Unicorns On Wheels [Petekey]

21. Thursday.

How much milk is that, oh my god? I asked and Ryan giggled, pressing his head into the seat in front of him. A butt load. Ryan said and he laughed about that all the way to the store. Ryan reeked of alcohol, though, and when we got there Pete made him wait in the car while we went inside.

Wow, grocery shopping. How crazy. I said as he pushed me through the aisles. He rolled his eyes at me, finally getting to a shelf of hair dye and stopping the wheelchair so that he could get some. I wondered out loud, I thought you weren't going to dye your hair blonde again? As he reached for a box of platinum blonde.

He just gave me a look, reaching for the box under it: the woman on the box had a short, pink bob. Pete no. I stopped him he turned to me with a grin on his face, Pete yes. And then raced us to the cashier before I could convince him that it was a bad idea.

At the end of the shopping trip, when we got back to the care, Ryan was spread over the backseat asleep. I asked Pete why Ryan was drunk and, more importantly, why is he drinking that much milk. Pete looked at me and said, sadly, I told him about the Huntington's. And neither of us really wanted to discuss it further than that so we simply didn't.

The dyeing of Pete's hair was going to be done at my house, due to the fact that he couldn't do it all alone and I couldn't get into anybody else's house. I wasn't sure whether it was going to make a mess or not but I didn't feel like having to explain it to Gerard and Frank when they got home. So I told Pete that I didn't want to do it.

I still did, though.

It smelt really bad while I mixed it and the box gave you a set of gloves that were both really shitty and easy to tear. I still wore them though, because I was afraid of what the bleach might do to my fingers if I left them naked. Pete had to sit on the floor while I spread it through his hair with a brush that came in the box.

We laughed and talked about nothing like we had the hospital – nothing deep or noteworthy and I can't even remember the entirety of our conversation. But I know that we'd managed to go from dogs all the way to Doctor Who and back again to the topic of music and, uncontrollably, Mindless Self Indulgence.

Pete didn't like them much and he scrunched up his nose when I played Faggot. He frowned at me, when he figured out what Jimmy, the lead singer, was actually singing. And he turned to me and said he's insulting you. Using a gay slur. Are you really telling me you enjoy this? And I laughed, nodding my head.

He's doing it ironically, I said. Because I really had no explanation as to why he was doing it or would do it and, quite frankly, why I would enjoy it if he was doing it for any other reason. I wasn't a masochist – I didn't enjoy being made fun of. But it didn't feel like insults, it's like Jimmy was saying what I was too afraid to.

Pete left, eventually, having bleached his hair and making me pledge to do the pink with him tomorrow before group therapy. I reluctantly agreed, washing my hands just about a million times before Gerard got there to pick me up and take me to Dr Nestor.

When we got there, though, the air seemed different. Gerard had changed before we left home – putting on a formal tie and throwing on a blazer that hadn't been worn since his first year in art school. I didn't question why, mostly because I didn't care but partly because I sort of knew. I had the feeling the if I stopped co-operating with Dr Nestor one of us would have to be replaced.

I was hoping it would be me – that maybe Gerard would kill me or tip my wheelchair so that I slipped off of it and into the ocean. But it wasn't. Today I met Dr Stump – the second therapist I'd ever met in my life. He seemed nicer and, even though he smiled shyly, I knew that it was just an act to manipulate me.

Therapists are professional actors with less of the fame but more respect and privacy. The session was basically me introducing myself and, eventually, Dr Stump telling me that I could call him Patrick if it made me more comfortable. I didn't want to get comfortable, though, I wanted to hate him like I hated Dr Nestor but it was impossible to hate Dr Stump.

Let's set some, uh, let's set some boundaries. Dr Stump said, arranging the file on his lap, Okay, so when we approach something you don't want to talk about you can say a safe word, okay? I nodded along and, while I liked this idea, I couldn't stop myself from giving the nonchalant comment, kinky. Dr Stump, surprisingly, laughed.

I guess so, yeah. Basically you can use the safe word as a way of telling me that it's off limits. I was waiting for Dr Stump to add the 'but' I was waiting for him to say that we'd have to approach each subject gradually, but he didn't. He seemed majorly different from Dr Nestor and while I knew that I'd have to get used to the change, I was happy it was such a good change.

After some thought I'd decided that my safe word was mitosis because I couldn't see a scenario in which I need to say it. Tell me about... well, let's talk about your friends. There were worse topics he could approach but it was still slightly sensitive to talk about stepping over the boundary with Pete.

I have this one friend Hayley. I said, avoiding the idea of Pete. And she's got a thing for my other friend, Ryan. I said. I wondered whether I should tell him about Pete – I hesitated. Was it something I wanted to discuss or was it something I wanted to keep private? Dr Stump looked at me patiently.

You can tell me. Dr Stump said to reassure me. I felt more hesitant, though, suddenly feeling like an outcast to the situation – like an alien. Okay, Dr Stump chuckled, what's her name? I smiled along and decided that I should tell him, considering 90% of my life was Pete Wentz.

His name, I emphasized, is Pete Wentz. I paused for a while and I heard my voice tremble right in the end. And he's dying of Huntington's disease. Dr Stump looked at the scribbled on the pages in front of him and I was curious, so I stretched my neck to read what he'd written, but I couldn't make it out. We're – I didn't know how to start, well, he's, I mean.

Are you dating? Dr Stump asked with a slight smile. I didn't know what to say – my mouth went dry and my throat felt like I had swallowed desert sand. I'm guessing that's a no. He chuckled. You should tell him – how you feel, I mean. You should ask him out.

I paused. I don't think that's a good idea. He paused to write something down and this time when I stretched, I could read the messy handwriting – written in half-cursive in black pen on white paper it said tendency to avoid feelings.

And I decided that I'd do it – I'd tell him how I feel. Just not today.

Regardless, I hope that I'll see him tomorrow.

Mikey.

Because I've update my profile and my aesthetic.

Vote and comment because I said so.

And my favourite thing right now is me but I guess Stony is great too.

Undying affections from yours truly,

Brendon