the summer of like {petekey}

14

f o u r t e e n
this is how 
it ends

Mikey sighs, sprawled out on the top bunk. He's staring up at the ceiling, which is close enough to touch, dragging his fingers over the cold surface.

The rest of the bus is asleep, except for the driver. Mikey can't remember who it is and can't be bothered to find out. They've only got three or four shows left, and he's terrified of ending the tour. This is, without a doubt, the strangest and yet best summer he's ever had.

Truth be told, the real reason he doesn't want it to end is because he's scared of what will happen to him and Pete. Pete handles things badly. Mikey heard about how he reacted to their sort-of-unofficial breakup- and that was the one that made him most nervous. It feels like he's about to fly off the handle at any moment, just stop eating and sleeping and functioning, and the terrifying thing is, it's entirely plausible. But he's always had Mikey to calm him down. Or Patrick, or Joe, or Gerard. Someone. And now the tour's gonna end, and he's gonna go back and live with whoever he lives with (his parents, Mikey thinks), and he won't be seeing his band every day. There won't be anyone to- to save him.

Goddamnit. Mikey knows Pete isn't a child, that Pete can take care of himself. But he just gets so fucking worried. He still loves Pete, much as he hates to admit it. 

And yes, he knows full well that the feeling isn't mutual. There's no way Pete could love him back, simply no way. Mikey's just- he's just accepted this. It's perfectly fine, he's decided. There's nothing he can do about it other than accept it and move on. So here it is; yes, he loves Pete; and yes, Pete doesn't love him back; and yes, Mikey is totally okay with that.

Not really.

He's, as Gerard would say, not o-fucking-kay, and he smiles a little at that dumb pun. But it's true. He's crushed and he's falling and he's really not okay. Mikey's never handled love well, much less unrequited love. Fuck. And to think that the feelings used to be mutual...

Whatever. He will get over it, because Mikey is not some whiny loser baby who cries when he doesn't get his way. 

He's just waiting now. Really, that's all he's doing. Waiting for morning. Waiting for Pete to fall apart. Waiting for the tour to end.

Life is really just cycles of waiting, over and over again. 

Mikey's fucking sick of it. He's done with it all, with waiting, with never doing anything fucking meaningful. It's all just being too nervous to do anything. The only good thing he's ever done is join this stupid goddamn band, and that was only because of Gerard. Oh, and meeting Pete, but does that even count anymore?

He's really craving a beer right now, maybe some whiskey, maybe sneaking off with Pete to smoke some weed and make out. He knows he can't have any of those, so he tightens his fists and moves around to make himself a little bit more comfortable. It's a fruitless attempt; there's no way to be comfortable on these bunk beds from hell.

Seriously though, smoking weed with Pete sounds like fun. He wants to do that again. He just misses him- his smell, his touch, the way his eyes light up when he smiles, the way he moans when Mikey bites his neck-

Jerking off on a tour bus surrounded by your bandmates and your brother is fucking gross, so Mikey doesn't. But he's thinking about it, oh God he's thinking about it.

He's thinking about the last time he and Pete fucked, and how ridiculously obscene Pete looked, the way his lips were red and shiny, slicked with spit, the way his hair fell tangled over his eyes, how fucking angry he was- he was angry, and Mikey still isn't sure why. But it was hot as hell, so he lets it slide. Pete's always hot. He's just fucking impossibly hot when he's angry. Like, Mikey can't really handle it. He'd probably come in his pants right there and then if he was still a teenage boy, but luckily he's not.