one more troubled soul » petekey

Ten

"Daaaaaaad!" A sudden groan exploded without warning from the teen, his voice louder than his body. It seemed to echo. An empty plea for a father bounced back to him, as if to taunt him. Silence ensued. "Dad!" he screamed again, shorter and sharper. Mikey took a small step behind Pete, pressing his shoulder against him to stifle his shakes. With still no answer, the boy shimmied behind a makeshift front desk and looked at the others nervously. "I-I'm sure he'll be here soon, or something... so I guess I'll help you." He was turning red and blinking rapidly, his words wavering as if they were soon to break. Pete's heart ached with familiarity.

"How much will tonight be, just for one room?" Pete asked quietly. Everything around him seemed much to fragile to talk too loudly just yet. The boy nodded and shuffled through papers and keys, grabbing one and then looking up with confusion.

"Uh, maybe 40, 45? 45 sounds about right. I think 45 dollars," he finally said, anxious. Pete ignored the uncertainty and obliged, handing over a debit card. He got it back with a key, that had no number or colors or anything on it. He stared at it for a while before raising an eyebrow. "Just try every door. There's not too many, you'll find the right one. If you need anything," he took a deep breath and wiped himself down, perking up with a wonderfully mastered facade. "I'm Ryan. Shout and I'll be there as quick as I can."

"Thank you, Ryan," Mikey finally spoke, breaking his uncharacteristic silence. They began to make their way down the only other hall around, the two of them taking turns with the key. Finally, a door popped open and they glanced down the hall at Ryan, whose hands were tight in his hair. His shoulders were shooting up and down violently, and his tears were silent. He caught their eyes with embarrassment, blinking away tears rather than wiping. Mikey flashed him a thumbs up. Ryan grimaced.

Pete led the way into the room, immediately collapsing on to the large bed. He pushed his face into a less than comfortable pillow, but it proved more than enough for his fatigued body. He rolled over, eyes closed but mind open. It was reeling. Ever since he'd rolled into this town, he had felt strange. He sat up. "Mikey? Do you feel that?"

Mikey was fiddling with a broken cassette player beside the bed. He hummed quietly. "Feel what?"

"This place. It's so strange-"

"Oh, thank God I'm not the only one," Mikey cut him off urgently. He jumped from his spot beside the stereo and on to the bed, sitting comfortably at Pete's side. "It feels like my hometown."

"Mine too," Pete added. That's what it was. It was eerily familiar, all of it. The dead look in people's eyes as they mowed their lawns and baked brownies. People rode bikes to see how far they could get away. He knew it all too well, which is why he had felt so out of place when they arrived. He had only ever felt like that at home, too. It was the reason for his whole road trip to begin with. He wasn't entirely thrilled that it had seemed to land him right back where he started, even being miles away; so many miles it was almost inconceivable for the people back home. But little did they know, they were here, too. They had traveled so far and Pete, so little.

Pete glanced up, eyes locking with Mikey's. It was like stargazing. Counting the beauty marks, the flecks in his eyes, the stray hairs that framed his face, like the worthy picture he was. Pete reached forward tentatively and cupped the stars in his palm, stroking Mikey's cheek with careful precision. His love was a still river, and too harsh a touch would send a ripple through him.

"Where have we gotten ourselves?" Mikey whispered, so much hanging on the question. But it was fair. They had practically driven themselves home, landing on the border between familiar and frightening, both accustomed and afraid. And at the same time they had driven each other into discomfort, turned themselves into strangers once again. Or perhaps that was just Pete's fault. He began to feel his hand burn on Mikey's cheek. He took it away, apologizing under his breath. "It's okay," he replied, grabbing Pete's hand. He redirected to his own heart and left it there, thinking. "I feel bad for Ryan. I wonder where his father is."