March 14, 1969

Pete slams the door shut and yanks off his jacket, anger and adrenaline quick in his movements as he takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself. He's still processing everything, that drag queen is still walking through his mind, Patrick's yelling is still ringing through his ears and despite everything, he just can't bring himself to go back. He wants to, he wants to apologize to Patrick and he wants to make it up to him because he knew he shouldn't have gone there but he did. It's 8 by now, the grandfather clock is chiming beside the wall and he feels sick to his stomach.

It's not because Patrick was rude. It's not because Patrick screamed at him in front of everybody at the bar and he was forced to leave. It isn't even that Patrick was hiding anything from him. It's because Patrick is gay, and he never had the slightest idea. It's because he's felt so damn alone about this for so damn long and it had gotten to the point where he was ashamed of himself. The only person he ever told was Andrew. The only person who knew was his brother. And he kept everybody else in the dark. His parents, his friends, his coworkers. He never knew a single soul who was gay or queer or anything besides himself.

And here's Patrick, completely unashamed. Completely okay with it. Pete never thought the day would come. He never thought anybody else would feel the same way as he did...

Pete manages to drag himself up to his room, slowly calming himself down and thinking to himself about it all, just adjusting and processing and remembering everything that happened. He sits on his bed, and for the next hour, he thinks, and he cries and he just lets everything out. And eventually, when all his emotions have finished crashing down on him, he stands and heads to his desk, taking a seat and grabbing a paper and pencil. His last letter from Andrew was just a few days ago. His objective has been changed from the cold war and he's instead being deployed in Vietnam. He won't be able to send or receive any letters after the 20th because by then, he'll have a gun in his hands and he'll be leaving in a plane for Asia.

Andrew,

I followed Patrick out of the house today after he left for wherever he's been going. I followed him downtown and I went to this club. It was a gay club, though. And when he saw me, he yelled at me. But what really made me feel so conflicted was the fact that he is gay. I didn't know. I had no idea. There was absolutely nothing that showed it off. And I told him right then and there that I was, too. I think it was out of anxiety and just generally feeling out of place and not in the right mind because everyone was staring at us.

Frank was there, too. And a bunch of other people I didn't know. And there was this drag queen there that caught my eye. She was beautiful. You should have seen her. And there were lesbians and twinks and bears and lipsticks and butches. It was so amazing. I've never been to a gay bar before. I guess I've just been too nervous.

Anyways, I hope you're doing okay. Tonight was very eventful and I feel exhausted. I hope Vietnam goes well for you. I need to sleep.

Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III

Sent March 14th, 1969

***

Pete doesn't talk to Patrick through the next four days. The fifteenth and the sixteens are a Saturday and Sunday. Patrick spends the day out at the club and Pete plays guitar and listens to The Beatles, smoking cigars on the front steps of their house. A few kids stop to watch for a bit but eventually leave when he begins playing Can't Help Falling In Love. That song's eight years old already, the kids these days wouldn't know it that well.

He just continues smoking that cigar and playing that guitar, completely ignoring Patrick when he gets home with some guy who's biting his lip and giving Patrick these "fuck me" eyes. He's tall, much taller than Patrick, then again everyone has at least 3 inches on the poor kid, and his hair is charcoal, eyes dark brown with a gleam to them that Pete wishes he still had.

Either way, Pete knows he won't be welcomed in the house for the next couple hours. The curtains shut and Pete keeps playing. Everything from Paint It Black and Angie to Here Comes the Sun and Blackbird and all the way back to Can't Help Falling in Love. He finds himself playing that a good few times. He isn't entirely sure why maybe because he swears to god he can hear Patrick and that other kid's gasps and moans and he can't help but feel a hint of loneliness at the thought. Maybe it's because no matter how hard he tries, he can't bring himself to just leave.

He just keeps playing it. Over and over, fingers gentle, swaying in the breeze that's coming through. The moon is high in the sky, and the stars are smiling at him. He isn't sure why, but he lets the confusion pass and just accepts it. A few hours later, he's sitting there still. He guesses it must be half past midnight, and he has work tomorrow but he's beginning to not care. His guitar sits in his lap, still as a statue and he is, too, just watching the cars pass and listening to the silence, the ringing in his ears, the creaking from inside the house.

Patrick comes out another few minutes later, shirtless right behind Pete followed by the other lankier kid.

"Thanks again, Gabe, it means a lot," Patrick says.

"No problem, man," The stranger-Gabe-nods.

Pete watches Gabe walk past him with a little bit of a limp in his step, and on to head back to the club or home. Pete can't tell. All he really cares about is the fact that Patrick didn't just head back inside and he can feel those eyes gazing into the back of his skull. after a short breath, Patrick parts his lips.

"You could have come in, y'know. We stayed in the bedroom."

"I don't care," Pete replies, standing and heading past Patrick.

"What's your problem?" Patrick growls, following Pete back inside.

"My problem?" Pete turns nearly slamming his guitar against the wall in the process, "You wanna know my problem? My problem is that you just don't let me go back to that stupid club even though you know I'm gay. My problem is that you brought another guy into the house and didn't even ask me. My problem is that I've grown up my entire life thinking that nobody else feels the way I do, and then hear that you're gay, and I just... I'm just... it's a lot to process."

"What? The fact that the world doesn't revolve around you? Amazing! Do you want a gold medal for that?" Patrick replies, "And you know this is my house. I can bring in whoever I want. It isn't any of your business anyways. What's really bothering you, huh?"

"Fuck off," Pete growls, bumping past Patrick to head upstairs but before he can, Patrick's yanking him back.

"Tell me, Pete!" Patrick barks. Their eyes meet and Pete's glaring at Patrick with a look that even the bravest of souls wouldn't fuck with. But Patrick still keeps him there, and he still waits for him to respond. And Pete has to fucking admit, he's never wanted to kiss Patrick more than he does in that moment.

Pete has three choices here. Kiss the kid holding him back and possibly make this 100 times worse, tell him what's bothering him, or leave for his room. He immediately knocks off the first option, there's no way he's doing that. This guy's a fucking asshole, why the hell would it even come up? He doesn't want to seem weak overall, so he knocks off the second option and just like that, he's nudging past Patrick and heading upstairs, slamming his door shut on the way in.

He doesn't come out until the next morning when he has to leave for work. His head is crowded and aching as he makes his way out of bed and into the shower, the droplets of water raining down on him like the tears that racked through his body that night. He can feel the water hot, burning his skin and the clock on the wall reads 5:12. He's too tired to go to work. Too exhausted to see anybody. He just wants to crawl back into bed and sleep.

Patrick is downstairs, sipping on coffee when Pete comes down, his eyes are glued to the newspaper, dead silent. Pete considers skipping breakfast and just leaving. But he forces himself to at least make some toast. He pulls down the lever, then grabs himself a cup of coffee, adding just a hint of cream to go with it. All through this, Patrick doesn't make a sound but it isn't until Pete turns around and takes a seat on the chair that he finally looks up and their eyes meet.

"I'm sorry," Patrick immediately says, his tongue working faster than his brain.

"It's okay," Pete replies, and after a bit of thought he adds, "I-I am, too."

"I just..." The blond swallows, "I just tend to get defensive sometimes. And I should have been more open I just... I didn't think you were gay, too. Y'know? It's... it's not a normal thing."

"Yeah." Is all the guitarist replies.

"Do you want to come with me to meet everyone this Friday? They're really nice. And they're all queer in one way or another, too. I wanna make up how rude I've been. Would that be okay?"

Pete nods and says, "That would be great."

The shorter smiles, "Great. Uh... I have to get going but I'll talk to you later tonight I guess, yeah?"

"Yeah... Sure."

"You have mail, by the way, it came in last night," Patrick nods to the letter on the countertop, their address clear and Andrew's name up in the left-hand corner.

"Thank you."

***

Pete,

That's crazy, I would never have expected someone like Patrick to be gay. I'm happy that you know someone else like that, though. It's really great that you've found more people like you. I know you tend to get really lonely sometimes so I wish you luck on it all. I hope things get better for you with everything.

I'm being deployed on the twentieth like I said, and they said I should be back by the fifth of April. It shouldn't be too long, that's only about sixteen days. We're working on taking land in the western area and heading farther East, wish me luck. I'm afraid it'll be the last I'll get. Mikey isn't being deployed anytime soon, they say he's not ready yet, but should hopefully get there soon. He's got too much bone and not enough muscle, so they're going to put him on a better diet. Hopefully, it should work out. I hope that Patrick isn't too bothered by that, though.

Take it easy, little bro. I know things can be tough but I promise you by the end of this, when people finally realize homosexuality isn't bad and the cold war is over and the Vietnam war comes to a truce, we'll be in a better place. I'll see you soon.

Andrew

Sent March 16, 1969