FicWad

I liked to run. Not to exercise, but to trick my mind into solving situations. It calmed me and gave the illusion I was getting away from a problem in my life. Today, it was the five am door knock that revealed Pete, wide smiling with a box in his arms. At that moment, I remembered the silly (but life-saving) mistake I had made by asking him to move in. So, instead of helping him with the boxes from his car, I explained I needed a morning walk to think things over. Pete was sulking when I passed him next, but I pushed it away.

My father said I was good at pushing things away and running away from problems and made that point perfectly clear, although in cryptic messages, in his letters to me. While the rest of the world believed he was dead, I was still receiving letters (postmarked months earlier) from our once humble home back in Arizona. There were no time for mystery in my life, however and pushed my dad out of my thoughts as well.

As I neared the apartment once more, I noticed Pete walking from his car, empty handed. I smiled breathlessly.

“All done?” I asked. Pete nodded, glancing at my shoulder. I peered down and frowned at the spot of red that was seeping through my grey sweater. “Oh,” I gulped.

I didn’t like to think about it, but the coffee shop shoot out had left scars; physically and mentally. Pete had informed me in short that Paul had been arrested a few days later, but was being first charged with other drug related crimes before my “attempted murder”. Thinking about the word made me shiver. Still, I put it in the back of my mind, knowing it was out of my control for now. Regardless, I still had the remains with me. My stitch did like to bleed out sometimes and it had been slowing my exercise. I thought I would be safe today, but I was wrong. So there I was, awkwardly trying to rush Pete inside to my, rather our, apartment so I could address the situation.
Like a lost puppy however, Pete trailed behind me to my bathroom, and stood in the door way as I sifted through my first-aid kit, grabbing some gauze and a new big-patch Band-Aid. He stood watching, but I understood. This scar would be with me for life; a constant reminder that I had put myself in danger for Pete. His face scrunched into a pout and I looked at him again through the mirror.

“Pete,” I turned my head slightly. I didn’t know what to tell him to comfort him. Rather, my voice seemed to lull him out of his state enough to step closer to me and look down at my shoulder. I watched him as he reached up and flinched lightly as his fingers met the nape of my neck and swallowed softly as they disappeared underneath the fabric. “Pete,” I whispered again. He locked eyes with me and I instantly had to look away.

He slowly pulled down the sleeve and I gulped a little louder as he stared at the scar more intently. He touched it lightly and I sighed, knowing what was coming.

“This is hard to look at,” he mumbled, and I felt urged to look at his face again, finding his eyes already on mine. “I can’t believe you,” he softly laughed at this before dropping his hands. I turned a little and grabbed the gauze, placing it over the stitches before wrapping the bandage over it. The quicker it disappeared the safer the situation would become. Pete frowned.

“What?” I asked. He looked away.

“Are we making a mistake?” he asked suddenly. I raised an eyebrow but then frowned as well, glancing off as well.

“I don’t know,” I spoke. Pete’s sigh was extremely unsettling. I stepped forward and hesitated before grabbing his hand, earning a shiver and a direct eye lock. “But we’re grownups,” I joked. Pete smiled.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I promise,” he said then. I raised an eyebrow.

“Promise what?” I asked. Pete stepped backwards and I followed him out to the living room, him sitting on the couch as I stood in the hallway arch, peering at him. He smiled.

“A lot of things,”

-

The record shop was a great place for me to unwind, and in the following days that Pete continued to move his stuff in, I found myself there, browsing and finding musical treasures from my past. I was just about to dive into the massive Prince collection when I heard a cough behind me and a sigh that almost had an accent, if that makes sense. I turned and grinned at Izzy, but quickly realized she wasn’t smiling at all.

“Izzy, what’s wrong?” I asked. She shifted her eyes.

“I saw your car out front and needed to talk to you,” she looked at me and gave me no time to respond. “Where’s Patrick? Have you heard from him?” she asked. I creased my eyebrows together and she sighed. “There was a rumor around campus that Kevin was going to beat him up after school because he saw him talking to me after class today,”

“Izzy,” I finally cut her off and looked at her with concern.

“I just need to make sure he’s ok,” she seemed on the verge of tears. “He wasn’t at his house,” I let out a slow sigh.

“I can go check on him if you need me to,” I suggested. Izzy forced a small smile and nodded.

“I guess that’d be the best thing for now,” she admitted.

With that, I followed her out and waited by my car until she was out of site at the next stop light. I couldn’t help thinking during the drive to Glenview that something wasn’t right with Izzy and Kevin’s relationship. But, it had been a while since I was in high school, so I ignored it and kept driving, focusing on the hope of Patrick’s well-being. When I finally arrived at the Stump household, I nervously stepped onto the porch and looked at the peep-hole before knocking twice. I sighed, highly doubting a response and stepped backwards after a few moments. Just as I was about to turn around, the door creaked and I pushed it a little before it opened more. Guessing it was safe for me to go in, I peered inside and noticed Patrick’s figure walking away from the door and to another room in the hallway. I quickly came inside and closed the door, locking it before running after him. When I got to where he was, I discovered it was Patrick’s bedroom and he was sitting on the edge of his bed with his head down, the bill of his hat pulled over his face.

“Trickster,” I offered a silly nickname but frowned when all I got was a disgruntled sigh.

“Did you hear?” he mumbled. I gulped as he looked up and then felt a gasp leave my breath when I noticed the bruise on his cheekbone and cut on his lip.

“Patrick,” I sighed, leaning closer to him as he looked away. “Did Kevin do this?” I asked. He rolled his eyes

“What the hell do you think?” I creased my eyebrows together and leaned away.

“Hey now,” I hissed, earning his attention. “I did nothing to you, so don’t snap at me,”

“Sorry,” Patrick frowned. I sat next to him and took off his hat. He fingered his hair and closed his eyes. “But thanks,”

“What?” I asked. Patrick looked at me and offered a flat grin.

“I needed to get out of this mood,” he pulled back his lips. “My mom got mad at me for being ‘bitchy’ when I got home,” he admitted. I laughed.

“Didn’t she see you?” I paused as he shook his head. “At least it’s not that bad,” I peered at his face. “Did you fight back?”

Patrick snickered. “Of course,” he spoke before frowning slightly. “Not very well, of course, I mean, look at me, then look at Kevin,” I smiled.

“You’ll be ok, right?” I asked. He nodded and watched me as I stood up, grabbing my keys from my purse.

“So,” he hummed. I looked back.

“What?” I asked again. Patrick raised an eyebrow.

“Joe tells me that Pete moved in with you,” he slowly said.

“And?”

“Does that mean you and Pete are finally together?” he asked coyly. I glared at him.

“What do you mean by that?” I put a hand on my hip. “No, I’m dating Andy,” I corrected. Patrick’s eyes widened slightly.

“Sounds complicated,” he offered. I rolled my eyes but then thought about it. I shook my head and waited for him to stand up. We started walking towards the door when he pulled me into a hug. “But you’re smart, so I won’t question you,” I smiled into his shoulder.

“Thanks Patrick,”

I left his house feeling confused, wondering what Patrick was going though and what I was getting myself into. However, I wanted to know why Patrick assumed it meant that Pete and I were “together” and then thought what he knew about Pete and I’s past (if you can call five months a past). Regardless, I had a lot on my mind.

-

Andy was beaming when I opened the door, his hands wrapped around a bouquet; a bouquet of roses. My smile fell and I covered my mouth as he stepped inside.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning and looking down at the flowers. I leaped back.

“I’m deathly allergic to roses,” I mumbled through my fingers. Andy widened his eyes and I pointed at the door. “Dumpster,” I spoke again, rushing to the kitchen. Andy complied and exited and while he was gone, I began scrubbing my hands and arms with soap, my eyes watering slightly. The door slowly opened and I saw Andy, this time a little defeated. He slowly closed the door and walked near me. I offered a grin as I handed him the soap. He looked at me as I leaned against the counter.

“I can’t surprise you anymore, huh?” he asked, jokingly. I shrugged.

“As long as it’s not cherries, hazelnuts or a puppy,” I explained. Andy raised an eyebrow as he dried his hands on the washcloth.

“That’s ok,” he admitted, smiling at me. I blushed slightly as he stepped forward, resting a hand on my hip. I sighed and looked at his eyes. Our lips were centimeters away from touching when the door swung open and Pete came in, carrying a few bags of groceries.

“I got veggie pizza!” he announced, before pausing, as he saw us. I turned my head to look over my shoulder and gulped as he tried to hide the obvious pain in his eyes. “Oh hey, Andy,” he forced a smile as he set the bags down on the stove, avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t know you were stopping by,” I smiled as Andy peered at me again.

“I was just on my way to work and wanted to give Evie here some flowers to brighten up her day,” he nodded at the door and I got the hint. Pete watched us as we walked to the door and I stepped out with him, leaving the door ajar. Andy sighed. “We need a better place to have our first kiss,”

I felt my cheeks burn and looked away. Andy’s hand met my cheek and I closed my eyes as he leaned forward again. Finally our lips touched and I hummed into it, wrapping my arms around his neck as his slithered around my waist. After a few moments, we parted and after a small moment of locked eyes, he pulled away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked.

I nodded and watched as he walked around the corner and towards the parking lot. Sighing, I remembered there was another man in my house, most likely pouting about what he had just walked in on. When I finally got in, Pete was sitting on the couch, twirling the TV remote in his hands. I leaned against the door as I closed it. He kept his stare on the blank screen of the TV.

“So,” he switched his gaze to me. “Andy?” he asked. I slowly nodded.

“Yeah,” I whispered. He nodded, and stood up, offering a small smile before disappearing down the hallway. I gulped and thought about following him, but knew that wouldn’t help me at all. Instead, I looked into the kitchen to see the pizza he had been talking about. After fixing myself a plate, I sat on the couch and stared at the TV, thinking to myself once again; what was wrong with me.

-

“Why can’t we just be together?”

There was a quiet whisper in the night.

“I really have feelings for you,”

The voice was familiar.

“I think I lo-” a pause. “Maybe,”

My eyes fluttered open and I stared groggily at the wall in front of me, slowly, I rolled on my back and looked at the door skeptically, seeing it move a little. I raised an eyebrow and quickly sat up, taking a large step to open it. I looked into the hallway and darted my vision from the bolted door to Pete’s door where it too, was moving. I skewed my mouth to one side and tip-toed over, peering inside and smiling at the night-light near his bed. He was sprawled across the sheets, mouth open and nose making small snoring sounds. It appeared he had been there all along. As I sat down in my bed again, I shook my head, thinking I was just having an episode of vivid dreams. As I laid back down in bed, I wondered again if Pete and I were making a mistake.