour bus here?” He twisted around and pushed the blinds to the side enough to see that yes, there was a huge fucking tour bus parked on the little street outside his house. Only Pete. Only Pete would have done that.
“I’m pretty sure I broke every traffic law ever, but it wasn’t like anyone was going to stop me and give me a ticket.”
Incredulously, Mikey giggled, and then clapped a hand over his mouth. Pete lit up, though, grinning and pressing a quick kiss to Mikey’s jaw. “I knew you’d be here,” he said again. “Mikeyway, I knew it had to be us.”
Honestly, if Mikey had had to guess what would happen after he woke up in some kind of Twilight Zone world with no one but Pete, he would have guessed that he’d be a lot more freaked out, and that he and Pete would sleep together right away.
It turned out that he was wrong. He was pretty disconcerted, but having Pete there made it unbelievably easier. Mikey couldn’t imagine what he would’ve done if Pete hadn’t been waiting for him. Missing friends and family (especially Gerard, since he filled both those roles) was a dull ache, but not an unbearable one. Not with Pete there to partially assuage it. Mostly he just kept living, a strange, unreal sort of existence that was only given any sort of credit because there was someone sharing it.
They didn’t actually sleep together for awhile, either. Well, they did, but it was actually just sleeping for longer than Mikey had imagined it would be. They lived on the tour bus, because it felt wrong to Mikey to be in his house without Gerard, and besides, he had the feeling that Pete held it in a horrified fascination that Mikey didn’t really want to perpetuate.
Besides, living on the bus meant that they could drive anywhere and not have to worry about getting home, if they didn’t want to.
Besides, they were used to life being different when they were living on buses. Neither of them voiced it, but it was one of the few familiar things other than each other.
Each of them took a bottom bunk, across the aisle from one another, and as Mikey tossed his pillow in, Pete laughed and said, “You know, I never thought I’d be choosing to live on one of these. Especially when we have every house in the world to pick from.”
“And you fit in the bunks,” Mikey griped, looking dubiously at the thin bed space.
“You too, Mikeyway, you too,” Pete said, and grabbed Mikey from behind, pulling him into Pete’s bunk, despite Mikey’s displeased flailing.
“I hit my hand,” he told Pete piteously, and Pete replied, “Awww, poor thing.” Then he took Mikey’s hand and pressed it to his lips briefly before wriggling around to make room for both of them in the cramped space.
With a sigh, Mikey let Pete cuddle up to him, tangling their legs in a way that would have been overtly sexual from anyone else. From Pete, despite how every glance between them was charged with more, the gesture was just comfortable and right, as though they were meant to fit together this way always. “See, Mikey?” Pete whispered into his ear, “You’re a sweet little dude, you fit here with me.”
“If you call being right on the edge, practically ready to fall, ‘fitting,’ then you’re crazy,” Mikey whispered back.
“Don’t worry, I’ll hang on tight enough to keep you here,” Pete promised, kissing him softly.
When they finally did have sex, it was outside, on the grassy hill of a little park that Mikey had played at as a kid. Pete woke Mikey up, grinning and humming, the sun already bright outside. “Let’s have a picnic,” he suggested, and Mikey couldn’t have said no if he’d wanted to in the face of Pete’s blindingly obvious happiness.
He couldn’t remember ever having seen Pete happy for such prolonged periods of time before. There were occasional bouts of depression, especially about Patrick, but for the most part Pete spent a lot of time singing and gleefully leaving little notes for Mikey to find all over the bus. Mikey thought this is because of me, and felt incredibly lucky.
“Okay,” Mikey told Pete, and Pete practically yanked him out of bed. In the kitchen, there was an actual cooler on the table, and when Mikey peeked inside, he found sandwiches, sodas, grapes, and more snacks than he could count. Clearly Pete had had a busy morning. It was stupidly endearing.
“I’m going to put on some clothes,” Mikey said, but Pete kept a hold on his hand.
“Why bother?” he asked, “Who’s going to see you, besides me? I think the pajama look is good for you.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Mikey said, “Okay, then.”
Pete drove them to the playground parking lot, and then insisted on carrying the cooler when they got out. He did shove a huge blanket into Mikey’s arms, and then hooked their pinky fingers together as they walked out into the very middle of the field.
Once the food had been demolished, Pete pushed the cooler to one side and fell backwards, arms out to either side and hair fanning across the blanket. Looking up at the sky, he said, “Mikeyway, the whole word is ours, and I am so in love with you. Always you.”
Mikey ducked his head a little and said, “Me too.”
“You’re the best thing to happen to me in a long time,” Pete added, snapping his arms up to grab Mikey around the waist and pull him on top of Pete. Before Mikey could reply, Pete was kissing him like his life depended on it, with intent and focus, and Mikey could feel himself starting to come apart in Pete’s grasp.
“Pete,” he gasped out, and then moaned as Pete rolled his hips up smoothly. In only pajama pants it was incredibly obvious that Mikey was well on his way to being hard, and Pete didn’t break off the kiss at all as he palmed Mikey through his clothes and squeezed.
“I’ve never done this with another guy,” Pete admitted breathily, “but I want to learn, for you. I want everything to be about you.”
Pete was only wearing jeans, so Mikey ran his hands along the tattooed chest, stroking over and over. He undid the button and zipper of Pete’s pants quickly, and lifted himself up enough to let Pete squirm out of them; he wasn’t wearing underwear, and Mikey caught his breath as he looked over the smooth, taut lines of Pete beneath him.
“You’re staring,” Pete accused, a smile playing over his lips, and Mikey breathed out, “Well, yeah,” finally tearing his eyes away from the bartskull and back up to meet Pete’s eyes. The corners crinkled, and Mikey smiled back.
Then, licking his lips, Pete said quickly, “I want to go down on you. I mean, I want to try. Okay?”
By the time Mikey said weakly, “Yeah, sure,” Pete was already pushing him onto his back by the shoulders, divesting him of his clothes.
During the blowjob, Mikey wasn’t sure which of them moaned more. It wasn’t the best as far as technique-but there was so much intent that Mikey couldn’t have cared less.
“Have you ever noticed it’s always summer?”
Mikey looked up from the Cheerios that he was chasing around the bowl and squinted at Pete. “What?”
Pete was standing by the counter, thumbs hooked into his pockets, and he rocked back on his heels. Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, he chewed on it for a second before repeating, “The seasons. They haven’t changed. We’ve been here long enough, but it’s always late summer.”
Dropping his spoon back into the milk, Mikey thought about it. Pete was right, now that he considered it. Time had just flowed together, the days passing so smoothly and without warning that Mikey had barely realized that they should at least be well into autumn by now, if not already mid-winter. Instead, the days were still long and sticky-hot, and the evenings cooler, but still warm enough for them to climb on top of the tour bus and exchange slow, lazy kisses while watching the stars pouring across the sky without getting chilled.
“Oh,” Mikey replied, because he didn’t know what else to say. What else could he? He was stuck in some kind of time warp, in a world that shouldn’t exist, with Pete Wentz, who had previously just been a casual hook-up who he would never have admitted he was starting to fall in love with.
Pete kept looking at him, and finally asked, “You really hadn’t thought about it?”
With a shrug and a half smile Mikey admitted, “Not really.” Mainly his life was just an ongoing rhythm with the ever-present throb of PetePetePetePete to ground him and keep him going, step by step.
Though he didn’t voice it, Mikey had the feeling that Pete kind of got it, because he suddenly broke into a smile.
“It’s like our very own everlasting summer,” Pete said, coming closer and threading a hand into Mikey’s hair. “I think we’re the Forever Kids, or something.”
Pushing his bowl off to one side, Mikey scooted his chair out from the table enough that Pete could slide easily over his lap. “Maybe we just found the second star to the right,” Mikey suggested, as Pete began to cant his hips lightly back and forth.
“Nah,” he replied, scattering a few chaste kisses across Mikey’s jaw, “Because Never Never Land can’t last forever, and I think we can.”
“You…” Mikey settled his hands onto Pete’s hips, holding him back slightly. “You think we can last forever? You want that? With me?”
Pete’s laugh was low, rumbling just below Mikey’s ear as he leaned in to mouth at the soft skin underneath it. “I love you,” he said, simply, “Of course I want you forever. More than anything.”
Put that way, it sounded so simple, so obvious. Of course. Mikey tapped at Pete’s jaw until Pete rose to kiss him on the mouth, lips moving at the same pace as their very slowly gyrating hips. “You too,” Mikey whispered, and Pete smiled brilliantly. “I know,” he replied.
Days and nights traded off. Mikey wasn’t sure if time was going forward or not, but they did vary their activities sometimes. Pete liked going down to the community pool to swim, both of them naked, splashing each other and then sliding skin-to-skin in the cool water. He was better than Mikey at remembering sunscreen, even though it was Mikey that would burn so that Pete had to gently spread cool lotion onto his shoulders and thighs.
They fucked a lot. Or, well, if Mikey was in a particularly sappy mood, he would say that they made love a lot. That’s how it was-even when it was rough, Pete was still careful with Mikey, as though he was something gorgeous and fragile that Pete was afraid of breaking. It was unnecessary, but Mikey appreciated it all the same.
It had the same soft, comfortable feeling as when Pete would walk into whatever part of the bus Mikey was sitting in, clutching a book in his hand, and recite, “I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,/I love you simply, without complexities or pride;/
so I love you because I know no other way,” before going back to wherever he’d been reading his poetry before. Mikey would glow, and later he’d go look up whatever poet Pete had been quoting that day.
Their routines were easy, comfortable, and overly romantic. Sometimes Mikey wondered which he loved more, Pete, or what he represented.
In the end, he always decided it was Pete, and then decided it didn’t really make a difference.
It was still summer, completely indistinguishable from every other day, when Pete ran onto the bus with his face dead white, panting and sweating, and dove into the front, digging through the glove compartment for the key that he’d stashed there.
Mikey was at his side in seconds. “What is it?” he asked, rubbing one hand across Pete’s back soothingly as Pete fumbled to stick the key into the ignition. Once it was in, Pete settled into the driver’s seat, and only then turned to look at Mikey. He breathed in and out, once, twice, and Mikey could see the moment that he regained control of himself and went into Calm mode. That was almost more worrying, because it meant that he thought Mikey was going to need him to be incredibly strong, for something.
“Pete?” Mikey said again, hand unconsciously curling into the fabric of Pete’s shirt, “What happened?” He couldn’t really conceive of what could have happened. There wasn’t even anyone else in the world.
Slowly, hesitantly, Pete turned the bus on, and then said, “I was out walking. Downtown, by that bar.”
(When Pete went out walking downtown, Mikey usually didn’t come. The ghostly emptiness was more disturbing and cloying in a place where there should have been people. Pete seemed to like it, though, and he always came back peaceful.)
“Yeah,” Mikey prompted, dropping down beside Pete in the cab’s passenger seat.
“Um.” Pete turned the corner, pulling out onto a more main road. “Mikey, I…okay. Gerard’s there.”
For a moment, Mikey sat perfectly still, disbelieving. He had to have heard wrong. Gerard wasn’t there. There was no one else, he’d been so sure of it-only him and Pete, against the world. Pete had to be wrong, or hallucinating, or something. Because-“Gerard?” he asked weakly, clutching at the seat.
“He didn’t look that good,” Pete said, cutting his eyes sideways to glance at Mikey. “He’s pretty hungover, actually. I just…I saw him, and I told him I was going to get you, and it was almost like he panicked more when I told him that. He’s pretty fucked up.”
Mikey wondered what exactly Gerard had said that had put that look in Pete’s eyes, but he didn’t ask, just pressed his lips together, stared straight out the front windshield, and then whispered, “Drive faster.”
They made it to the bar in question in record time. It was one that Mikey could remember playing one or two crappy little shows at, when they first started out, and Pete pulled right around into the back parking lot, tires crunching on the gravel.
Mikey was off the bus almost before it had stopped moving, Pete following right after him and standing protectively close with a hand lightly closed over Mikey’s shoulder. As he scanned the lot, Mikey froze.
Part 2
(Oh, and technically the prequel to "Made of Silver, Not of Clay")
Word Count: 9,538
Rating: R/NC-17 (maybe)
Pairings: Pete/Mikey
Disclaimer: The concept is mine, the boys are not. More's the pity.
Summary: Mikey and Pete find themselves as the only people left in the world. Since they're in love, that should be enough.
Notes: Soooo...this is the prequel to my first fic that was set in what I'm calling Alternaverse. I would HIGHLY recommend that you read that one first, because even though this comes before it chronologically and could technically stand alone, it will make far more sense if you've read Made of Silver, Not of Clay. This one will definitely explain some stuff from that one. There is currently also a sequel in the works. HUGE thanks to
monanoche for betaing and pushing me to keep going with this, AND to basically my entire f-list (and then some) for being so encouraging. Here goes.
Where Summers Lasted Longer Than We Do
Mikey met Pete Wentz through Gabe, and he should have known just from that to turn and run.
It was comforting to know that Gabe was to blame. After spending half the night crowded into the corner of a small couch at some house party, surreptitiously (he thought) watching the bassist of whatever band it was that had showed up a couple hours before in a van that looked just as miserable as the one Mikey was used to, he let Gabe grab him by the arm and haul him across the room to meet said bassist.
“Hey,” the guy said, flashing a brilliant smile that showed too much of his teeth. He stuck out one hand, and Mikey looked down at it. The guy was a lot shorter than he’d thought.
After a moment of staring, he took the proffered hand and shook it quickly. “Thanks for not leaving me hanging. I promise I wash them,” the guy joked, stepping close enough to knock his shoulder against Mikey’s. “Oh,” he added, “I’m Pete, by the way. I was the douche on bass up there.”
“Yeah, I know,” Mikey said, a smile edging onto his face even though he was pretty sure he hadn’t given it permission to. Pete was still wearing that same grin, though, stretching out his face and making him glow.
The second clue that Mikey should have just walked away was that he was thinking of Pete in terms of “glowing.”
Instead, he adjusted his glasses, completely forgot that they’d just done it, stuck out his hand, and said, “I’m Mikey Way. I play bass too.”
By the time he realized his error, Pete had already taken his hand again, and was using it to pull him back towards the little couch, saying, “Obviously we were meant to meet, then. C’mon, let’s go, you have to catch me up on all the parts of your life that I’ve missed out on so far.”
Mikey could feel himself blushing red all the way to the tips of his ears, but he went along anyway, and didn’t protest when Pete ended up practically on top of his lap.
They talked for most of the night, and Mikey was surprised that when Pete’s lead singer came to collect him and drag him back out to the van, there was no kiss goodbye. He didn’t realize until half an hour later that he hadn’t gotten Pete’s phone number, and he only hesitated a minute before calling Gabe to ask.
With conflicting tour schedules, it was hard to meet up with Pete, but they stayed in close contact through late-night phone calls and all-day text message exchanges. Mikey couldn’t have explained why, but he just…connected with Pete, as cheesy as it sounded. Besides, he liked how every once in awhile there would be a reference on Pete’s blogs to him, or to My Chem.
When Mikey asked about that, he could almost hear Pete shrug over the phone line, and then he replied casually, “Oh, you know, they’re just veiled love notes.”
There was no one but Pete who could have told Mikey something so important in such an impersonal, almost silly, fashion and still had him believe it. Especially when they’d never even kissed.
“I like love notes,” Mikey answered, and if he was a little breathless, that was only fair.
Even though their tour dates rarely came even close to matching up, Mikey saw Pete more than he’d expected. Pete showed up a couple days into one tour, standing in the parking lot with his thumb held out. When Mikey noticed him and, unable to hide his delighted smile, asked him what he was doing, Pete replied, “I’m out hitchhiking. Know anyone who could give me a ride?”
Mikey ran a hand over the back of his head and smiled at the floor. “I think I might know a guy,” he said.
They kissed for the first time in the back lounge of the tour bus, watching The Breakfast Club. They weren’t even at a meaningful part at all, but suddenly Pete said, “Hey, Mikey, hey,” and pulled him by the shoulders into an awkward, sideways sort of kiss.
It was not the first time Mikey had kissed another guy, but it was the first time Pete had.
Mikey was not the only person Pete had kissed in the last month, though Pete was the only one Mikey had.
Pete left after three days, and Mikey tried not to miss him too much, but apparently that was impossible, and besides, Pete missed him too.
They weren’t exclusive-they weren’t officially anything, actually. They just slipped together in their spare time, since Mikey wasn’t seeing anyone, and Pete and his girlfriend were off more than they were on.
Gerard did not like Pete very much, and warned Mikey accordingly, but Mikey didn’t even pretend to listen, because falling in love with Pete Wentz wasn’t the most self-destructive thing he could be doing. When he mentioned that to Gerard, Gerard just looked away, lips pressed tightly together, and went to find Bert.
Most of the time, Pete and Mikey just did friend-things, especially since they weren’t going to be touring together during Warped 04, though they were both on the bill. Besides, right after My Chem’s stint, Mikey and the guys would be going overseas. It was easier if they didn’t get too attached.
On the phone one night, Pete told Mikey, “This would be a lot simpler if the rest of the world would quit trying so hard to stop us.”
Heart racing, Mikey asked, “What would be easier?”
Pete just sighed and said, “Well, it’s not a side effect of the cocaine.”
Mikey didn’t ask again, just let them pick up the habit of platonic phone conversations when they were apart (most of the time) and long kisses when they weren’t (rarely).
Mikey thought he’d have liked Warped Tour 2004 a lot more if it hadn’t meant Gerard drunk or drugged up constantly, or maybe just if he’d had someone outside his band that he was really comfortable with around. In his head, he didn’t specifically choose that someone to be Pete, but it was true nonetheless.
They were only a couple days away from their trip to Japan, and Mikey hadn’t been sleeping well at all. On the third night that he spent tossing and turning, he gave up and texted to Pete, You awake?
The answer came within minutes. yea, but i’m the insomniac. what r u doin up mikeyway?
Instead of replying, Mikey dialed Pete’s number, not needing to use the speed dial. The key combinations were that familiar beneath his thumbs.
“You need a lullaby, kid?” Pete answered, and Mikey laughed hollowly.
“Yeah,” he replied, “I do. Sing one for me.”
Pete made a disbelieving noise, and said, “Everyone knows I can’t sing. You should’ve called Patrick.”
Yawning so loudly that his jaw cracked, Mikey said, “Oh well, now I’ve got you, so I guess you’ll have to do.”
A short pause, and then Pete said, “Wait, you’re serious?”
“I am,” Mikey told him, laying back and shutting his eyes.
Pete was right. He really didn’t have a good voice. Mikey was asleep within a few minutes regardless.
Sometime while it was still dark, Mikey woke up again, fuzzy headed. He had that itchy feeling that meant he wasn’t going to fall back to sleep without some kind of help, and he was still dead exhausted, so he padded quietly into the bathroom and shook a couple sleeping pills out of a bottle. Just this once. He swallowed them dry, and then went back to pass out again for awhile.
When he woke up next it wasn’t any lighter, but the indescribable air of evening had settled in, and Mikey made a face. His mouth tasted like cotton, and he really hadn’t meant to sleep the whole day. Gerard was probably worried as hell-if he was up. Mikey detoured past Gerard’s room on the way to the kitchen to get some cereal or something, just to make sure his brother hadn’t pulled some asshole stunt like killing himself from alcohol poisoning or something. When he glanced in, Gerard wasn’t even in his room. At least that seemed like a good sign for his health and hopefully sanity.
Stretching his arms over his head, Mikey wandered out of Gerard’s room and headed for the kitchen, prepared to be upset if Gerard hadn’t left him any coffee.
There was no coffee in the kitchen, nor was Gerard there.
Pete, on the other hand, was. He was perched on the counter, thumb raised to his mouth and turned so he could chew on his cuticle.
Mikey blinked once, twice, but his vision didn’t clear and resolve Pete into a disguised version of Gerard. “Um,” he said, “What the fuck? Pete?”
In an instant, Pete had hopped off the counter and crossed the floor to Mikey, hugging him tightly. “I knew you’d be here,” he said, “I knew it. I knew that you would be here even if the rest of the world was gone.”
“What are you talking about?” Mikey pulled back until they were at arm’s length, and was both horrified and baffled to see that Pete looked completely wrecked.
Pete’s mouth worked soundlessly for a minute, as though he couldn’t figure out how to put into words what he was thinking. That was even more disconcerting, because Pete never ran into that problem-he was usually overflowing with words. Finally he said, “I woke up this morning and the world was empty of anyone but you.”
“What?” Mikey was almost ready to smile, or laugh, or something, except that Pete looked serious, and upset.
Pete cuddled close, resting his head on Mikey’s shoulder. “Try calling someone, if you don’t believe me. There’s not even…Patrick. Just us.”
Mikey thought he had to be missing something, because Pete still wasn’t making sense. The world was empty? That wasn’t even possible. “I’m going to go get Gerard,” he said, and Pete gripped his hand immediately.
“We can check,” Pete said, crowding a little closer as though staying in contact with Mikey was of the utmost importance. Mikey didn’t really mind that much, honestly, and he was kind of flattered that Pete was here to visit at all, even if he was a little bit off the wall right now.
Even as he thought that, something was nagging at the back of his mind that felt a little bit like a premonition. Gerard had to be here, because if anyone would know what to do, it would be him. He thought about strange, impossible scenarios all the time. Mikey held firmly to the belief that Gerard would know what to do. He had to have just…not seen Gerard when he looked into his room before.
When he pushed open the door to Gerard’s room, it looked just like it always did. Except, Gerard was gone.
“You can try calling someone else,” Pete offered quietly, holding out his phone. Mikey started to take it, before realizing that the numeral display on the front was completely out.
Handing it back, he looked into Gerard’s room again and then slumped against the wall, shaking his head. “I don’t think I need to,” he replied, and then, “What happened? And how did you know to come here?”
“Let’s go back to the kitchen,” Pete suggested, and in a daze, Mikey nodded and followed along behind him.
In the kitchen, Pete puttered around and made coffee, Mikey not commenting as he rifled through cabinets to find what he wanted. Once they both had steaming mugs clenched in their hands, they moved on into the front room, curling up on the couch. It was dark, because the blinds were shut, and after a few moments of silence where they both just sipped at their coffee, Pete glanced at the blocked windows and said, “So.”
When Mikey didn’t reply, Pete heaved a sigh and set his cup down, lacing his fingers loosely together. “Okay, Mikey,” he started again, “I had an interview penciled in for 8:00 this morning. I woke up at like six, though. I think. I didn’t exactly-well, the clocks weren’t working. Anyway, it was pretty early, because I couldn’t sleep.”
Pete was starting to look shaky, and Mikey was finally pulled out of his self-absorbed shell enough to wrap an arm around Pete’s waist and pull him closer. Pete drooped against him, head just barely missing Mikey’s cup of coffee, which he held high out of the way and then set down on the table so that he could hold Pete more tightly.
With another shuddery breath, Pete continued, “I kind of thought the clock thing was a joke, but I tried to call Patrick and he wasn’t there, so I went to his house, and he wasn’t there…and there was no one on the roads, and no one was picking up their phones, and then I realized that…no one was there. Anywhere. For a little while I thought it was just one of my nightmares, but I couldn’t wake up.”
Mikey felt like he should say something, but Pete held up a hand before he could. “I tried calling you, too,” Pete said, “But you didn’t answer. I just…knew, though. I knew that even if everyone else was gone, you’d be waiting for me. Because you’re always there waiting for me, just behind my eyelids. Or maybe it was just that I went a little crazy. But whatever it was, I had to get out here. The tour bus was already waiting for us for our time on the road, and I thought-well, it was all stocked, and I wouldn’t have to really stop anywhere, and then if you weren’t here I could keep on going-so I guess I just drove over to where it was parked and got it. Spent all day driving here.”
Gaping at Pete, Mikey said, “You…drove the tour bus here?” He twisted around and pushed the blinds to the side enough to see that yes, there was a huge fucking tour bus parked on the little street outside his house. Only Pete. Only Pete would have done that.
“I’m pretty sure I broke every traffic law ever, but it wasn’t like anyone was going to stop me and give me a ticket.”
Incredulously, Mikey giggled, and then clapped a hand over his mouth. Pete lit up, though, grinning and pressing a quick kiss to Mikey’s jaw. “I knew you’d be here,” he said again. “Mikeyway, I knew it had to be us.”
Honestly, if Mikey had had to guess what would happen after he woke up in some kind of Twilight Zone world with no one but Pete, he would have guessed that he’d be a lot more freaked out, and that he and Pete would sleep together right away.
It turned out that he was wrong. He was pretty disconcerted, but having Pete there made it unbelievably easier. Mikey couldn’t imagine what he would’ve done if Pete hadn’t been waiting for him. Missing friends and family (especially Gerard, since he filled both those roles) was a dull ache, but not an unbearable one. Not with Pete there to partially assuage it. Mostly he just kept living, a strange, unreal sort of existence that was only given any sort of credit because there was someone sharing it.
They didn’t actually sleep together for awhile, either. Well, they did, but it was actually just sleeping for longer than Mikey had imagined it would be. They lived on the tour bus, because it felt wrong to Mikey to be in his house without Gerard, and besides, he had the feeling that Pete held it in a horrified fascination that Mikey didn’t really want to perpetuate.
Besides, living on the bus meant that they could drive anywhere and not have to worry about getting home, if they didn’t want to.
Besides, they were used to life being different when they were living on buses. Neither of them voiced it, but it was one of the few familiar things other than each other.
Each of them took a bottom bunk, across the aisle from one another, and as Mikey tossed his pillow in, Pete laughed and said, “You know, I never thought I’d be choosing to live on one of these. Especially when we have every house in the world to pick from.”
“And you fit in the bunks,” Mikey griped, looking dubiously at the thin bed space.
“You too, Mikeyway, you too,” Pete said, and grabbed Mikey from behind, pulling him into Pete’s bunk, despite Mikey’s displeased flailing.
“I hit my hand,” he told Pete piteously, and Pete replied, “Awww, poor thing.” Then he took Mikey’s hand and pressed it to his lips briefly before wriggling around to make room for both of them in the cramped space.
With a sigh, Mikey let Pete cuddle up to him, tangling their legs in a way that would have been overtly sexual from anyone else. From Pete, despite how every glance between them was charged with more, the gesture was just comfortable and right, as though they were meant to fit together this way always. “See, Mikey?” Pete whispered into his ear, “You’re a sweet little dude, you fit here with me.”
“If you call being right on the edge, practically ready to fall, ‘fitting,’ then you’re crazy,” Mikey whispered back.
“Don’t worry, I’ll hang on tight enough to keep you here,” Pete promised, kissing him softly.
When they finally did have sex, it was outside, on the grassy hill of a little park that Mikey had played at as a kid. Pete woke Mikey up, grinning and humming, the sun already bright outside. “Let’s have a picnic,” he suggested, and Mikey couldn’t have said no if he’d wanted to in the face of Pete’s blindingly obvious happiness.
He couldn’t remember ever having seen Pete happy for such prolonged periods of time before. There were occasional bouts of depression, especially about Patrick, but for the most part Pete spent a lot of time singing and gleefully leaving little notes for Mikey to find all over the bus. Mikey thought this is because of me, and felt incredibly lucky.
“Okay,” Mikey told Pete, and Pete practically yanked him out of bed. In the kitchen, there was an actual cooler on the table, and when Mikey peeked inside, he found sandwiches, sodas, grapes, and more snacks than he could count. Clearly Pete had had a busy morning. It was stupidly endearing.
“I’m going to put on some clothes,” Mikey said, but Pete kept a hold on his hand.
“Why bother?” he asked, “Who’s going to see you, besides me? I think the pajama look is good for you.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Mikey said, “Okay, then.”
Pete drove them to the playground parking lot, and then insisted on carrying the cooler when they got out. He did shove a huge blanket into Mikey’s arms, and then hooked their pinky fingers together as they walked out into the very middle of the field.
Once the food had been demolished, Pete pushed the cooler to one side and fell backwards, arms out to either side and hair fanning across the blanket. Looking up at the sky, he said, “Mikeyway, the whole word is ours, and I am so in love with you. Always you.”
Mikey ducked his head a little and said, “Me too.”
“You’re the best thing to happen to me in a long time,” Pete added, snapping his arms up to grab Mikey around the waist and pull him on top of Pete. Before Mikey could reply, Pete was kissing him like his life depended on it, with intent and focus, and Mikey could feel himself starting to come apart in Pete’s grasp.
“Pete,” he gasped out, and then moaned as Pete rolled his hips up smoothly. In only pajama pants it was incredibly obvious that Mikey was well on his way to being hard, and Pete didn’t break off the kiss at all as he palmed Mikey through his clothes and squeezed.
“I’ve never done this with another guy,” Pete admitted breathily, “but I want to learn, for you. I want everything to be about you.”
Pete was only wearing jeans, so Mikey ran his hands along the tattooed chest, stroking over and over. He undid the button and zipper of Pete’s pants quickly, and lifted himself up enough to let Pete squirm out of them; he wasn’t wearing underwear, and Mikey caught his breath as he looked over the smooth, taut lines of Pete beneath him.
“You’re staring,” Pete accused, a smile playing over his lips, and Mikey breathed out, “Well, yeah,” finally tearing his eyes away from the bartskull and back up to meet Pete’s eyes. The corners crinkled, and Mikey smiled back.
Then, licking his lips, Pete said quickly, “I want to go down on you. I mean, I want to try. Okay?”
By the time Mikey said weakly, “Yeah, sure,” Pete was already pushing him onto his back by the shoulders, divesting him of his clothes.
During the blowjob, Mikey wasn’t sure which of them moaned more. It wasn’t the best as far as technique-but there was so much intent that Mikey couldn’t have cared less.
“Have you ever noticed it’s always summer?”
Mikey looked up from the Cheerios that he was chasing around the bowl and squinted at Pete. “What?”
Pete was standing by the counter, thumbs hooked into his pockets, and he rocked back on his heels. Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, he chewed on it for a second before repeating, “The seasons. They haven’t changed. We’ve been here long enough, but it’s always late summer.”
Dropping his spoon back into the milk, Mikey thought about it. Pete was right, now that he considered it. Time had just flowed together, the days passing so smoothly and without warning that Mikey had barely realized that they should at least be well into autumn by now, if not already mid-winter. Instead, the days were still long and sticky-hot, and the evenings cooler, but still warm enough for them to climb on top of the tour bus and exchange slow, lazy kisses while watching the stars pouring across the sky without getting chilled.
“Oh,” Mikey replied, because he didn’t know what else to say. What else could he? He was stuck in some kind of time warp, in a world that shouldn’t exist, with Pete Wentz, who had previously just been a casual hook-up who he would never have admitted he was starting to fall in love with.
Pete kept looking at him, and finally asked, “You really hadn’t thought about it?”
With a shrug and a half smile Mikey admitted, “Not really.” Mainly his life was just an ongoing rhythm with the ever-present throb of PetePetePetePete to ground him and keep him going, step by step.
Though he didn’t voice it, Mikey had the feeling that Pete kind of got it, because he suddenly broke into a smile.
“It’s like our very own everlasting summer,” Pete said, coming closer and threading a hand into Mikey’s hair. “I think we’re the Forever Kids, or something.”
Pushing his bowl off to one side, Mikey scooted his chair out from the table enough that Pete could slide easily over his lap. “Maybe we just found the second star to the right,” Mikey suggested, as Pete began to cant his hips lightly back and forth.
“Nah,” he replied, scattering a few chaste kisses across Mikey’s jaw, “Because Never Never Land can’t last forever, and I think we can.”
“You…” Mikey settled his hands onto Pete’s hips, holding him back slightly. “You think we can last forever? You want that? With me?”
Pete’s laugh was low, rumbling just below Mikey’s ear as he leaned in to mouth at the soft skin underneath it. “I love you,” he said, simply, “Of course I want you forever. More than anything.”
Put that way, it sounded so simple, so obvious. Of course. Mikey tapped at Pete’s jaw until Pete rose to kiss him on the mouth, lips moving at the same pace as their very slowly gyrating hips. “You too,” Mikey whispered, and Pete smiled brilliantly. “I know,” he replied.
Days and nights traded off. Mikey wasn’t sure if time was going forward or not, but they did vary their activities sometimes. Pete liked going down to the community pool to swim, both of them naked, splashing each other and then sliding skin-to-skin in the cool water. He was better than Mikey at remembering sunscreen, even though it was Mikey that would burn so that Pete had to gently spread cool lotion onto his shoulders and thighs.
They fucked a lot. Or, well, if Mikey was in a particularly sappy mood, he would say that they made love a lot. That’s how it was-even when it was rough, Pete was still careful with Mikey, as though he was something gorgeous and fragile that Pete was afraid of breaking. It was unnecessary, but Mikey appreciated it all the same.
It had the same soft, comfortable feeling as when Pete would walk into whatever part of the bus Mikey was sitting in, clutching a book in his hand, and recite, “I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,/I love you simply, without complexities or pride;/
so I love you because I know no other way,” before going back to wherever he’d been reading his poetry before. Mikey would glow, and later he’d go look up whatever poet Pete had been quoting that day.
Their routines were easy, comfortable, and overly romantic. Sometimes Mikey wondered which he loved more, Pete, or what he represented.
In the end, he always decided it was Pete, and then decided it didn’t really make a difference.
It was still summer, completely indistinguishable from every other day, when Pete ran onto the bus with his face dead white, panting and sweating, and dove into the front, digging through the glove compartment for the key that he’d stashed there.
Mikey was at his side in seconds. “What is it?” he asked, rubbing one hand across Pete’s back soothingly as Pete fumbled to stick the key into the ignition. Once it was in, Pete settled into the driver’s seat, and only then turned to look at Mikey. He breathed in and out, once, twice, and Mikey could see the moment that he regained control of himself and went into Calm mode. That was almost more worrying, because it meant that he thought Mikey was going to need him to be incredibly strong, for something.
“Pete?” Mikey said again, hand unconsciously curling into the fabric of Pete’s shirt, “What happened?” He couldn’t really conceive of what could have happened. There wasn’t even anyone else in the world.
Slowly, hesitantly, Pete turned the bus on, and then said, “I was out walking. Downtown, by that bar.”
(When Pete went out walking downtown, Mikey usually didn’t come. The ghostly emptiness was more disturbing and cloying in a place where there should have been people. Pete seemed to like it, though, and he always came back peaceful.)
“Yeah,” Mikey prompted, dropping down beside Pete in the cab’s passenger seat.
“Um.” Pete turned the corner, pulling out onto a more main road. “Mikey, I…okay. Gerard’s there.”
For a moment, Mikey sat perfectly still, disbelieving. He had to have heard wrong. Gerard wasn’t there. There was no one else, he’d been so sure of it-only him and Pete, against the world. Pete had to be wrong, or hallucinating, or something. Because-“Gerard?” he asked weakly, clutching at the seat.
“He didn’t look that good,” Pete said, cutting his eyes sideways to glance at Mikey. “He’s pretty hungover, actually. I just…I saw him, and I told him I was going to get you, and it was almost like he panicked more when I told him that. He’s pretty fucked up.”
Mikey wondered what exactly Gerard had said that had put that look in Pete’s eyes, but he didn’t ask, just pressed his lips together, stared straight out the front windshield, and then whispered, “Drive faster.”
They made it to the bar in question in record time. It was one that Mikey could remember playing one or two crappy little shows at, when they first started out, and Pete pulled right around into the back parking lot, tires crunching on the gravel.
Mikey was off the bus almost before it had stopped moving, Pete following right after him and standing protectively close with a hand lightly closed over Mikey’s shoulder. As he scanned the lot, Mikey froze.
Part 2