June 16th, 1960

Pete and Patrick get home early the next morning at one. Patrick's eyes were wide and his lips shut, unable to get a single word past them on the way home. Pete had only kept his head down and tried to forget everything he'd seen. Tried to forget those empty eyes that stared right through his soul. Tried to forget the bullet wound and tried to forget how fucking loud Patrick had scream, how afraid he was, how much he hurt from just one single loss. Now, as they enter the darkened house, Pete can still see how shaky Patrick is, how dead he seems. He looks like a zombie walking around and it breaks Pete's heart.

"I..." Patrick starts but he immediately trails off, unsure of what to say.

Pete swallows as he shuts the door behind himself and when the house remains in silence, he opens his arms for Patrick. The blond wastes no time in walking forward on weak knees. He isn't crying, not a single tear drops from those red eyes, he only squeezes Pete closer and takes deep breaths, focusing on the beat of the boy's heart, "Why did he have to die? Why couldn't he have... he didn't... he didn't fucking deserve it. He should have just... he..."

"Shh," Pete leans back against the door, cradling Patrick in his arms as the poor, broken man just shakes.

"Life is so fucking unfair. We're no different from them, we're no fucking different. I hope they die, Pete. I hope they drop dead and just fucking die. I hope their wives divorce them and I hope they watch their kids be taken away and I hope they just... I..."

He's crying now, his throat clogged up and his knees just going completely limp as he falls and grips his hair. Pete isn't sure what to say, isn't sure what to do so he just takes a deep breath, gathers all his strength and brings himself down as well, letting Patrick cry. Pete can't help but do the same not long after, beginning to shake, and bite his lip as tears stream down his cheeks. They stay like for a good ten minutes but eventually, Patrick stops crying, Pete already taking deep breaths to calm himself and the blond pulls away, wiping away his tears.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Pete says, "It wasn't... It's understandable, okay?"

Patrick nods, sniffling slightly, "I want him back."

"Me, too."

***

Pete and Patrick head to bed not long after, Pete sitting there in the dark listening to the silence and focusing hard on the ringing in his ears. He can hear the echoes of teens chuckling to one another outside his wide open window and he can see the moon high in the sky. His thoughts are violently fast. Too fast but at the same they're in slow motion. He can't feel anything, he's become numb. He can't tell if he's gripping the sheets or if his hands are just clenching to themselves. His heart is pouring through his eyes and he can see those bloodstains all over again.

He will admit, he never became too close to Gabe, but he can't help but bring in Patrick's sadness as well. After all, he did lose his virginity to the boy and he can't help but feel a deep aching loss in his heart. Because he will never see those eyes light up again. And Travie... how will Travie react? Pete knows they were nothing more than fuckbuddies but that still has to hurt deep. They were bonded, not in love, but they had laid together many times. They probably knew each other deeper than anyone else and Pete knows that had to hurt. He knows...

What more weighs on his mind is that Brendon, WIll, Andy, and Josh. He remembers what Ryan and Will had said the first night he had met them. And the three of them have come closer since that night but he knows about Will's parents. Homophobic. If they found out, they would send WIll away. Will they find out? Will the police tell them? Will he be sent off? Pete feels himself falling deeper and after a long moment where his tears drip down his nose, he forces himself up and pulls his guitar from the wall with shaky hands. He tunes it, gentle, careful not to snap a string, and when he's sure that it's tuned enough, he sets the tunerC. aside and strums a gentle E minor. Then to a D, and a C, and back to E, unsure of what he's doing.

When he finally feels himself shutting his eyes and when his fingers come to each individual string, he turns to a C. Plays it with a gentle, slow strum. Then onto a G. A minor. C. G.

The door opens, then shuts. And he feels a warm presence against his side in nothing but a pair of jeans. His blond hair lays matted and tangled and his eyes are red and sore. Pete takes a long breath in, and then with a sniffle, he sings. His voice is groggy and raw and off-pitch but it makes the moon seem just a little more sympathetic and the kids outside just a little more quiet.

C. E minor. A.

"Wise men say, only feels rush in
But I can't help falling in love with you."

He strums a little while longer, lowering his eyes as his tears drip onto the fretboard and wet his calloused fingers. Patrick's lips part and his fingers grip the sheets as he feels everything pour out. Pete continues back to the C, E minor, A and continues on with the pitch of the boy's voice.

"Shall I stay, would it be a sin?
If I can't help falling in love with you."

Pete strums on, playing his C and his G and A minor. Then repeats the first two and onto the beginning of the chorus beginning with a gentle E minor, his favorite chord. Pete sings these lines, Patrick unable to make his broken, shattered voice work.

"Like a river flows, surely to the sea,
Darling, so it goes
Some things are meant to be."

Patrick dives in, headfirst into the cold waters of denial and anger.

"Take my hand, take my whole life, too
Cause I can't help falling in love with you."

Pete begins strumming a little more powerful now, unable to hold in the growing emotions that vibrate through his very bones. Pete sings it, tears pouring out his eyes this time and his fingers shaky.

"Like a river flows, surely to the sea
Darling, so it goes
Some things are meant to be."

Patrick swallows, taking his turn.

"Take my hand, take my whole life, too,
Cause I can't help falling in love with you."

Pete looks to Patrick strumming out a strong F and then a G. Tears are streaked down his cheeks and he feels a little silly for crying so much in front of a kid who intimidates him. But in return, Patrick always seemed so strong to Pete. Pete didn't imagine that he'd ever be able to cry so hard, not even if he felt all the pain in the world. But Pete knows there's something deeper to Patrick's sadness. Gabe meant something to him. Maybe it was that Gabe kept him going or maybe it was because there was something more than sex with them. But Patrick reveals none of it. Only his sadness. Only the agony that burns through his soul and his lips part, baby blue eyes gazing right back at Pete.

They sing the last line together in a deep harmony that Pete has never felt with anyone else before. Something deep within him. Within each other.

"For I can't help..." Pete moves in closer, a risk he can't bring himself to let go of.

"Falling in love," Patrick holds Pete's jaw, pulling the raven boy in closer.

"With... you."

Pete feels a thousand spark vibrating in him as they gaze into each other's souls and his tears slowly begin to lessen. Patrick smiles weak and sad and terrified. Pete feels his heart pounding as that last chord rings through the room.

"I think I love you, Pete."

Pete grips the back of Patrick's head and before he can move in any further, he whispers right back.

"I think I love you, too."

Their lips crash and Pete can't feel anything but the warmth of Patrick's fingers on his chest and their tears mixing together.

It's raw. It's sad. It's angry.

But most of all,

It's Patrick.

***

Pete wakes up the next morning, groggy and feeling kind of gross. his fingers are weaved in the bedsheets and his guitar lays propped up in its case by the wall. Last night comes through his mind almost like a solid slap and he inhales deep, his lungs inflating his chest to such an extent he's afraid his ribs will pop through his skin but he finds his focus coming away from that and instead pulling toward Patrick's lips. Soft to the touch and a dark pink. How they had moved against his and how his tears had wet Pete's cheeks.

Pete blinks away sitting up in bed and finally exhaling that breath. They kissed. And Patrick said he loved him. What does this mean? Did he really mean it? Or was he just overwhelmed with grief? Would he do it again? Does he really love Pete? Or was he just confused?

He sits there for a while, processing and running over everything over and over again. How they had kissed for so long and then fallen asleep together. Patrick is gone now though and Pete guesses Patrick's probably either awake or went back to his own bed. Pete watches the wall for a moment longer, and then he finds himself standing and heading out of his bedroom and to the bathroom. He takes a quick shower, honestly a little conscious to get himself cleaner than usual. He isn't sure why, maybe because he's afraid Patrick will judge him or maybe because he felt a little dirty from the sight of Gabe last night and how he had been so devastated from one lost life. He remembers how hard Patrick had cried and how he had laid there in Pete's arms.

Pete stares at his reflection for the longest time. His hair has grown out over the years, resting in a slant to his eyebrow. It's not what's in style, he knows, but at this point he doesn't know if he cares anymore. He's used to it and nobody really seems to care about what he looks like. He doesn't look outright gay, though. And that's bound to save his ass. He knows people could kill him for that. Just like... Just like Gabe. He takes a breath to turn his thoughts away, back to the mirror where he stands shirtless. He hasn't worked out in a while, his toned stomach is starting to disappear. He makes a mental note to start working out again.

Pete turns away, grabbing a shirt and tugging it on before rubbing his eyes and swallowing down his depression. He hears the creaking of steps outside the bathroom, Patrick making his way downstairs and Pete knows he has to get out there. He knows he has to talk to him. About Gabe, about last night, about what they'll do now that there's no club. He doesn't know if he'll ever see Lindsey or Ryan or Brendon again but internally, he hopes to God he does. They're his friends, they've accepted him in as who he is and one of them fucking died. He doesn't know how many more there will be. How many more innocent lives have to be lost just because of who they love...

He finishes off his routine, brushing his teeth and using deodorant and combing his hair and by the time he's done, he feels cleaner than he has in a while. He uses the last bit of motivation he has to leave the bathroom, turning off the light and fan.

Patrick is at the kitchen table when Pete comes down, reading the news paper. The headliner reads in big letters: The Ninth Circle Steakhouse and Gay Bar Raided, Two Police with Severe Injuries. Pete feels sick to his stomach at the words. All that matters is how many police were hurt, not the people who actually attended the club.

"Last night at precisely 9 PM, police raided a gay bar in lower Manhattan. Four queers were taken into custody and one was shot after several attempts to fight off police. In the process, two police were severely injured and are in the hospital being treated for their injuries. This morning, two of the queers by the names of Josh Dun and William Beckett were taken out of custody, reportedly "harmless to the investigation." However, the three others are being charged. Brendon Urie, a drag queen faggot, for assaulting a police officer. Andy Hurley, the owner of the gay bar, for conducting illegal actions. Their trails will begin separately later today."

Pete grips his hands into fists, as Patrick finishes talking and looks back at him.

"What's gonna happen to them?" Pete asks, taking a seat at the table.

"I don't know..." Patrick whispers, "Brendon and Andy... they could be in serious trouble for it all."

Pete swallows and nods, looking away for a moment before heading over to the coffee machine. He doesn't want to deal will all this stuff before coffee, he needs at least a little bit of a caffeine boost.

As he's grabbing his coffee and pulling an apple from the fridge, he hears the phone go off from the wall beside the door to the garage. Pete looks to Patrick but he's already picked it up. His heart drops with the words that follow.

"Joe...? Yeah, hi." Pete can hear the soft mumble of Joe's voice through the phone and makes out a few words here and there.

"Did you... newspaper?"

"Yeah, I heard they let Josh and Will go. Any news on what's happening to Andy and Brendon? Or Will? Did his parents find out?"

"I... Gabe... memorial service... two weeks... Ryan said... Parents... Creedmoor."

"Oh my god," Patrick covers his mouth as his eyes widen and a look of pure hate and fear and sadness.

"I... Brendon's sentence... Meet up... your house... need to tell you... in person... Andy... enough evidence... sentenced..."

Patrick drops the phone, staring at the wall. Pete turns from the coffee machine to look at him and when their eyes meet, Pete knows something is wrong.

"P-Patrick?"

His lips quiver as if he's about to cry all over again, but this time, only a soft whisper escapes them.

"Andy's been sentenced to death."