Possibly, I'm Insane

3am is, in their tour-addled state, basically the middle of the afternoon. It’s when Pete is playing videogames or watching movies and Patrick is working, because he’s the responsible one.

Pete loves this, loves the middle of the night not being a fraught opportunity for insomnia, loves the wakeful company as the bus drives onward.

But this means his insomnia shifts to 8am, watching the clock tick, thinking of the show looming that night and how he should really sleep.

And then, Patrick is as comforting as if 8am were 3am, singing in his ear until they both fall asleep.

“It’s whimsical,” the reporter says of the show.

Pete wakes Patrick up in the middle of the night to say, “Is it whimsical?”

Patrick yawns. “It’s a journey through our past. It’s a little whimsical.”

“I used to be provocative! And thought-provoking! And edgy!”

“There’s a flying sheep, and you’re lifted into the air by bright balloons.”

Pete flops backward onto the bed, resigned to being whimsical.

“Anyway, you’ve always had whimsy. You came up with the sheep in the first place. And remember you used to say I was magic?”

“That’s not whimsy,” Pete denies. “That’s just the truth.”

“It’s like riding a bike,” is what Patrick tells Pete when he’s trying to convince him.

“Really? Have you tried riding a bike lately? It’s not all that easy. It’s a terrible saying.”

“It’s a figure of speech. Maybe you should try writing some of your own figures of speech that you like better. Hint, hint.”

Pete takes a deep breath, hesitating.

“Look, the reunion sex was amazing last time, you said so yourself.”

Pete laughs. “I did, didn’t I? You see, it’s not like remembering how to ride a bike so much as remembering how to ride other things.”  

“It’s like riding a bike,” is what Patrick tells Pete when he’s trying to convince him.

“Really? Have you tried riding a bike lately? It’s not all that easy. It’s a terrible saying.”

“It’s a figure of speech. Maybe you should try writing some of your own figures of speech that you like better. Hint, hint.”

Pete takes a deep breath, hesitating.

“Look, the reunion sex was amazing last time, you said so yourself.”

Pete laughs. “I did, didn’t I? You see, it’s not like remembering how to ride a bike so much as remembering how to ride other things.”  

Patrick’s not sure any of them actually like coffee, given how much sugar is in the drinks that get handed out daily by whoever is the first of them to be up.

This is never Patrick, he’s never the first one awake.

Patrick remarks, “Pouring sugar packets directly into our mouth would be quicker and cheaper.”  

“It’s not about the sugar,” Pete tells him, “it’s the caffeine.”

Patrick watches him slurp up whipped cream enthusiastically. “Is it?”

Pete laughs. “Do you know how to make us fancy coffee drinks? That would be useful.”

“Should have been a barista,” Patrick muses.

Patrick buys jellied eels at the store.

“You didn’t seriously like those things,” Pete insists. “Put those back.”

“What? They weren’t that bad.”

“They were disgusting. It’s just that you don’t have a sensitive mouth. Like me.”

“I got you some cream cheese and Cheetos, too. I’m not going to make you eat the jellied eels.”

“But here’s the most important question,” says Pete. “Are you going to make me eat some spotted dick?”

“That depends on two things,” Patrick replies thoughtfully. “Can your sensitive mouth handle it?”

“Usually,” Pete answers promptly.

“And is it actually spotted?”

“Do freckles count?”

“I think we can do it,” Pete says confidently.

Pete thinks they can do anything. Maybe being a big-deal band on the cover of Rolling Stone is something they can do, but definitely not this.

“No,” Patrick says. “I am willing to believe you in many circumstances. But we are not doing this. We are not capable of doing this. Neither one of us knows how to make pasta.”

“I don’t think it’s actually hard. I think you just—”

Patrick, however, is fond of the apartment not being burned down. “No,” he says again. “We order pizza like usual.”

It starts with the orange sneakers that Pete buys, one pair for him and one pair for Tennyson. And then there’s matching fuzzy orange sweaters to go with the orange sneakers. And then Pete manages to locate orange pants, too.

“The exact same shade of orange! And in the right sizes! It’s fate!” Pete explains as he buys them.

“Obviously you need orange socks now, too,” Patrick remarks.

He thinks that Tennyson won’t be into these matching orange outfits, that he’s too old for these shenanigans, but actually it’s Tennyson who suggests, “Maybe we should dye our hair orange, too!”

“I think we can figure it out,” Pete says. “I don’t think it’s that hard.”

These are Famous Pete Wentz Last Words, and everyone in Fall Out Boy knows it.

“Billions of people manage to do it every day!” Pete protests. “You think we can’t figure it out?”

“I think we have other talents,” Joe says. “Good talents. I’m glad we have those talents. This isn’t one of them.”

“You think billions of people do it every day?” Patrick asks.

“Probably! It’s an omelet! It’s pretty basic!”

“I’m vegan, so I want out of this whole thing,” Andy inserts blandly.

Pete always looks devastatingly attractive, with his eyeliner and his swooping hair and his too-small jeans with the belt on the side. Next to him, Patrick always feels…blargh. Deciding what to wear on stage stresses him out, since he has to stand next to the bundle of sex personified that is Fashion Plate Pete.

He grumbles, “I should give up and just wear some sort of uniform.”

Pete says, “Oh, Trickerdoodle, I support you in a uniform, like, a cute little skirt?”

Which makes Patrick turn pink but the leer also makes him feel better about the way he looks.

When Patrick was telling himself stories when he still lived at his parents’ house and thought nothing interesting would ever happen to him, those stories always ended with happily ever after. And Patrick used to imagine to himself what happiness might be. He knows now he imagined poorly. He could never have imagined, for instance, music accurately. He could never imagine warm baths. He could never even imagine what the world looked like, because he didn’t have glasses then. But of all the things he’s learned, mostly what he’s learned is that happiness is a purring cat-person tucked beside you.