living's just a waste of death

another word for hyper

mikey was learning how to drive. but like, he wasn't actually getting anywhere with it. he was just sort of internally panicking behind the steering wheel. but you know, same thing. driving stressed him out- to say the least. (he'd borrowed his dads big van to "practice" because the only other option was gerard's piece-of-junk car.)

it was just barely august now, only a little over a month before mikey's birthday which meant he could get his license. or, learners permit? whatever. he'd be driving, basically.

gerard and pete were "helping" him learn. even though neither of them had been driving legally for any more then a year since pete was seventeen and gerard got his license super late.

so, pete was in the back with gerard in the passengers seat, the two of them instructing mikey on what to do. although, gerard wasn't a very good driver himself- which is why they had pete, of course. well, he wasn't very good either but two was better then one, even if they both were terrible.

and gerard didn't particularly like pete but, he knew him well enough to at least trust him to help his baby brother.
"there's a turn up ahead," gerard said, and mikey gritted his fucking teeth because yeah, he knew that, dumbass. "it's fine, dude, just- just go slow" pete said then, leaned over the seat as much as his seatbelt would let him, so he could see what mikey was doing. "i am going slow, pete."

he was driving to the diner, since it was close and the streets around there were always dead on sunday's. the last time he "practiced" he drove to the school, then pete's house, then to frank's- because where else would he need to go? he was a better driver then he figured he'd be, but the nerves were still there.

pete was acting calm for mikey's sake and mikey's sake only. he remembered how freaked out his mom was when he was learning how to drive- screaming at him not to hit that mailbox and to watch out for that kid. he wasn't gonna do that shit to mikey.

they had been spending too much fucking time together. and they had gotten too fucking close, as well. they had started liking things that the other liked and using words that the other used. and at first mikey practically lived at pete's house, but recently they had switched. pete pretty much never went anywhere else. neglecting his other friends for mikey.

but all pete's friends were sham's anyway. mikey was so much more real. and he didn't get worn out over how wired pete constantly was. maybe he even liked it...in a strange, platonic "opposites attract" kind of way. mikey spent enough time with him for that statement to probably be true. hell- mikey even wore pete's clothes more often then his own.

by the time the three boys actually got to the diner they only had about enough time to get some milkshakes- since it always closed earlier on those days. on sunday's.

which was fine because gerard had to go, something about ray and a movie- whatever. but after a while, the remaining two ended up at pete's house, because mikey didn't like his own and they had to be somewhere with an air conditioner.

"when's your mom leaving for that work thing?" mikey said, kicking off his shoes in the doorway. "i don't know, some time next week or something." pete threw his varsity onto the couch and grabbed a couple cans from the "secret" beer stash in the back of the fridge. "do you wanna come stay over til she comes back?" mikey asked, and they started making their way up the stairs. "do you want me to?"

"well, uh- yeah." pete didn't bother to close the door to his room, it was only the two of them home, "then yeah."

a couple hours later pete had the window open all the way like always, but they were sitting on the floor in front of it. there was a weird mix of joy division and old rap music going on pete's cd player. strange, yeah, but mikey seemed to like it and that was all that really mattered.

they sat criss-crossed on the floor- with pete moving around to the music, probably pretending he was a dj. and mikey just mouthed along to the words, and laughing every time pete spun an invisible record. it was great. "this is great..." mikey said, tossing a baseball from his left hand to his right. "what do you mean?" pete stopped his dancing to listen to mikey, even though he already knew- he just wanted to hear the way mikey would say it.

"just sitting here, listening to music, kinda tipsy. it's like- i don't know...you're kind of my best friend, dude." and if that didn't make pete's heart stop, then he had no idea what would. he opened his mouth to say something, that mikey was his too- or maybe something more. but mikey beat him too it,

"i mean, i have frankie and ray, you know?" mikey paused, thinking about it, "bob too, i guess. but you're just different,"

"different? like what?" pete asked, his voice all fruity but also sort of nervous in a way. "...better?" mikey said it like a question even though there was no other way to say it. pete was better. mikey liked pete better. and pete knew that, and that was great.

and pete didn't really know what to do after that because he really liked mikey but he didn't wanna fuck shit up. he followed his instincts anyways. "mikes-" he shifted closer to mikey, and his voice sank to a whisper, hands more clammy then ever. "yeah?" mikey's voice was quiet too now, maybe he felt like it had to be.

"i- uh, i used to obsess over living, you know?..." his hand was on mikey's shoulder by then, moving to the back of his neck, "now i only obsess over you..."
and then he was fucking kissing him, but mikey wouldn't dare move because- holy shit, what the fuck? but it was happening too quick and mikey didn't listen to his own brain and after a short while he was kissing back- like really, with his hands in pete's hair and tongue and teeth and just pete fucking wentz.

maybe he even gasped a little when pete bit his lip but neither of them would've known. pete kinda pushed mikey down as gently as he could so he was flat on the floor with pete lying on top of him. and mikey had never done this shit before- he'd kissed people and liked it but this? what the fuck was this?

good. that's what it was. but it could only last so long because then pete's hands were under mikey's shirt with his fingers over mikey's ribs and that's when he realized- that's when mikey fucking realized what was going on. holy shit, what the fuck? pete's fucking kissing me and i'm not fucking gay!

"pete-" but it came out as a whimper when he didn't mean it too, "fuck pete, shit. get off me, fuck-" pete moved his lips away from mikey, confused, "what?"

and mikey practically threw pete off of him and jumped up as fast as he could "i-i have to go-" and then he was gone. sprinted out of the bedroom and out of the house, ran home. and pete just sat there, lips swollen, heart not broken but just super goddamn confused.