The Wrong Feelings

[ Chapter 1: Rewriting ]

Patrick's POV:

Pete is by my side and he's dressed in a Where the Wild Things Are T-shirt and some grey sweat pants. His eyes are hypnotized by the phone in his hands, and questions are forced from his mouth as he dials a new listener.

There are two familiar voices I hear, belonging to none other than Andy Hurley and of course - Pete's good old friend - Joe Trohman.

I didn't listen to the conversation in full detail, but this was one of the most important phone calls Pete has ever made, I'm sure; possibly one of the roughest to have the courage to make, if it's been years since you've made anything other than conversation with each one.

I was the first to get a call from Pete, but he hadn't really invited me to re-join the band. He just kinda called me over and asked me to witness these calls and discuss how to work things out with the guys.

"So they both agreed and they even asked when we could have the studio to start the song-making to put out while we work on the rest of the album... What do you think, Patrick?" I look at the floor and pretend to analyze it.

"Well, I think we could easily get it by next week. Until then, we could gather ideas from them to go with what you have in mind because I really liked your original concept," I smile subtly and Pete seems to notice, demonstrating to me a full, proud smile.

"...You know what I really like about you?" Pete asks me and I feel my heart thumping on my chest.

"Now what?" I sigh, blushing in my cheeks.

"How you think compliments are the best way to flirt," Pete grins in my direction.

A fire of blush spreads over my face.

"Th-thank you... I wasn't trying anything by the way."

Pete laughs ridiculously loud.

"Sure, dude. So... we should start with the album concept and work from there for inspiration, yeah?" I nod my head and straighten my glasses.

Goddamnit, Pete. How could you be so nonchalant about what you just did? I hate how easily this guy can move on from conversation to conversation sometimes.

Pete opens one of the drawers in the kitchen and pulls out a notebook and two pens. He rips out a pile of pages for himself and hands me the rest of the blank book.

I thank him quietly and wait for Pete to write his initial idea that he had shared with me.

The way his tongue stuck out as he put pressure on the pen was adorable to me. With a smile, I watched his face as he wrote.

"Now would be a good moment for a compliment, Patrick," Pete says aloud and I hurriedly look away from him, grasping the notepad.

"Dude, I'm not trying to flirt with anyone!" I say with a giggly voice and Pete smiles cheekily.

"Whatever," he mutters and positions the inked page in front of both of us.

"Hopefully this is enough inspiration for now," he says and immediately gets to writing some more.

I read his words and they are so much like Pete. They're not just from him but the words and the descriptions and the elements are all Pete.

I admire it and duck my head for a moment to add on, maybe illustrate something to write out the description of it.

"Like... hot, whiskey eyes fanning out a flame..." I say aloud by accident.

Pete seems to be busy, until he encourages me to keep going.

"The way you come up with details is so pretty, Patrick," Pete starts.

"Thanks," I grumble, trying not to think about his comment too much.

I can see through you, even if we were sitting in complete darkness, I could.

And... you're the best thing that I will never have...

Hours of staining paper with ink drift by us, so Pete and I are tired from having our chins pointed to our shoes and our fingers being bent.

"Hey, I have twenty bucks with me, wanna get some dinner?" Pete asks me after he stretches his arms in the air.

"If you don't mind, yeah. I'm pretty hungry," I say and stand up after Pete.

"It's on me - don't worry," he shows me another pretty smile.

I try ignoring it with a yawn, later failing my task as I start following him into the living room.

"Yes, that's all. Alright, thank you."

I look at Pete with a soft smile on my face as he hangs up. Then he notices and I smile wider, with lazy eyelids and another yawn.

"Tired?"

"Mmhm." I lied.

"Still not used to staying up for song-writing, huh?" Pete takes a seat on the couch that I'm leaning on.

"Nope. I'll make it, though," I give another "lazy" smile.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"No worries, I'll get throu--"

"Not that - I'm okay with you falling asleep. I meant, I hope you've been sleeping well," then Pete gifts me with a sweet chuckle that says "I deeply care about you, but I don't wanna make this a weird moment so I'll lighten it up with this chuckle" to me.

"Oh. How flattering, Pete," I exaggerate an eyelash-batting. "Hey, have you been doing okay since... yeah?" I sit on the cushion next to him and wait for a response in his eyes.

"Well... I honestly think I'm bringing my anxiety down. I quit smoking but I still drink to cope sometimes. I'd say I'm doing pretty good living on my own, too. I can do laundry and I'm a decent chef, so maybe you'd like to come over sometime," Pete jokes and it makes me exhale in amusement.

"Well, don't let it get too weird but I'm still really proud of you, Pete. I think I'm the luckiest person in the galaxy - to be alive with you." I end up with a blush as Pete's thin lips evolve into a toothy​ smile.

"That's sweet," is all Pete says into his shoulders before standing up.

I look up at him, smiling internally, thinking about what I just admitted to him.

"I better go pick up the pizza. You coming?"

I shake my head.

"I wanna keep the writing process going, if that's okay with you."

"Yeah, it's cool. Oh, you can borrow pajamas if you want. They're in my room," Pete points to a hallway.

"Thanks... Drive safe," I wish out loud and Pete nods once before exiting.

I sigh in distress and get another sheet of paper.

I only know Pete is the one thing in my thoughts right now, so I start describing his characteristics and how I find them attractive.

It's nice writing in the silence; it's like a therapy session from my mind to the pen, with my hand conducting a new leaf for the pen.