Post #9.

[josiemus_prime]

another synonym for still not over you (pete/patrick + andy/mixon, g.i.n.a.s.f.s fic)


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Leftovers

[(Anonymous)]

"Joe and Marie broke up," Patrick said as soon as Pete opened the door, walking in without waiting for an invitation.

"I know that," Pete replied, momentarily at a loss before heading for his spot at the kitchen table, where he'd been combing through the newspaper for classified ads. First an apartment, then a car. "But they're only separated." A pause. "Is that why you came?"

"I thought you might want to see me," Patrick said. "You're my best friend. But mostly I came to ask you to come to Chicago. To talk to Joe. Help him out, you know? You're his friend."

"You don't have to keep reminding me who I am." Pete feigned disinterest, scanning the metro section of the newspaper.

"What's wrong with you? I thought you'd be happy to see me. I thought you'd be concerned about Joe."

"How's Anna?" Pete asked, sidestepping the accusations that he was neither happy to see Patrick nor concerned about Joe, possibly because both were true.

Patrick looked hurt, but recovered quickly. "She's fine, I guess."

"That's great. It really is. It's great."

"Joe said you were a teacher now."

Pete looked up. "High school. Those years suck for a lot of people. Figure I’d try and make some kids better. You know the drill."

"Aren’t they supposed to be the best years of your life?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Footloose and fancy-free, that’s what it’s supposed to be. But, honestly, is it ever? It definitely wasn’t for me."

"What are you now?"

Pete couldn't stop the word from coming out of his mouth even though he knew it would be the worst thing to say; it was also the most perfect response he could have come up with if he'd had six hours to think of one. He'd had six seconds, and here it was. Maybe it was fate.

"Happy."

Patrick didn't respond. Pete snuck a peek at him while pretending to read an article about buses, or something. His face was expressionless, as if with that one word Pete had found his 'off' switch.

"Come to Chicago," Patrick said, as if he simply hadn't heard Pete's perfect response. "If not for me, then because your friend needs you."

"He doesn't need me," Pete replied quietly, concentrating on the newspaper. The words blurred together, the letters intertwined and danced on the page, trading partners carelessly. Intoxy harbin felwo, a headline read, and its size seemed to indicate extreme importance. He settled on that article and kept his gaze steady. "He doesn't need me," he repeated, "because he has Andy."

Patrick's eyes clouded. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Pete flicked a withering look in his direction. But all he said was, "Andy's a better friend to him than I've ever been." Just enough to make Patrick backpedal all those conclusions to which he'd just leapt.

"Oh," Patrick said, and glanced down at his hands. Remarkably, they couldn't seem to keep still. He rolled both fists into balls and pushed them into his thighs, again and again, until his palms stopped shaking when he released his fingers. "I just... I really wish we could have a second chance."

"I think it would be more like our fifth chance," Pete murmured, engrossed in another nonsensical article now. "And five is just too many, don't you think?"

"Anna's gone now," Patrick said, and it came out like a plea.

So you won't be distracted anymore, Pete observed. Wow, I must be really important to you. Leftovers. (Not that he had anything against leftovers, per se. Great for breakfast, sometimes leftover spaghetti could last a whole week before getting too gross. But he didn't really want to be leftover spaghetti.)

"That must be hard for you," he offered instead.

"She met someone while we were away."

"I'm sorry," he said, and did not add: I'm sorry I didn't meet someone while you were away, too. Well, maybe that would have been a lie anyway; he had met someone, several someones. Pete had never had trouble making friends. Just nobody too special. Nobody worth leaving Patrick for. He envied Anna. Freedom.

"Wait for it," Patrick grinned, although he clearly did not find it at all amusing. "She's a girl."

"Anna? Yeah, I remember."

"Not Anna."

"Anna's not a girl? I always thought she was too--"

"The person she met. It's a girl. Christina. They moved to California when we got back."

"That's interesting," Pete said, returning to the newspaper. "I would never have thought she'd go for that."

"Neither did I. Neither did she. She said, 'Yeah, I always thought it was gross, but it turns out it's not.' Like, could you twist the knife a little more, please?"

Oh, I could. "Hm. Must have been terrible for you." He glanced up. "I don't suppose you--"

"No, dude," Patrick laughed, and it almost felt like old times. "And not for lack of trying. Anna said something about how it would trivialize the depth of the love they shared, or some crap like that. I think that Christina girl would have gone for it, though. She looked kinky."

"Wasted opportunity, pal."

"You're telling me."

"Go back to Chicago, Patrick," Pete said abruptly, folding up the newspaper and sitting back in his chair.

"Wow." Patrick mimicked his gesture, settling further back into the couch. "I guess that means you aren't coming with me."

"That's what it means. So just go, okay?"

"No. I won't."

"Joe will be fine. It's just a separation, not a divorce. Even I know the difference."

"Fuck Joe."

"Now, that would be kinky. But no."

"Why won't you come with me?"

"Because," Pete said, looking at every single other object in the apartment but Patrick, "Nobody deserves this."

"What are you--"

"I know I make it seem like I don't care. Like I'd be perfectly happy to just leave everything behind because, hey, you need me, and haven't I always been there for you before?"

"That's not what I'm asking."

"It is, though. Do you have any idea what it was like to watch everyone else-- Joe and Marie, Andy and Ryanne, you and Anna--and always be the odd man out? Yeah, I had some girls once in a while, but nothing... not love."

"I don't understand."

"Joe and Marie have been in love since the beginning of time. Andy couldn't have what he wanted, so he settled--"

"What?"

"So he settled for Ryanne," Pete pressed on, "and they're apparently happy once in a while. And you and Anna, the big love affair, sort of."

"What are you getting at?"

"If you don't know, then it really doesn't matter. Go back to Chicago, Patrick. Start over. Anna will come back to you, and if she doesn't, there'll be others. Just go."

Patrick stared at him for a while before rising. Without another word, he simply left. Pete remained frozen in place.

When the persistent knock came at the door a few minutes later, he didn't intend to answer it until he realized it might be the girl next door coming over to call the fire department because her curtains were suddenly ablaze. If her apartment burned down, then the whole building, including his apartment, could burn down, and that would suck. A lot. He liked his apartment, and it had been really hard to find one. Or the old lady in the apartment on the other side could be coming over to ask him to go get her kitten off the ledge outside his kitchen window before the cat leaped to his death five stories below. He didn't want the death of a kitten, even one as badly behaved as Mr. Kitty, on his hands.

So he took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Andy was never in love with Joe," Patrick said, "and you were the one who never wanted me."

And then he kissed Pete, just long enough to let him know that he wasn't leftover spaghetti. Maybe Anna had just been green beans, or a salad: an obstacle on his way to the main dish.

As quickly as he'd blurted his confession of sorts, he was gone.

"Damn it," Pete said, and closed the door.

Looked like he'd be on the next plane to Chicago.

OP Here

[(Anonymous)]

I love the direction you went with this, I know it was a broad prompt, but this is perfect.

"Andy was never in love with Joe," Patrick said, "and you were the one who never wanted me."
^I don't know why I love this so much, but I do.

Thank you <3.