#shut up about petekey for like a minute?

[wentzmp3]

I might have to start killing if I see another person call the last night’s show ‘the petekey concert’

[annoyingfobbie]

11 andor 20 petekey for the fic thingsif ur still doing them the angstier the better plese?

20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

Pete is not proud of himself, okay? He knows that he should probably get out of Mikeys bunk and make his presence known. He knows that he probably should have gotten out of Mikeys bunk and made his presence known as soon as he heard Mikey walk onto the bus with Gerard and they started talking about him.

But he can't. He can't move. He's paralyzed. He just came on here to wait for Mikey to be back from wherever he was so that they could cuddle and press kisses to each others necks and not talk about it. Not talk about anything. Because thats Petes specialty - ignoring things so that they don't seem like problems. But it looks like the cuddling and secret kisses aren't going to happen now.

"I don't know, Gerard. He's just... I don't know," Mikeys voice comes clear from the front section of the bus, filtering through the little bunk curtain.

"I wish you would stop leading him on, Mikes," Gerard says.

Pete squeezes his eyes shut and tries to keep his breathing quiet, even as it gets quicker and more panicked.

"I'm not leading him on!" Mikey raises his voice and it makes Pete flinch. He never hears Mikey sounding like this. He hears Mikey speak in hushed tones, hiding quiet words in Petes ears as they walk around before one of them has soundcheck. He hears Mikey laugh, high and dorky and trying to suppress it when Pete tells him a joke in the middle of the night. He hears Mikey sigh, beautiful like wind through the grass, while Pete leans in to kiss him.

He doesn't hear Mikey angry.

"Then what are you doing, huh?" Gerard is getting loud, now, too, and Pete so badly wants to get up and run away or disappear into thin air, but he can't. fucking. move. "You know that summer is almost over, and then you're going on tour in another fucking country. And what about Alicia? What role does she play in all of this?"

Petes chest is contracting, he feels it like a broken bone. He keeps switching between holding his breath and breathing shallow and anxious and fast. He thinks that maybe if he shuts his eyes tight enough then he can will himself out of existence.

Mikey is silent for a while and Pete knows that if he opens his eyes now, he will cry.

"I don't know," Mikeys voice comes out small. "I don't know what we're going, Gee. He's just... he somehow, like, became my best friend within two minutes of meeting him. And he holds my hand when no ones looking and he... he'll kiss me, but never acknowledges it afterwards. It's like it never even happened. I don't know. Maybe it's just fun for him. A little summer thing."

"What is it for you?" Gerard asks, a little more gentle now

It takes Mikey a minute to respond, and Pete feels a tear slip from his tightly shut eyes and catch in his eyelashes.

"It's... Something? Nothing? It's fucking confusing, Gee, I don't know what I'm doing. I know we'll have to say goodbye in a few weeks and I know he's going to act like it's a normal goodbye, like it's just two casual friends parting ways. I can't leave Alicia for someone like that, Gerard, you have to get that."

"Then maybe you should cut things off with him, Mikes.”

Pete bites his lip and holds back more tears, even though his eyes are stinging. He’s holding himself is a pathetic little hug, arms crossed around his own torso, legs folded in. As if he’s ever been successful at comforting himself in his life.

Theres a silence that goes on too long for Petes liking, and then Mikey says “I don’t want to.”

Listen, Pete knows - he knows - that what he’s doing with Mikey isn’t good for either of them. He knows that it will only end in heartbreak. He knows that Mikey technically has a girlfriend right now. He knows that the way he’s treating him isn’t right. But he can’t fucking stop.

He tells himself over and over that it’s the last time, that after today Pete will stop leaning in to kiss Mikey, will stop cuddling with him in too-small bunks, will stop discreetly holding his hand, will stop putting his hand in the back pocket of Mikeys jeans when theres no one around to see, will stop fucking looking at Mikey in his ridiculously beautiful eyes and will stop falling in love. But then he’ll tell himself that he deserves one last time, if he’s going to stop. And then it’s impossible to pull away.

So, Pete tells himself, if he’s going to keep doing this with Mikey, the least he can do is fucking acknowledge it. Go up to Mikey and have a real, adult conversation about what they’re doing. About their feelings and all that other bullshit that Gerard seems to be obsessed with. But it’s so. hard.

Things are just so perfect when he’s alone with Mikey. The world goes still and everything loses meaning except for the boy in front of him. Pete is desperate to live in that feeling forever, and when he’s there - when he’s in it - sometimes it feels like it can last forever. Like a precious, delicate place that he can just choose to settle down and live in. Like it is a moment suspended in time, untouchable, unreachable - just happiness, not a tangible real-life relationship.

And even thinking about ‘talking about it’ fucking shatters that.

Like suddenly it’s just a thing. A thing he’s doing with Mikey Way. A crush. A hook up. Whatever. It breaks it, and it breaks Pete along with it. And even though Pete talks a big talk about being self destructive, he can’t bring himself to sabotage himself when it means sabotaging this feeling of exhilaration he reaches with Mikey.

Pete quickly shoves his headphones in his ears and turns the music on his mp3 up loud. He hits shuffle - it’s not like he’s going to absorb the music anyways - and quickly wipes at his eyes, letting his hair fall in front of them and obscure his blotchy face.

A few minutes later, as is inevitable, Mikey pulls the curtain to his bunk and almost jumps when he sees Pete Wentz under the covers.

Pete does his best fake smile and pulls an earbud out.

“Oh, hey, I didn’t hear you open the door. I was just chilling here, the Fall Out Boy bus is a mess.” He hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strained to Mikey as it does in his own ears. It must not, because Mikey sighs in what looks like guilty relief and climbs in beside Pete, curling around him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Mikey says.

Petes not sure what to believe.

[sadlysinn]

Gin Joints (aka Taking Song Lyrics Too Literally)

Ship: Petekey (with mention of Freard)

Word Count: 1671

Warnings: Alcohol/Drinking, mention of drugs

Notes: Teenagery Petekey (mostly) Fluff

Summary: A nice date night to the junkyard hangout where hilarity ensues. Gerard may be the most well known of the Junkyard Teens, but Pete definitely prefers Mikey.

The maybe abandoned junkyard had become a popular spot for the small group of punk teens that cut a hole in the fence. If anyone worked there, they probably would have noticed the excess of cigarette butts and cheap bottles of alcohol (some empty, some not) marking the entrance and strewn about the makeshift paths that led to wherever you needed them to go. This place had been the scene of more than a few parties and impromptu concerts along with fights and surprisingly secluded date nights. 

Gerard was a kind of icon in the group. He knew it as much as anyone else and whatever he said, went. Only once had someone went against his word and that was why he was holding the fence back for Frank. He led Frank by the waist to the collection of post crashed cars, just starting to feel the pills they took before going to the junkyard. They sat on the hood of a car that had probably been cherished by someone until the entire back half had been removed in something that Frank would most definitely qualify as "rad." They smoked cigarettes and watched the sun go down, then made out and counted the stars and planets and whatever celestial bodies they could see. "Hey, Frank?" He mumbled through the pills and thick night air. "You're cute."

"That's pretty gay."

And of course, as Mikey recollected the story from the week before that his brother had confided in him like juicy gossip at a sleepover, Pete was already planning an outing. He didn't tell Mikey his plan until they were out of the door and in Pete's car, and for good reason. Mikey objected almost as soon as Pete finished telling him. "What if someone's there?" He bit his lip, only taking brief glances at Pete.

"What are they going to do, beat you up?" Pete cocked an eyebrow in Mikey's direction, almost carelessly looking away from the road. "No. They won't. Because they know your brother will kick their ass or at least send somebody to do it for him."

"But..." Mikey sifted through many bleak outlooks for another answer. "What if Gerard is there? Or somebody that works there?" The fidgeting had progressed from lip biting to shifting in the seat every couple of seconds.

"Nobody works there, Mikes. It's been closed since forever pretty much. As for Gerard? He'd never lay a hand on you." Pete placed a hand on Mikey's thigh, just gently enough to comfort him and just high enough to make him blush. Pete noticed his mouth move to open and stopped the thought before he could say it. "He won't hurt me either because that would upset you and he just has a policy against hurting and/or upsetting his brother. I mean, I don't blame him, I wouldn't want to be in the same house with someone I pissed off."

Mikey nodded. He was beginning to have a hard time finding more reasons to be scared because Pete seemed to be made of rational answers to his problems, which took the edge off quite nicely. He let himself look around and nearly calmed down. They were almost there. Either something would happen or it wouldn't, and there was nothing Mikey or anyone else could do about it.

They got to and in the junkyard with no problems, as Pete had said they would. Pete had parked the car at the back of the fence near the entrance, but not near enough to break bottles and get a flat tire. Pete grabbed a couple bottles from his trunk (gin, cheap beer, and a bottle of the less-than-alcoholic root beer) and put them in his bag along with a slightly tattered picnic blanket.

"Now if I'm not mistaken," Pete started as he hefted the messenger bag over his shoulder and held open the fence, "There's this one place I found this one time that could be pretty cool." He glanced at Mikey, noticing the unease creeping back into him and reached back to grab his hand. Pete laced their fingers together. "It's fine. It's nice. Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise."

"Pete..." Mikey said hesitantly, "Don't make-..."

"I promise." He reaffirmed Mikey, squeezing his hand gently.

Sooner rather than later they were at this spot. A wall of refrigerators stacked heftily to one side. Scrap metal stood precariously in piles nearby. In the middle, there was a wide open space, a large pentagram etched into the dirt. Mikey raised a suspicious eyebrow. "What? It's for protection."

Pete's complete and utter seriousness at the statement caused Mikey to crack a small smile. "Shut up. That's the only protection you're going to need." Pete pouted a little for show and Mikey shook his head, the smile still there.

Once they were settled on the ground with the blanket sprawled open, Pete cracked open a root beer and handed it off to Mikey before opening his own bottle of beer. "I don't see why you like that shit." Mikey made a face and continued, "It’s like... a bread beverage."

"I love that that is your concern. Not that it's illegal. That it's bread in a different state of matter."

"Fuck off. Just because I'm quiet doesn't make me some goody-two-shoes or whatever." Pete smirked a little as if to challenge Mikey. "I'm not! I've done things. I hang out here." He realised that it didn't sound like he had "done things" but he couldn't think of anything particularly badass that he had done off the top of his head.

Pete chuckled a little and they sat in silence, continuing to drink as Mikey desperately searched his memory for something that was worth telling, something that Pete might have heard about.

"Hey! Yeah. I got in that fight. Like a month ago. With the big guy." Mikey puffed out his chest and brought his arms down like Macho Man Randy Savage, mimicking "the big guy," who was broad shouldered, thicker than a Snicker, and about 6' 4." Mikey was almost sure Pete had heard about that happening, but was slightly hoping that whoever had told him had spared Pete the gory details of what went down.

Of course, they hadn't. "Right, right. I remember. The fight where he got so drunk he could barely stand, took a swing at you because he thought you were flirting with his girlfriend, and missed you so badly that he tripped over his own feet and broke his nose." Mikey's, now flush, face deepened with each detail Pete mentioned, but he attempted to save face.

"Yeah. I broke his nose."

Pete threw his head back and laughed. He put one hand back on the blanket beside him and held his beer steady in the air with the other. "Oh god. Mikey..." He tried to talk between fits of laughter. "Mikey. You are... You're the funniest person I've ever met."  He caught his breath and put an arm around Mikey.

"That's sad then. I am definitely not the funniest person I've ever met. By a long shot." He rested his head on Pete's shoulder, finishing off his first bottle of the root beer. "Can I have another?" He discarded the bottle and took a new one from Pete after it was open.

The boys drank and cracked jokes between each other. They got closer by the minute. At four beers in, Pete leaned in towards Mikey, who graced him only with a quick peck. "Not with the bread juice." Pete pouted and Mikey laced his arm around him. "Don't pout about it." Mikey nestled his face into the crook of Pete's neck.

A little bit later and Pete had finished off another bottle, reaching into the messenger bag once more. He pulled out the Captain Morgan and twisted off the cap. He offered it to Mikey. "Youth before beauty." Mikey rolled his eyes, but Pete had a goofy smile on his face. Nevertheless, Mikey took the bottle and swallowed some of the rum, making a face and shaking his head slightly.

He handed it back to Pete and the pair got through half the bottle in the next half an hour. With Mikey's inhibitions lowered and Pete's moderately the same as they usually were, within minutes Pete was on his knees straddling Mikey's lap. Mikey's hands rested lightly on Pete's lower back, their lips locked.

Pete hungrily kissed Mikey. His hands traveled from the back of Mikey's neck into his hair, lacing his fingers into the greasy mop. Mikey, knowing vaguely where this was going, moved a hand to Pete's chest, not yet pushing him back though. When Pete's grip on Mikey's hair got tighter, Mikey let out a small noise of warning.

Pete backed off, detaching himself from Mikey. "What?" He kissed his shoulder to the base of his neck.

"Pete, I know what you're doing," Mikey said, just sober enough to have cohesive thoughts on the matter, "You're going to bite me again and it's going to leave a big mark and then I'll have to wear a coat in the middle of summer." Mikey frowned in a sort of childish way, Pete chuckling a little.

Once again Pete kissed the base of Mikey's neck, nosing under his chin. "I didn't hear you complaining last time." Mikey felt Pete's smirk against his skin and brought his bottom lip between his teeth. "But... If you really don't want me to." Pete backed off, leaning back on his hands and looked Mikey over. "Fuck, you're hot."

The drunken red of Mikey's nose shifted towards his cheeks and he smiled a little, bashfully. "No, you." Pete smiled too and glanced at the ground.

"I'm really glad I met you."

"I'm glad I met you, too. Even though you're an idiot."

The stars lit up in the sky and the full moon sent a gentle glow over Pete and Mikey. They stayed under the dark sky until the sun rose above the horizon again.

[miafic]

AU ONLY

tw for suicide stuff

Geoff clicked open his email, and the first thing that caught his eye was a message from Awsten with NO SUBJECT in the subject line. Curiously, he clicked it; Awsten hadn’t sent him an email since he lived with the Woods.

Hey. I’m so sorry but if your reading this I’m dead.

Instantly, the blood drained from Geoff’s face. 

I just OD'ed on the pain pills from your cabinet and I’m sorry I know you told me not to go in your room and I’m sorry I stole your Tylenol but I just can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to feel like this and I don’t know how else to make it stop.

I need you to know that it’s not your fault. And I’m so sorry.

And I have some bad news, I was gonna bring the pills to the lake and then take them but I got all worked up and took them here and now I feel so sick that I’m just trying to send this email so I’m gonna die at home and I didn’t want to do that to you but fuck Mr. W I’m so fucking tired.

I’m so sorry but you will be better without me I promise.

“No, I won’t be,” Geoff whispered. He was frozen to his chair, hand pressed over his lips, even as students were chatting and laughing in their seats.

I set this message to send later so you won’t see it til after school starts cause I know you check your email like eighteen times before school and that way you can’t do anything to help me. I don’t want to live. If I’m not dead somehow please don’t try to make me live.

Anyway your the best dad in the world and yeah that’s why I hugged you so long and tight tonight after you read to me, I just need you to know that I love you. Fuck. Fuck. Please don’t be mad or upset, this isn’t your fault.

Please tell Tuna I love her and it’s not her fault either. I know you always need to understand everything or whatever so just yeah I’m just still fucked up from the incident and I’m done with the bullshit about how it’s gonna get better, it’s not better and neither am I so I’m done now. I am ready to sleep for a very long time.

I have a fuck ton more I want to say too you but I’m too tired so I’m going to sleep now.

My stomach really fucking hurts.

Yeah I love you I’ll miss you. I’m sorry I hope you’re not too sad cause I know you love me too. Thank you for everything. I wouldn't have made it past June without you.

Love, Awsten

“Mr. W?” someone was asking. “Mr. W? Are you okay?”

Geoff slowly looked up to see ten concerned seniors looking at him. “I…” he began, dazed. “I…”

They all stared at him in alarm.

“I am sorry?” he whispered, the words coming out almost like a question, and he stood and walked dizzily toward the door. He paused before he exited. “Go to the office, please, one of you,” he instructed without looking back. “Tell them… that I have left for the day.” And he set off for home.

He drove quickly, but the short trip still felt like it took hours.

Geoff was short of breath as he pulled into the garage and stumbled into the house. “Awsten!” he called hoarsely. “Awsten!”

Silence.

Tuna came running toward him, and he bent down and lifted her, pressing her tightly to his chest. He could feel his heart rate quicken, but he had no power to stop it.

“Tuna, where is he?” Geoff breathed. Then he realized. “If - if he were dead or dying, you would not leave his side, would you?” He looked down at her and repeated weakly, “Would you?”

Geoff looked up the staircase. “Awsten?” he pleaded one last time.

There was still no answer.

Geoff shut his eyes. He didn’t want to find another lifeless body in his home, but what choice did he have?

He started up the creaking stairs, Tuna still nestled in his arms.

Please, he begged. Please do not be dead. I do not want him to be dead.

He pushed Awsten’s door open further and stood for several long moments with his eyes glued to the floor. He stayed still, just listening, but there was no sound. No speaking, no music, no breaths. Just complete silence.

“Awsten,” Geoff whispered, still staring down at the hardwood beneath his feet, “are you there?”

When there was no response, Geoff looked up.

There was no dead body; there was no body at all.

—

“What do you mean, he just left?” John demanded. “And why are you asking me about it?”

Annie Harrison crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re his only real friend here.”

“Yeah, well, I haven’t spoken to him since August, so I have no idea.”

“Well, where could he have gone? What could have happened?”

“I just told you that I don’t know. Did anyone look at his computer screen?”

“It was his email account, but it had automatically logged him off by the time one of the students suggested we check.”

John sighed. “Well, the only things he cares about in the world other than books and his students are Awsten Knight and that damn cat, and unless he’s bailing Awsten out of some sort of trouble, I don’t know where he could be.” He frowned. “Although that wouldn’t be too much of a stretch, would it?”

Annie just stared at him.

“What did Derek say about his facial expression again?”

“That he looked ‘like somebody died.’”

John shrugged. “I don’t know, Annie. The only relative he had was his grandma, and she died before I even met him, I think. He’s alone.”

She sighed. “Well, if you hear anything-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let you know,” he sighed, waving her off. He could hear his kids joking around inside his classroom, but he pulled his phone out of his pocket instead of going in to to quiet them down. To Geoff, he texted, Where are you? Admins are not happy.

He heard footsteps coming toward him, and he looked in their direction as he slid his phone back into his pocket.

There, staggering down the hallway, headed straight for Mr. W’s classroom, was none other than Awsten Knight.

“Grapes?” John asked aloud, and then he quickly shook his head. “Uh - Awsten? What are you doing here?”

Awsten looked over at him, and the blank look in his eyes made John freeze. Something was really, really wrong. He felt that much in his gut.

Suddenly, he worried that Awsten had a gun and was ready to finish whatever Michael had started. He was just wearing a ratty white t-shirt and a pair of thin, plaid pajama pants, though. His hands were empty, and he definitely wasn’t storing a weapon anywhere. The kid didn’t even have shoes on.

“Awsten,” John repeated anxiously, and he started toward the Lakeview High alum. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for my dad,” he slurred.

John had heard through the grapevine that a restraining order had been put in place to keep Awsten and his father separate, and regardless, as far as John knew, the guy was still in prison. “Your dad? Is he in Lakeview?”

With a shaky hand, Awsten pointed to the door of Geoff’s classroom.

“Geoff?”

Awsten nodded.

“Mr. W.”

Awsten nodded again, and his hand moved to clutch weakly at his stomach. Quietly, he burped, but he didn’t take his hand away. Instead, he muttered, “I want my dad.”

John zeroed in on Awsten’s wide pupils. This is so messed up. “Awsten, are you high?”

“I don’t feel good,” he responded, not answering the question. “I ODed last night, and I sent him a suicide note,” he explained in a tired, trembling voice, “but I didn’t die. At least I think I didn’t...” He blinked, confused, and looked at John. “I’m looking for my dad.”

“You sent Geoff a suicide note?” John repeated quietly.

“Yeah. Where is he?”

“Not here.”

Awsten honest-to-god pouted. He looked miserable.

John just felt disturbed. “Because he went looking for you.”

Right in the middle of the hallway, Awsten’s face crumbled, and he began to cry.

“Shit,” John hissed, and he stepped toward Awsten. “Listen - listen, Awsten, you’re still sick, aren’t you? We-” And then it dawned on him. “Shit, we need to call an ambulance.”

Awsten didn’t respond. He’d decided that it would be a good idea to sit down on the floor and bury his face in his knees as he softly sobbed.

John kept an eye on him while he dialed 911.

—

Just as Geoff finished his second trek around the lake, his phone began to vibrate. John was calling.

“If you are calling to berate me for my absence,” Geoff spat into the phone, but John interrupted him.

“Geoff, listen. Listen. We found Awsten. He came to school looking for you.”

Geoff was stunned into silence.

“He’s drugged out of his mind, and one of the paramedics seemed a little stressed about whether or not he was gonna make it, but yeah, he’s not dead.”

Geoff still couldn’t find any words.

“Listen, man, I’m sorry, okay? I know we had our differences, but he turned up at school asking for his dad, and I - shit, I get it now. Sort of. I mean, maybe not, but I get it a little bit. He’s your kid.”

“Which hospital?” Geoff choked out.

“What?”

“Which hospital are they taking him to?”

“Petekey Memorial. Look, Geoff, I-”

Geoff hung up the phone and started running.

—

“…and he’s on NAC now to help his liver, and I think that’s about it. He’s going be here for at least twenty-four hours, and then we’ll have to move him to a psychiatric facility for at least seventy-two.”

“Yes - of course.” 

Geoff and the nurse stopped in front of an open door.

“Go on in,” she said. “He was awake a few minutes ago, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he still is now. He’s pretty confused, but let me tell you, he sure knows how to work a remote.”

Sure enough, Awsten was inside incessantly flipping channels on the TV. Geoff stood silently and watched him, just glad to see him breathing.

It took a little bit for Awsten to notice him, and when he finally looked over, Geoff could tell that it took a moment for Awsten to recognize him. Once he did, though, the boy’s face broke into a tired smile. “Dad,” he stated simply, almost like he was labeling Geoff more than greeting him, and he put the remote down and held out his arms.

Geoff crossed the room toward him, leaned down, and wrapped him up as tightly as he could without moving any cords or hurting him. “Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he said sternly.

“Which part?” Awsten asked, his words running together.

“Any of them.”

Awsten chuckled.

“It is absolutely not funny. You and I are going to have a very long discussion about this when you return home.”

“Kay,” Awsten replied easily. He leaned his head against Geoff’s shoulder. “I love you.”

Geoff exhaled heavily and sat down on the edge of Awsten’s bed, still embracing him. “And I you.” He was quiet for a moment. “You frightened me. Terribly. I do not think you could ever understand.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna sleep now, okay?”

Geoff sighed. “Awsten, you are treating this like a joke, and it is not funny.”

“I was waiting for you,” Awsten stated dreamily, ignoring Geoff’s words. “They told me you were coming, so I waited and waited forever and ever and ever for you to get here. They made me drink things and take pills and they keep putting needles in me. They said I could sleep, and I said, ‘No, not if I don’t get to see my dad!’ But now I saw you, so I can go to sleep.”

While he’d been speaking, Geoff had pulled back to look at him. John had been correct; Awsten was still being heavily affected by the drugs he’d taken. Geoff would be unable to reason with him for some time.

“What do you need from me?” Geoff asked.

“Just stay,” Awsten said as he burrowed into his pillows. His hospital bracelet made a strange sound as it rubbed against the cheap sheets. 

As the teenager closed his eyes, Geoff felt the strangest urge to reach out and touch his head. Since Awsten was so out of it, Geoff decided not to fight it. He set his hand gently on Awsten’s hair. 

Awsten opened his eyes and smiled lightly at him. “I’m in big trouble, huh?” he asked, and something about his teasing tone reminded Geoff of his interactions with Awsten from the previous school year.

Geoff started to say yes, but he hesitated. He wasn’t angry - not anymore. And Awsten hadn’t been trying to harm anyone but himself. “I... do not know. We shall have to see about that when you feel better.” 

“Oh, okay.” Awsten shut his eyes again. “Love you.” 

Geoff didn’t respond, but it didn’t seem to matter, because within less than three minutes, Awsten was sound asleep.

[petekey-party]

Petekey at the movie theater watching an horror film and Mikey as the scared girlfriend. (I hope you have a great day!)

"Mikey it's not even that scary!" Pete said as we walked into the theater. "But wouldn't you rather go see a heartwarming Disney film?" I asked, pulling on his sleeve. "Mikes, you said we could something of my choice, and horror movies are great, and you'll love it!" Pete smiled his stupid donkey smile. "You're a damp emo rat Pete," I said while rolling my eyes. "And youuuuuu love itttt," We got our tickets, snacks, and walked found a spot in the theater. Now just to wait for these stupid fucking ads to be over with. "Mikey!" Pete whispered. I ignored him."Mikey!" Still ignored him."Mikeyyyyyy!" He started poking my arm. "What Pete?" I said with a sigh. "I'll hold your hand if you get scared," "The fuck you'll my hand anyway!" I'm sure the people behind us were getting annoyed with our loud whispering. Pete was about to say something else but I cut him of with a "shhhh" The movie started. I'm not scared. What would make you think that. 20 minutes and 4 stabbing later, I clinging onto Pete."Mikey it's all fake," Pete whispered."Shh!" I said trying to act like I'm not scared."Really mikes?" Pete said "You're such a little girl,""I said shut up Pete. I'm not s-" He was cut off by screeching at a jump scare. "Whatever Mikey," Pete put his arm around my shoulders and I rested my head on his shoulder. "I've got you, Mikes." Unedited Sorry I took so long to write this. It was my birthday and I was being a depressed cockwaffle as usual.