Lopsided Smiles // Petekey // TW TW TW

3. A Metaphorical Berlin Wall

"I never got your name."

Mikey debated on answering Pete's question, that wasn't even a question. Technically, he could just agree, because Pete had only stated the obvious. But then, Pete would ask for his name anyway.

Mikey didn't want to say his name, though. Knowing someone's name meant they couldn't be a total stranger, and Mikey wanted everyone to be a total stranger to him. Getting close to someone meant they would know enough about him to hurt him, and, well, he could hurt someone else, too. He had hurt his brother, and now they never spoke. He couldn't get close to anyone else. But he couldn't explain all this... Maybe just his first name would do. "Michael." It sounded bland and lame, so maybe Pete would lose interest in him.

Pete did not lose interest in him. "Any nickname? Mike?"

Mikey's face twisted into a grimace of absolute disgust. He hated that name more than Michael. The name itself wasn't that bad, but on him it was the most rancid thing. He wasn't a Mike. Then again, he wasn't really a Mikey. Mikey was full of love and hope, passing a spark of joy along to everyone he came in contact with like the sparklers kids have on the fourth of July. Michael was bland, lifeless, and mundane, like him. He'd start going by Michael.

"No. Just Michael."

"Not even Mikey?"

The boy with caramel-colored hair shook his head, glasses slipping down his nose ever so slightly. "Michael."

"You have a last name?"

Mikey shook his head again, frustrating Pete slightly. He knew a relationship was out of the question now, but he wanted to get to know him for some reason. Mikey was this strange mystery that Pete wanted to solve, and he didn't know why. Maybe he was intrigued by the cracks on his glasses, or the bruise on his thin cheek that was barely visible. Maybe it was the way he seemed so guarded and on edge like he thought everyone would hurt him, or how his eyes had so many colors but were so dull and sad. He could tell they were bright and shiny once, but someone took away the life. He needed to bring it back- to see those eyes' potential.

"I won't, like, attack you or anything if that's what you're so worried about. I'm probably around your age, right?"

"I'm 20," Mikey muttered, wondering how much he would reveal if this kid kept talking.

"I'm 21. Hah, I can drink and you can't."

Mikey sighed, being very annoyed by his persistence. He couldn't figure out why he hadn't walked away yet. His feet took him there and kept him there, gluing him to the ground.

It was darker now, and the miserable young adult tore his eyes away from Pete Wentz to admire the blackness. He, again, related to the way the darkness of night made everything more tired and shut off, but it wasn't much better with light shining all over it. Mikey was broken, and no amount of light could fully fix it. Just like the cemetery he found himself stuck in, so still and quiet he felt he was disrupting everything by simply existing. But then again, he always felt that way.

Pete came to the cemetery quite often, so he decided he would much rather admire this Michael. He had been for a short while- that's why he approached him at the cafe. Mikey was the closest thing to a crush, because Pete was very gay, and Mikey was very cute. He took in the way Mikey seemed to melt into his surroundings, zoning out, but really zoning into the cemetery. He watched as the taller boy's eyelids approached his cheeks with a flutter as he inhaled gracefully, seemingly absorbing the graveyard they stood in- that they weren't supposed to be standing in together. Pete knew that his mystery didn't want to be there with him, he wanted to be there alone. And, well, that was Pete's original intention. His mystery continued breathing softly with his eyes barely shut. Pete couldn't help but wonder what was going on inside of his head. He seemed so peaceful at the moment, basking in the silence like a lizard with a heating lamp. But his face looked so sullen and exhausted. His light had been unplugged. Pete had to find the outlet.

Mikey was thinking about Chris. The old Chris. The Chris that held his hand gently but reassuringly tight, took him anywhere and everywhere, and served as the lighter that lit Mikey's sparklers. He had brought upon that dorky, lopsided smile that hadn't played upon Mikey's thin, pale lips in so long. He had comforted him and congratulated him always, not a moment's hesitation. Pete looked like someone who would do the same.. No, no. He couldn't get attached to this near-stranger he already knew too much about- even just mannerisms and tone. If only they were total strangers still.

Mikey finally opened his eyes, snapping back into reality like someone tazed him. He turned his attention back to Pete begrudgingly. "Why did you have to tell me your name?"

"Huh?"

He hadn't realized he'd asked that out loud until he got the response. "I, uh- Nothing. Nevermind, shit..." he muttered, flooding with regret.

Pete brushed it off. "Hey, I'm sorry about yesterday. I was dared to tell my crush I liked them, but I don't have one, and I always thought you were cute, so..."

The younger boy's cheeks went from a sad pale to a nervous pink. "I- I have a boyfriend, Pete... I'm sorry, but, I- I can't."

"Oh..." Naturally, this was disappointing. Mikey knew that- He knew he was being a huge disappointment once again. He barely knew this guy and had met only yesterday, and he's already managed to upset him twice. He figured he was pretty good at being a total fuckup.

Pete couldn't stop noticing every tiny detail in the younger boy's mannerisms, and he wanted to know who built this Berlin Wall around him. So he asked a simple question.

"Wanna talk?"

The shock of this question was enough to make Mikey wince. It was sudden and sharp, like Chris. But it wasn't venomous like Chris. It was so heartfelt and sincere it stabbed him in the gut, and Mikey hadn't even realized he'd said yes.

Pete sat down, and he motioned for his mystery to do the same. He complied, and the pair were sitting in the cool grass, facing each other. But rather than seeing each other they saw each the night's haze around them, like an aura but far more, created by the night and the connection they hated they had.

It started to rain.

"Talk to me."

The younger of the two squinted up at the clouded black sky, droplets of water like his own tears dotting his glasses. "About?"

"Anything. Your life, your past, your boyfriend, whatever."

Mikey looked back at the speaker, finally making eye contact again. "Why would I do that?"

One corner of Pete's lips turned upward slightly more so than the other like a smirk, but soft and gentle instead. "Why not?"

He didn't have an answer he was willing to say, per usual. The reason was simply because he didn't want to be attached, and, well, you know the rest. He couldn't let this man into his life, and opening up would only do just that. But he couldn't explain that, because that explanation would be opening up too, wouldn't it?

"Because I'm in solitary confinement and the door is locked from the outside," Mikey blurted out, spilling his guts all over the grass between them. He meant what he said, because he knew freedom would be dangerous for himself and others, but he didn't mean for Pete to hear it, too.

Pete, who was now full of mystified and worried looks, completely in awe of everything about the boy who sat in front of him. "How do I unlock it?" he inquired hopefully. He wanted in- No, he wanted to let Mikey out.

"You don't. The key was lost a long time ago. I'll be here forever."