The Mighty Fall In Love

Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

When I finally get off of the bus I'm not quite sure what to do.

I want to punch something, throw something, destroy something. I'm angry at myself for lying to Pete and angry at myself for screwing up the most perfect moment. I'm angry because Pete loves me and I blew it. And I want to make something else feel the amount of pain I'm feeling, because it isn't fair.

But instead, I settle for going into the gas station bathroom to cry.

I cry for a good ten minutes, regretting turning Pete down and lying to him, all because I thought us being a couple would ruin all of the good things we have if it all went to hell. But what if the relationship worked? What if this was meant to be?

If we fell in love and got married, we'd be able to spend the rest of our lives with the person who knows the most about us. We'd be able to say we've found our perfect match, because that's what we are. We'd be able to say that we fell in love with our best friend, and after more than 12 years, our love is still strong. We'd be able to marvel in each other's company, get intimate, live together, comfort one another, write better music that speaks to us... And we would just be able to be happy, because god knows how much pain and suffering not being a couple has caused us.

I hear a soft knock on the door and I start to control my sobbing.

"Occupied," I say, my voice quivering slightly. I continue to weep silently, tears still rushing down my face.

"Trick," I hear Pete through the door. His voice sounds calm and hopeful. "Let me in."

I look at myself in the mirror quickly before opening the door. My hair askew and messy. My face red, blotchy, and tear stained. My eyes red from all the waterworks. My expensive leather jacket marked with tears over an old grey t-shirt and Batman pajamas pants. My glasses crooked and foggy. I look like a mess.

But Pete deserves to see me when I let my guard down, I decide.

I go to the door, unlock it and open it, letting Pete in. He has put on a pair of my pajamas pants but his chest is still bare. When he's in, he sits down on the wall beside the door. I slide down next to him. And he finally looks at me.

His face is full of confusion and emotion, clearly not understanding how I can turn him down and be the one crying. But his face is also slightly red from crying.

His deep brown eyes and concerning look make me cry a little bit more.

"Fuck," I say, angry that I can't get myself together.

"Babe, calm down," Pete replies, laughing quietly at my swearing. Now I'm the vulnerable one.

He puts an arm around my shoulder and everything feels right. His soft embrace fixing whatever damage I done only moments before.

He pulls me into his chest and I hear the beating of his heart. My tears continue to fall, but less now.

"Trick, if you want this, I want this," he starts. "I know we've both got someone else, but I've never had any other feeling that could even compare to what I feel when I'm with you. I feel safe and happy. I feel comforted just by the sound of your voice. I let my defense down when you stand beside me. You calm me when I'm anxious. You understand me and everything I go through. You know my past and you're okay with it. You love who I am and I love who you are. And if you're willing, we can try more than just that kiss."

Pete winks with me and my heart sinks.

"I love you, Patrick Stump," he finishes, gaze still locked on mine, face filled with seriousness. And I know he means it.

His mood has changed a lot today, but he evidently must be much more sober than when we kissed considering he threw up all his "pain numbers". He must really want this too, and with him almost sobered, I'd say he's conscious of his decision and maybe really does love me.

"P-Pete," I stutter, out of breath and shocked that he just professed his love to me, here, in the bathroom of a gas station, after this crazy night. "I-I... I love you, too, Peter Wentz."

There, I said it too. And there was no taking it back.

But it's one hundred percent true; I do love Peter Wentz, with all of my heart, ever since I first laid eyes on that confused, emo boy.

He smiles at me at the use of his full name, and I smile back, gaze locked on his. There's amusement in his eyes and his more than perfect teeth show through his wide, goofy smile. It's the perfect moment; I resting on his chest, face turned toward him, with his arms enveloping me in his sweet scent of sweat and old cologne.

And this time, I take a leap of faith and lean into Pete's voluptuous lips.