one more troubled soul » petekey

Fourteen

A/N: First update in two years? God, I'm awful.

"Find ecstasy in life; 
the mere sense of living is joy enough."
- Emily Dickinson

Pete watched the sun rise over the trees in the distance, barely ready for the day to begin. His mind and body both were practically screaming at him to rest, but his heart and whatever bit of lonely soul he had kept him up. His tired eyes were prickling with exhaustion, and his hands were cold and clammy. He shifted in his leather seat and looked towards Mikey, who was somehow still sound asleep in a gentle fetal position. The sun's earliest rays were kissing his forehead softly. Pete smiled to himself.

He had barely gotten any sleep. He had tried his damndest. He counted sheep and held his breath and hummed his mom's old lullabies, and yet he was never lucky enough to sink away. He had spent the night thinking up a devilish kind of storm, the kind that rendered him nearly braindead. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror and nearly gasped. The bags that hung from his dark eyes were limp with dead weight. The whites of his eyes were pink with exhaustion. He looked as if he had just fought a war and lost tragically. He might as well have. 

In the mirror, he also caught a glimpse of Ryan, who had managed to position himself half off the backseat. His frail torso and long, pale arms dangled off the edge of the worn leather seats, his bloody knuckles brushing the crumb-ridden carpet. And still, like everyone but Pete, he remained deep in his sleep. His nostrils flared with pitiful, gentle snores. 

Pete recalled him stirring multiple times throughout the night. Even after being consoled, Ryan had sat up in his slumber just to let himself cry. Pete had closed his eyes tight and pretended not to listen, but he was listening, and his entire body was aching. He knew there was nothing more he could say to comfort his young friend. As much as he hated to admit it, Ryan's sadness and crippling fear were warranted in every way. He had grown up in a place that set out to destroy him, despite all the love he offered it. He had grown up beneath the fist of a man that tortured him, even still despite the compassion he tried to put into his soulless and heartless body. He had grown up; and far too early. And so Pete let him cry, because he deserved to cry, and sometimes someone just really needed to cry. 

Pete looked back out the window. The sky was a brilliant yet soothing and gentle pink. The blues and purples of the night were beginning to get swallowed by the sun, and in good time, too. Pete wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to handle sitting in the darkness. It was almost like sitting in his own hollow husk of a mind and heart and body. It was all starting to feel too familiar.

The crickets of the evening were replaced by the morning songs of whatever birds lived and loved in the nearby woods. Pete smiled softly to himself; he couldn't help being charmed by the way that the world woke itself up. It was remarkable to him that it ever did. It always seemed so impossible to recover from the darkest, stormiest nights. But the world never really did stop turning, no matter how badly Pete wanted it to sometimes. But he decided it was time for him to start moving again, too, and took a final glance at Mikey and Ryan and then turned the key in the ignition. His truck rumbled to life in the pale dawn. 

The engine roar woke both the Sleeping Beauties. Mikey, in his proper fashion, woke up slowly and gracefully. His eyes were wide for a moment and then calm, blinking to allow themselves the sun's presence. His dark irises lazily moved back and forth, before they landed promptly on Pete, who smiled at him nervously. "Good morning?"

Mikey only smiled softly in response, then leaned forward to arch his back into a much-needed stretch. He let out a meek moan in relief, and the small sound sent chills down Pete's spine. Mikey cracked his knuckles and neck and then his knuckles again, the symphony of his waking body joining the ranks of the morning bird's song. Finally, he faced Pete with a tall and fluffy bedhead. He smiled again, this time, with teeth. "Mind if I step out to stretch my legs?"