You're a Snarky Little Shit (Frerard, Petekey)

me, screaming, because of DOAB//tw

Mikey felt awful.

He knew it wasn't truly his fault, and he couldn't blame himself for Patrick's extreme sadness. Plus, everyone gets sad over breakups, right? All those teen hormones would also play a part in this, right? Through all this logical reasoning, Mikey still couldn't shake the feeling that everything was his fault.

It had been a week since their conversation. Pete and Mikey had confirmed their relationship status as "we're totally dating" the morning after Patrick's confrontation. Mikey had felt happy that day, and still had butterflies in his stomach from getting to date Pete. The rest of the week (anything that didn't involve Pete) had been a blur. He was still in a horrible state of mind, because even something as simple as passing Patrick in the halls brought memories back. He would never thank Patrick for those memories, because they aren't so fucking great.

~

Patrick didn't regret anything he said last night. He wanted Mikey to hurt and feel like it was all his fucking fault. Because, basically, it was.

***dramatic flashback to last night ((sorry for lack of actual plot***

"Pete was the reason I was happier, was the reason I didn't want to go to my bathroom and shove 30 pills down my throat," Patrick said quietly, after the two had released their second embrace,"he was the reason I kept living. But now, with him gone, I don't know if I can carry on. I mean, I know I'll be able to, and I won't be those people who kill themselves because they got dumped, but you know what I mean, right?"

"Y-yeah," Mikey said, stammering a little.

"Have you always felt like this? Like, when we sat at your table and didn't even acknowledge you?"

Patrick gave a small nod.

"I just, I dunno, I felt like I wasn't wanted. That I wasn't needed. Pete made me feel like I had a purpose in life. But now that I know that he was faking it, that he never really liked me..."

***end dramatic flashback***

Now, Patrick was a rational person. He would never kill himself because a measly middle school romance hadn't worked out. At 2 am, though, when you're sitting with your ex's best friend, you think otherwise.

Patrick looked down at his phone. His fingers were itching to text someone, and he sort of missed talking to Pete.

Hey.

He hit send quickly and turned his phone off, not expecting a response. However, as he pulled out a book to read, his phone buzzed loudly against the table.

hi patruck

***patrick

~

Mikey was at Pete's house and, for once, not under the willow tree. They were sat in Pete's room, huddled under the covers, because it felt like the fucking North Pole outside. Pete was laying with his head in Mikey's lap, and Mikey was resting on Pete's headboard. He was still feeling guilty about Patrick, but he tried to keep his mind on other things rather than Patrick.

Pete pulled out his phone, which was unlike him, considering he never texted when Mikey was around.

"Who're you texting?" Mikey asked, putting his chin on Pete's forehead.

"Ah, just Patrick," Pete said, putting his phone back. Mikey froze.

Suck it up, come on. It's not your fault. Really. A tiny voice in Mikey's head uttered words of encouragement like this to him.

IT'S COMPLETELY YOUR FAULT. YOU MONSTER. YOU ABSOLUTE M O N S T E R. A loud, obnoxious voice screamed words like these, almost completely overpowering the little voice. Partly because of his anxiety. Partly because Pete just brought him up. Partly because he'd been feeling like shit the past week because of him. Mikey didn't know why, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to Pete about what happened. Maybe that would have made it better.

"Um, Mikey? You alright?" Pete asked, sitting up, his smile replaced with a concerned look.

"I-I...I have to go," Mikey said, kissing Pete on the cheek and running out the door.

~

Pete was worried about Mikey. He had become incredibly jumpy the past week, and seemed to turn the color of a sheet of paper whenever someone mentioned Patrick. If he saw Patrick walking down the hallway, he'd turn around and walk the other way. He didn't seem his usual self, but Pete wasn't one to pry.

This time, however, Pete felt like he needed to pry. Rushing out of the house with no reason other than the mention of Patrick's name. Since he thought his was more of a serious matter, he decided to call Mikey rather than text him.

~

Mikey sat at his desk, writing pages upon pages in his notebook with his pen that made his writing look really smooth. You know, the special pen that everyone has. He tore out two or three pages at a time, putting them in envelopes and sealing them with a sticker. A really good sticker, too; one you save for special purposes. He was so determined to finish these papers that he almost didn't realize his phone was ringing.

"H-hello?" Mikey said, putting the phone on speaker so he could continue working.

"Mikey, hi, it'ts Pete. Anyway, are you alright? You haven't seemed like yourself in a long time. Is everything okay?"

"Actually, no, Pete. I'm not okay. Let me promise you that. But it's a long ass story you probably don't have time to hear," Mikey said.

"Bitch, I'm like Mr. Incredible; I've got time."

As Mikey explained what had happened and how horrible he felt, Pete became more and more upset.

"You've been feeling like this for a whole week? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I-I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. I can't control how I feel, I feel so fucking sad and jumpy all the time, and I don't know what to do," Mikey said, telling the truth about everything except the last part. He knew exactly what he was going to do.

He started preparing as soon as he got home. He knew his parents kept a gun in the basement for emergencies, like if a robber tried to sneak in or some shit. His parents had never used it, and they probably never will.

But Mikey will.

"Listen, Mikey, you should come over, I really want to help," Pete pleaded.

"I'm fine, Pete, I really am," Mikey said, trying to load the gun as quietly as he could. He wasn't scared at all; strangely, he felt sort of at peace with it all. That he'd finally be rid of this nonsense, finally free from the years of having anxiety, getting bullied, and being unhappy in general. He wasn't even thinking about the consequences, about how he'd affect other people.

"Mikey, there's something I want to tell you...I think I-"

Pete's words were cut off by a gunshot.

"Mikey?"

you guys im actually fuckin screaming why did i do this i dont want to be done writing mikey

anyway to lighten things up a little

in honor of getting 2k (and the whole mikey thing...whoops)  i want to do a coupl things

first off a huge thank you to everyone reading

secondly, ive started a group chat on kik! basically, since i cant do the # group thing just dm me your kik name and ill add you if you want

finally, i kind of want to do a q and a thing so leave comment a question you have for me and ill answer all the questions in a chapter of my rant book thing "rants and bants" ###spon

shit i haven't written about jamia in a while trust me i will

~tato