Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Runaway
“Tricky! Tricky, look what I’ve found!”
The younger boy turns around at the hyperactive yelling of his best friend as he enters his bedroom through his open first-floor window. Some might think it weird to enter someone’s bedroom via a window, but not fourteen-year-old Patrick Stump; not when Pete Wentz, his best friend since forever, is involved anyway. It’s how Pete always enters and Patrick asked him why once. The answer? Apparently doors are way too mainstream. And Patrick’s mom isn’t too fond of the older boy ‘corrupting’ her son.
What does strike him as odd though is the fact that Pete is carrying something, no, someone in his arms. Firstly, how the hell did Pete manage the climb up without dropping his cargo on the way and secondly, why is aforementioned cargo unconscious?
“Pete, what the fuck did you do?” The blonde-haired boy asks, tone full of accusation because, well, because this is Pete Wentz he’s talking to. As in; Pete Wentz who dyed his very own hamster neon pink just to piss off his parents. “Why is there an unconscious kid in your arms?”
“Because he’s cute.” Pete replies as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And he’s cold and hungry and he needs someone to look after him.”
Patrick just blinks; even he can’t stop himself from being taken aback by the pure randomness of the situation. Of course Pete’s done things for stupid reasons before, who hasn’t, but taking in some complete stranger just because they’re cute? Patrick is seriously considering getting Pete sectioned, not least because he clearly thinks it’s okay to bring said complete stranger straight into Patrick’s bedroom without so much as a word of warning.
The boy in Pete’s arms groans, shifting around a bit and making these horrible noises of pain that makes Patrick’s skin crawl. The stranger is obviously harmless to them, the dark circles under his eyes and the way Pete can hold him like he’s a feather tells the younger boy that much, so Patrick gestures to his bed. Pete takes the hint and places his precious parcel down, wiping some dark-chocolate hair out of the boy’s porcelain face.
“Hey there, Mikey.” He whispers, tone of full of a serious compassion that Patrick can’t remember ever hearing from Pete before. “We’re at Patrick’s house. Y’know, the friend I told you about?” The stranger, Mikey, lets out a noise of brutal panic and his eyes shoot open faster than a flying bullet; eyes that are wide and deep and dark and make Pete’s heart melt into a sugary gloop. “Shush, it’s alright. You’re safe. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
Mikey looks around with ever-inquisitive eyes and slows his breathing, panic subsiding when he catches sight of Pete’s reassuring smile; so warm and certain, precisely what Mikey needs. He holds out his arms towards his protector and Pete immediately gets the message, crawling into bed beside him and hugging him tight.
For his part Patrick just gawps, trying to make some sort of sense out of the past ten minutes. The past ten minutes in which his best friend bought a ‘cute’ stranger into his bedroom and then proceeded to snuggle up in bed with him.
So normal.
“Um, Pete said you’re hungry. I’ll go get some food.”
And with that, Patrick’s running down the stairs before things can get any weirder.
***
“Where’d you find him, Pete?”
The addressed looks up from his task, which was tracing soft patterns over a sleeping Mikey’s stomach with his hands, and gives Patrick his full attention. Pete’s fully aware that bringing Mikey here was pushing it but he had to take him somewhere and Pete’s apartment doesn’t have any central heating at the moment. And Patrick’s bed is way comfier than his rock-like mattress.
He only wants what’s best for Mikey, for the weak little sixteen-year-old he’s known for the best part of two weeks and is by now completely smitten with.
“In some alley downtown.” A cold look sweeps across Pete’s face like a blanket of snow and his gaze returns once more to the sleeping beauty in his arms. “Couple of weeks back I heard him crying down there and went to investigate. The poor thing was too scared to even look at me, but I bought him a donut as like a peace offering and he took it. I’ve been seeing him every day since.” A strange kind of glint flitters into Pete’s eyes as Mikey murmurs something in his sleep. Something that Patrick is pretty sure sounds like ‘Pete, my Pete’. “He’s a runaway, hasn’t got anywhere else to go other than the gutter. He told me he was alright but when I went to see him this morning he was practically out cold.”
“What’s wrong with him? Does he need a doctor?” Patrick’s eyes are wide, amazed that Pete hasn’t already taken him to ER seeing as Mikey’s is blatantly like treasure in Pete’s eyes. “Should I call an am-“
“It’s just flu, I think. But he’s half-starved and sleeping on the streets isn’t exactly good for him. Not when he’s like this.” Pete reaches out and takes Mikey’s hand, pressing a soft peck onto each knuckle. “Poor Baby.”
Patrick’s eyes explode and he sucks in a taught breath; Pete’s in love with this homeless runaway. As in the totally starry-eyed-I-don’t-want-anyone-else kind of love. He’s completely infatuated and Patrick would find it adorable if only the situation wasn’t so serious.
“You’re in love with him.” It’s not a question and both conscious boys know it. “Jesus Christ, Pete. You’re totally in fucking love with him!”
“And he’s in love with me. Said so last night when we watched the stars together. I told him it was a date but it was really just a ploy to keep him safe and warm late at night.” Pete smirks a little, the memory clearly a good one, and then goes back to relentlessly eyeing his love. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him, Tricky, but then you’d have asked questions and this is kinda Mikey’s story to tell; his secrets, not mine.”
Patrick nods once in understanding, the solemnness in Pete’s voice making it perfectly clear that Pete does indeed love this boy very much. So Patrick is sure as hell going to help him look after Mikey. Patrick’s his best friend, his wingman; it’s what he does.
***
“Hey there, Baby.” Pete coos down at the adorably drowsy runaway, if Patrick does say so himself. “Tricky’s bought you some medicine.”
Mikey starts squirming at the sight of the brimming spoon Pete’s holding to the side, trying desperately to get away from the foul taste of recovery. He shakes his head, curling into a ball to escape from it. Kind of like a hedgehog.
“Aw, c’mon, Mikey. It’ll help you get all better. Won’t it, Tricky?” Patrick nods in the background; an eager gesture bought on by an aching want to get the weak boy back to health as soon as possible for Pete’s sake more than anyone else’s. “And you need to get better nice and quick, Baby.”
Nothing happens. Patrick stares, holding his breath for good luck, and Pete gives Mikey a kind of puppy-dog stare, but no move is made on Mikey’s part to collect his medicine. The medicine that would stop the shaking, the coughing, the tummy aches; everything that’s making his life a complete and utter misery to be living at the moment.
“You wanna get better, don’t you?” Patrick chips in, doing his best to help his best friend’s apparent boyfriend.
Mikey does something that neither of his carers expected to see; he shakes his head, eyes flooding with tears as he hides in Pete’s side like a bullet.
“Whatcha mean, Baby? How can you not wanna get better?”
The runaway blinks up at him, eyes huge and frightened, and the look he’s giving Pete almost makes the older boy regret asking. But he can’t regret it, not right now because he needs to know; it’s important that he knows so that he can help Mikey want to get better. Just like he promised he would do the day he met the lanky boy.
“B-because.” A hacking cough tears through Mikey’s throat, Pete’s hand quickly patting his bony back and shushing him with a gentle voice. “Because when I’m better I have to leave.” He looks away, a tiny tear worming it’s way down his face. “And I do want to lose you. Or Patrick. Nobody’s been this nice to me since… since my brother died.”
Pete winces and holds Mikey even tighter, trying to blot out the sound of his boyfriend’s sobs with the fabric of his hoodie. Patrick knows that Mikey’s a good guy, a little too shy but ultimately an extremely sweet kid; seeing him like this is far from pleasant, even if he has only known the runaway for less than twenty-four-hours.
Pete leans down and presses his lips to Mikey’s, letting them linger and not giving a damn that Mikey’s illness might be contagious; all he cares about right now is making his sweet little Mikey feel better, in every conceivable way. When he pulls apart, Mikey’s tears have stopped falling and there’s a look of something akin to contentment on his gaunt, ashen face.
“Know what that means, Mikey?”
Mikey shakes his head, a silent beg to be told nice, reassuring things.
“It means that you won’t ever lose me, or Patrick. I’m here with you forever. And that’s a promise.”
A/N: Just a little Pikey I wrote to cure my boredom. I hope you like it and please let me know what you think! :D
“Tricky! Tricky, look what I’ve found!”
The younger boy turns around at the hyperactive yelling of his best friend as he enters his bedroom through his open first-floor window. Some might think it weird to enter someone’s bedroom via a window, but not fourteen-year-old Patrick Stump; not when Pete Wentz, his best friend since forever, is involved anyway. It’s how Pete always enters and Patrick asked him why once. The answer? Apparently doors are way too mainstream. And Patrick’s mom isn’t too fond of the older boy ‘corrupting’ her son.
What does strike him as odd though is the fact that Pete is carrying something, no, someone in his arms. Firstly, how the hell did Pete manage the climb up without dropping his cargo on the way and secondly, why is aforementioned cargo unconscious?
“Pete, what the fuck did you do?” The blonde-haired boy asks, tone full of accusation because, well, because this is Pete Wentz he’s talking to. As in; Pete Wentz who dyed his very own hamster neon pink just to piss off his parents. “Why is there an unconscious kid in your arms?”
“Because he’s cute.” Pete replies as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And he’s cold and hungry and he needs someone to look after him.”
Patrick just blinks; even he can’t stop himself from being taken aback by the pure randomness of the situation. Of course Pete’s done things for stupid reasons before, who hasn’t, but taking in some complete stranger just because they’re cute? Patrick is seriously considering getting Pete sectioned, not least because he clearly thinks it’s okay to bring said complete stranger straight into Patrick’s bedroom without so much as a word of warning.
The boy in Pete’s arms groans, shifting around a bit and making these horrible noises of pain that makes Patrick’s skin crawl. The stranger is obviously harmless to them, the dark circles under his eyes and the way Pete can hold him like he’s a feather tells the younger boy that much, so Patrick gestures to his bed. Pete takes the hint and places his precious parcel down, wiping some dark-chocolate hair out of the boy’s porcelain face.
“Hey there, Mikey.” He whispers, tone of full of a serious compassion that Patrick can’t remember ever hearing from Pete before. “We’re at Patrick’s house. Y’know, the friend I told you about?” The stranger, Mikey, lets out a noise of brutal panic and his eyes shoot open faster than a flying bullet; eyes that are wide and deep and dark and make Pete’s heart melt into a sugary gloop. “Shush, it’s alright. You’re safe. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
Mikey looks around with ever-inquisitive eyes and slows his breathing, panic subsiding when he catches sight of Pete’s reassuring smile; so warm and certain, precisely what Mikey needs. He holds out his arms towards his protector and Pete immediately gets the message, crawling into bed beside him and hugging him tight.
For his part Patrick just gawps, trying to make some sort of sense out of the past ten minutes. The past ten minutes in which his best friend bought a ‘cute’ stranger into his bedroom and then proceeded to snuggle up in bed with him.
So normal.
“Um, Pete said you’re hungry. I’ll go get some food.”
And with that, Patrick’s running down the stairs before things can get any weirder.
***
“Where’d you find him, Pete?”
The addressed looks up from his task, which was tracing soft patterns over a sleeping Mikey’s stomach with his hands, and gives Patrick his full attention. Pete’s fully aware that bringing Mikey here was pushing it but he had to take him somewhere and Pete’s apartment doesn’t have any central heating at the moment. And Patrick’s bed is way comfier than his rock-like mattress.
He only wants what’s best for Mikey, for the weak little sixteen-year-old he’s known for the best part of two weeks and is by now completely smitten with.
“In some alley downtown.” A cold look sweeps across Pete’s face like a blanket of snow and his gaze returns once more to the sleeping beauty in his arms. “Couple of weeks back I heard him crying down there and went to investigate. The poor thing was too scared to even look at me, but I bought him a donut as like a peace offering and he took it. I’ve been seeing him every day since.” A strange kind of glint flitters into Pete’s eyes as Mikey murmurs something in his sleep. Something that Patrick is pretty sure sounds like ‘Pete, my Pete’. “He’s a runaway, hasn’t got anywhere else to go other than the gutter. He told me he was alright but when I went to see him this morning he was practically out cold.”
“What’s wrong with him? Does he need a doctor?” Patrick’s eyes are wide, amazed that Pete hasn’t already taken him to ER seeing as Mikey’s is blatantly like treasure in Pete’s eyes. “Should I call an am-“
“It’s just flu, I think. But he’s half-starved and sleeping on the streets isn’t exactly good for him. Not when he’s like this.” Pete reaches out and takes Mikey’s hand, pressing a soft peck onto each knuckle. “Poor Baby.”
Patrick’s eyes explode and he sucks in a taught breath; Pete’s in love with this homeless runaway. As in the totally starry-eyed-I-don’t-want-anyone-else kind of love. He’s completely infatuated and Patrick would find it adorable if only the situation wasn’t so serious.
“You’re in love with him.” It’s not a question and both conscious boys know it. “Jesus Christ, Pete. You’re totally in fucking love with him!”
“And he’s in love with me. Said so last night when we watched the stars together. I told him it was a date but it was really just a ploy to keep him safe and warm late at night.” Pete smirks a little, the memory clearly a good one, and then goes back to relentlessly eyeing his love. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him, Tricky, but then you’d have asked questions and this is kinda Mikey’s story to tell; his secrets, not mine.”
Patrick nods once in understanding, the solemnness in Pete’s voice making it perfectly clear that Pete does indeed love this boy very much. So Patrick is sure as hell going to help him look after Mikey. Patrick’s his best friend, his wingman; it’s what he does.
***
“Hey there, Baby.” Pete coos down at the adorably drowsy runaway, if Patrick does say so himself. “Tricky’s bought you some medicine.”
Mikey starts squirming at the sight of the brimming spoon Pete’s holding to the side, trying desperately to get away from the foul taste of recovery. He shakes his head, curling into a ball to escape from it. Kind of like a hedgehog.
“Aw, c’mon, Mikey. It’ll help you get all better. Won’t it, Tricky?” Patrick nods in the background; an eager gesture bought on by an aching want to get the weak boy back to health as soon as possible for Pete’s sake more than anyone else’s. “And you need to get better nice and quick, Baby.”
Nothing happens. Patrick stares, holding his breath for good luck, and Pete gives Mikey a kind of puppy-dog stare, but no move is made on Mikey’s part to collect his medicine. The medicine that would stop the shaking, the coughing, the tummy aches; everything that’s making his life a complete and utter misery to be living at the moment.
“You wanna get better, don’t you?” Patrick chips in, doing his best to help his best friend’s apparent boyfriend.
Mikey does something that neither of his carers expected to see; he shakes his head, eyes flooding with tears as he hides in Pete’s side like a bullet.
“Whatcha mean, Baby? How can you not wanna get better?”
The runaway blinks up at him, eyes huge and frightened, and the look he’s giving Pete almost makes the older boy regret asking. But he can’t regret it, not right now because he needs to know; it’s important that he knows so that he can help Mikey want to get better. Just like he promised he would do the day he met the lanky boy.
“B-because.” A hacking cough tears through Mikey’s throat, Pete’s hand quickly patting his bony back and shushing him with a gentle voice. “Because when I’m better I have to leave.” He looks away, a tiny tear worming it’s way down his face. “And I do want to lose you. Or Patrick. Nobody’s been this nice to me since… since my brother died.”
Pete winces and holds Mikey even tighter, trying to blot out the sound of his boyfriend’s sobs with the fabric of his hoodie. Patrick knows that Mikey’s a good guy, a little too shy but ultimately an extremely sweet kid; seeing him like this is far from pleasant, even if he has only known the runaway for less than twenty-four-hours.
Pete leans down and presses his lips to Mikey’s, letting them linger and not giving a damn that Mikey’s illness might be contagious; all he cares about right now is making his sweet little Mikey feel better, in every conceivable way. When he pulls apart, Mikey’s tears have stopped falling and there’s a look of something akin to contentment on his gaunt, ashen face.
“Know what that means, Mikey?”
Mikey shakes his head, a silent beg to be told nice, reassuring things.
“It means that you won’t ever lose me, or Patrick. I’m here with you forever. And that’s a promise.”
A/N: Just a little Pikey I wrote to cure my boredom. I hope you like it and please let me know what you think! :D
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