the summer of like {petekey}

10

t e n
you're prettier
than any sunset

They leave the others later that evening, sharing side glances cause of secrets only they know, exchanging stupid laughs every couple minutes. Their hands fit into each others' perfectly, as if made for each other. They'll lean on each other, stumble as they're walking, and any passerby can see that these two are so clearly in love.

It's a short walk, but it takes them nearly fifteen minutes. Eventually they end up on the end of a pier, their feet dangling over the edge, twenty feet above churning blue-green waves topped with crests of white foam. The sun is just starting to set, and Pete's hand finds Mikey's again as the sun hits the ocean, staining it brilliant reds, oranges, purples, that bleed into both the sky and the water.

"You know how cheesy this is?" Pete asks, grinning. He's not looking at the sunset, cause why do that when the prettiest thing is already here with him?

"Cheesy as hell," Mikey agrees. "I love it, though." He leans on Pete's shoulder.

"The sunset's gorgeous," Pete mumbles. "Y'know what's even more gorgeous, though?"

Mikey sits up and glances at him, confused. "Uh- what?"

"You are," Pete tells him, leaning in to kiss him gently. Mikey kisses back, his cheeks blushing red.

"Yeah, you're the cheesy one," he says after pulling away. "That was adorable though."

"Thanks, I try," Pete grins, turning his gaze to the sunset. Mikey's head droops against his shoulder again and their hands knot together. The day is cooling down, but only slightly, so there's no need for Pete to retrieve the jacket he's tied around his waist. "Hey, you know what?"

"Hmm?" Mikey mumbles, not moving.

"It's only about a week, maybe two, until the end of Warped."

"Mm," Mikey agrees.

"I'm scared," Pete confesses suddenly, his eyes widening. "I mean- shit, never mind." He considers putting a hand over his mouth to stop himself from blurting anything else, but stops himself, cause that's an admission of guilt if there ever was one. Mikey notices anyway, though, cause it's pretty fucking obvious that something's wrong.

"Scared of what?"

"N-nothing. Forget I said anything." Pete's voice has dropped to a whisper. The words get stuck in his dry throat. Mikey's grip tightens on his hand.

"You can tell me." Mikey's voice is warm and reassuring. It's a voice you could admit anything to, a voice that makes you want to say everything you've been repressing. A trusting voice.

"Seriously," Pete insists, "It's nothing! Just scared of like, crowds. Did you know that? I get seriously bad stage fright. Like the thing with the heelys, you have no idea- I was about to pass out! Sometimes I think I should drink before shows. Maybe that would take my mind off of things-"

"Oh," Mikey says dully. "I thought it was something important. I'm scared of crowds too, but you shouldn't drink, cause- cause look at Gerard." He quiets. "That's something else I'm scared of, if you don't mind. I'm scared of what Gee's doing."

Goddamn it, Pete, look at how fucking insignificant your 'problems' are compared to Mikey's. His brother is- hell, what is Gerard doing anyway? Much worse than Pete's! Pete, listen buddy, you gotta calm down and realize no one cares about your problems, okay? They've got worse things at hand! Now shut the hell up and comfort Mikey.

"Me too," Pete says. He slides his arms around Mikey's shoulder and pulls the boy into his chest. That's supposed to help, right?

Course it does. Mikey's voice is muffled but it's clear he's smiling. "Thanks, Pete."