In Who We Are and What We Fake 3/3

[turps]

"Wait! Stop!"

Coffee splatters against the window as Gerard suddenly throws up his hand. Thankfully the cup is mostly empty and only a few stray droplets dribble down the glass. That doesn't stop Brian's glare.

"Tell me you've a good reason for that. A duckling in the road, a whole family of fucking ducklings."

Gerard rubs at the splatters with his sleeve. "I don't think ducklings hang out around here, but we need to go left. To Dylan's Dive."

Mikey sits forward in his seat, the bagged piles of comics next to him sliding to the side. "You think they'd have it?"

"They've got everything else," Gerard says and starts giving directions. "Take the next left, second right then, it's about two blocks down."

Brian indicates to go left. "Tell me it's a diner. I'm fucking starving."

Gerard shakes his head. "Sorry, no. It's a memorabilia place, Mikey got Boba Fett there."

"I guess we can go there," Brian says grudgingly, making no mention of how he's been following Gerard's directions all along. "Then back home."

"Promise," Gerard says as Mikey sends a quick text to Jason.

A few minutes then Brian says, "Tell me when to stop," and both Gerard and Mikey are looking out of the side windows. Except Dylan's Dive isn't there. Its space has been taken by a hardware store, a display of mailboxes prominent in the window.

Gerard's face falls as he looks back at Mikey. "I could have got the directions wrong. It could be further along."

"No," Mikey says, cold spreading from the pit of his stomach. He's got his hands curled up, his knuckles against the car door as he looks at the mailboxes with their uniform flags and boring colors. "It's a sign. That's it."

"What? No." Gerard turns completely in his seat, his elbow wedged under the headrest. "You can't give up. You haven't been looking that long."

"I've been looking enough." Mikey sits back, knowing that this is the end. That all fate has shown him is he does belong with Jason. "I'm with Jason now, we've got the house."

"I know," Gerard says, and then looks over at Brian before adding. "But is that enough, are you happy?"

"I'm happy," Mikey says softly, but even as he says it, he's beginning to realize that may not be enough.

~*~*~*~

The sun's barely rising when Pete climbs out of bed. He's managed a few hours sleep but has spent most of the night sitting propped against the headboard, his laptop open on his knee as he searches Google for pictures of Mikey. It's Pete's form of painful goodbye and his eyes burn as he tip-toes around the room getting dressed. Patrick's still asleep, his face pushed into his pillow and the blankets pulled up to his shoulders. Sleeping always makes him look young and defenseless and Pete heart seems to grow two sizes in his chest as he writes a note saying he's gone for coffee.

Dropping it on his bed Pete shoves his feet in his sneakers and runs his hands through his hair before leaving the room. This early there's no one around and Pete hurries along the corridor, his hands held tight against his body as he resists the urge to turn every notice hanging on the room doors. Deciding against the elevator he takes the stairs, his fingers brushing against the railing as he hurries down. It feels good to be moving and Pete's planning on getting coffee, maybe bring back oven warm pastries to Patrick as a form of apology for the wasted trip.

Pete's half way through the lobby when he sees Kyle. He's standing at the reception desk, arguing with the woman who's on duty.

Pete comes to a stop and turns. "Kyle?"

"Pete!" Kyle grins and then looks back at the woman. "Told you I knew him."

"What are you doing here?" Pete's confused; last he knew, Kyle was happy on tour. He'd sent Pete reviews from the first show, links that came complete with caps lock words and explanations of how the band were being seen as fresh and unpretentious. Seeing him here is weird, like Kyle's been materialized out of thin air.

Kyle gathers Pete in a fierce hug, holding him close. "I wanted to see you. I had to leave so suddenly."

Pete smiles against Kyle's chest, pleased that he's taken the time to see him especially. "Patrick's still sleeping. Want to buy me breakfast?"

"That sounds perfect." Kyle kisses the top of Pete's head and they separate, heading for the revolving doors. Together they squash into one of the small compartments, going around twice just because and Pete's laughing when they finally step outside. For a moment he stands on top of the marble steps. Already it's a beautiful morning, the sun lighting everything with gold and he feels refreshed, the past pushed back by spending time with someone who loves him.

"I missed you."

"Missed you, too," Kyle says, his hand on the small of Pete's back. "We've been so busy, tours take so much planning and all of the interviews are insane. Did I tell you about the show? The kids were really into us. It was raw and real, like music's supposed to be."

Pete tells himself Kyle didn't mean the barb and reminds himself of when he was just starting out, how everything felt amazing and like he could take over the world. "You told me. Did you get the flyer issues sorted?"

Kyle nods. "Last night, I came into the city and met with the designer."

Pete slows and some of the lightness he was feeling dims. "You came into the city to meet the designer?"

"And to see you," Kyle says, and while he sounds sincere he's already taking a folded flyer out of his pocket. He smoothes it out and holds it up. "He changed the font and text size. They look awesome now, yeah?"

"Yeah," Pete agrees, and starts to walk again.

They head for a diner close to the hotel. Within a block Kyle's answered four phone calls and Pete gets that touring is hectic -- he knows that -- but he feels abandoned, even with Kyle right here. It's a feeling that gets worse when Kyle gets another call. Taking his cell out of his pocket he holds up his hand and steps away from Pete, obviously happy when he begins to talk. Left alone Pete sits on a nearby bench and waits.

"Sorry." Ten minutes later and Kyle's finally finished the call. Still laughing he puts away his cell and walks over to Pete. "That was Johnny, he woke up in the bathtub. I told him not to hit the mini bar in the room."

Pete rubs at his arms, chilled after sitting so long. "Drummer Johnny? He's in the city too?"

"He came to keep me company," Kyle says and glances at his watch. "They need me so I need to get back soon, we'll have to cut breakfast short."

Pete smiles, the one he keeps for paparazzi and fans on the days when everything feels wrong. "Just go, we'll catch up later."

"You're sure?" Kyle asks, but already he's moving away and reaching for his cell. "I'll call you."

"Okay," Pete says, and as he watches Kyle walk away he knows this is the beginning of another end.

~*~*~*~

"Robert called yesterday. He said Piglet's doghouse is against community rules." Jason's sitting on the bed tugging on his sock and he looks up when Mikey comes back into the room. "We need to change it to something smaller."

Mikey starts to fasten the buttons of his shirt. "I like the one we've got and it's one of the colors they allow."

Jason smiles slightly. "I don't think they expected anyone to have white ghosts on a dog house."

"They're ghouls," Mikey says, making sure his shirt is tucked neatly into his pants. "There's nothing against ghouls in the rule book."

"We still need to change it." Jason stands in front of Mikey and straightens his collar. "I'll have to go soon. I've got that meeting with the investors."

Mikey remembers, the same way he remembers Jason's contentment when he finds him chatting to their neighbors over the fence or drinking coffee with Sara or cutting the lawn on a sunny Sunday morning, ensuring the grass is at the perfect specified length. Jason's flourishing in this environment while Mikey himself feels smothered. It's not a new feeling but it's one he's finally admitting to himself, the search for Pete's shirt reminding him of times he didn't have to worry about the colour of his front door or that he made too much noise driving home in the middle of the night.

"Mikey?" Jason's voice is pitched low, concerned, and Mikey realizes he's been talking for a while with no answer. "Mikey, are you okay?"

Mikey attempts a smile. "I'm fine."

Jason's still holding Mikey's collar and he slides down his hands until they're against Mikey's shoulders. They stand close, neither speaking and then, finally, Jason says, "We need to talk."

"We can talk later, you'll be late," Mikey says, and he doesn't want the kind of conversation that makes Jason sound so flat and defeated.

"Work can wait." Jason lets his hands drop and takes hold of Mikey's hands. Walking backwards he gently tows him to the bed and then sits, Mikey at his side. "You're not happy here."

It's not what Mikey expected him to say, except in that way that he did, because Jason gets Mikey, he always has. From the day they met at Starbucks and ended up sharing a table to now, when he's looking at Mikey with an expression that's nothing but love. It's why Mikey doesn't lie. "This isn't me."

"It's never been you," Jason says, and he clutches Mikey's hands a little tighter. "But it's me and I know you tried to like it here because of that." Jason swallows hard. "I love you but someone has to say it, we're not going to work. Not long term."

Mikey's throat is tight, because he knows, he'd known the minute he started to seriously look for Pete's shirt. It doesn't mean he's giving up without trying. "We could get a house somewhere else. Somewhere that suits us both."

"Mikey, don't," Jason says. "Let me love you enough to let you go."

"And if I don't want to?"

For a moment Jason considers. "Then look me in the eye and tell me you're sure we'll be happy together long term. Not love, happiness."

Mikey opens his mouth, wanting to say the words -- but can't. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." Jason stands then, and their fingers slip apart. "Finish getting ready, we'll sort out details later but we've a breakfast waiting to be eaten."

"You still want to eat?"

"Pancakes and syrup, of course I do," Jason jokes, then his smile fades to something more serious. "I love you Mikey Way and we're going to go and have one last morning. But first, I have something for you."

Still reeling from the conversation all Mikey can do is sit and watch as Jason picks up a bag that's lying next to the dresser. Taking out a gift wrapped package he hands it to Mikey. "I saw it advertised on Craig's List and knew you'd like it."

The paper crinkles under Mikey's fingers as he tries to guess what's inside the soft parcel. He rips at a corner, tearing at the paper until the contents are revealed.

A shirt. A Clandestine shirt. The one with the tag signed by Pete inside.

~*~*~*~

"Say the word and I'll beat him up." It's mid morning and the brim of Patrick's hat is casting a shadow over his face, his eyes bright as he looks at Pete.

Pete forces a smile. "You need your hands for playing, and he's not worth it."

"He's an asshole," Patrick says, anger barely hidden beneath his level tone. "I should put out the word, make sure he doesn't work in the business again."

There's a moment when Pete should make a comment about Patrick being hot when he's angry. It's what he always does, taking refuge in the flippant, but today he's too tired and he scuffs his foot against the pebbled ground. "I need to get my stuff from Kyle's, my dog, everything."

"We'll sort that out," Patrick says and squeezes Pete's knee before standing. "Food first, though. Want a pretzel?"

About to refuse, Pete reconsiders when his stomach growls. "Pretzels for breakfast, you're living the high life."

"Yeah well, someone woke me up and then spent ten minutes breathing down the phone."

"You bring out the pervert in me," Pete says and pushes his hands deep into his hoodie pocket. "I was going to bring you pastries. Before, well, before."

"Fucking asshole bastard." Patrick's hands are curled into fists and Pete's glad that Kyle's nowhere around. "I'd like to stuff his so-called unpretentious band up his ass."

Despite his pleasure at Patrick's anger on his behalf, Pete has to defend Kyle a little. "You know he didn't cheat or anything."

"He didn't value you," Patrick says, his gaze intent on Pete. "That's enough."

For the first time in hours Pete's smile is genuine and his every instinct is to jump up, grab onto Patrick and hold on. So he does. "Thank you."

Awkwardly, Patrick pats Pete's back. "It's only a pretzel."

Pete rests his head against Patrick's shoulder, says, "I know."

The hug doesn't last long. As much as Pete wants to cling and not let go, they are in public. With a last squeeze he pulls back, reaching up to straighten Patrick's hat. "Pretzels then back to the hotel to pack."

Together they walk to the pretzel stall that's just outside the gates to the park. There's only a few people in line and it isn't long before Patrick's ordering two giant pretzels which the stall owner hands over to Pete as Patrick pulls out his wallet. Taking a bite of warm dough, Pete chews, watching as Patrick counts out his money and hands over the bills. Quickly checking through them the vendor jumps when Pete suddenly yells.

"Stop!" The pretzels fall to the floor as Pete jump forward, his stomach pressed against the hard edge of the stall. He grabs for the money, specifically for the five dollar bill with the writing on the side. Pete can see it, blocked words crumpled between the vendor's fingers. "I need that. The five dollars. Please."

Eyes wide, the vendor keeps hold and pushes at Pete. "Get back or I'll call the police."

"No. Wait." Reluctantly, Pete lets go and pulls out his own wallet, taking out a hundred. "I'll swap you. This for that. Please."

"You're insane," the vendor says, but he snatches the hundred before dropping the five on top of the stall. "Go, get away from here."

Pete grabs for the five and even though he knew, had recognized the words as soon as he caught a glimpse, having the note in his hand leaves him shell-shocked.

"He's right, you are insane," Patrick says, his hand tight around Pete's arm as he pulls him away. "What the fuck did you think you were doing?"

For a few steps Pete stumbles forward, then he opens his hand, displaying the bill. "It's the one. Mikey's five dollar bill. The one I wrote on."

At first Patrick looks dubious, but then he takes the note from Pete, examining the name. It's faded now, more grey than black but recognizably Mikey's. "It really is. Fuck."

"I know." Pete pushes his hand through his hair. He feels exhilarated, shocked, his thoughts speeding through his head and above it all is a constant of Mikey.

"What are you going to do?" Patrick asks, and he hands back the note. "This doesn't change anything. Not really."

Pete shakes his head. "Everything's changed." Frozen in place, people walking past on either side, Pete thinks what to do. About lost opportunities, fears and taking a chance. It's something Pete's always been good at, for business matters anyway, the personal is different and Pete knows it's finally time to jump feet first, but only after one last test. He looks behind him and starts to walk backwards. "Call Mikey. Tell him... tell him I'm here, sunrise and first kisses."

"You don't even know he's in L.A.," Patrick says, already taking out his phone.

Pete starts to run and yells over his shoulder. "I'll wait."


~*~*~*~

"What if I'm making a mistake?" Mikey's wrapped in a blanket, camped out in the corner of Brian and Gerard's couch. He's been there for a few hours now, Bunny sprawled across his knee, Piglet and Winston at his feet. After the flurry of activity of packing his belongings and stowing them in the spare room, it's all he has to do. That and think.

"If you've made a mistake we'll be here to support you," Gerard says. He's on the other end of the couch, his feet shoved under the blanket and resting against Mikey's leg. "But I don't think you have."

Gerard sounds sure, and Mikey looks at him in surprise. "I thought you liked Jason?"

"I did, I do." Gerard curls his toes, digging them into Mikey's thigh. "It couldn't have been easy for him. Our lifestyle and your thing with Pete."

"I never had a thing with Pete," Mikey protests. "Not when I was with Jason."

"Not that kind of thing." Gerard looks at Mikey through the hair that's fallen in front of his eyes. "A lot of people aren't friends with their exes."

Which is something Mikey doesn't get. He's friends with most of his, from the ones he speaks to occasionally to the ones he sees often, like Pete. Someone that's always been there, and someone Mikey could never imagine losing completely. "Pete's special."

Gerard smiles then, says, "See, that's why I know you haven't made a mistake. It's always been Pete for you, even when you pushed those feelings aside. The whole haunting and shirt thing was a means to an end. It's time to man up now."

"I guess I should call him," Mikey says, about to reach for his phone. He drops his hand when Bob walks into the room, Brian trailing behind him.

Brian grins, looking gleefully at Bob. "Bob's got a message."

Gerard looks at his watch. "We're not late for the studio."

"Patrick called," Bob says, ignoring Gerard completely. "Pete sent Mikey a message."

"Patrick called you to give me a message from Pete?" Mikey says, trying to make sense of what Bob's saying. "Why didn't he call me?" Suddenly, worry strikes as Mikey thinks about Pete's unusual silence online. "Is Pete okay? Do I need to get to the hospital?"

"He's fine," Bob says, sounding long-suffering. "He's at that park near Santa Monica Boulevard and says sunrise and first kisses."

Gerard pushes off the blanket and swings his legs to the floor. "That's it?"

Bob crosses his arms over his chest. "That's it, that's all I was told to pass on. That's all I want to pass on."

"That's not much of a message," Gerard says, but Mikey already suspects he knows Pete's location. He remembers the sting of sunburn on his cheeks, the sun blazing red and water flowing under their feet, Pete fidgeting before gathering courage and moving in for a first kiss.

"A bridge." Mikey stands and pushes the blanket to one side. "He's on a bridge in the park. I need to go."

Gerard stands too. "I'll drive you."

Distracted, Mikey nods and runs for the door.

~*~*~*~

Feet dangling close to the bed of flowers, Pete rests his arms on the wooden railings of the bridge. It's a small bridge, more ornamental than practical but it reminds him of the bridge where he and Mikey first kissed. It's also in a mostly deserted area of the park, an area he found after walking away from Kyle this morning. In the hour that Pete's been here he's only been passed by one other person. Not that Pete blames people for keeping away, he would too if he'd seen someone lingering in the same place for so long.

Frequently he thinks about going to find a phone. It would be so easy to call Mikey but he knows he can't. This is the last test because even if fate did bring the five dollar bill to Pete, the last step has to be Mikey's alone.

Head resting on his arms, Pete keeps waiting.

~*~*~*~

Mikey pulls down the visor mirror and checks his hair again. He looks so different since the time he was with Pete, older and having to carry fresh fears. But Pete knows all that, has seen Mikey through multiple hair styles and painful days. Still, Mikey can't resist looking.

"You look fine." Gerard reaches across the car and flips the visor back up. "Better than fine."

Nervous, Mikey bites at his lip. "I don't even know why he wants to see me. He could be telling me anything."

"It's something good, Mikey," Gerard says. "Otherwise he'd have picked up his phone or emailed."

It's true, Mikey knows that but he still feels cold inside, that he's going to allow himself to want something he still can't have.

"It better be something important," Bob says, and then adds gruffly. "And if he hurts you again I'm going to kick his fucking ass."

"Me too," Brian says.

In the silence after that Gerard looks over at Mikey. "I'll write a song about insensitive bastards that play with your heart. It'll be fucking epic. Then I'll kick his ass."

"I'll hold you to that," Mikey says, and then settles back in his seat, trying to keep still as they creep along in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

~*~*~*~

Hours pass and Pete doesn't move from his spot on the bridge.

Waiting. Always waiting.

~*~*~*~

Gerard parks, says, "Call me, okay?"

"I will," Mikey promises, walking away from the car. Gerard's parked close to the gates of the park and Mikey's being passed by joggers taking advantage of the early evening sunshine. It's turning the leaves of the trees golden, the ground decorated with dappled shadows but he's too knotted up inside to enjoy the surroundings. Before he walks inside he looks back and sees that Gerard, Bob and Brian are all watching. When they see Mikey hesitate, Gerard opens the window.

"The shirt came to you for a reason, Mikey."

Mikey's wearing Pete's shirt and he turns over the hem, looking at the signature. It's tiny, almost illegible but it's enough to get Mikey moving, walking through the iron gates without looking back again. Inside he looks around at the paths that branch off in different directions and for a moment Mikey's unsure, until he sees the spent firecracker, and knows exactly which way to go.

Winding his way under trees that form a natural tunnel, Mikey passes a family, the mom and dad chasing after a giggling toddler, a young couple strolling hand-in-hand, a woman walking five dogs, but no bridge, no Pete.

Mikey keeps going, takes a left when the pathway branches again, pulled that way when he sees a bulldog chase a ball, its owner following behind. The further Mikey walks the better he feels, the heaviness inside him lightening with the conviction he's doing the right thing. Then, finally, when he's left the majority of people behind he turns a corner and sees an ornamental bridge spanning a flowerbed, but more importantly, he sees Pete.

Pete's sitting with his head down, his shoulders slumped as he leans against the railings, as if they're the only things holding him upright. For a moment all Mikey can do is stare, willing Pete to look up.

He does.

"Mikey?" Pete clambers to his feet, staring at Mikey as if he can't believe he's there. "You came."

"I always do when you ask." Mikey starts to walk forward again, slowly, despite wanting to run forward. He moves from the path onto the boards of the bridge. "You wanted to see me."

Pete nods and he's close enough to touch, but neither do, keeping the space between them. "I broke up with Kyle."

Mikey takes another step forward. "It must be going around."

Pete's expression flickers, emotion leaking through. "You broke up, too?"

Mikey nods. "Yeah." He swallows, needing to know. "What do you want, Pete?"

"You," Pete says. "I want you."

"Thank fucking God." Mikey closes the gap between them, pulling Pete into a fierce hug. Holds onto him and says, "Don't you dare send me away again."

"I won't." Pete's hands are against Mikey's back, steadying as he reaches up for a kiss. It's a kiss that feels new, Pete's lips are cold, his tongue warm as he brushes it against Mikey's, but it's also a kiss that feels right, like they're reclaiming something that was destined.

Like finally it's summer.