June 28, 1969

"Hey, Patrick?"

"Yes?"

"How... how long ago did you find out about The Ninth Circle?"

"The Ninth Circle... Well it was a while ago."

It's early in the morning, church bells are ringing and Pete can feel the draft of the morning breeze rustling through their window. A letter sits on their table, addressed to Andrew where he's in boot camp again for another two weeks while he waits for his turn to leave again. His last mission sent him to Vietnam, but Pete knows he didn't come back unwounded. He had a graze to his arm, but otherwise he was alright. Mentally, he was already beginning to feel the dread, the trauma, the stress kicking in. The draft that sent him in has brought consequences that Pete hadn't imagined.

"I can see their bloodied faces, tears, scars, bullet wounds. I can feel and taste the blood even though it's been days since we were last out. But what scares me most is the nightmares. I hear their screams each and every night. Theirs. Ours. And it brings me a feeling. We are all human. We are all capable of pain. Of receiving and causing. None of us want to feel it. Yet, all of us, keep causing it."

Pete had written back late the night he received it. Andrew was supposed to mail back as soon as he was back from his second time out, but he had come back late. He had jotted down every little emotion and detail of the past couple weeks. He had already heard about everything going well with Pete and Patrick and how great the gay bar was. With Will and Dallon and Gabe, Hayley and Joe and Brendon and G. Andrew said they sounded like amazing people. It brought a sense of dread the last time Peter read that letter.

Last night, he had cried when he wrote. It was long and depressing. He put everything into it and stayed up for hours just working on getting all his emotions and thoughts and feelings out onto paper. He still feels little sparks of the pure, raw emotion he had experienced. And that morning when he'd read it over again, he knew this wasn't just another one of his letters to Andrew.

This was a eulogy to The Ninth Circle. To Gabe. And to everyone else who lost.

Andrew, Pete had wrote.

I've lost count of how long it's been since we last sent a letter but I'm afraid, everything that happened has been for nothing.

The police raided The Ninth Circle about a week ago.. Gabe has died. Brendon has been sent off to jail. Andy has been sentenced to death. Will has been sent to Creedmoor. I have to come with Ryan to meet him there. I probably won't be allowed to see him and if I do, it'll be without Ryan. I'm afraid of what they're doing to him. How they're treating him. Do you think he's alright? Or do you think he's already gone brain dead?Or do you think he's already gone brain dead? I'm afraid that he's already gone from us, I'm afraid that there's nothing we can do and that he already doesn't remember anyone anymore. I'm afraid. What if he freaks out? What if he doesn't want to see me? What if he screams or begs to be let go...? I've heard of horrible things happening in places like that. I've heard of horrible people doing horrible things and I'm afraid of what I'll see. Will he even recognize me? Or will he think I'm just some stranger? That scares me the most. Will he even know who I am?

I'm not sure right now. But there's more. Gabe's funeral was a few days ago, and Frank is talking about protesting at the next raid. We're tired of being treated like this. I'm even more afraid especially because of what Travis said. I remember his words well, and not in a way that I want to. "Are you sure we'd be able to have another death on our hands after Gabe and Andy. I mean, how many more funerals have to happen? This isn't going to fix anything, the government is going to just shut us down again. Then what? Say Lindsey dies next, or G. We'll be devastated. We can't do things that risk more than we can lose."

That scares me. What if we do die? What then? Would I see you again? Who would survive and who wouldn't? It keeps me awake at night now. I keep having nightmares of Patrick dying. I don't know how I would survive if he left... It scares me. I love him. And I know he loves me. What if he's the next to die? I'm not sure right now. A lot of things are piling up and I'm afraid there's nothing I can do.

Have I mentioned that him and I have been distant lately? We don't talk as much as we used to. After the raid, he kissed me. I guess I should mention that first, but since then, we haven't been the same. We've been distant. And we don't have the same connection as we used to. It's killing me, but I've been so distracted with Gabe's funeral and helping out Ryan and Andy's death sentence. We're trying to see if there's anything we can do and Joe's been taking it surprisingly well. I've felt horrible for him. Because he has to watch his lover day by day, wondering when the last will be. They say it should be over soon. They say that after all is said and done, it'll be okay but I don't know if it will be. Joe's holding a lot in. And I wish I could help him but... the raid really downed us all.

Finally, there's everything with Brendon. Tyler and Josh are upset. Really upset. They helped with the memorial service/funeral but it's obvious things aren't the same with them. I heard them talking the night that Frank brought us all together for the raid. Tyler was crying. Because he hated himself and he was experiencing a lot of discomfort with his body. With the fact that he still has breasts to his curves and then he said he felt bad for being so selfish when Brendon is in jail for another two or three months. Josh told him it would be okay and reassured him that they'd visit Brendon as soon as they could. I envy their relationship. I wish I had that with Patrick. But I know that it may never come.

Brendon isn't as big of an issue because he'll be out sometime between August and September. Hopefully Tyler will hold up until then. I hope things aren't too bad for him. After all, I know it's rough to be away from someone you love for so long. I just with we had less time away from each other. I miss you. And I have to admit, you've been on the back of my mind, but I still think about you from time to time. I worry that you had a bad trip and that you're not doing so well. That maybe, this time you didn't survive.

How's Mikey holding up by the way? I found out that he's G's brother which was quite surprising for me. I didn't think they were related. Do you ever talk to him? And are you still in the same boot camp? I've been curious about him. We haven't talked about him in a long while. Also, how are you doing? Is boot camp going better? And have you met any girls? I've heard of women going out into the army but I've never really known any personally. I think it's brave of them to go even if they're not allowed to. I've heard of some who dress up as men to go. I think it's great of them but from my experience with Tyler, it's gotta be hard.

Anyways, I'll send this out now, I think that covers everything that's happened in the past few weeks. I hope you're doing okay and let me know when you'll be back if you have an idea. I miss you and I'm excited to see you again. If you can, give me a call. My number is 212-xxx-xxxx. I love you, Man. Good luck.

Pete's eyes are glued to the letter as Patrick begins to reply to his question and the blond has to snap him out of his thoughts to grab his attention.

"Pete, are you listening?"

Pete looks up with a small, "Huh?"

"You asked how I found out about The Ninth Circle."

"O-Oh," Pete swallows, "I... nevermind. I'm just."

Patrick frowns slightly, not in frustration or anger, but confusion, wondering what Pete's trying to say. He rarely ever stumbles over his words.

"What?" He asks, reaching forward for Pete's hand with light, pale skin and a dark leather sleeve. Goddamn Patrick and his leather jackets.

"What... what are we, huh?" Pete asks, meeting those baby blues engraved with deep lines under the lower lashes, "I... we kissed. But are we official? We haven't talked much since that night. I'm curious. I want to know what's on your mind. and I wanna know if we're really going to last."

,ki 9

Patrick ponders those words for the longest moment, then with a lick to his lips, he replies, "I don't know. I... I'm gonna be honest, okay? I love you. I have for a while now, even before that night. I'm not one to believe that we have to make it 'official,' though. I just believe that whatever you feel, I'm up for it, too. Y'know? I just want you to be happy. However I can help, I'll try to get you there."

Pete smiles, weak and gentle, then replies, "Okay. I think... I think I'm okay with that. I... Is it okay if I kiss you? And do... y'know... the stuff like Hayley and Lindsey do, I guess. If you wanna put it like that."

"I'm afraid I can't put on a strapon for you," Patrick mumbles sarcastically.

"Not like that," Pete chuckles, "Oh my God, you're disgusting."

"Sure," Patrick rolls his eyes, "You brought up Hayley and Lindsey."

"Not in that way, you idiot."

The blond rises to his feet with a grin and a shrug, taking a sip of his coffee before heading to the front door to grab the paper. When he comes back inside, though, there's someone else with him. Pete's eyes turn from the letter and instead look to the non-gendered man there. Short, brunette hair and nothing but a hood and a pair of jeans. It's much less fancy than Pete thinks he's ever seen them before. In his hands is his car keys.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah..." Pete replies, his joy quickly being replaced with a sense of dread.

***

"Hello?"

"Hi, please state your names and intentions into the microphone please," The lady behind the glass replies with a bored expression.

"I'm Ryan Ross, and this is..."

"Uh, Pete Wentz."

"We're here to visit patient William Beckett, if that's alright."

The lady hums, writing something down. It's written bold and black on white. It's creepy in a way: Ryan Ross and Patrick Stump for William Beckett, 10AM. Then again, so is Creedmoor in general. He feels unsafe and he's barely gotten through the front entrance.

"Relationship to the patient?"

"F-family friend."

"... Mkay, head right in and talk to the nurses at the front office. Thanks for comin' to Creedmoor."

Ryan nods, continuing through the now-open gates and into the parking lot in front of the building. He finds the closest space and after a long moment where he gazes down at his steering wheel, he looks to Pete. Tears are forming in his eyes and he can feel his chest tightening, Pete immediately places his hand over Ryan's.

"He isn't gone yet. It's been a week," Pete says, "He isn't gone."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

They sit there for a long moment longer, then Ryan pulls away and leaves the car, Pete follows soon after, shutting the door and continues with him up to the building. There is one person there at the front counter and a security guard standing there beside the door, his hands folded on his crotch and his dark skin just lighter than the black outfit on his body. Pete looks around the bright, blindingly white room around him as he follows Ryan in.

"Hello, welcome to Creedmoor," The lady smiles, "Are you here to visit?"

"Yes," Ryan says, "William Beckett."

"Mhmm," The lady pulls out a file with Will's name on it, "And what are your names? Do either of you go by the name of... let's see here, 'Ryan Ross?'"

Ryan freezes up but before he can panic, Pete replies, "No, this is Dallon Weekes, and I'm Gabriel Saporta."

Ryan relaxes slightly as the lady nods, looking back down and picks up the phone, "William Beckett to the visiting center please, William Beckett to the visiting center, please. Thank you."

She puts down the phone then says to Pete and Ryan, "right down the hall there and to the right. He'll be there soon."

"Thank you."

The two of them head down the hall, Ryan slightly faster than Pete as they turn and look to the room at the end of the hall. Large letters over the door show, "Visiting Center" to confirm their arrival. Ryan is obviously nervous but Pete says to him before they enter, "It's okay. He'll be okay."

Ryan looks to him, then nods, pressing open the door to bring them into a prison-like visiting room. William isn't there yet but they know he's making his way there. They sit there in an awkward silence, nobody else in the room. They're both still standing, glancing at each other.

That's when the door on the other side of the room opens and a security guard and William come in. Ryan immediately gasps and his eyes widen when he sees him, eyes low to the ground and fingers shaking. His eyes look hollowed, tired, afraid, and his legs are weak as he takes a seat on the other side of the glass. Pete looks to the security guard who stands by the door, eyes on them and hands crossed over his chest. Pete narrows his eyes, "Can we have some time alone?"

"Who do you think you are? Faggots?" The man chuckles in a gruff voice, looking Pete in the eye, "I can't do that. Sorry."

Pete huffs and after a long moment, he grabs his wallet from his pocket and slides $10 under the counter, "Are you sure about that? We're not here to fuck him. We're his brothers you sick fuck."

The man's eyes widen and he looks back out the window before he comes forward and grabs the cash, opening the part between the two sides, "You have twenty minutes. Make it quick."

Ryan wastes no time in going to Will's side as the guard leaves and Pete watches as they hug their boyfriend close, fingers gripping the white fabric as he cries into his shoulder. Will's fingers are still shaking but he seems to know what's going on. He isn't gone. Not yet at least.

"R...Ryan?" Will whispers.

"It's me, Baby, it's me," Ryan replies, pulling away, "It's me, how are you doing? Are they treating you well? What did they do?"

Will feels something light up in him as he looks across Ryan's face and, as if he's just imagining it, he touches his cheek with the pad of his thumb, "Ryan? Is it you? Oh my god... Oh my god..."

"Its me, I'm here, they can't hurt you."

Will presses their lips together, immediately crying into the kiss as he grips Ryan close. Ryan kisses right back, wiping away Will's tears, "I'm right here."

"You need to get me out of here," William gasps, pulling away, suddenly, "It was okay, it was all okay. It was nothing but talk therapy and, and people just telling me that I don't love boys that... That I love girls and I'm not gay. But today, they took me down... down to the... they..."

Ryan kisses William again, whispering, "It's okay, you don't have to tell me. don't have to say anything. You're safe now, Love. You're safe."

"They electrocuted me," William admits, sitting back on the counter and covering his lips with his fingers as tears continue to pour from his eyes, "They laid me down on a bed, there were so many of them and there was so much white... they laid me down, strapped me into the bed. Gave me painkiller. I was so scared, Ry. I didn't know what they were gonna do to me. And then they attached these... things to my head. It hurt so much, It was worse than anything, Ry. I don't... I just wanna go home..."

"You'll be home soon, Baby. Just keep telling them you're straight. Lie to them. Pretend-"

"No," William whispers, shaking his head, "I can't, Ryan. I can't and you know it. This isn't for me. This is for the whole gay community. It wasn't my fault that I was sent here. It was my parents. We both know it. I have to stay strong. I can't just pretend it's for nothing. I can't just pretend. I'm not getting better. I will never change who I love. Because I love you, Ryan."

Ryan's full on crying now, red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. He presses his forehead to Will's, running his fingers through the long brown locks.

"I love you so damn much. Stay strong for me. Please."

"I will. I promise."