Pete meets Mikey Way on the longest day of the year.
Eight PM, the sun hasn’t set yet, and Pete’s making the most of it with a packet of flyers fresh off the Kinko’s press. Someone’s gotta do it, so it might as well be Pete.
He’s posted up at the corner of the Metro when he sees two people heading down the street. One breaks away to make his way inside, while the other gets into what seems to be a heated conversation at the box office, only to wind up being turned away. After a moment of pacing along the sidewalk, he’s then peering in through the glass doors kind of pathetically.
Pete feels a little bad, seeing the downturn of his lips. Pete’s been there before. The ultimate mega loss of Metallica x Guns N’ Roses is still ingrained deep into his soul. That’s probably where his life went all wrong, actually.
“Hey,” he calls out, pushing off from the wall. The guy jumps a little, head whipping towards him. “You need in?”
Pete’s met with a blank stare.
“I can help. Can get you in,” explains Pete. The guy’s eyes narrow. “Seriously, dude.”
Pete can’t blame him for the skepticism; people have called him shady-looking before. He’s about to retract the offer, but eventually the guy says slowly, “…What do you want for it?”
“Uh…” Pete wasn’t planning on an exchange, really. He just needs to start racking up some good karma points. “What’ll you do?”
“Anything.” He says it like he means it. Pete’s not gonna test those boundaries.
“Well, just spread the word, yeah?” Pete offers one of the papers, which the guy takes.
He looks up with raised brows, and for the first time Pete can actually see his eyes clearly. They’re pretty cool. “You’ve gotta band?”
That earns him a little laugh. “Does it sound like the Pumpkins?”
“You're advertising at the Smashing Pumpkins. So you gotta sound like ‘em, right? Least a ‘lil bit. Gotta…appeal to the, uh, the demographic, you know?”
“Ah, uhm…No,” Pete admits. “Im Pete.”
The guy nods at him in greeting. “Mikey.”
Introductions made, Pete leads Mikey up ‘round to the side where he’s got favors to collect from his buddy working security and they creep up to the balcony.
“Just toss ‘em, dude,” Mikey’s saying, pointing to his papers
He watches the papers flutter down from the balcony onto the crowd below, then shifts his attention to Mikey who seems to be having the time of his life, and Pete feels his chest warm.
“So I should repay you, huh?” Mikey turns to him once the show’s over. Pete’s about to say they’re all squared out but before he can, Mikey leans his head down to murmur, “You wanna get outta here?”
Pete usually hangs around for a bit, but Mikey’s looking like he wants out. To go where?
Pete frowns, confused. “Us? What about your friend you were with?”
“The one you came here with. When I saw you outside?”
“Oh…I dunno that guy. Met him on the boards. Said he was going to Chicago. So I hitched a ride, you know?”
It sounds like the kind of thing Pete’s mom would’ve blown a gasket hearing about. Either Mikey’s mom doesn’t have the same concerns, or her son’s whereabouts remain a mystery to her. “You don’t live around here?”
Pete could already tell somewhat, but he figures he shouldn’t judge by the accent. For all he knows, Mikey could’ve moved.
Mikey shakes his head though. “Nah, Jersey. Just came for the Pumpkins.” He clears his throat. “So…your place?”
And Pete guesses he doesn’t have any reason to say no.
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