Warnings: Apocalypse. Drug use, suicide.
Notes: Written for
The asteroid would hit in 154 days. That meant humankind, and most of the other living things, had about five months left.
~~~
Pete looks away from the blood-red sun dipping into the ocean and closes his eyes. There's a metaphor for the end of the world somewhere in there, but it's not as if there's anyone around to listen to any songs Pete might write about this. He decides to tell Patrick anyway, or maybe Gerard, who would appreciate the irony. Instead Pete sits up and smiles at Spencer, who is sitting in the sand a few feet away with Ryan asleep in his lap, next to Brendon, who is talking to Jon in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. Pete scoots over, asks if there's room for one more, and fits himself in between Spencer and Jon when he gets a friendly nod. They fall silent and determinedly do not look east. They all know what they would see there. Not much longer now.
~~~
Of course there were contingency plans and rich people frantically building bunkers, but the fact was that the asteroid was so massive there was no way to blow it into small enough pieces, no matter what last minute rescue missions a variety of end-of-the-world movies had taught people to expect. In addition the NASA probe that was built and deployed, using up the world's combined military budget, indicated that the asteroid contained a high concentration of an unknown but highly radioactive rock which would render the planet uninhabitable for most life-forms for several millennia. Scientists thought that some insect species and a number of lower-order plants would be the only survivors of Planet Earth. So basically, humanity was screwed.
Pete did not doubt the news for a moment when he read them on a website only to have them confirmed on CNN on the TV in the bus lounge. But he was rather surprised - like many others, he had expected that the apocalypse, if it happened, would be man-made. Joe even cracked some jokes about Andy's freaky mind powers being the cause of it, because he had been preaching the need for the end of society for years. Andy just rolled his eyes and said that Joe was missing the point of a fresh start, namely that it had to include, well, a fucking start, not just an ending.
Patrick spent some time throwing an impressive tantrum, reminding Pete of the volatile teenager he had met all these years ago. And just like back then, after a time spent cursing and kicking and hitting things, Patrick deflated and curled up next to Pete, weaving their fingers together and resting his head on Pete's shoulder. Pete stared at the TV prophesying doom and felt like a gigantic tool when he couldn't suppress a smile.
~~~
Pete's family is around one of the many fires, his dad intent on charring a sausage beyond recognition while his mom is deep in conversation with Mrs. Stumph - Patricia, although Pete never did get used to that. His sister is laughing outrageously at some story Mrs. Way is telling, and Pete slides in beside her, hugging her tightly and nodding at the rest of the Way clan across the dancing flames. Lyn-Z grins and gives him a thumbs-up and Mikey almost-smiles his characteristic Mikey smile from where he's resting against Alicia's shoulder. From a bit further down the beach Pete can hear someone strumming a guitar - Joe, probably - soothing a crying child, Bill's or Dirty's.
A hand slides into Pete's and he leans back into Patrick's sturdy form, pressing a kiss to his lips. Patrick doesn't pull away, despite the proximity of his entire family, even leans into it, his free hand firm on Pete's hip, and that makes Pete's stomach clench more than anything they can see in the sky. He gets to his feet and pulls Patrick to where Joe and Andy are sitting with the Cobras and Travie, who has broken his sobriety with an undramatic shrug and is smoking up with his head in Gabe's lap. Joe has swapped his guitar for Marie, holding her close, and Pete mirrors him, feeling Patrick's chest rumble as he laughs quietly at one of Ryland's jokes. Pete has always anchored himself through physical contact, keeping himself from floating away, but now, now touch is what holds him upright.
~~~
After the news broke, Fall Out Boy immediately cancelled the tour they were on, and Pete was one of the first to liquidate all his assets, turning his businesses not into money but into anything that might be valuable in a world that was just about to stop functioning. Pete's internet contacts came in especially handy. He was rather surprised how many people were still interested in swapping soon-to-be-useless Clandestine merch for things like fuel, generators or food cans. Not that Pete cared one bit about other people's denial of the facts, as long as he could make sure he would be able to provide for those he loved. He did stop Patrick from getting rid of his instrument collection, however - there was no way either one of them could face what was coming without music.
Bob, Dirty, Dan and Charlie were dispatched in trucks filled to the brink with everything Pete considered essential, and in the week before the internet and phones went dead, Pete managed to get the word out to most people that counted. If they were going to go out, the extended crazy family Pete had built for himself would do so in style.
~~~
Not quite everyone has made it to the secluded little beach in Southern California, and Pete gets dark and quiet whenever he thinks of not being able to hang out with Tomrad, for example, ever again. He just hopes Tom and the others are where they want to be, not trapped in cities gone crazy with despair and hopelessness. The great advantage of being cut off from the world is not having to witness its end, Pete supposes, although his fingers still twitch to the empty pocket of his pants. When he happens across Brendon, Frank and Mr. Trohmann, all three mouthing silent prayers into the glow of the night-sky, Pete sits down next to them for a while and sends out a few prayers of his own, to a vague deity he never really believed in, for absent friends and a quiet ending. It can't hurt, after all. Not much can, anymore.
~~~
What Pete hadn't counted on while he was busy Getting Stuff Done was the vast helplessness that hit him when his phone cut off in the middle of a call with Gabe. One moment he was listening to a slightly stoned-sounding ramble about how Gabe had thought the Cobra was fucking kidding, man, the next there was only static. Same with the internet - instead of the world in all of its fucked-upness being only one click away, there was nothing except an error message: Connection timed out. Please try again later. Suddenly everyone - his family, his friends, the whole fucking world - was out of reach, and Pete felt as if he was completely alone, cut off, nothing but wasteland outside his front doors, despite what his eyes told him.
His fingers tight around his iPhone, tapping out useless rhythms, Pete buried his head under his pillow and tried to get the all-too-familiar voice in his head to stop hissing that everyone was dead already. He desperately wished Hemmy was still alive, but even his faithful dog had left him.
~~~
The pills are not part of Pete's official plan. He hasn't really thought farther than getting everyone together in one place, but when people start showing him little bags of various pharmaceuticals, Pete finds that he's not shocked. His own stash is in Patrick's care, about a year's supply of his usual mix of meds, and there's enough for the both of them and maybe a few friends. He tries to explain to his mom, struggling helplessly for words, after she catches him giving Bob and Ray a handful, but she shushes him and hugs him so hard Pete can hardly breathe.
Later, the sun high in the sky for the last time, Patrick tells him that she asked him for his help, and that's when Pete breaks down and starts crying, sobs so violently he would have knocked Patrick off his feet if Andy and Joe hadn't been there to catch them both. The four of them hold onto each other until someone starts yelling that it's time. Suddenly everyone seems to converge, turn into a blind mass of desperate embraces, tears and bleak jokes. Pete closes his eyes and holds on with all his strength to whoever he can reach, willing the moment to last.
~~~
It was Patrick who came to kick his ass, as per usual, tearing Pete's blanket away and dropping a radio, the existence of which Pete had completely forgotten, into his lap with strict instructions to fucking call his mom. Pete obeyed more out of reflex than anything else and was surprised by the relief flooding him when his mother's voice crackled out of the speakers, tinny but very alive. She told him that the whole family was already on its way, avoiding the big cities, and when she rang off, Pete turned around and took the meds Patrick was offering him without hesitation. He had a trip to plan and a welcome party to organize for when people from the rest of the country arrived.
Actually getting out of L.A. wasn't easy, and Pete had never been as scared as when some random guy with madness in his eyes threatened to knife Patrick when they stopped to refuel from their canisters. Feeling his heart race, Pete did not even hesitate to take out the gun that Gerard of all people had made him get. After all the preparations, all the calls and newscasts - when there still had been newscasts - that was what made it feel real. The world was ending and Pete Wentz was clutching a gun with shaking fingers, determined to use it if he had to. They made it out of the city in one piece.
~~~
His limbs heavy from the pills, Pete glances around at the others lying still on the hot sand, piles of bodies, wrapped around each other as they slip away. No longer able to lift his head, Pete buries deeper into Patrick's shoulder and follows him into sleep. The air starts burning.
~~~
44 Comments