Unicorns On Wheels [Petekey]

8. Friday.

On one hand, I wanted to invite Pete over. I wanted to hug him and tell him that I was sorry even though I knew it wasn't my fault. I wanted him to hold on to me with his bone crushing strength and I wanted him to cry on my shoulder so that I could pet his hair and shush him and tell him that it was alright and that he was safe with me.

But on the other hand, I didn't know if I could even look him in the eye after watching the woman in the video because all I could think about was that he had to go through seeing that happen to his mom. Everyday. And he didn't even seem all that broken about when we talked about arguing with his dad. He just shrugged it off.

It took me a moment to realize why his dad wanted him to get checked out. But then, the voice of the doctor from the video echoed in the back of my mind. Only a soft whisper that reminded me Huntington's is a genetic, degenerating disease that often presents itself differently in people of different ages.

When I closed my eyes, though, all I could see was the woman. All I could see was the way her whole body shook violently and then I remembered the one part of her that seemed too slow to be real was her eyes. They seemed unfocused, rolling around in their sockets like it didn't matter which way they looked.

But I remember the way her lips twitched upwards every couple of seconds to mimic a falsetto smile and the way her eyelids seemed to close too slowly. I felt like a creep in that moment because all I could think about was how beautiful she might've been if she had long, dark hair and perfect eyebrows.

Though she constantly seemed on the brink of tears, she just looked so beautiful the entire time. And I don't know why some twisted and idiotic part of my brain thought she was so beautiful. But still, when I rolled over on to my pillow and closed my eyes to try to make it fucking stop. I just wanted it to stop. I wanted to forget everything that I saw. I wanted to forget all of it.

But all I could think about was Pete and though I'd never been able to do it now, it was easy to imagine Pete crying at the side of a hospital bed. Because it was so clear to me that Pete would never love his dad as much as he ever loved his mom. And all I could do was bite down on my pillow and try not to get angry at Pete's dad.

In the end, what really did I know about Pete's dad anyway? That he had grey hair and wore a suit and that he wants Pete to get checked out by a doctor. And how close were Pete and I really? Because he was my best friend but only by default. Only because he was the only friend I had.

And I'd only known Pete for a couple of days. So what did I know about him, really? That he liked slapstick movies and Zoolander and that he could French plait but he needed a clip when he was done. That he worked at Mug & Bean. That his ex-girlfriend left him because he was bisexual and that his mum died of Huntington's disease.

I didn't know any more than Hayley did. I didn't know more than Ryan did and he probably hung out with them more than he'd hung out with me. So I decided that I didn't care. Because having best friends was stupid. And people who had best friends were stupid. Especially people in wheelchairs who thought Pete Wentz was their best friend.

Frank took me to group therapy and, when we were at home, he reminded me to take The Boy in Striped Pajamas in case we didn't do anything that that we'd get the opportunity to read instead. I don't know at what point I'd forgiven Frank but when he gave me his gloves on the way there I decided that it didn't matter.

We waited in the snow and when the elevator doors opened, Pete surprised us by taking another Polaroid photograph but this time he didn't even show us. He just slipped it into his jacket pocket and waited for us to get into the elevator. He offered to take me up and Frank fist bumped him before ruffling my hair and disappearing into the snow.

I knew there was no way for Pete to know about the documentary but I still felt awkward around him like I'd walked in on something private to him even though I knew I hadn't. We made small talk on the way up and covered all the basics but I couldn't make eye contact with him in case I would start crying.

Group therapy went by quickly even though we spent the session talking about feelings and each other. Well, that's what they did. I spent the session staring at the side of Pete's face and leaning on his shoulder at one point.

And I didn't know whether that was the sort of thing that friends did to each other even though Pete didn't seem to mind. But I decided after a while that I didn't care. Because people who cared about friendship rules were stupid and people who even had friendship boundaries were stupid. In fact, people who had friendships were generally stupid.

After the session, Pete took 3 Polaroid pictures of me and instead of giving them to me or putting them in his jacket pocket, he spent a good minute and a half just looking at them. Look at how stupid you look here. He handed me one. You can keep it.

I took it. And I liked it. Sure, I looked stupid, but I liked the pink flush on my cheeks and I liked that you couldn't see my wheelchair in the picture. And this one too. He handed me the next one which looked only slightly different from the first one. Except that it was a little blurry. I was expecting him to hand me the third picture.

But he slipped it into his jacket pocket instead. Aren't you going to give me that one? I thought I looked good in the pictures but I didn't really like the idea of handing them out to everybody just yet and the fact that he had that one photo of me made my guts twist together anxiously.

No. I think I'll keep this one. He said with a smile, patting the pocket of his jacket like it had something valuable in it. Why? I asked. I was honestly curious as to why he'd want such an image of me. I need at least one good picture of you. He laughed. But somehow, some way the idea that he didn't think he'd have much time to take more terrified me to no end.

And just when I thought I'd managed to make it through an entire session without crying, I thought about Pete's mom. And before I fell apart, I saw Gerard's car and I wheeled to it faster than I'd wheeled to anything before in my life. But once I'd gotten to the car my tears had disappeared because I decided that I didn't care.

Regardless, I'll see them all next Friday

Mikey.

Because i love heroineslow and I'm almost done with writing this omg. 

Don't forget to vote and comment because my ego is as fragile as John Watson's marriage. whoops. 

My new favorite thing ever is me. But I guess being compared to Tony Stark is pretty cool too. 

Undying affections from yours truly,

Brendon.