The Difference Between You And Me {Petekey}

Chapter fifteen

"Here, let me see if I can read it-" Gerard offered, reaching for the paper Mikey had started writing the letter on. Mikey flinched and Gerard stopped.

"No, I'd- I'd rather you not," Mikey admitted. Gerard backed off.

"Oh," he said, "sorry. I should have asked."

"No, it's fine, just... yeah," Mikey said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head and avoiding eye contact. He didn't know why he was acting so awkward, it was really no big deal. Gerard knew that. Maybe he was really just trying to get Gerard leave him to write his letter. Now that he had started, everything he wanted to write came flowing into his mind. He needed to get his ideas onto paper. 

"So I'll leave you to it, then," Gerard said, gesturing to the writing materials behind Mikey. Mikey grinned at him, close-mouthed and odd. "I'm just going to try and sleep a bit, I won't be a bother."

Mikey hadn't predicted having to write while Gerard was in the tent, he usually spent his extra time making up for how badly his drills went, but he supposed he didn't mind if he wasn't going to be a nuisance. "Sweet dreams," Mikey said cooly. Gerard returned his grin fron earlier and settled into bed while Mikey got his pen and paper and Gerard's book again. 

He picked up from where he left off, mentioning how he was sorry because of how much he was costing the company and how much he was worrying Gerard, real Gerard and Pete. 

I think it would be wise to document what has happened to me and because of me since I have arrived. Today is the-

He scratched his head. What was the date? 

"Gerard, what's the date?" He asked. He heard Gerard shift a bit in his blankets.

"Uh, November something? It's a Saturday, I know that... And the third was Thursday, so the fifth?" He mumbled from his spot on the floor. Mikey nodded.

"It's a bit cold for November, no?" He asked. It was getting to be really cold, almost as cold as Mikey got in the middle of winter back home.

"I don't know, Mikey, just let me sleep," he groaned. Mikey laughed.

Today is the fifth of November 1934 and I've been living here for nearly five months now. A lot has happened in those five months.

First, I came into this time in the middle of a road, somewhere in New Jersey. A woman, Lindsey Ballato, believed I was attempting to commit suicide and took me to her house. I also got her to believe that I had immigrated illegally from Britain because of the war. This woman was the daughter of the town's mayor, and they would take in 'refugees' who otherwise had no other home. I could not get a job because of my illegitimacy, so I learned how to play chess to keep myself entertained. 

During this time at her house, I became very close to Lindsey. Once, one of my housemates asked me if I was attracted to her. I wasn't. She was just my friend. 

I mention this only because that caused me to realize something else: I am attracted to Pete Wentz. it's with this in mind that I recognized that I should write this letter. I would hate to have died without him knowing how I feel for him. In any case, I do hope that this knowledge gives him solace rather than sorrow. 

At a certain point, where the Ballatos were struggling to keep enough money together to maintain the makeshift refugee centre, I was asked to leave since I was the only one without a job. After some consideration, I accepted this request. I joined the Army in order to keep myself fed and under a relative amount of safety while earning some money for the family. I have not been in contact with them since I left, but I do hope that they are doing well with the money.