Kill Your Darlings
Chapter Eleven
Pete opened his eyes and Mikey thrust the paper at him, spouting every cuss word he knew. Right on the front page were a picture of two men, the taller pressing the shorter to a brick wall of a building and his mouth on the short's neck. The face of the neck-sucker wasn't visible, but the one of the second was. Even if it wasn't, it was hard to miss the red print across the top.
Peter Wentz: Missing?
"Oh fuck."
Pete stared silently at the papers in his hands. There he was, front and center, with Mikey— whose identity stayed a secret— sucking on his neck. The large, red letters taunted him and he whispered: "If William sees this, we're screwed."
"We need to leave now," Mikey said, picking up the clothes strewn around the room in a haste, separating Pete's clothes from his own. He tossed Pete his jeans, but he withheld the shirt; Mikey liked the way he could see the lovemarks on Pete's chest through the fabric of the white button-up shirt.
They left Pittsburgh on a Greyhound bus, getting free tickets because of Mikey. Not because of his 'connections', as he put it, but rather his beauty. This— Mikey's ability to score free things with nothing but his jawline and cheekbones— would become standard protocol where his 'connections' wouldn't hold up.
A wreck on the interstate held traffic at a standstill for five hours, delaying their plan of getting to Chicago by nightfall. Instead, to avoid sleeping on a god forsaken Greyhound bus, they got off in Toledo, in Ohio.
The mere thought of a bed after the seats on the bus seemed like a godlike notion to Pete as he sank into the mattress, not having bothered to undress yet.
"Tired?" Mikey asked. "It's only 9:40."
"I'm not tired," Pete said, pulling off his shoes and pulling his feet up onto the bed. "I'm exhausted. There's a difference. And I'm cold."
Mikey smiled and removed his clothes, then helping Pete out of his jeans and shirt. "I think it's a good idea to sleep right now," Mikey said, finally slipping into bed and flipping off the lamp. Pete slid in next to him, immediately wrapping his arms around Mikey's neck, hugging him close.
"Good idea," Pete said quietly, his mouth opening in a silent rose as he yawned. "Le's sleep and get to Chicago t'morr'w." His words were slurred by the oncoming sleep and the yawn.
Mikey let his fingers travel over Pete as he slept, feeling the slight mountains of his hipbones and the valleys of inbewteen his shoulderblades. Pete's chest was flushed against Mikey's, pushing slightly with every breath he took. Mikey liked the way Pete looked when he slept: younger. Unencumbered. Beautiful.
When Gerard had first met Lindsey, he recounted the experience as 'near-religious'. "My heart did this ridiculous double-beat," he had recalled to his younger brother. "Michael, I really do think I love Lindsey." Then, three months later, she was his.
Mikey had never felt his heart beat double at once, not for anyone. But, laying there in a hotel room in Toledo, the sounds of the city giving the night background music and the light from the television illuminating the two of them, Mikey swore for a moment that he felt it.
The next morning, both were reluctant to leave. They knew that they would need to get moving to Chicago soon, but it was impossible to move from their comfortable positions. It was early when they woke up— just gone 6AM— and they wanted to get to Illinois as soon as possible, but both agreed that it could wait for a while.
"Mikey?" Pete whispered, his nose centimeters from Mikey's own.
"Yes, Petey?"
Pete sighed and said: "When we get to Chicago, do you think you'd want to meet Meagan? She's nice and everything, but she'll be pissed at me."
"If you want me there, I'll be there," Mikey said.
"Thank you, Mikes," Pete said, then, after a second, added: "I love you so much."
The Chicago skyline came into view fours later, after an hour more of refusing to move from the bed and three hours of traffic. The Sears Tower soared into the gray sky, and Pete couldn't help but notice the smell in the air that signified an onslaught of rain. But, in late October in Chicago, rain was scarce, replaced by snow most of the time.
Mikey knew that Pete had grown up in Chicago, so he wasn't suprised when Pete got off at a very certain stop and led him down the sidewalk until they got to a block of apartments. A thin layer of snow covered the front steps and Pete stopped suddenly, staring at the building. A small sign in the front of the building listed all of the tennants and, for Apartment 5F, two people were listed: P. Wentz, M.Camper.
"Pete," Mikey ventured quietly. "Are you okay?"
Pete nodded, pulling the sleeves of his jacket over his hands. "Shit..." He mumbled. "I'm about to face my pregnant ex-girlfriend the night after my boyfriend ate me out," he chuckled slightly, still staring at the building. "I'm just freaking the fuck out. Nothing too big."
Mikey grasped Pete's hand tightly, giving him a small nudge forward. "You can do it," Mikey said quietly and Pete swallowed hard before gently pulling his hand away from Mikey's and slowly walking up the steps.
His hand hovered over the buzzer for 5F, willing himself to press the button and get it over with. Finally, with a steely resolve, he pressed his thumb to the button, letting out a strangled sob.
Mikey surged forward, wrapping his arms around Pete's waist and giving the back of Pete's neck small, comforting kisses. "It's okay," Mikey whispered.
"Hello?" A women's voice came through the speaker, crackling with the age of the thing.
"Hey, Meg," Pete said, trying to sound upbeat. "Can I come up?"
"Pete?" Meagan asked.
"Yeah, it's me," Pete said, then repeated: "Can I come up?"
"Oh, um... Sure," Meagan said and a long buzz sounded from the device.
When the two men reached the final apartment on the fifth floor, the door was already open, a woman waiting in the doorway. She was taller than Pete, yet shorter than Mikey, with long, dark hair and big, brown eyes. Her stomach protruded slightly over the hem of her jeans, but not enough to warrant the pregnancy question. "Pete," Meagan said, hugging him tightly. "Where did you go? Who's this?"
"This is my boyfriend, Mikey," Pete said slowly, speaking Mimey's name as if there were pearls on his tongue. "And I've been in New Jersey since July."
"New Jersey?" Meg repeated. "But that's, like... A long time."
"Including stops along the way and nights spent in hotels, it's a grand total of two days," Pete said. "Can we come in?"
"Oh!" Meg exclaimed. "Of course! It's a bit messy, and Saint's really helping with that."
Pete entered the apartment and found it to be set up differently than the last time he was there: the couch now faced the small balcony, the television stood in the corner, and the whole place was filled with little packages tied up with neat, blue ribbons and paper printed with pacifiers and stuffed bears on it. "My mom just hosted me a baby shower a few days ago," Meg said as an explanation. "I'm still sorting through it all."
"It's fine," Pete said and sat down on the couch, taking Mikey's hand and pulling him down next to him. "So, umm, speaking of Saint, how's he doing?"
"He's doing good," Meg said, rubbing her stomach. "He's kicking and moving a lot; there's no doubt this is your kid."
"Yeah," Pete nodded, white-knuckling Mikey's hand. Then, after a moment, he said: "I'm really sorry I left. It scared the hell out of me, knowing that I'd be a dad, and I just left."
"It's not a big deal anymore," Meg said. "I understand."
"When's he due?"
"Doctor says in early March," Meg said. "If he's on time."
"That's nice," Pete said.
"So, Mikey, you said?" Meg asked and Mikey nodded. "How long have you two been together?"
Pete looked at Mikey and said: "A few months, but we finally— ahem— sealed the deal last night."
"Take good care of him," Meg said, her statement directed to her former liver's new love. "Pete's like a flower: he's pretty, he smells nice, and he's so fucking delicate."
"Meg!" Pete cried. "Not in front of Saint!"
"This kid has heard worse, what's one more?" Meg asked, smiling. "Anyway, Pete's special. Take care of him."
"I will," Mikey said.
"Good," Meg said. "Now, I have to take a piss, so I'll be back in, uh, an hour."
Peter Wentz: Missing?
"Oh fuck."
Pete stared silently at the papers in his hands. There he was, front and center, with Mikey— whose identity stayed a secret— sucking on his neck. The large, red letters taunted him and he whispered: "If William sees this, we're screwed."
"We need to leave now," Mikey said, picking up the clothes strewn around the room in a haste, separating Pete's clothes from his own. He tossed Pete his jeans, but he withheld the shirt; Mikey liked the way he could see the lovemarks on Pete's chest through the fabric of the white button-up shirt.
They left Pittsburgh on a Greyhound bus, getting free tickets because of Mikey. Not because of his 'connections', as he put it, but rather his beauty. This— Mikey's ability to score free things with nothing but his jawline and cheekbones— would become standard protocol where his 'connections' wouldn't hold up.
A wreck on the interstate held traffic at a standstill for five hours, delaying their plan of getting to Chicago by nightfall. Instead, to avoid sleeping on a god forsaken Greyhound bus, they got off in Toledo, in Ohio.
The mere thought of a bed after the seats on the bus seemed like a godlike notion to Pete as he sank into the mattress, not having bothered to undress yet.
"Tired?" Mikey asked. "It's only 9:40."
"I'm not tired," Pete said, pulling off his shoes and pulling his feet up onto the bed. "I'm exhausted. There's a difference. And I'm cold."
Mikey smiled and removed his clothes, then helping Pete out of his jeans and shirt. "I think it's a good idea to sleep right now," Mikey said, finally slipping into bed and flipping off the lamp. Pete slid in next to him, immediately wrapping his arms around Mikey's neck, hugging him close.
"Good idea," Pete said quietly, his mouth opening in a silent rose as he yawned. "Le's sleep and get to Chicago t'morr'w." His words were slurred by the oncoming sleep and the yawn.
Mikey let his fingers travel over Pete as he slept, feeling the slight mountains of his hipbones and the valleys of inbewteen his shoulderblades. Pete's chest was flushed against Mikey's, pushing slightly with every breath he took. Mikey liked the way Pete looked when he slept: younger. Unencumbered. Beautiful.
When Gerard had first met Lindsey, he recounted the experience as 'near-religious'. "My heart did this ridiculous double-beat," he had recalled to his younger brother. "Michael, I really do think I love Lindsey." Then, three months later, she was his.
Mikey had never felt his heart beat double at once, not for anyone. But, laying there in a hotel room in Toledo, the sounds of the city giving the night background music and the light from the television illuminating the two of them, Mikey swore for a moment that he felt it.
The next morning, both were reluctant to leave. They knew that they would need to get moving to Chicago soon, but it was impossible to move from their comfortable positions. It was early when they woke up— just gone 6AM— and they wanted to get to Illinois as soon as possible, but both agreed that it could wait for a while.
"Mikey?" Pete whispered, his nose centimeters from Mikey's own.
"Yes, Petey?"
Pete sighed and said: "When we get to Chicago, do you think you'd want to meet Meagan? She's nice and everything, but she'll be pissed at me."
"If you want me there, I'll be there," Mikey said.
"Thank you, Mikes," Pete said, then, after a second, added: "I love you so much."
The Chicago skyline came into view fours later, after an hour more of refusing to move from the bed and three hours of traffic. The Sears Tower soared into the gray sky, and Pete couldn't help but notice the smell in the air that signified an onslaught of rain. But, in late October in Chicago, rain was scarce, replaced by snow most of the time.
Mikey knew that Pete had grown up in Chicago, so he wasn't suprised when Pete got off at a very certain stop and led him down the sidewalk until they got to a block of apartments. A thin layer of snow covered the front steps and Pete stopped suddenly, staring at the building. A small sign in the front of the building listed all of the tennants and, for Apartment 5F, two people were listed: P. Wentz, M.Camper.
"Pete," Mikey ventured quietly. "Are you okay?"
Pete nodded, pulling the sleeves of his jacket over his hands. "Shit..." He mumbled. "I'm about to face my pregnant ex-girlfriend the night after my boyfriend ate me out," he chuckled slightly, still staring at the building. "I'm just freaking the fuck out. Nothing too big."
Mikey grasped Pete's hand tightly, giving him a small nudge forward. "You can do it," Mikey said quietly and Pete swallowed hard before gently pulling his hand away from Mikey's and slowly walking up the steps.
His hand hovered over the buzzer for 5F, willing himself to press the button and get it over with. Finally, with a steely resolve, he pressed his thumb to the button, letting out a strangled sob.
Mikey surged forward, wrapping his arms around Pete's waist and giving the back of Pete's neck small, comforting kisses. "It's okay," Mikey whispered.
"Hello?" A women's voice came through the speaker, crackling with the age of the thing.
"Hey, Meg," Pete said, trying to sound upbeat. "Can I come up?"
"Pete?" Meagan asked.
"Yeah, it's me," Pete said, then repeated: "Can I come up?"
"Oh, um... Sure," Meagan said and a long buzz sounded from the device.
When the two men reached the final apartment on the fifth floor, the door was already open, a woman waiting in the doorway. She was taller than Pete, yet shorter than Mikey, with long, dark hair and big, brown eyes. Her stomach protruded slightly over the hem of her jeans, but not enough to warrant the pregnancy question. "Pete," Meagan said, hugging him tightly. "Where did you go? Who's this?"
"This is my boyfriend, Mikey," Pete said slowly, speaking Mimey's name as if there were pearls on his tongue. "And I've been in New Jersey since July."
"New Jersey?" Meg repeated. "But that's, like... A long time."
"Including stops along the way and nights spent in hotels, it's a grand total of two days," Pete said. "Can we come in?"
"Oh!" Meg exclaimed. "Of course! It's a bit messy, and Saint's really helping with that."
Pete entered the apartment and found it to be set up differently than the last time he was there: the couch now faced the small balcony, the television stood in the corner, and the whole place was filled with little packages tied up with neat, blue ribbons and paper printed with pacifiers and stuffed bears on it. "My mom just hosted me a baby shower a few days ago," Meg said as an explanation. "I'm still sorting through it all."
"It's fine," Pete said and sat down on the couch, taking Mikey's hand and pulling him down next to him. "So, umm, speaking of Saint, how's he doing?"
"He's doing good," Meg said, rubbing her stomach. "He's kicking and moving a lot; there's no doubt this is your kid."
"Yeah," Pete nodded, white-knuckling Mikey's hand. Then, after a moment, he said: "I'm really sorry I left. It scared the hell out of me, knowing that I'd be a dad, and I just left."
"It's not a big deal anymore," Meg said. "I understand."
"When's he due?"
"Doctor says in early March," Meg said. "If he's on time."
"That's nice," Pete said.
"So, Mikey, you said?" Meg asked and Mikey nodded. "How long have you two been together?"
Pete looked at Mikey and said: "A few months, but we finally— ahem— sealed the deal last night."
"Take good care of him," Meg said, her statement directed to her former liver's new love. "Pete's like a flower: he's pretty, he smells nice, and he's so fucking delicate."
"Meg!" Pete cried. "Not in front of Saint!"
"This kid has heard worse, what's one more?" Meg asked, smiling. "Anyway, Pete's special. Take care of him."
"I will," Mikey said.
"Good," Meg said. "Now, I have to take a piss, so I'll be back in, uh, an hour."
Notes
This is Meagan Camper; such a beautiful creature. And this chapter is pretty short but I'm reading Gray and I keep getting distracted.
xoøli
@FrerardObsessed
I know
it was so hard to write the ending
12/30/15