Lindsey Ballato had been thirteen, well, of course she had been thirteen, considering that she was seventeen, it was highly unlikely that she had just gone straight from twelve to fourteen, but Lindsey had been thirteen when all kinds of vaguely homosexual hell had broken lose.

In fact the fact that she was thirteen was kind of irrelevant, that was just how old she was.

Four years ago, Lindsey Ballato's heart had done the most stupid thing in the world, because Lindsey Ballato from four years ago was possibly even more stupid than present day Lindsey, of course, many speculated as to whether that was even physically possible, but past Lindsey was indeed all kinds of stupid and irrational, but it did seem that thirteen year old Lindsey had certainly outdone her seventeen year old counterpart on the friendship front, considering that four years ago, Lindsey had actually had a friend.

And that four years ago, Lindsey hadn't fucked it up with everyone, and hadn't found herself curled up in bed, grabbing the box from the corner of her wardrobe: a box not intended to be opened until she'd forgotten the contents - part of some bullshit idea her and Jamia had had when they were like fourteen, but the contents of the box included many items abandoned throughout the years, that had in the past meant so much to her.

However seventeen year old Lindsey felt little to nothing as she looked over the shoe box: containing three diaries, each with a different coloured cover, a couple of printed photographs of her and Jamia from when they were younger, and what appeared to be a handwritten letter to herself, and a bag of chocolate buttons that were three years out of date, ultimately proving that younger Lindsey had indeed been more stupid, and that it was indeed possible.

She discarded the chocolate buttons, straight into her trashcan, because she simply wasn't interested in the kinds of prehistoric bacterial life growing on them, and with good reason. She soon turned her attention to the diaries, flickering through and letting herself drown in her younger idiocy, which the most bullshit entries about a plethora of ridiculous and insignificant things that had somehow managed to matter so much in her head at one point.

But it was only when Lindsey opened the last diary that she really found what she had been looking for all this time, not that she dared to admit it to herself, of course: a certain diary entry which she'd made four years ago, aged thirteen.

'Dear Diary,

Today is a Sunday and I stayed with Jamia last night, and, I'm not entirely sure what happened, but something did...'

-

Four years ago, at some point, it was a Sunday, and thirteen year old Lindsey Ballato was sat in the corner of her best friend, Jamia Nestor's bedroom, with Jamia still asleep and Lindsey still trapped inside her own head, stuck in the realisations that had befallen her: the very realisations which focused so strongly upon the girl just a few metres away from her.

Lindsey had just wished she could have stopped this all, because it was ridiculous, it wasn't going to get anywhere, and it was just giving her a hell of a lot of heart attack, but she was soon finding out that things just didn't work that way, and that perhaps her best friend would always look beautiful to her, and perhaps in a different way than she was supposed to.

Sure, she could suppress it all she liked, and she would, of course she would, but that would never do much to change the truth and the reality of things, but of course, Lindsey was, and would always be stubborn, as she forced her gaze away from Jamia, and put pen back to paper, scribbling the diary entry that would perhaps change the whole world for her come four years time.

She just didn't know what to do with herself; what this even meant, and when, if ever, it would just go away, because she didn't know what to say, she didn't know what to do, but she just reckoned that perhaps going up to Jamia and all so causally mentioning just how much she wanted to kiss her wouldn't go down well.

Anyway, thirteen year old Lindsey was certain that kissing was for boys and girls, so she couldn't kiss Jamia - it just didn't work like that, and thirteen year old Lindsey sat there, unable to imagine herself kissing any boy, even anyone that wasn't Jamia, only to find herself proven so wrong in the years that followed.

But that of course wasn't the only thing Lindsey had been wrong about.

Perhaps it was just the fact that no one had ever thought to mention the existence of anything besides heterosexuality, for fear that it could somehow 'taint' her, but even with all the heterosexuality they'd drilled into her, she found herself aged thirteen, and seemingly 'untainted' by it, because even thirteen year old Lindsey had figured it that this wasn't something she'd chosen, but something that was as much a part of her as her eye colour.

It had been the Lindsey in the years to come that had done the most damage, that had disagreed with reason and herself, that had forced these feelings away, and had remained adamant in her heterosexuality, such an attitude stemming from the moment when she was fourteen that homosexuality was finally introduced to her, but of course, only ever with negative connotations: with words like 'faggot' and 'dyke', words that she'd grow to hate, and words that with naivety, she'd misused.

And with time, she'd become more tolerant, she'd become somewhat more of a decent person, but she'd hidden the very thing that it had all stemmed from deep down and away from sight, even to the extent where she was close to forgetting of its very existence, but it had been Gerard and a secret he shouldn't have shared, but did regardless, that had brought it all coming back to her like a slap in the face.

And sat on Gerard's bed just an hour or so ago, Lindsey had felt very much the same as she had four years prior, sat in the corner on that Sunday morning with the diary entry that finally seemed to click everything into place.

It was like deja vu, and it hurt her head, because she didn't want it this time either, but she was determined not to make the same mistake twice, because no good had come of her suppressing it, which left the logical option to be the opposite, to accept herself, and this mess that was all coming back to her suddenly like a slap in the face.

And it suddenly it was simple: all she had to do was explain - she had to find Jamia and she had to find the words, and they'd come to an understanding, and Lindsey could be thirteen again, trying it all over again, and maybe this time she wouldn't lose both a friend and herself.

-

"I wish I could just like wave a fucking magic wand and you'd be happy."

"Me too." Mikey admitted: his tone less enthusiastic, but by no means less sincere.

"So you want to get better? You want to be happy, see Mikey, it's simple, you just-"

"I don't... I just want you to be happy." He pulled his knees up to his chest. "If I ever get better it's always going to be just to keep a smile on your face - it breaks my heart when you don't smile, you know, for real?"

"I thought you didn't have a heart." Pete scoffed, shaking it off. "I thought there was some bullshit like that... I thought that was your excuse-"

"What are you talking about, Pete?" Mikey asked: an expression of confusion, and narrowed hazel eyes, that Pete was absolutely head over heels for.

"Us, or whatever..." He flushed, turning his gaze away from Mikey, and focusing his vision upon the lake: letting it serve as a distraction, as anything he needed, and perhaps more.

"I.. no, Pete, it's not that, it's not- it's nowhere near that, and I fucking promise you, okay?" Mikey let out a sigh, grabbing Pete's hand, and effectively stopping the shorter boy's heart as he continued to hold it, just casually, like this was how things were just supposed to be.

"Then..." Pete almost forced the words out, struggling to breathe, let alone speak with the lack of air in his chest. "Then... w-what, are you-u?"

"I'm scared." Mikey admitted, "this is just... I don't know: my head's not in the right place and we need to talk, and here we are talking, but I'm scared and I'm stalling, and you deserve so much more than the boy who needs to get a grip on reality and himself, because he can't change the world. I'm a bad influence, come on, would you be out here in school time without me?" And as Mikey expected, Pete had to shake his head. "I know: I know you, Pete."

"Do you?" Pete asked, eyebrows raised slightly, and hand still shaking against Mikey's: still in an odd sense of disbelief when it came to his current situation and perhaps his existence in general.

"I think so." Mikey admitted, "I know you like me, I know you deserve better, but I know myself too, and I know I'm selfish and fucked up, and in one hell of a bad place right now, and I know we need to talk about this... we can't just let it slide, let it fade away, because that'll just make it worse, won't it?"

"You sound like you know what you're doing." Pete told him, his voice hushed, with no need to be any louder, and content like that: just like a secret, just for the two of them to hear.

"Do I?" Mikey scoffed, giggling a little, "well, thank you, because I'm really just fucking winging it, like everything like all the time, but I don't want to do that with you: you matter."

"Stop it." Pete insisted: all red cheeks and stumbling over his words.

"Stop what?" Mikey asked what was a genuine question.

"Just saying things to make me feel better, to make rejection easier: tell me it straight, well not straight, but tell me how it is, treat me like I'm normal, because I feel like you're not, I don't want to be special, I don't want to be different, I just want to be fucking normal, you know?" Pete raised his voice, and of course, instantly regretted it with one hell of a blush and a butchered apology, that Mikey accepted regardless, because Pete practically encompassed everything good in his life.

"It's not like that." Mikey told him, and it was indeed the truth, but it hurt far more than any kind of lie: lodging and stumbling in Mikey's throat as it clung to him, unprepared for the outside world, for Pete to hear, for Pete to know, and perhaps even understand.

"Then what is it like?" Pete asked, his tone more cautious this time, and Mikey swallowed hard, finally beginning to accept the truth, even to repeat it to himself in his head.

"I don't... I like you too Pete, but I don't know what to do with that, you know? All I see is a million reasons why we shouldn't date." He admitted, gripping Pete's hand tighter in a gesture that neither boy really knew the meaning of.

"And because you're focusing so much on that million, you\'re ignoring the billion reasons why we should." Pete added, all smiles despite the subject and despite the words escaping Mikey's lips.

"Pete, please-"

"Please what?" Pete asked, sighing as he met Mikey's gaze, "please, just listen to me, you know I'm right, don't you?"

And Mikey did, but he just didn't know if he was quite ready to admit it to himself, because as always, he was one hell of a mess, and a simply spectacular coward.

Mikey only nodded, squeezing Pete's hand and leaning into the other boy's side. "We were supposed to talk, but I can't, I'm sorry, can we just... later... can you just... can we just be happy for a while now?"

"Of course." Pete smiled at him, blushing like hell as he pulled Mikey closer into him.

And perhaps that was how easy it had always been, and perhaps that was how easy it would always be, but Mikey, being pessimistic at best, couldn't help but doubt that, and everything, because he just sat there, treasuring the moment as he sat in wait for the inevitable fallout, because it would happen, he just wasn't sure if he could bare to face it with someone like Pete, because Pete Wentz was perhaps the most important person in the world to Mikey Way, and in Mikey's opinion, should be the most important person to everyone else too.

"Thank you." Mikey added, a genuine smile on his lips, which was certainly a rarity when it came to Mikey Way, needless to be said.

"For what?" Pete asked, looking at the taller boy with confusion.

"For everything."

And then a silence that had no need to be filled, because perhaps in that moment, everything was truly perfect, even if just then.

-

Lindsey was a mess, and in such a state, she'd deemed it a perfect opportunity to attempt to rectify the friendship she'd fucked up in the most sincerely spectacular of ways, because Lindsey Ballato was indeed a royal fucking idiot, and indeed royally proud of it, but within the past day or so, she'd come to conclude that her idiocy wasn't the only part of her she should have been proud of.

She wasn't quite sure what label to use, or what even to say, but it was obvious: blindingly obvious with it all laid out like this. Lindsey Ballato liked girls, like she liked boys, but somehow this all just seemed to matter a hell of a lot more, and she wasn't even planning to get together with Jamia: that was irrelevant, but this had all seemed to have grounded her in a sense; gotten her head out of the clouds, or perhaps her ass, or well, more realistically, some dude's pants, because Jamia Nestor was one hell of a girl, who deserved so much better than Lindsey Ballato, but that really wouldn't stop her trying at all.

Because if this was only just going to make things worse, then so be it, because she'd tried, hadn't she? She'd tried, and she'd meant it, and if Jamia just didn't want to be her friend anymore, which was of course completely understandable, then she'd just have to accept that, but if this was her finally sorting herself out and getting her best friend back, then this was perhaps the only good thing Lindsey had done in her lifetime, which was kind of sad.

Because Lindsey had done lots of things, but by a vast majority, these things were fuckboys, and not 'being a good friend' or 'showing some sort of decency or compassion to people who cared about her ever'.

But still, she knocked at Jamia's door, and found herself, hanging there, waiting in consequence and the hell it brought on, because she couldn't face this: she couldn't face herself and her own mistakes, but as she stood there, shaking all over, she came to conclude that perhaps she couldn't just change her mind and turn around now, because she'd fucked up enough for a whole fucking lifetime already, and she longed for one good decision amongst a multitude of mistakes and spectacular fucks up of every kind.

And perhaps Lindsey had gotten herself so caught up in her own head and the matters of talking herself into this, she didn't even notice as the front door opened, and a girl stood before her: a girl who really wasn't Jamia at all.

And that wasn't even some sort of shitty, vaguely pretentious metaphor, like this was not Jamia, this was actually someone else.

"Uhh... hello?" The girl asked, looking at Lindsey with widened eyes as she struggled to fill the silence and find out just what the hell she actually wanted.

"I'm... uhh... I'm looking for Jamia..." Lindsey trailed off, blushing and suddenly losing all the confidence she'd managed to fake in the past minute or so, "it's fine, I'll just go..."

"No, she's here, she made me get the door, though." The girl reached out, putting her hand on Lindsey's shoulder and pulling her back. "Can I ask just who you are, you know? I'm Alicia, by the way."

"Oh..." Lindsey blushed, wondering if she was even able to speak to Jamia at this point, and whether it'd just be better if she left and came back later, of course, later would soon turn into never. "I'm Lindsey-"

Alicia's eyes seemed to light up with a kind of rage that Lindsey had never seen before, which certainly set her off, to say the least. "Lindsey..." Alicia repeated, stepping forwards a little, as if to make certain that Lindsey didn't get inside.

"I... uhh... yeah?" Lindsey was all kinds of confused, and even just ready to leave and admit defeat and her own fuck up.

"I've heard a fucking lot about what kind of a bitch you are, you got that? You fucking leave and you fucking don't ever come back; she doesn't want you, and she especially doesn't want you here-" And Alicia was about to slam the door in Lindsey's face, before footsteps and a familiar voice filled the hall behind her.

"Who is it? Why are you taking so long?" She asked, making her way to the front door.

"It's nothing, it's no one-" However, Alicia wasn't quite quick enough, as Jamia peered out side at her ex-best friend before Alicia could quite manage to close the front door.

"Lindsey?" She exclaimed, even pushing Alicia aside to meet her ex-bestfriend, "what are you doing here?" She met Lindsey's eyes with an odd kind of disbelief, like she was still largely certain that this was some kind of fucked up dream and couldn't possibly be real, but she wasn't awarded such a 'luxury'.

"I'm sorry." Lindsey began, her words sincere, but Alicia shook her head immediately, discarding them in an instant.

"Jamia, look, just come on, you know what she's like: she doesn't mean it, just come back inside-"

"Alicia, I'm fucking sorry, but she was my best friend, not yours, and I think I have a fucking better idea as to what she's like than you do, or has that never crossed your fucking mind?" Jamia shook her head, closing the front door behind herself as she stood outside to meet Lindsey. "Fuck, I probably should have put some shoes on," she added, glancing down at her bare feet: cold against the concrete of her front door step.

"Yeah..." Lindsey smiled, "look..." she exhaled loudly, "I've been a stuck up bitch, and I'm so sorry, because I'm only just realising how much you matter, and I just... I just... please forgive me: I'd be so fucking grateful if you could forgive me-"

"Frank said something to you, didn't he?"

"No..." Lindsey trailed off, "it was something Gerard said, actually, but it was my decision... I'm so sorry-"

"It's okay... I forgive you, I've been a bitch too, and I just miss you, and I just had to make out that I hated you to cope with that, and I've fed Alicia so much bullshit about you that she's certain you're the antichrist or something, I'm sorry too. I doubt she's going to let me back inside with you here... look, I'll come over later, when she's gone and we can talk, properly?"

And Lindsey smiled like she was thirteen, and she'd just realised how beautiful her best friend was.

-

hey pals i hope you liked this chapter & votes and comments would be nice lmao ayy!!! i love you buds ok!!!