Love is a madness of two. (Pete/Patrick; short oneshot.)
“It’s an insanity,” Pete says, “a disease. A sickness.”
He offers Patrick the can, and Patrick takes it.
They drive in silence for a few minutes. The road is empty, and everyone else in the van is asleep. Pete keeps glancing at Patrick out of the corner of his eye; Patrick’s hat is askew and he looks tiny in his oversized hoody. His glasses have slipped down the end of his nose, and his eyes keep fluttering closed.
After a few minutes Pete pulls over. Joe grunts in one of the back seats. One of the guitar techs slams his hand against the window. Patrick jumps in his seat.
Pete kills the engine and turns to Patrick, eyes serious.
“I’m sick for you, Tricky,” he whispers.
Patrick blinks. “Um…”
Pete darts forward and kisses him swiftly. Then he starts up the van again, turns up the radio and rolls down his window.
“Sometimes,” Pete mumbles after a moment of silence, “love is a madness of one.”
Patrick wants to correct him. He wants to take Pete’s face in his hands and kiss away his self-loathing and disbelief and tell him that he loves him.
He watches Pete’s face.
“Pete,” he says suddenly, “Pete. Pull over.”
And then he does.