Patrick,

I'd planned it all out so well.

You'd slept through the whole morning and lunchtime, and only after Joe bellowed at you to get the fuck up, did you groan and slowly pull yourself out of sleep. Watching you get out of bed is like watching someone try to swim through treacle. First you roll over and doze for like an hour, then after someone shouts at you again, you sit up, usually smacking your head on the ceiling in the process. Serves you right for insisting on having the top bunk. Then you just kinda stay there, all bundled up in your duvet, your face sticking out of the top, looking a bit like a meringue, your hair fluffed all over the place. Then there's complaints, more groaning and some cursing, and you unwrap yourself from the cocoon and wobble down the ladder, landing on the floor with a thump and rubbing your eyes. Then you might stumble into the kitchen and get breakfast, or take a shower.

On this particular morning, well, afternoon, Joe was pretty pissed because it was gone three o'clock and he really wanted to go look round this record store, so he made you skip breakfast and nagged you to get changed as quickly as possible. I couldn't really blame him, the day was nearly over, and the manager's kid was arriving later, so we were enjoying some alone time while we could. I mean, three, Patrick, really? I'd already been out to the town twice, once to do laundry and the second time to get some stuff I knew I'd need for the plan. Joe had cleaned like the entire bus at least three times waiting for you, and I had no idea where Andy was. He usually liked to get up and workout when we got breaks like this, so we probably wouldn't see him 'till later. He's one of those prefers to be out kind of guys.

So anyway, you and Joe were out, Andy was god knows where, and I'd told you guys that I was meeting some friends later on so you wouldn't think I'm a sad lonely loser. Which I am, but that's beside the point.

I'd been to the store earlier, and got a massive bag of food, mostly chips and that special guacamole Joe likes, but I also got some other things. I was all set to make the food you loved. I'd printed off a load of recipes, in readiness for this.

The thing was, after I made those pancakes for you, you didn't stop going on at me to cook more stuff. You were all Pete if I do your laundry can you make me breakfast and no, no, let Pete cook he's so good. I'd spent a good deal of the tour making stuff for everyone, which would have been fine if it was just you, or even just us four, but when you have a whole management team plus some very greedy roadies and a massive bodyguard, it was pretty hard work. Plus, the manager's kid was gonna be one extra mouth to feed. But tonight, that was just about you.

I knew you went crazy for this soup we had a while back in some town east of Chicago, so I hunted down the place and after some very awkward phone calls got the name of it, and with the magic of google found out how to recreate it. Then there were the pumpkin squares, which involved me having to come up with an excuse to get your mum's number and ask for the recipe. I'm pretty sure she now thinks I'm a psychopath. But whatever, it was gonna be so worth it. Finally, I bought this huge tub of hot chocolate powder, and a bag of mini marshmallows, and also a can of squirty cream which I did not use to see what I'd look like with a beard.

So I spent the whole afternoon on the bus, occasionally dashing into town to get something I'd forgotten, cooking your favourite things. I just prayed you wouldn't be home before I'd finished. By late afternoon, I was pretty much done actually cooking, so I spent a stupidly long amount of time arranging the pumpkin squares on the plate in a neat little pile, and tweaking the soup temperature to make sure it was just hot enough for us to eat as soon as you got in the door. Everything smelled so good, the sweet spiced pumpkin smell wafting through the bus and chasing away the whiff of stale sweat. I even set the little table, with the proper type of spoon and everything, god bless Joe's cutlery obsession, sitting us opposite each other.

I guess my thinking behind this whole thing was that you'd see how much I cared. You'd forget about that Emma girl, and see me instead, the one cooking you soup and staring into your eyes and telling you you're wonderful. And the whole dinner for two thing? In my eyes it was basically a date. You'd be all happy that I made you all this food, and you'd see that I'm the one you should be focussing your attention on, and after we'd eaten, I'd tell you how beautiful you are and I'd lean in, cupping your cheek in my hand, and press your lips to mine. Joe would go mental, but it wouldn't matter because you'd tell him don't worry, I'm in love with him too, and I know he wouldn't do anything to hurt me. Or, if you didn't give me any signals, I could brush it off easily, saying I just wanted to treat my best friend to a good meal, plus I wanted to try and cook something different. Either way, it couldn't go wrong.

Except it did. Oh god, it did.

Andy got in just before you, walking in the door and smelling all the weird things I'd been making. I'd jumped out of my seat, thinking it was you, and he looked at me for a moment before gazing around at all the new food on the table.

"What's all this?" He said, raising his eyebrows at me.

I sat down again, trying to seem casual. "Oh, nothing really. Just fancied cooking something." I shrugged.

"Cool, I'm starving, what d'ya cook?"

"Oh..uhh.." I stammered, trying to think of a way to stop him eating my hard day's work. "Nothing here is vegan, sorry."

He stopped making towards the food and screwed up his face as if I'd just told him I'd cooked the contents of our toilet, and sighed, "Urgh, fine. I'll go find some real food then."

He made towards the bunks, but stopped suddenly, staring at the plates crammed on the tiny sideboard. "Wait, you made pumpkin squares?"

I nodded, a little nervous at the sudden caution that had crept into his voice. But all he said was "Ah, I see."

And he gave me this look. It was full of nothing but pure knowing.

And with that, he walked off.

He knows. Andy knows I like you. I bet he fucking knew all along. Was it that obvious? When did he find out? A first I panicked, the last thing I needed was another person keeping me from you. But, the thing was, the look he gave me wasn't like the ones Joe gives me when I sit a little too close to you. It was the kind of look a parent might give you when you finally bring home a lover they approve of. Does that mean he thinks it could work?

Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Next through the door was Joe.

"What the fuck have you- oh, food!" he said, making for the kitchen, if you can call it that.

"Hey, no, you can't-" I snatched the plate of pumpkin squares away, clutching it to me as if it was my first born child.

"Joe," called a voice from down the other end of the bus, "I've got popcorn and movies!"

Joe stopped dead, before looking down the end of the bus to the bunks and pretty much sprinting toward Andy's voice. "I call the beanbag!" He shouted back, disappearing behind the curtain.

I smiled and breathed a sigh of relief that he'd gone. I silently thanked Andy for knowing I wanted you to myself, I owed him big time for this. Next time I cook, everything will be vegan.

I paced around for a while, trying not to think about why you didn't come back with Joe, even though you said you would. Come on Pete, let's not develop any more trust issues.

Finally, finally, you walked through the door, trucker hat pulled low over your eyes, as always, wearing way too many layers for this kind of weather. I jumped about a foot in the air, trying not to run towards you in my enthusiasm, and flapped around for a bit, trying to compose myself and failing.

"Hey Pete, are you okay?" Your eyes lit up when you saw me, a confused smile spreading over your face as you watched me try to stay calm and nearly knock all the plates off the side in the process.

"Mmhhm" was all I could muster. I didn't trust myself to say anything in case I squawked at you or something.

"You just seem a bit jumpy," you laughed, "what have you even been doing all day?" You made towards the kitchen and luckily I'd managed to regain the power of speech.

"Nothing much, really." Except making you the perfect dinner during which you will fall in love with me and give my life the purpose it sorely needs. "You?"

"The record store was as good as Joe said it would be, got a load of old vinyl, and some new stuff." You held up a bag, before setting it down with the pile of shoes near the door. "I also- what is that smell?!" You exclaimed, holding your nose high in the air and following the scent.

"I, um, made some stuff." I said shyly, watching as you looked past me at the food.

"Pete," you said very quietly, "are those pumpkin squares?" You didn't wait for an answer, just bounded towards them, eyes wide and arms outstretched. You're just a toddler in disguise, aren't you?

"No no, you can't eat them yet. Soup first." I pointed towards the steaming pan on the stove, grinning at your enthusiasm.

"Aww, can't we just skip to pudding?"

"No, that would throw the balance of the universe, you know that, Patrick."

"Who cares about the universe when there's pumpkin squares involved?"

I laughed, but shook my head, moving towards you and steering you in the direction of the table, sitting you down like they do in really posh restaurants, and dashed back to get the soup.

"Hey, wait a second, let me go to the bathroom." You said, looking at your watch, before grinning at me and hurrying off.

I watched you leave, before taking the opportunity to catch some deep breaths and pour the soup, handling it as if it were liquid gold, checking that the temperature was just right, then guided the bowls toward the table and set them down, one for me, one for you. I would have poured us some wine, but given my...issues, I went with Ribena instead, which is basically the same, except without the hangovers and regrets. I sat there for a couple of minutes, excitement rising within me as I toyed with the thought that this could be it, my moment to win you over.

You came back and sat down, having changed pretty much all your clothes, replaced your trucker with a sleek black fedora, and maybe even put on some aftershave if my nose told me correctly. Damn. I tried not to stare too much, my mind racing as to why you'd gone to this effort. Did you see this as a date too? Maybe I should go freshen up. Were we going to do this, like, really properly?

"So what's the soup?" You asked, picking up your spoon and staring into the bowl in front of you.

"Why don't you try it and see?" Even I was surprised at how flirty that came out.

You gave me a cautious glance and stuck your spoon in, taking a big gulp of soup from it and looking up at me as you decided your verdict.

"Oh my god. This soup...it's amazing...it's like that one we had ages ago in that little place, d'you remember?" You slurped another spoonful, and I was so busy watching you I'd forgotten to start eating too. 

"Yeah, vaguely. So you like it?"

"Like it? Dude, I fucking love it, thank you!" You were pretty much attacking the bowl now, and I was debating whether or not to offer you a bigger spoon. You managed to spill at least three quarters of one spoonful onto the table in your haste, leaving little spots of soup everywhere.

"Try to get at least some of it in your mouth." I teased, laughing at you.

"Fuck off." you growled, but I could hear the smile in your voice.

"But seriously, dude, I quite like this tablecloth."

You looked up, frowning at my smirk. "Like you're so spotless." you protested, waving a hand towards me.

"Excuse me, I think you'll find my side of the table is cleaner than Andy's bloodstream, thank you very much!" I feigned offence, struggling to keep my face straight as I saw you giggling at me.

"Yeah, but your shirt isn't." You nodded towards my chest, and looking down, sure enough, there was a bright orange stain on my white T-shirt. Great. You were sitting there, still giggling, and attempting to eat soup at the same time, resulting in more spatters on the tablecloth. I couldn't help but giggle back.

"Bet pumpkin squares seem like the better option now," you spluttered, spraying me with orange in the process.

"Hey, you spat it everywhere, thanks a lot!" I gave up on eating and inspected the damage on my shirt.

"You're welcome," you grinned, dipping a finger in your bowl and flicking more soup at me, laughing as I flinched away from it.

"Okay, Stump, is that how you wanna play it?"

"You bet your ass it is, Wentz."

And with that, the soup war started. Suddenly there were little blobs flying all over the place, and all I could hear was the sound of our laughs weaving together like wind chimes, occasionally stifled by us both stealing quick mouthfuls of the thick orange liquid between attacks. Pretty soon, my shirt was flecked all over with the stuff, as was the table cloth, my face and your jacket. We leant back, laughing like idiots. It doesn't seem so funny, looking back, but to us it was the pinnacle of entertainment.

We slowly calmed down, looking around at the mess we'd made.

"Joe is gonna kill you." I said, smirking at you as I wiped soup off my face.

"Me? You were the one who decided to make bright orange coloured soup, it'll be your head he uses as a hood ornament." You shot back, a sly smile pulling at your lips.

"No, no, you instigated the soup fight, you're the criminal!"

"But you provided the ammunition."

I nodded, you had a point. Plus, I was too busy gazing at your eyes, all lit up from laughter, to think of a good comeback. God, you're beautiful.

You stopped smiling and stared back at me, a look of questioning dancing behind your expression, and something else, too. Curiosity?

You leaned forward, putting your elbows on the table, still looking at me. I did the same. Suddenly our faces were only inches apart. I could feel your hot breath ghost across my skin, and flicked my gaze down to your lips, plump and delicious, just begging to be kissed. I forgot all the plans I'd made before, to check if you maybe felt the same, to read your body language and facial expressions. Your colourful eyes locked upon me and your perfect mouth hovering inches from mine were all the proof I needed.

Then there was a knock at the door.

You turned away from me, taking the warmth of your breath with you. No. No no no, not now. Please god not now.

You jumped up, looking anxious, grabbing a cloth and wiping the soup from your face and jacket, before taking a deep breath and smoothing down your clothes. You started walking towards the door. No. No, get back here, you were supposed to kiss me, that's what should have happened, we were so close, please come back, you couldn't just leave me here, pouting at thin air. Please. Not again.

You opened the door. I slowly stood up to see who it was I needed to punch.

A girl walked in. You hugged her. Then you kissed her. My insides turned to lead and dropped into my feet.

Not again. Not another one. I can't take another one.

I stood there, staring at you and her, her lips pressed lightly against yours. Where mine should have been.

I realised you were talking to me, and that I'd been consumed by silence for the last thirty seconds.

"What?" I said, unable to focus on anything.

"I was just saying, this is Charlotte. You know, the daughter of our manager?" You grinned at me, encouraging me with your eyes. Oh. Oh. I'd forgotten about that.

"It's so nice to finally meet you, I've heard so much!" She said brightly, moving towards me and holding out a hand.

I stared at it for a bit, then looked up at her. She was pretty. She had bright red hair and a nose piercing, and was wearing black jeans and a leather jacket.

"Oh." I said stupidly, giving her a weak handshake. "I'd forgotten you were coming."

"Yeah, well I'm sorry for intruding. I just took a gap year, and had no idea what to do with it, so dad suggested meeting up with him for the last bit of the tour. And I wasn't about to say no to that, I mean, you're fucking rockstars!"

I nodded blindly at her, then turned my eyes to you, hovering behind her.

"So...You two seem close." I said flatly, my gaze flicking between you and the girl who's nose piercing I would quite like to rip out.

"Um..." You looked at the ground, knotting your fingers together.

"Haha, yeah, dad thought it would be best if I actually knew some of you guys before I came and lived with you. So me and Patrick have been texting and stuff for like...what, a couple months?" She looked towards you for an answer but you just shrugged, looking at me occasionally.

"What so...just texting, or...?"

"Yeah, and some skyping too. And we just kinda clicked, so I guess up 'till now we've been internet lovers." She smiled at you, and you flashed a small grin back. Lovers. Fucking lovers. Are you kidding me?

And then I realised. That's why you were all dressed up. Not for me. For her.

I should have known, when you started checking your phone more than usual. You never answer texts. But you obviously answered hers.

The atmosphere had sunk into awkward, and stayed there, lying dead on the floor along with my smile, which you'd shot down yourself.

"Okay, well, I'll go say hi to dad and get the rest of my stuff. Am I staying here, or with him? I don't mind either way, whichever's easiest. I don't want to be a burden." And with that, she disappeared out the door again, walking off into the early evening haze.

I turned my gaze on you. Your smile faltered, guilt spreading across your face.

"Is that Charlotte? Is she here?" A voice called from the other end of the bus. Joe and Andy had emerged from their movie marathon and were walking towards us. I shot a glare at them too.

"Yes, she is." I said, lacing my words with as much malice as I could muster.

"Where is she?" Andy questioned, looking around. Then he caught the look I was giving you. "What's going on?" He said, caution crept into his and Joe's expressions.

I felt the anger boiling within me. "Why don't you ask Patrick?"

Their eyes turned on you. "I...um...I didn't think it would be a problem...she seems so nice...we're not...I mean...nothing's happened or anyth-"

"Patrick has been having phone sex with Charlotte." I stated, crossing my arms.

"What? I thought she'd only just arrived?" Andy said, peering out the door as if she might miraculously appear and clear up the situation.

"She has, but apparently her and Patrick are 'lovers' now." I spat, imitating her words. "They've been texting for months. Behind our backs." I turned to Joe and Andy, waiting for them to react.

"Oh." Joe said.

"Oh?" I repeated, "oh? Is that it? All you can say is oh?"

"Well...yeah, I guess you should have said something Patrick. I mean, we only knew what her dad told us about her, it would have been nice to have found out a bit more, I guess."

You nodded apologetically, looking at each of us with scared eyes. Fucking coward.

"But other than that," Joe continued, "I don't see what the issue is. Patrick can do what he likes, he doesn't belong to you." As he said it, he shot me a smirk. It was barely visible, but it went through me like a knife.

"I don't believe this. You guys didn't even want her here! We all talked about how weird it was going to be! It's us, and the crew, that's always how it is. People can't just join in, you said, it's only because of her dad that she's even allowed here! How can you be okay with this?" I was shouting now, and you guys were backing away from me, little by little.

Andy shrugged. Pity swam in his eyes, because he knew why I was so angry. Because I still don't have you.

"Alright, fine!" I turned to you, rage radiating off me as I moved towards you. "Where the fuck is she gonna sleep?"

"In my bunk." you mumbled, but I heard you.

"Are you kidding? I can't sleep anyway, let alone with you two fucking every single goddamn night!"

"No, no, not with me, I'll be on the sofa bed."

My relief only lasted for a few seconds before I blew up again.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me?! You're supposed to be my fucking best friend, but you never tell me anything! I thought you were still hung up on your last whore!"

Your eyes widened at my words. I thought you were going to cry, but instead you stuck your chin out and shouted back. "This is why I didn't tell you! I knew you'd be a dick about it, so I kept my mouth shut! I knew you'd taunt me like you did when I was with Emma, I knew you'd throw everything back in my face!"

That stung.

I felt tears pricking at my eyes, and blinked them back furiously. "But you could have...I wouldn't have...I made you pumpkin squares...Oh just fuck off!" I shouted, my voice shaking.

 I turned by back on you and ran back to the bunks, drawing the curtain and throwing myself down onto my soft duvet. I don't think I've ever cried like that before. I kicked at the covers, curling my hands into fists around the sheets, screaming into the pillow before the violent sobs shivered through me. I'd lost you again. And now I'd lost myself, too.

I can't take it anymore. I tried so hard. I got so close. But it wasn't enough. Nothing I do is ever enough.

I cried for hours until a fitful slumber overtook me.

From Pete