WHOSE YOU ARE. pete and berg
word count: 1.2k
first chapter, very nervvy. also every chapter is based on a song i think fits them. this one is based on whose you are by jake minch!!
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"i really want this to work.." i mumble, half-drunk in the apartment, looking over at pete, the sun setting through the windows making him look almost golden. i want to tell him how beautiful he looks in this light.
"hm..? who?" he turns and looks over at me, our knees are touching and it's sending tingles throughout my whole body.
"i've tried to tell you this so many times.." i lean my head back on the back of the couch and turn my head and look at him taking a breath.
"i'm sorry," he looks confused.
"no.. but you don't know what it's like, man.." our eyes meet.
his eyes crinkle as he smiles. "trust me, there's been a lot of girls that i've fallen for that didn't feel the same.."
"no.. pete," i look away and sit up, leaning my elbows on my knees, my head in my hands. "this is.. different," i can't seem to find the words to tell him. "it's not.. a girl." i run my hand through my hair and stand up. i don't want to see the look on his face.
"oh.. oh." i can feel his eyes on me as i go to the fridge to grab another beer.
"i'm really sorry, i know i should've told you earlier, but i just couldn't.." i finally turn around and look at him. i scan his face, searching for any emotion on his face. the cold beer in my hand is the only thing keeping me grounded at this point.
"who is it..?" he finally asks, a small smile on his face— relief flowing through my body.
"yeah, i'll tell you all about him when i'm dead." i chuckle and rub the back of my neck, looking down before meeting his eyes. it's taking almost everything in me not to tell him how i've been feeling about him for months. "you're not.. mad?"
"what? oh my god, berg. no, no, no.." pete automatically comes towards me, his hand reaching out for my upper arm. i want to pull away from him. to stop myself from falling further and further for him. but i can't, i melt into his touch and look at him. "who you are– who you're interested in.. it doesn't matter to me, berg.. you're still my best friend. unless you start hanging out with your new boyfriend more than me," he chuckles but i can tell he's a little serious.
"thanks, man.." i say, his hand lingering on my shoulder. "and i would never," i smile, diverting my gaze to the beer in my hand as his leaves my arm. the condensation already settling around my fingers as i pop the tab to the can. “you want another one?” i ask him, gesturing to the beer in my hand.
“yeah, sure.” he smiles softly and goes back to the couch. i open the fridge, my brain finally registering that i just came out to my best friend, i know i can never tell him that he's the one i was talking about, but at least he knows now. the feeling of the cold air from the fridge hitting my face grounding me yet again.
sharon bursts through the door making me jump and slam the door to the fridge before turning on my heel to look at her. “jesus, sharon. ever heard of knocking?” i walk over to the couch, tossing petes beer in the air. i can’t help but watch as his fingers wrap around the can when he catches it.
sharon stomps to the bathroom before quickly returning with a roll of toilet paper. “how many times do i have to tell you guys to buy your own toilet paper?” she scoffs. i watch as she leaves and i sit on the couch next to pete, my arm resting on the back of the couch behind his head.
pete glances over at me, “are you going to tell her?” he asks before taking a sip of his beer as if it were a casual thing.
“i don't know.. i mean if i ever get into a serious relationship with a guy– i guess i would have to. but right now i don't see the point.. you know?” i grab the remote, having to remove my arm from behind him.
“yeah, i guess you’re right,’ i feel his gaze on me, “but seriously.. do i get to know anything about him?” he asks, his gaze shifting as i lean back.
i flip through the channels, “not yet.. i mean i've known that i’ve liked guys since high school but its never been like this–”
he’s still looking at me, “yeah, i get that. just know that i’m here when you’re ready.” his tone makes me wish i could tell him all about how i’ve been falling in love with him since the day we met.
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we spend the rest of the night just watching tv and i end up with my arm fully around him. i swallow hard as he lays his head on my shoulder, i look down at him and watch as his chest rises and falls, i notice the soft snores escaping his mouth.
i glance over at the clock a little while later to check the time to see it’s 10:43 p.m. “pete..” i move my arm from around him and his head falls onto my chest before he leans back up disrupted by his change in position.
“oh, sorry,” he grumbles, rubbing sleep from his eyes and standing up. he looks down at me. “what time is it?” he yawns, grabs the empty beer cans from the coffee table, and walks over to the trash before tossing them in.
“10:45.” i say, glancing at the clock again.
“dont you have class in the morning?” he turns around and i find it impossible to look away from him as he runs his fingers through his hair. how he looks in our living room when it's completely dark and just the television is shining on him; his eyes seem to reflect the light just the right amount for me to get lost in them.
“oh– no, not until the afternoon,” i stumble over my words, and if he asks about it i'd just blame the alcohol, but he doesn't.
“alright, i got an early one tomorrow so i’ll try not to wake you,” pete says as i stand up to stretch and yawn, i go over to the kitchen to pour a glass of water and notice he still hasn't gone to his bedroom yet. i turn around and he pulls me into a hug “thank you for telling me,” i stand in shock for a second before wrapping my arms around him, letting myself have this moment, sinking into his touch.
“of course, man..” i say once he's pulled away from me, his hands still lingering on my shoulder. “you're my best friend.” i cringe at the words.
“g’night, berg..” he slaps my shoulder softly before pulling away and running his hand through his hair.
“night, pete.” i watch as he goes into his room and i turn to lean over the sink, letting out a breath.
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