Give Me A Taste Of What You're Really Like (Peterick)

Lonely, depressed, and not even well dressed

Kind of a filler, and really lame, but that's okay, Brendon and Joe my babes will make up for it.

If only saying he was done was that easy. Patrick's still on his brain, albeit it's only been a few days, but Pete's not really happy about not being able to just put a smile and act like everything's peachy.

It's not peachy, it's bullshit and he's angry, but not at Patrick, at least not fully.

Pete grits his teeth, hissing out a sharp breath before kicking at the rubber duckling sitting on the edge of the tub to which he resides in. Okay, he sort of feels guilty after, whatever it was totally judging him, with it's suspicious rubber baby blue--why the fuck does everything seem to remind him of Patrick, honestly...hats will never be the same.

Neither will Popsicles, Pete never really liked Popsicles anyway...ha, that's what he said about Patrick, look what happened...Then again Popsicles probably won't give him a hand job in the middle of a business meeting...probably.

Even shadows remind Pete of Patrick, literally just shadows, just because Patrick was practically a shadow himself, always hidden behind a stone-like exterior until he truly wanted Pete to see him. Pete's not even sure if he ever saw Patrick like actually saw him.

This was supposed to be a fucking game, but Patrick twisted it and flipped it, broke it into tiny little pieces until he could make it into his own. Exactly the way Pete's heart felt in that moment, that kiss. Twisted and flipped, and it was Patrick's to have, to hold, to break.

Pete's out of lives, Patrick took them all away. He'd say it's a game over waiting to happen, but the way that sounds doesn't settle right in his skin, makes him feel gross, dirty, like his insides are being tangled and dangled and he doesn't like it. Not one bit.

And within this depressing and gloomy rant, Pete's starting to wonder whether or not there's a black void assembling around him in the form of his personal pit filled to the brim with nothing. Simply nothing at all. Why would there be anything?

What's the point?

Pete's eyelids fly open, bubbles spilling from his nose as he realizes the fact that he's underwater, can't even remember the point in time of when he went under. He struggles to sit up, until he surges from the bath, hacking and coughing, and then he's shivering because the water's somewhat tepid, only just warm yet still chilled.

A knock on the door sends a jerk through him, and in these few seconds he's still coughing up lukewarm liquid, which isn't very pleasant. At all.

"Pete...?" A hesitant voice calls, and Pete kind of wants to sink back into the waves he caused and die.

"Dude, you alive?" Oh, it's Brendon and Joe, Pete watch is still horrible by the way.

"I'm in the bath, and sort of alive." Pete mutters, raking his fingers through soaked strands and oh, the door's being opened, well...that's fine.