The Silence in my head is deafening (Peterick)

The Moonlight Appears so Beautiful Against Your Eyes M'dear

Oh my god, I know. Everyone who read and liked this (ha) I apologize for my bullshit. School and all that. Excuses, excuses. I'm still alive though so there's that. This chapter has been delayed long enough so...here you go? It could be longer tbh, but...I feel like that would ruin the mood.

"Does this happen to you a lot?" Pete asks, quietly treading behind him. They're currently trapped in an alley way and all Patrick can do is sit there, horrified with his head in his hands. He's not even aware of their current location. Too many turns, left, and right. He's dizzy just at the thought of it. His throat feels tight and itchy, his eyes sore and his eyelids heavy. He turns a weary glance back at Pete.

"Define 'a lot,'" Patrick snorts, a bitter chuckle escaping him. "I'm really sorry about this." Pete purses his lips for a brief moment, before shaking his head. "You're being ridiculous." "Well gee, thanks," Patrick thinks, with a frown forming. "It's not your fault that dude bumped into you," Pete continues, walking towards him to place a gentle hand upon his shoulder. It's warm, burning his skin. Patrick swallows carefully and then says "I guess."

Pete gives a sweet smile that Patrick feels as if he could acquire a cavity from only staring at for a short period of time. "To be honest the only thing I'm worried about is whether or not you have hearing damage," Pete jokes, a small laugh leaving him. "Man that girl could scream, don't blame her though."

That manages to shatter Patrick's sullen exterior and he cracks a smile. "You know what I'm more upset about? I lost my hat," he whines like it's the end of the world. It kind of is. Pete gasps, the hand on his shoulder tightening and Patrick can feel his cheeks flush. Only just. "Dude, What if someone clones you?"

Patrick replies with a roaring laugh, slapping his hand against his knee. He then grimaces. "The last thing we need is more of me walking about." Pete immediately scoffs, aiming to shake his head in disagreement, his glasses wiggle with him. Pushing them up he vehemently claims "That's like, the first thing we need." Patrick is starting to believe something is definitely wrong with him. His stomach feels funny and his heart is practically doing cartwheels as lame as it sounds.

Patrick turns back, avoiding anymore unnecessary eye contact with Pete. "You're a sap Wentz." As he utters this, he subtly shrugs the other's hand off of his shoulder. Pete doesn't at all seem put off by this from his brightly spoken response of "I try, I really do." Patrick kinda wishes he wouldn't, but he can't just say that. He at least attempts to not be rude. Sometimes.

"So...are you just going to spend eternity sat on that box, or are we going to call someone and explain our situation," Pete questions, circling around, a bounce within in his step before he squats down in front of him, a slight tilt to his head making Patrick grit his teeth. "I don't know...This box is pretty comfortable." Pete smirks, rolls his eyes, and then stands up straight. "Then you can live in it."

Patrick hums, adjusting his body into a more comfortable position. "Sounds good, I mean...privacy," he mused, twirling his finger. Pete sighs, and fondly pats his arm. With every resounding pat comes forth a quiet voice in the back of Patrick's head painfully whispering "No. No. No."

"You poor soul...but I'm not letting you live in cardboard, so what's our next plan?" Patrick half-groans. Holding out his hand, he expects Pete to help him up. "Be a doll," is the only thing he says.