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“No-” he choked out, shaking hand grasping the phone uselessly. Ten minutes, ten fucking minutes.
“This-no, you can’t…” he couldn’t find the word; stumbling, falling, losing.
He clutched his hands, both slippery from blood and tried not to puke.
“I’m not scared” the other said, his pale blue eyes dimming and his reddish blond hair stark gold against his white skin. He looked like he was sixteen, like the first time Pete had met him. He looked so, so young.
“You can’t-” he gritted out, feeling his throat welled up “You can’t fucking go-”
But his eyes were already fluttering shut
“I love you” the soft voice he always loved whispered, blood-stained lips barely moved.
“If-” his breath hitched “If we had made it, that time” he said, his voice growing weaker and further; floating away, out of Pete’s grasp.
“If we had made it, I would have told you to keep Hemmy-”
“Patrick, stop-” Pete cut him off, hearing his voice shattered, letting tear fell down on his pale face.
“You’re wetting my face” Patrick chuckled softly, eyes still closed and fuck, Pete’d give anything to have them looking at him again.
“I would have kissed you” dropping those words like a bomb, a last minute confession.
“I would have told you not to buy this damn jacket…” he trailed off, letting his head lolled to the side; his right cheek pressing onto the cold pavement ground. Pete cupped his face with both of his hands, relishing in their warmth, a reminder that he was still here.
“Fuck you” he sobbed “Then fucking stay, don’t you dare leave me -”
He lowered his head till their forehead touched; wondering why here, why fucking now
“Stay” he whispered “We can make it now”
Patrick didn’t answer but said
“I don’t think I ever really got over you and I-”
He pressed their lips together, stopping him mid-sentence.
It had been years but it felt exactly the same as if they were just clutching onto each other outside their crashed van, shaking from cold and the knowledge of how close to not making it they had been; as if they were still pressing together in the back of their dressing room, high from adrenaline and the knowledge that they had made it.
The kiss was chaste and close mouth. It still sent his head reeling.
“Stay” he breathed upon those lips “I’ll make it up to you. We will make it. I swear to God-”
“Please, stay” he begged
Patrick grasped his hand, his touch feather light and Pete couldn’t breathe.
“It’s okay” his voice barely audible now
“Don’t be sad”