Ship: Patrick/Pete
Words: 2371

(A/N): Inspired by Suicide Squad and A Splitting of the Mind. I was really really proud of this one, so enjoy!  (Changed the title from I'll Be Your Psycho If You'll Be My Beauty to America's Suitehearts)

"Kiss him. Kiss him."

"You're life is miserable,"

"Fuck you, you're such a pathetic shit."

"Just a shot to the head and this could all end..."

My eyes fly open as I sit up, panting. The echoes still going from ear to ear, quietly. Taunting me into doing what they say. My breathing hitches as I regain myself, realizing it's just the voices. I look around for a little bit, making sure I'm still in my room, right next to Pete before I shut, allowing myself to focus on trying to block them out. I try to get them to leave me be and let me sleep peacefully.

They annoy me. They make me do things I don't want to do. I never know what they'll tell me to do next and what's worse is no matter how much you try to cover your ears. No matter how much you try to make them shut up, they'll always be there. Judging you. Hating you. They don't leave you alone. It's like a pain that won't leave no matter how much you want it to and you can't just get used to them. They're always there. They'll stay there forever and ever until you decide to end it.

Until you pull the trigger. Until you pop the pills. Until you kick the chair under foot. Until you're in so much agony that you just have to end it once and for all. I crave that. I want that. I need that.

But I'll never have it.

Pete would never let me. Not in a million years.

Without him, I'd be dead. I'd be a goner. When I'm around him, it's like the voices quiet down. It's like I'm at peace because he knows how to calm me.

I love him.

He has his own problems, though. The staff tell me that I shouldn't completely rely on him because he's pretty fucked up himself. They never told me why. I've always been curious about that. What drives him? What do they think is wrong with him? Nobody's never told me and I try my best to respect his privacy when I can but it still gets tempting after a while.

"Just end it, you know it will be for the best."

"He doesn't need you. He'd be better off without you."

I cover my ears, and I whisper a soft, "Please, please, please..."

Please go away. Please leave me alone. Please just stop. I don't need this torture right now. I want it to just go away. Just for a second, I want some quiet, I just want them to leave me alone. It's a constant buzz and I've never heard the sound of silence. I wonder what it sounds like sometimes. It's hard to imagine that anyone can hear the sound of complete silence without even the slightest buzz in their heads. They're insane. There's no such thing as silence.

"Patrick, Mmm.... Are you okay, Babe...?" Pete asks next to me. I look over to him with tears in my eyes, "Did the voices wake you up, Baby...?"

I nod slightly, letting the tears drip down my cheeks as I uncover my ears. The tears don't usually come unless I'm especially desperate for the noises to go.

"Come here..." He pulls me into a hug so I'm pressed against his chest as our bodies sink down into the small bed only meant for one person. The voices die down to a tiny whisper, enough to let me sleep at least.

"You're so creepy,"

"Why don't you just drop dead?"

"They won't go away... I'm not crazy, they're really there..." I whisper to him, starting to sob, because I'm scared of what they say to me. I'm scared of what they tell me to do, "They scare me..."

"I know, Baby, shh... It's gonna be okay... You'll get out of here eventually, I promise," He tells me with a whisper.

"Will you come with me?" I ask, looking up into his dark hazel eyes. They've been my safe haven all these years, they calm me down when I need it most. I love that about him.

"Of course, Baby. We'll both get better and we'll heal..." He grumbles, still tired.

"I'm not sick," I snap, "Why does everyone think I'm sick?"

The voices are louder, "You are a psycho."

"He's just another beauty."

"You're a sick bastard."

I feel dizzy and they're giving me a slight headache as they grow in volume. Fuck, I want Novocaine.

"I know you're not sick, Baby. I'm not sick either, I promise, Honey. Neither of us are sick, I wish we could just be able to go home, get away from the institute... We could live together..." He whispers to me and I think about that for a moment. Living with Pete. We could own a hotel in New York City or something like that. Or a cozy apartment in Seattle. M-Maybe just a place in Chicago. I've always been fascinated with Chicago. Maybe Pete would like Chicago. He always teases me about how much I love there city, he says I'm destined to live there someday.

"I'm sorry..." I reply in a guilty whisper.

He hugs me tighter before letting go and shifting so he's sitting up and leaning against the wall, the blankets still draped over him. I sit beside him, putting my hand in his and distracting myself with his fingers.

The voices quiet down again.

"Why are you here?" I ask him, just over a whisper, "I mean... I'm here because of the voices, but why are you here?"

He looks into my eyes with sorrowful smile, "You really don't know, do you?"

"I-If you don't want to tell me that's fine," I say, tracing the deep lines in his palm. I've heard about something called palmistry from my therapist, Dr. Uma Thurman. I always thought that was a weird name but she was sweet, and Pete and I had heard that she knew how to dance.

He lifts my chin with two fingers, making me swallow in nervousness. He's irresistible and it kills me knowing that the staff here aren't okay with sex.

"I hear them, too, Beautiful." He whispers, tracing my jawline which immediately drops.

My eyes go wide. He can hear the voices, too? He can hear what they say? What do they say to him? Do they tell him to kill himself, too? Do they die down when he's around me, too?

"Y-you can hear the voices, too?" I ask, shocked, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"He doesn't love you."

"Why else would he be keeping secrets?"

Tears were gathering at my eyes again. He sighs before stroking my hair, trying to calm me.

"I didn't want you to worry, Honey, I wanted to focus on you and I didn't want you to worry about my problems." He says.

I feel more tears flow down my cheeks. I can't believe he really did something like that... For me. My lips meet his before so can stop them, my hands moving to his hair. He's a little hesitant at first but he eventually kisses back and presses me down to the bed so my back lands on the soft material and he's leaning over me on hands and knees.

"Kill him."

"Kill him."

"Kill him."

Pete pulls away, running his hands through his hair and whispering, "Shit."

"What, what's wrong, Baby?" I ask him and then then I accidentally blurt out the next part, "Did they tell you to kill me?"

His gaze darts up, he's speechless. My heart sinks. Is he going to think I'm crazy, too? I just messed up, didn't I? "H-how did you... How did you know?"

"That's what they told me..."

He kind of gazes at me with a disbelieving look, "And what are they saying now?"

"Pull the trigger."

"Pull the trigger."

"You're worthless."

"You're worthless."

"Pathetic waste of space."

"Pathetic waste of space." Pete says the last one right after it echoes through my own head, shocking me.

Pete turns us over so I'm on top of him and he has a giant grin on his lips, "We're crazy, aren't we?"

I know it's a joke. We're not really crazy. Everyone else is crazy. It's the rest of the kids that aren't alright, not us. We're completely sane because we both know the truth: there's no such thing as silence.

My lips are inches away from his but he hasn't moved to kiss me yet, "Well, I'm crazy. You're just beautiful."

"I'll be your beauty if you'll be my psycho." I say, I don't even know where the words come from but they're out of my lips before I can stop them. It seems a little poetic, more of a thing Pete would say.

"Well, I'll be your psycho if you'll be my beauty." Pete replies in a whisper, the voices have died down so I can hear his beautiful voice.

"We can be America's Suitehearts." I finish.

He smiles and kisses me, the way his mouth moves against mine, running one hand up and down my back, his other hand to grab onto my strawberry blonde locks and push me down further. I wish I could just die in his arms. At least I would die happy.

I pull him up and off of the bunk we share. Well, he's supposed to sleep in his bed but he always sleeps in mine to comfort me because he knows I get those jet pack blues even when he's just a bunk away. And I guess it's comfort himself, too. He can hear the voices, now, can't he?

He pulls away for a second, crossing the empty room to the table beside his bed. He pulls the wooden knob on the old drawer and retrieves a... What is that?

He shuts the drawer behind himself and hands me a cord that splits into two with a weird thing attached to the ends while the base of it is attached to the strange thing in Pete's hand.

"W-what's that?" I ask him, a frown of confusion on my face. Is it another test? Is it going to hurt? Or will it help? I get slightly scared for a second. I don't like the tests. The tests are scary and they almost always hurt. But Pete would never hurt me. I trust him and people say it's hard to earn my trust. So maybe it won't hurt...

"Put it in your ear." He whispers. I comply, hesitantly, as I place the bud in my ear. He puts one in his own ear and presses a button on the weird device.

And then the voices are louder.

But they're not voices.

It's a piano. Why is there a piano playing in my head? What's happening? I look up at Pete, he's good at masking his emotions but I can tell he's letting them show now, just for me. He's grinning at me.

"Now the night, is coming to an end..."

It's only playing in the ear that I put the bud in but it still echoes through my whole head. Pete takes my hands, placing one on his shoulder and another to hold his free hand while his second hand goes to my waist. And we're slow dancing to the song spinning in our heads. Our feet swaying in sync, barefoot, shirtless. I can see his ribcage. That's unhealthy.

"The sun will rise and we will try again."

I've never heard this song before but I think I like it. I don't even know how it's playing in my head. This has never happened before. But I don't ask, he obviously meant to do this.

I can't hear the voices anymore. The piano is blocking them all out. My eyes are lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July and I'm about to say something but he only presses a finger to his lips with a small smile and a soft, "Shh..."

"Stay alive, stay alive for me," The boy in my ear sings. I shut my eyes feeling Pete's body move against mine and I set my head on his chest, my hands wrapping around his neck.

He rests his chin on my head, both hands going to my hips.

And in that moment I wish, I really wish we could be immortals, so we could love each other for centuries and we wouldn't have to worry about being apart.

"You will die, but now your life is free."

I shiver at the lyrics, making Pete only hold me closer. Because I get them. I understand each and every sentence. He's playing this song for a reason.

"Take pride in what is sure to die,"

He kisses my forehead, his soft lips leaving a small sensation on my skin. I feel safe, safe from the voices, safe from the doctors, safe from my head. Like he can protect me.

"I will fear the night again..."

We sway back and forth, letting the voices fade to a small buzz shared in our heads. He makes my head spin like my favorite record, he just does that to me. I don't understand how, but he can make me do things I'd never do for anyone else.

"I hope I'm not my only friend..."

He turns my head up so I'm looking right into his hazel eyes, our eyes locking.

"Stay alive, stay alive for me..."

His lips meet mine and I'm lost. I'm lost in the music. The voices are gone. I'm lost in my American beauty and he's lost in his American psycho.

And we're just America's lonely suitehearts. But we're alone together, so it's okay.

"You will die, but now your life is free,"

"I love you, American psycho." I whisper.

"Take pride in what is sure to die..."

"I love you, too, my American beauty."