page 24

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“I'm really sorry,” Pete keeps saying. When they get to the bathroom, Pete starts the water and grabs a handful of paper towels.

Mikey mops at the mess on his shirt and sighs. It's ruined for the day. He's going to have to go to class in a fucked up shirt. At least it won't stain permanently. It's one of his oldest shirts and it's virtually impervious.

“I like it, anyway,” Pete says, scrubbing at the hem. He's standing really close and Mikey can smell his hair gel, fresh and fruity.

“My shirt?” Mikey asks.

“Yeah, I love Anthrax,” Pete says with a smile. Mikey doesn't want to smile back because he's pissed about his clothes, but Pete's smile is infectious. It's almost too wide and his teeth are just this side of too big, and it makes Mikey quirk his lips.

“Here,” Pete says, taking off his hoodie. “You can wear this over it, so nobody will see.”

“I can't take your hoodie,” Mikey says, but Pete is already slipping it on one of Mikey's arms.

“No, it's cool,” Pete says. His hoodie is warm and soft, and it feels good against Mikey's skin.

“Really, it's not that bad,” Mikey says. “I just have to wait for it to dry or something.”

But Pete shakes his head. “It's my fault, though,” he says, and he sounds so repentant that Mikey ends up nodding.

“Okay. I'll wash it tonight and give it back tomorrow.”

“You can keep it,” Pete says. “I've got maybe a hundred hoodies.”

Mikey zips up the hoodie and rubs the arms, hugging himself. That's what the hoodie feels like – a warm, soft hug. It's not really his color – it's purple with some weird girly print on the inside of the hood – but it's so soft Mikey doesn't want to let it go. “If you say so,” he says hesitantly.

Pete grins. “You like it.”

“I do,” Mikey says. “I like it a lot. Thanks, man.”

“Least I can do for making you lose your lunch all over yourself.” Pete says. Then, “Gross, that didn't sound right.”

Mikey laughs and bumps Pete's side. “I know what you mean.”

“You should give me your number,” Pete says, taking his phone out. “So I can check in on my hoodie sometimes, make sure you're taking care of it.”
It's ridiculous and charming, and Mikey takes the phone to program in his number.

“Do you have a phone?” Pete asks, and Mikey pulls his out. Pete takes it and punches what looks like random buttons but what Mikey knows isn't, and then he hands it back. “I'm a big texter, so don't freak out if you get like, twelve from me at once.”

Mikey snorts. “Okay.”

“And sometimes I can't sleep,” Pete says, “And that's when I text. No need to really catch them or anything.”

“Sometimes I can't sleep either,” Mikey admits. “My brain doesn't always shut off for the night.”

Pete's eyes are bright when he says, “Yeah, that's my problem, too.”

“So maybe we'll end up texting each other at two in the morning,” Mikey says. Oddly enough, the prospect is interesting. He's never hung out with someone who understood his insomnia before, except maybe Gerard. Gerard understands everything about Mikey, and that's part of what makes him so cool.

“It's probably better than updating my blog at two,” Pete says. “Sometimes I get crazy.”

Mikey understands crazy pretty well. “You've got a blog?”

Pete shrugs. The gesture reminds Mikey of himself.

The bell rings and Mikey's got to go. He's been late to most of his classes today, and he'd really rather not get another tardy.


page 40 later that night