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

Pete's Letter

Dear Pete,

Oh boy. Where do I begin?

Well, let me start off by saying this: Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III, I think I love you. I think I knew that you were special the first day I met you, when you told me you were the Pun King and let me be your Pun Queen.

I did the things that I did because of multiple reasons. Some shit went down between Patrick and me, but don't tear him apart or anything. It was more my fault than his. Also, my anxiety was pushed to the breaking point. I couldn't sit down without being freaked out by something. It felt like I was tottering on top of a skyscraper, and one gust of wind could send me falling to the ground. Today, that gust of wind came. 

Pete, I want you to try to pick up a bass once in your life. You've always told me you wanted to play, and I think you should consider it. You're already a fucking genius, so music should come easily to someone like you. I don't know, you just seem like you would be a pretty badass bass player, ya know? I know I sound super assertive, but that's what I'm trying to go for in this letter thing.

You should hang out with Patrick. He's lonely and scared, and really needs a friend every once and a while. I could definitely see a difference in his overall self when he started hanging out with us, even more when he started dating you. I mean, he's a pretty nice guy, to be honest. He's never really done anything wrong. 

Have you ever thought about talking to Gerard? He'll probably give you a call every once and a while (since I told him to). I think you two would make good friends, ya know? You're both extremely fucking emo, and I've seen Gerard wear eyeliner before; you're practically twins!!!! I'm joking, of course, but it wouldn't hurt to shoot him a text or something.

I did a lot of drawing in my free time this week, so I added some of my drawings into this letter. They're shitty, and done on notebook paper, but it's something to remember me by.

Speaking of remembering me (wow hella rad segue) I left some of my things for you. I have a whole bunch of records, and Gee is taking most of them. However, I told him to leave you an Anthrax record. You better fuckin' listen to it, or I'll haunt you in your sleep. Also, I have a desk in my room (shocker!!!) and there's two top drawers. The top right drawer is full of little things for you. I dunno, mementos from when we hung out and stuff. The drawer next to it has a little box for Patrick, if you want to bring that to him.

I want to be cremated rather than buried. My parents are probably going to throw some bullshit funeral where relatives that I've never met will show up to. I want some of my ashes sprinkled under your willow tree. Is that okay with you? I just feel like that was where a lot of important things happened. You and Patrick and Gerard and Frank and their friends will probably be there too. I've put Gerard in charge of arranging the mini-funeral. You'll probably be invited to the crappy one my parents do. I think everyone's going, so you can if you want, but I won't force you.

I never want you to ever think about killing yourself, ever. And I know that sounds pretty hypocritical, but hear me out. It's a horrible fucking thought to have every minute of every day. You start to plan out how and when you'll do it, and you'll become obsessed with it. Live a full life, get married and have kids if you want, grow a long-ass beard if you feel like it. I want you to be happy. I just want everyone to be happy. I killed myself because I wanted to be happy.

Try not to forget about me, alright? I mean, don't dwell on me not being here and cry every minute of every day, but remember me. Not for centuries. Okay, maybe. That would be cool, ya know? Not being forgotten. Then again, I haven't really done anything monumental for the world. I guess my one dying wish is that I'm not forgotten, okay?

Finish 8th grade with fucking honors, okay, because you're smart. You really are. Pay attention in class and you easily will graduate at the top of the class. You're a nerd, but you're my nerd.

You should try using a hula-hoop. Have you ever tried? I did at Disney World and I got a hula-hoop for my birthday that year. You know, the world would be less violent if everyone used hula-hoops. There's really no point in this paragraph; I just wanted to share my love of hula-hoops with you.

Pete laughed, laughed at the morbid irony of it all, laughed because he was crying, and laughed because he was going outside in his pajamas at 4 in the morning, only to go and fucking hula-hoop. It was 24 fucking degrees out, and he was in boxers and an extra large t-shirt, but he went in the garage, grabbed his hula-hoop from 4th grade, and hula-hooped in his driveway. 

lmao again the plot isnt going anywhere and it wont for the next 2 chapters bc they're the letters

anyway wow you guys are gr9 i love you

vote/comment if you want but whatever

~tat