Title: Shattered Pieces
[Bad username or site: "hopenight"><br @ livejournal.com]Band(s): Fall Out Boy, The Young Veins, Panic! At the Disco (mentions of TAI, THS, GCH, HM, CS, The Cab, and MCR)
Pairing: Pete/Patrick, secondary Brendon/Ryan
Word Count: 22, 385
Fanmixer(s): kittygrenade and _slashygoodness
Warning: contains mentions of suicidal thoughts, several bloody scenes
Plot: Pete Wentz has recently been admitted to Mornington Sanitarium after a suicide attempt (or going to Best Buy as he likes to call it). Apathetic to the world around him, Pete doesn’t know what to make of this new situation. He just knows that he has to be here in order to combat the dark emotional fog that surrounds him. He needs to find a way to be himself again, but first he has to feel. The world that Pete is suddenly in is filled with patients who think they’re vampires or angels, who haven’t talked in years and have survived horrors, who like setting things on fire and public nudity.
In addition to the patients, there’s the crazier staff especially orderly Brendon, who has a crush on the oblivious Doctor Ryan Ross. And then there is Patrick, Pete’s roommate and Mornington’s longest residing patient. Pete cannot help but be intrigued by Patrick, who has suffered a trauma that led to him having Dissociative Identity Disorder. So Pete and Patrick have to navigate Patrick’s alters and Pete’s depression and the general insanity of living at Mornington as they stumbled from friendship into best friendship into not love but very deep like for sure.
“Best friends, ex-friends to the end. Better of as lovers and not the other way around. Racing through the city windows down in the back of yellow checkered cards.” –‘Bang the Doldrums’
Patrick stared at the house that had lawns chairs strewn about the front yard, ugly lawn flamingos and gnomes scattered about, randomly dug holes dotted the landscape, and the tree in the front yard was covered in silly string and toilet paper. The mailbox was shaped like a lobster. Little old ladies walking their dogs gave the house the evil eye, as if it was some sort of plague on the neighborhood.
This was definitely what he pictured when he pictured Pete’s home.
Patrick tugged at that end of his black pinstriped fedora. He was wearing a pair of old jeans, careworn and comfortable, and a new black t-shirt that Brendon insisted he had to have. He scuffed the toe of his old Converse against the sidewalk.
It was an odd feeling to be out, where people didn’t know about him. Patrick glanced at the car where he knew Brendon was waiting for him, in case he chickened out.
Brendon, wearing his too-red glasses, gave him a thumbs-up and a huge grin. He had dressed up for a date with Ryan in nice jeans, a white button up, with a skinny tie. He looked ridiculously happy in contrast to Patrick’s nervousness.
However, Patrick knew that it was HIS nervousness and that was what was important. He hadn’t Blacked Out in several months. All his emotions were now his own.
Patrick was better. He knew he was better mentally.
Now it was time to resolve this case of heartache.
He stared at the paint-splattered door and crossed the street.
It had been months since he had last seen Pete properly. Patrick didn’t want Pete to visit, to see him with bags under his eyes and jumpy with nightmares that flashed at every little movement. He had to piece himself together and deal with what happened to his family.
And, while he wasn’t a hundred percent better (and never will be), he was okay.
Okay was better than nothing.
Okay meant that he would have nightmares sometimes. Okay meant that he would feel terrible some days, that he would have to deal with being the sole survivor. Okay meant that he could learn how to play any instrument that he wants. Okay meant that he had a job working in a music store.
Okay was not perfect happiness, but it meant that he was better; that was well.
And in the end, that was all that he could to be for Pete.
Patrick just hoped that it was enough.
He slowly rang the doorbell and snorted when he heard AC/DC’s ‘Highway to Hell’ sound through the house. He chuckled even more as he heard the chaos that followed.
“ANDY! GET THE FUCKING DOOR!”
“Fuck off, Trohman. I’m meditating. Make Gerard get it.”
“GERARD GET THE DOOR!!!”
“Go to hell, Joe. My nails are still drying.”
“Dude you paint your nails? No wondering you’re taking it up the ass from Frank.”
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”
“You’re all dicks,” Patrick heard Pete say, “That poor person is waiting for one of us to open the door.”
“Then you open it Wentz,” said Joe easily.
“Am I allowed to scare the person if they’re one of those creepy religious fanatics and/or salesmen?”
“Call me and I’ll help,” called Gerard with the apparently still wet nails.
“You’re all great friends,” said Pete.
Patrick waited several moments. He watched as the doorknob turned. He looked up seeing Pete’s face, an easy smile on it. He looked up and watched as Pete’s dark brown eyes, made darker by his eyeliner, widen in surprise and delight.
“Patrick?” whispered Pete as if he wasn’t believing that he was there.
“Hi Pete,” said Patrick shyly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Anything else that he wanted to say was cut off by Pete prodding Patrick’s face.
“What the fuck?!”
Pete smiled sheepishly, “I just wanted to make sure that you’re real. You have no idea how many times I imagined this.”
“Yeah well I’m real. Live and in stereo,” said Patrick spreading out his arms.
“And you’re better?”
“I’m…okay,” said Patrick with a small smile, “But uh I’m all alone in my head if that’s what you mean. You get the full package,” he paused for a moment before continuing, “If you still want it that is.”
Pete stared at Patrick for several moments.
“Are you insane?”
Patrick gave Pete a dirty look.
“Right,” said Pete with a grin, “I would be crazier not to want this, want you.”
“Yes,” said Pete laughingly, “I’m still in deep like with you, Patrick. There’s no getting rid of me. Now shut up and kiss me.”
Patrick did just that.
If this was an eighties movie, there would some pop song going on in the background and the ending would be left in the air. However, life isn’t like that.
So Patrick and Pete kissed, both finding something that they had been desperately missing. They were still not quite there. They had standing therapy appointments until they were old and gray. Patrick was still tenuously holding onto the sanity and unity that he had gained. Pete was just trying not to spiral again.
Everything in the world was just okay.
And okays and maybes were the only things that they had in this life except the one certainty.
That they could fall so madly, deeply in love with the person they were kissing that it was frightening and wonderful at the same time.
And that was just...as close to great as life could be.