Spin For You [Peterick]

-20-

Dear Patrick,

Okay, okay. Just...let me get my head around this one.

So when I found out about that Charlotte girl (who is still here, everyday, after every show, every morning, every evening she's here oh my god I want to tear my own hair out) I cried. Like, a lot. Andy and Joe knew why. I'm not sure if you did. For a couple of days after, I was avoiding you. You still ate the fucking pumpkin squares though, pig.

I was in a bad place. Hopes being ripped apart, love of my life kissing someone else every goddamn hour of every goddamn day (which still feels like being shot, by the way, thanks), pretty much given up for good, yada yada yada. Heard it all before.

The days were bad, and the nights were worse.

I know I should be heartbroken, and I think I was, for a bit, but it's been three weeks since the whole date-night-nearly-kissing-you-before-your-annoying-ass-girlfriend-showed-up fiasco, the tour's nearly over, and I feel better now. After a few nights of drinking until somebody stopped me, and being unable to look you in the eye, something, uh, happened.

Now the nights aren't so bad.

Look, I know we've been here before, and I know I'm the king of getting my hopes up, and I know that you don't feel the same blah blah blah, but at this precise moment I don't really care if you don't feel the same, because I feel fucking great.

So basically, after she turned up, we hadn't really had a proper conversation. You knew I was pissed, you thought it was mainly because you didn't tell me about you and her, and I went along with that.

But one morning, I sat down to eat breakfast (fruit loops, sue me), and was busy wallowing in my own self-pity, when you stumbled into the kitchen area. You'd been sleeping on the sofa for a few nights, and you did not seem to be enjoying it very much, because it meant that in the mornings we'd all wake you up in imaginative ways. But today, you'd got up of your own accord. Your hair was all over the place, and there were still pillow creases in your face. You are really not a morning person.

Everyone else was still asleep, so it was just me and you. You smiled weakly as you came and sat down opposite me, rubbing your eyes and yawning in the most frustratingly adorable way. You mumbled something that was probably meant to be good morning, but came out more like ghhmrng. I laughed involuntarily, quickly frowning and looking back down at my breakfast.

I wasn't speaking to you, I'd made that clear to myself.

"Pete," you said abruptly, causing me to jump and stare at you. You looked much more awake now than you had ten seconds ago. "I'm sorry."

Okay, so where did that come from? You'd been acting like this whole thing had nothing to do with you for the past few days, and now you were sorry. I made a little haughty huff noise at you.

"Seriously, Pete, I'm so sorry. I should have told you. You're right, we're best friends, we should share everything." You said, face filled with regret. But there was a little hint of something else in your eyes.

"M'kay." I said back. You weren't getting off that fucking easily.

"No, Pete, please, listen. We should tell each other everything." There was an edge to your voice now, the type of edge someone has when hinting what they want for Christmas.

I looked at you, confused and annoyed. You looked right back, expectation dancing behind your eyes.

"Alright, Patrick, what's this about?" I growled, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms.