Sup, let's pretend my last update was a month ago and not back in January lol

Go check out my new Ryden/Brallon fic called 'Flowers on the Floor' (;

It's been 10 minutes now, or maybe it just feels it from Petes place on the closed toilet lid of the bathroom stall that they've locked themselves in, the one furthest from the door and lacks the smell of piss and permanent marker pen that seems to taint every inch of these cubicles and walls. Pete has spent enough time in high school bathrooms over the years to know of the ink that stains them, slurs and names scrawled in messy handwriting and various anti-Semite, racist, homophobic symbols carved into the wood, engraved by skinheads and disgruntled teens.

Pete knows, mostly because their name has been subject to many a bathroom wall conversation and sometimes, Pete contributes to the misspelt graffiti that's failed to add an important letter to the end of their name or has forgotten to mention that Pete is not only emo and a freak, but a faggot too. Because if people are going to criticism them, have their name scrawled and dragged through the mud, it's going to be done correctly, thank you very much.

Dying their hair was something that came upon Pete spontaneously the evening before as they were perched on the newly built summer room roof that Petes mother had persisted upon being built in their backyard and Petes father only payed someone to build to stop the persistent nagging. It had been used once since it was built, in a BBQ that tasted like a cremation and one that Pete only attended as an excuse to steal winecoolers from the buckets of ice for themselves and their friends.

Gerald had done it sloppily over his bath while his mom was working and Mikey was out. This is my area of expertise, he had told Pete as they craned their neck and knelt on pillows to prevent bruised knees from bathroom floors, Gerald flipping the packaging in his hands before motioning wildly to his own hair, I've been doing my own for years. Gerald had picked the colour, Pete had no say in the matter.

It had been a horrid shock when Pete was finally allowed to look at their reflection in the mirror, Gee squealing in excitement behind them as Pete had gaped and stared at the pink mess on their head. It wasn't that they didn't like it, it was more the fact that it was such a drastic change from their usual attire of sullen black. It was such a change, in fact, that Pete couldn't bare to look it longer than a quick glance in the reflection of the toaster that morning or in a passing car window.

"Who's there?"Pete is asking aloud, the bathroom door opening and squeaking close, Petes converse classed feet pressed against the stall door, knees bent as they lean against the cold porcelain of the toilet. "Ryan Ross I swear to god if that's you. I don't need to be fucking escorted to the bathroom, I'm not going drown myself in the toilet bowl."

Pete rummages through the pocket of their hoodie, fishing out a lone cigarette that has fallen out of its packet, pressing it between their lips as they rummage for a lighter. The idea of skipping school today seems all too comfortable to Pete because as much as their friends mean well, they have a keen tendency to be overly annoying and too involved in their life, even when it is clear that Pete wants them not to be.

"Ryan, or not-Ryan, you want to slide a lighter under this stall, mate?"Pete kicks a foot at the stall door before resting it back against it, listening and hoping that the other guy in the bathroom has a lighter that they can borrow. There's a lighter skidding on the bathroom tiles and into their stall, Pete grins as they lean to pick it up."Thanks."

Lighting their cigarette, Pete flips the zipper lighter over their fingers as they exhale a trail of smoke into their cramped stall, brow creasing as they study the marvellous looking lighter. It's silver, proper silver, personally engraved with the initials M.J.W in a classic italic font and it's only when Pete thumbs over the dented initials that something clicks.

"Mikey?"

"So you do know my name."Mikey's voice is so clear and distinct and it frightens Pete just how much that they were missing his voice, how if Pete had went any longer without hearing it, they might have forgotten what he sounded like.

"Of course I know your name, you're my-"The word seems unable to pass their lips, mouth feeling as if it has been stuffed with cotton wool or that their tongue has been removed from the warmth of their mouth. It's just a simple word, one that Pete has said so many times before, once with pride and beaming happiness but more recently with hesitation and sadness. And now, unable to say it at all.

"You can't even say it."He scoffs and Pete can see the shadow cast beneath the stall door, see the dirty conserve that use to be a porcelain white now be an ugly sort of grey. There's something within Pete, in that moment, that seems to shift within them, a rage that had been dormant.

"Don't play the fucking victim, Mikey. You've been avoiding me like I've the plague and over what, hmm? A petty argument started by an egotistic, toxic masculinity fuelled little boy."

"I'm egotistic."

"Yeah, you are."Pete begins to speak louder this time, getting off of the toilet lid and putting their cigarette out on the tiles of the bathroom wall. Without hesitation, they're swinging the stall open, exposing themselves to Mikey."You make yourself out as the black sheep of your family, poor Mikey way with his poor grades and his poor lifestyle, but you make yourself like that. You're so strung up on this self image of yourself that you don't make an effort to change it and I tell you this, you're not going to get fucking far in life by being closed minded."

"Well I'm sorry that I'm not open minded like you or Gerard."It's almost as if Pete can feel the sting of the venom in Mikey's voice, so harsh and disgusted that it makes Petes skin crawl even to think that once, they use to kiss that mouth.

"There is nothing bad about being open minded, Mikey."And what angers Pete more is that Mikey has so vividly presented himself as open minded, as charismatic and open to explore that night they shared a blunt on the creaky bench of someone's house party. He had grinned and laughed and encouraged Pete.

"That's one way to put how he is."

"What is your problem, huh? Usually when someone doesn't spend time with their boyfriends family then they get mad, but with you it's the fucking opposite."Pete tsks, shaking their head as they push past the towering figure that is Mikey Way, guarding the stall like an unwanted piece of security. "In fact, I treat him better than you do. You haven't spoken 2 words to him in the last month, Mikey. He's your brother!"

Pete reaches the sink, turning on the tap to wash their hands despite not using the bathroom for anything more than a place to have a very quick, interrupted smoke.

"You know."When Pete looks up, Mikey is staring at them through the bathroom mirror, stained from lack of cleaning attention and too much neglect. His reflection is blurred and distorted, as if the reflection is about to expose the true Mikey Way and that he's being wearing a different skin all this time.

"Know what?"They ask, keeping their voice calm as they avert their gaze and watch as they wash their hands, running them under the cold water to distract them from the burning heat of their cheeks and the thumping in their chest.

"Don't play fucking stupid, Pete, it's not pretty on you."

"Well it's a good thing that I'm not trying to be pretty, I'm just asking a question."Pete turns, fury building up inside of them the longer that they look at Mikey Way, the longer that they think of him, feel his warmth, feel his touch of where it has lingered everywhere on their body. It makes Pete feel sick, vile and awful. Shoving at his chest, Pete inches forward with every shove. "Go on, yeah? Tell me what I know, go on, tell me what I know, Mikey."

"You know exactly."

"Then fucking say it! Tell me what I should know, I want to hear you fucking say it."The anger begins to swell and Pete has never felt such fury in them in so many years because Pete truly doesn't care what people say about them behind their back, that they're queer or a faggot or a freak, but Pete does not stand down when it comes to the people they care about.

And Mikey just stands there, like a goddamn pole; stiff and standing his ground. Pete knows what he is going on about but they want to hear it from Mikey, they want to hear him say it out loud. They want to hear the disgust, the sneer in his voice. They want to hear Mikey Way speak up for once in his life instead of staying so reserved and backstabbing because Pete is so sick and so tired of hearing things from other people instead of being told from the horses mouth.

"I'll do you one better, shall I?"Pete stands tall, rolling their shoulders back and chin jutted in a stance of intimidation and anger as they stand chest to chest with Mikey Way, staring at each other and Pete would be lying if they said they didn't feel their heart in their mouth in that moment, the pulse so heavy with every thud thud thud. Their hands feel sweaty and their legs feel weak, watching how Mikey raises an eyebrow in question, in curiosity and wonder about what Pete is on about and then it hits him and an almost thunderous, destroying expression graces his face.

"You're disgusting."

"No, sweetheart, you are. Do you think that degrading and dehumanising people is going to get you somewhere in life, because it's not. You're living in a growing world, Mikey, and you're going to be stuck in the rut with the rest of the loveless bigots while people like me strive because I'm ambitious, open minded and nothing like you. Fuck you."And Pete turns because that's all they have to say and that's all they plan to ever say to Mikey Way, planning to enjoy a cigarette out behind the canteen before emerging to class before Ryan Ross sends out a search party on their whereabouts.

It all happens so quickly because one minute Pete is heading towards the bathroom door and the next there's a hand scrunched in their hair, freshly dyed a bubblegum pink and one that Pete was beginning to find themselves adoring. Their face connects with something, something hard and cold and something else entirely cracks like crunched ice, or broken twigs or a broken bone.

Their feet has gone beneath them, converses slipping and knees connecting to the tiles first before the rest of their body falls front onto the floor, a warmth pooling at Petes nose, at their lips and teeth and gums. The hand is gone, or so Pete thinks, before they are back in their hair, lifting their head before slamming it back onto the chipped bathroom tiles, grubby and cracked.

Pete's instincts have them trying to curl into themselves, arms coming up to shield their already pulsing, bleeding face from being made acquaintance with the floor. There's too much going on, too many things happening at once because there's hands in their hair and a dirty converse pressed to the middle of their back to keep them pressed to the floor just enough that the hands can grab and do the damage but for Pete not to be able to breathe properly and Pete can feel the blood, they can feel the numbness of their face as it connects to the tiles, they can feel the hatred as Mikey continues to...to...

And then the hands are gone, the dirty converse is too but Pete is too afraid to move, never mind to turn and look to see where the hands and the converses have gone, frozen to the tiles as they try and regain what breath they had lost, nose pressed into their blood and trying not to snort it in. Their heart is racing and their chest is pacing and Pete just wants to go home, they just wish they hadn't come to school today, or hadn't allowed Gee to dye their hair or get involved in the mess that is Mikey-fucking-Way.

There's hands touching their shoulders and Pete should be ashamed of how harshly that they flinch, entire body jerking and tensing because please don't hurt me, not when I'm already down and bleeding and shaking and-

Crying. Because what else is there to do when you're scared, afraid and hurt, but to resort tears in hope of comfort and a saviour.

I decided to cut this chapter off short, meaning that the next chapter is half way done (;

Sorry it took me so long! But I'm back and I'm getting out of my writers block funk (:

Please tell me what you all thought! This was an extremely hard chapter to write because I'm terrible at writing confrontation and character development is also so hard to structure correctly so I hope I captured the tension well.

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Peace ✌🏼