I woke up earlier than Pete again. I carefully untangled myself from him and walked into the kitchen. I reached on my tippy toes to get a box of cereal from atop the refrigerator. I pulled off some Cheerios for the two of us to eat.

We didn't have much milk left so I used the rest of it on the Cheerios. I creaked my way into Pete's room. I knocked lightly on the door, but there was no answer. I said, "Hey Pete, wakey wakey."

He groaned and rolled over, "I don't want to get out of bed this morning."

I asked, "Why not?"

"I'm far too depressed to do anything. I don't want to eat or sleep or get up. I just want to lay here. I just hate everything..."

I said, "You have to eat. The Cheerios are getting soggy as we speak. Come on you can't lay in bed all day. It's such a beautiful day."

He groaned again, "There's nothing you can say or do that will make me leave this bed. It's a horrible day. Go eat your own damn Cheerios and leave me to be alone."

I didn't say another word. I knew it was best not to when he was acting this way. All I wanted to do was help, but it's nearly impossible. Compared to last night his mood had changed entirely.

I left the room to go eat my now soggy cereal. I stared out the window, watching the birds fly past the swaying trees. It has been such a nice summer so far and it had only just begun. I looked inside our little pathetic refrigerator. It didn't have much in it. We needed to go shopping. That's when it hit me. Does Pete even have a job?

I decided to go into town, into Chicago. Just for a few hours to possibly gain some sort of cash from street performing. I walked outside with my guitar and started up the car. I figured I'd check on Pete in a few hours if not sooner. He wanted to be left alone and I respected that.

I started driving into town. The traffic was as always, clamorous and cluttered. Luckily I didn't have to try and find parking since I had Pete's parking lot card.

When I finally parked and started walking towards my familiar bench I began playing. I could only play slow harmonious tunes. I was worried about Pete... He wasn't acting normal. All I could think about was Pete as I sang a Frank Sinatra tune. I wanted nothing more than for him to be okay...

Time past on. First it was many minutes later that turned into hours. Whenever I was upset I would play music. That's the only reason I was able to go at this for hours. I raised quite a handful of money. Of course it probably wasn't good enough, but I still liked to try and help...

I drove home as soon as it grew dark. I walked through the door. The house was silent. Until I heard a loud clatter coming from the bathroom. Again? What was that boy doing in there?

This time I didn't knock. I just opened the door. Pete was shaking immensely. He couldn't open a bottle of pills. I grabbed it from him and held him in my arms. I stroked his back. I didn't say a word. I just comforted him. He rested his head on my shoulder after several minutes of crying. "Where did you go, Patrick?"

"I was out playing some music for extra cash....I wasn't sure if you had a job or not..."

He said, "I teach kids how to play soccer at various locations. I used to be in a band, but we all had artistic differences."

I nodded as we let go, "Are you okay, Pete?"

I stared down at the medication. Prescribed to Pete Wentz for insomnia, anxiety, and clinical depression.

It makes perfect sense now...

I read further on. It said for him to take two a day. One in the morning and one at night.

He said, "I was hoping you wouldn't find out...that's why I haven't been taking them that much in the past few days..."

I practically yelled, "Pete! You can't not take them! I don't want anything to happen to you! Please take one!"

He sighed, "Okay. Only for you."

I watched him swallow a small capsule. He apologized, "I'm sorry about today.... It was just one of those days. It was the first one in a few days. I normally have them often. I had one the day I met you, but you completely made my day better with your music....do you mind singing to me?"

I stared at this beautiful person. He repeated himself in an even sadder tone, "Will you please sing for me, Patrick?"

I nodded, "Of course. Meet me in your room?"

He left and walked down the hall. I took a deep breath. I didn't mean to yell. I was just really protective of him and I honestly did not want anything to happen to him. My chest ached. I took an Advil before entering his room.

He sat propped up against his bed frame. I sat on a small stool by his bed side. I strummed a few notes while I contemplated what to play.

Pete suggested, "Beatles?"

I nodded. I began strumming Hey Jude.

I sang in a quiet soft tone, "Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart.Then you can start to make it better."

By the end of the song Pete was out like a light. That may have also been from the accompaniment of the pills. Which was also okay. As long as he was okay.

I went into the kitchen. There wasn't much at all. We desperately needed to go shopping. It was sunset. I didn't feel like going out now. Not to mention I have no idea where a store is. I pulled out two cans of mixed fruit and put it into one big bowl. I sat outside on my favorite patch of grass and ate as the sun settled behind the hills and trees from afar.

The fresh summer air was refreshing. It was so...hmm what was the word?

Pure.

I felt free. I didn't want to live anywhere else, but here. I wanted to grow old in this rickety ancient house with Pete.

If I had one wish that would be it.

That night I slept soundly in Pete's bed.

*****

The next morning I was awoken by an extremely loud clatter. I noticed Pete was out of bed. I jogged into the kitchen. Pete smiled at me, "Hey I went grocery shopping early this morning. We needed some supplies."

I smiled, "Yeah we did. So what's on the agenda for today?"

He said while putting something on the top shelf, "I figured we could finish painting and then I'd show you my prized possession."

I was staring at the way he reached up to the top shelf. His shirt lifted ever so slightly to reveal the top of his boxers. He was an overall attractive person, but when I say damn that was sexy I mean damn. He smirked at me, "Were you staring at my ass?"

I chuckled, "Surprisingly no. But what were you saying about a prized possession?"

He smiled and pointed outside to his garden. I've never really had a chance to go further out and see it so I liked the idea of him showing me it.

I said, "Could you teach me how to play soccer too?"

"Yes of course."

He was in a much better mood. I could just feel it. That today was going to be a lovely day.

I kissed Pete's cheek before grabbing a paint brush. The whole kitchen was in ruins. Everything was spread away from the wall. Clear plastic covered the floor and other objects of the room to lower the amount of paint casualties. Then blue tape outlined the edges where the ceiling and wall connected and also where the wall and floor connected.

Everything was looking pretty good so far. I mentioned, "I know calligraphy if you want me to paint a quote on the wall?"

He smiled, "I have the perfect quote. 'Thanks For The Memories'."

I smiled, "Perfect."

I started painting over the largest area of already dried paint. I quickly realized I was painting far too big. I panicked, "Pete! I don't think I'll have enough room to paint it all! Just look how big the 'Th' is!"

He put both of his hands on either side of my shoulders, "Calm down, babe. It's okay. Let me think."

He once again stroked his non-existing beard. It was funny and adorable at the same time. He said, "Why not take out the vowels? It'll be original. That way you'll have enough room."

I kissed him, then exclaimed, "You're a genius!"

I turned back around and painted exactly that. Right above our pathetic red dining table was our quote, "Thnks Fr Th Mmrs." It was perfect. I painted that in blue to match just about everything else in the room.

Pete loved how it turned out. He rewarded me with showing me his prized possession. He tugged on my hand outside. We walked towards a flower garden with so many different flowers. Then there was a vegetable garden beside it. Most of them were ready to be picked. In the last row was raspberries and strawberries. A grape vine even wrapped around a picket fence.

"Wow Pete, this is beautiful."

He held my waist, "Thanks, babe."

I loved when he called me that. It was like he was claiming me as his. I was his. I was his babe. I would never want anything more than to be his.

I think I might actually be falling in love with him...