Sunsets [1/1]

*Note: This is not new, it is a repost. It was originally posted on 07/02/07.

Title: Sunsets [1/1]
Author: periculosa
Fandom: Fall Out Boy
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Fake.
Summary: Patrick is a photographer with missing inspiration, and Pete accidentally helps him find it. AU.
Notes: I have absolutely no idea how this fic happened, but it did, and that's all that matters. :D Anyway, I’ve taken photography in school for about a year, so all the facts should be accurate. Honestly, this isn't my favorite thing ever, but I figured I’d share it. :)

Sunsets

Patrick was always intrigued by sunsets.

There was something about the way that the light faded, giving way to the dark and promising the arrival of a new day, that made him want to capture it, capture a million moments like it, and share it with the world. So, when he saw a flier for a photography contest at the local camera supply shop, the subject of his composition was an easy one to choose.

The very next day (Wednesday, as it turned out), at seven o’clock, Patrick pulled on a sweatshirt and a hat, slung his camera bag over his right shoulder, and headed for the park. He knew that this would be an ideal place to get a good shot—there was a hill that would provide him an extremely good angle, with minimal interference from the trees. By seven thirty, he had arrived and finished setting up; his tripod was in place, his camera was screwed in, and his eye was behind the viewfinder.

Patrick could tell that it would only be a matter of minutes before the sun and the horizon merged, causing the oranges and yellows that were usually dormant to spring to life, and spill like watercolors as far as the eye could see. He fiddled with the aperture on his expensive camera, completely absorbed in thoughts of light-color-angle-depth, and almost totally oblivious to everything else that was going on around him. Admittedly, there wasn’t much, but Patrick was usually an astute observer, and therefore was showing a rare moment of inattentiveness. 

When Patrick, and his camera’s light meter, were both satisfied with the shot, there was nothing left to do but wait. By looking at his watch, Patrick determined that the time the newspaper had claimed to be sunset was only a few minutes away, so he took a moment to make sure that everything was in place. Lens-cap off, strap out of the way, camera firmly on tripod, glasses on head. Perfect.

Just as Patrick was lowering himself to the viewfinder, a man walked along the path in front of him. He smiled at Patrick, and Patrick faltered slightly on the way down, but managed a smile in return regardless. The man walked on, the shots were snapped, the moment was caught on film, and Patrick was satisfied.

That is, until he developed the film later that week. Even the shots he considered to be the best seemed oddly empty, like there was something missing from them. Sure, the colors were stunning and the light was just right, but Patrick felt that his photographs were missing something essential; the viewer’s eyes would get lost in that mess of color and senses, and wouldn’t be intrigued by the flatness of the image, so he decided he’d go back the next week at the same time to shoot another few frames.

As the days bled further into the fall, the time of sunset became earlier. Only by a few minutes, but regardless, Patrick felt the chill in the air biting at the tips of his ears as he unlocked the legs of his tripod and observed his surroundings, trying to figure out what his picture was missing. There were a few trees with orange and yellow and brown leaves, slightly off to the side of where he had been pointing his camera before, so he decided that was a good place to start. The trees would provide an aspect of depth; an anchor, a reference point. Again he set up his camera, experimenting with the focus and wondering if it should be on the trees or on the sunset in the background. He decided he’d do a little of each, and decide later which looked better.

When Patrick was poised and ready to take his first shot, he saw a lone figure wander into the frame. At first, he was annoyed, but the figure kept walking, so Patrick quickly got over it. Just as he was about to walk out of the frame, he paused and turned, looking at Patrick curiously before smiling and walking on. Patrick bumped the camera in his haste to return the man’s smile, and then realized that he was the same man from last week. Patrick felt embarrassed suddenly, like he did something goofy, but reason told him that he had no reason to feel that way. It was only after he looked back down at the camera that he saw that he was on frame two of the roll of film; apparently, he had pressed the shutter without realizing it.

[//]

Out of all the pictures on that second roll of film, the first was Patrick’s favorite. The stranger was in it, although out of focus, but the photo had a strange, almost romantic feel to it. The man was blurred around the edges, and he was silhouetted against the bright setting sun. Patrick noticed that, despite the rapidly fading light, he wore sunglasses. Patrick thought that perhaps it was to shield his eyes from his own smile, because surely it was much brighter than the sun in the background. Patrick knew he couldn’t use that photo—his training, and his reason, told him that it was no good, but his personal taste was actually quite proud of it, despite the fact that it had been taken by accident. He printed it regardless, and pinned it to his bedroom wall. He felt kind of creepy for doing it, and he didn’t know why he felt the need to.

The other pictures on the second roll, although with better depth and subject, were far too low-contrast in Patrick’s opinion. The yellows and oranges of the leaves matched the yellows and oranges of the sunset, and it just didn’t work. The viewer would surely go blind after staring at all those hot colors. So, Patrick threw the negatives in a drawer with his other rejected negatives, and re-loaded his camera for a third try.

[//]

The next Wednesday, Patrick set out earlier because he was running out of ideas. He took a walk around the park, holding his camera, and tried to spot things that would make for interesting subjects. He squatted next to a bench, and tried to get it in the frame with the sunset, but it ended up looking too bulky. A flock of birds flew past, and he captured that too, but they wound up looking like black dots. Patrick was getting frustrated. He parked himself on the bench he had photographed and stared ahead of him, just thinking. If only something would come out of nowhere and inspire him, he may just have a shot at this competition.

Patrick was snapped out of his thoughts by the bench, as it groaned under the weight of an additional person. Patrick blinked and turned his head to the right to see who had sat next to him. To his surprise, he discovered that it was the man he kept seeing; he was wearing the sunglasses again, along with a denim jacket and a grin.

“It’s you again,” the man said amiably. He wasn’t very tall—around Patrick’s height, in fact—and his clothes clung tightly to his tan skin. Patrick figured he was a little older, but not much.

“Yes,” Patrick said, not quite sure how to respond.

“Whacha doing?” the man asked, nodding towards Patrick’s camera and quirking an eyebrow.

“I’m trying to take a decent picture,” Patrick said truthfully, “but I can’t seem to find a good subject.”

The man was silent for a while. “Are you a photographer?” he asked finally.

“Hardly,” Patrick said with a sigh. “I go to school for it, but I don’t get paid or anything. The picture I’m trying to take is for a contest, and I could use the prize money.”

“Oh,” the man said. “So you have a dark room and everything?”

“Yeah, in the spare bedroom,” Patrick said, surprised at how interested the man was.

“Huh. I’ve always been interested in how that works, but I never got around to asking anybody. I’m Pete, by the way,” Pete said, holding out his hand for Patrick to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Pete. I’m Patrick.”

[//]

Over the next several weeks, Pete would stop to talk to Patrick whenever they spotted one another. He always had his sunglasses on, regardless of the time of day, and Patrick found this a little strange. He found himself wishing he could see Pete’s eyes, but until the day came when he could, Patrick would have to be content with just seeing his smile. It seemed to light up everything around it—his face, the park, even Patrick—and Patrick realized that he was falling for him. It wasn’t a wise thing, he understood, since the two of them barely knew each other, but Patrick quickly resigned himself to it. He’d just have to let it run its course, like he always did whenever he had feelings for someone. Nobody ever felt the same way, and that’s just the way that things were.

One day, about a month after Patrick first met Pete, something different happened. They’d usually just stop to make small talk, and Pete would joke about something or another, but this time, that wasn’t how it went.

“So, are you still going for that contest?” Pete asked, cocking his head to the side.

Patrick looked down at his camera, which was slung around his neck, and sighed. “Yeah. I have to enter by Friday though, or it’s too late. I’m probably going to wind up using something I already took, but don’t like. There’s no time, you know?”

Pete nodded. “That’s a shame. What’s the problem, have you run out of subjects?”

“Yeah,” Patrick confirmed, snapping the lens cap off his camera.

Pete smirked. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you photograph me?”

Patrick was taken aback. He had wanted to do that since he accidentally captured Pete on film that second time he went to the park. Pete was photogenic; Patrick could tell by just looking at him. His face was all angles and planes, his skin was smooth, and he wore bold colors. Patrick wanted to fill all twenty-four frames with that face, that smile, those limbs, that boy.

“I don’t know, why don’t I?” He picked up his camera and looked at Pete, suddenly very shy.

Pete grinned. “Well, where do you want me?” Patrick wanted to say something like ‘At my place, right now,’ but he kept it to himself.

Instead, he stepped forward and placed a hand on Pete’s shoulder, guiding him towards the peak of the hill they were standing on. “Right there. Perfect,” Patrick said.

“What do you want me to do?” Pete said, looking awkward. He suddenly straightened up and tilted his face towards the sky, putting one of his hands behind his head and the other on his waist, posing like a model.

Patrick laughed. “No, not like that, that’s silly. Just look up at that tree, and pretend the camera isn’t here.”

So Pete did. Patrick snapped a shot, and he could already tell this was going to work out. Pete was silhouetted against the sunset, but just enough details were visible. Patrick walked around him and took another, smiling at Pete’s cockiness. He looked so sure of himself, standing at the top of the hill and being photographed.

“How about you give me a smile?” Patrick said softly, and Pete complied. He didn’t know how he did it—he managed to smile just so, in a way that didn’t look fake or forced.

Before Patrick knew it, his entire roll was gone, and his camera hummed comfortingly as it rewound the film.

“Well, that’s it,” Patrick said, and Pete smiled again, walking towards him. “Thanks a lot, man. That was the best roll I’ve shot in a while.”

“Hey, no problem. I like being the center of attention.”

“I can tell,” Patrick said with a laugh.

Pete shoved him playfully. “So when do I get to see these pictures?”

Patrick considered this. Then, against his better judgment, he answered. “Well, I’m going to develop them as soon as I get home. I guess you can come with me.”

Pete grinned. Patrick gulped.

[//]

It was really very dumb to invite a total stranger into his apartment, Patrick thought. He also thought that it was spectacularly smooth of him. This was the perfect way to get Pete where he wanted him, although Patrick wasn’t sure what to do once he was there.

They made easy conversation as Patrick led Pete to his house. Pete seemed nice enough, and Patrick managed to convince himself that Pete couldn’t be a crazed murderer. After all, his pants were so tight that Patrick would have been able to see any hidden weapons.

Once inside, Patrick showed Pete the living room and told him he could wait there until Patrick was done developing.

“Can’t I come inside with you?” Pete asked, nodding towards the dark room. “I told you I was interested in the process.”

Patrick considered this. He determined that it was a bad idea, but it was also far too good of an opportunity for him to pass up. “Alright, I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “But I’ll warn you now, the first part of the developing process requires complete darkness, so if you get freaked out, I suggest you don’t come inside.”

Pete shrugged. “I don’t mind.” He followed Patrick, but once they were right outside, Patrick stopped.

“You may want to take those off,” he said, gesturing towards Pete’s glasses. “You won’t be able to see a thing, even when the red light’s on.”

Pete nodded and removed them, and suddenly Patrick felt himself getting hot. It was strange that after all these weeks of knowing Pete that he was just now first seeing his eyes. There was nothing too spectacular about them, but for some reason, Patrick felt like he knew Pete better all of a sudden.

When Patrick recovered, he opened the door and let Pete step inside first. Pete looked impressed by the room; Patrick’s photographs from last week were clipped to a string with clothespins, and there were all sorts of bottles that contained chemicals scattered throughout the room. Black paper was taped to the windows in order to keep the light from coming in, and it made the room appear smaller.

“This was a bedroom?” Pete asked.

“Yeah. I got an apartment with an extra, so I could turn the spare into this,” he explained.

Pete followed Patrick as he gathered the materials for what he was about to do, then poised his hand over the light switch.

“Okay,” Patrick said. “First I have to develop the negatives, but I have to get them into this canister first. This part has to be done in complete darkness, because light of any color will ruin the negatives. Ready?” Pete nodded. “Okay.” With a click, the lights were off. Instantly, Patrick started sweating.

His hands were shaky as he used the bottle-opener to pry the lid off the negative canister. He couldn’t quite find the lip, and his palms were sweating, causing his hands to slide over the metal. He could hear Pete breathing behind him, and he knew that if the lights were on, Pete would be able to see how red he was.

Pete could apparently hear his fumbling. “You have done this before, haven’t you?”

Patrick laughed nervously. “Plenty of times. But usually, there’s nobody in the room with me.”

Eventually, Patrick managed to roll the negatives onto the spool, get them into the container, and seal it. He fumbled for the light switch and turned it on. The lights flashed on, and he saw Pete blink confusedly.

“Okay, now I’ve got to develop them. This part takes about ten minutes. You can have a seat over there if you like.” Patrick pointed towards the counter across the room, and Pete nodded and sat on it. They chatted as Patrick went through the motions of developing the negatives, and Patrick thought that it was nice to have some company. Usually he found this part of the process painfully boring, because it was very monotonous, and he’d just have to occupy himself with his thoughts as he did it. With Pete there, he was able to keep an eye on the clock and still amuse himself with something.

Once he was done developing, he filled a tray with water and put the negatives in them.

“They have to rinse in there for ten minutes, then they have to dry in the drier closet for another ten,” he explained. “There’s no reason for us to wait in here while they do, so would you like to go in the other room for a bit? It tends to get a bit stuffy in here.”

Pete shrugged. “Sure.” He slid off the counter and walked towards the door, stepping outside, and then out of the way so Patrick could as well.

They sat on the couch in the living room for a while, and Patrick made Pete a cup of tea. After ten minutes, Patrick excused himself to the dark room in order to put the negatives in the drier closet, and Pete excused himself to the bathroom.

When Patrick returned to the living room Pete still wasn’t back, but he saw that the bathroom door was ajar, so he went looking for him. He wasn’t too hard to find—Patrick’s apartment was small, and all the rooms were accessible from the living room. He was in Patrick’s bedroom, staring at the wall.

The bottom dropped out of Patrick’s stomach.

He was looking at the picture of himself. The one that Patrick had taken so many weeks ago, by accident.

“Is that me?” Pete breathed, and Patrick really wasn’t sure how to answer him. He suddenly felt like a creepy, perverted stalker who followed people and took pictures of them when they weren’t looking. Excuses popped up in Patrick’s head; he thought of saying that it was an accident that he took it—which it was—but that didn’t explain why it was hanging on his wall.

“I, uh. Yes,” he stuttered, and when Pete turned around, he froze. Pete was smiling, and his smile was like the sunrise that followed every sunset that silhouetted him.

Pete took a step closer, and Patrick really wasn’t sure what was going on. His brain was feeding him fragmented thoughts, which really didn’t help his situation one bit, because they were just distracting him from Pete’s hand on his shoulder, easing him backwards until he was pushed up against the wall.

The kiss was gentle, and it was over quickly. Patrick was amazed at Pete’s ability to figure out what was going on, because really, even if Patrick found his picture on Pete’s wall, he wouldn’t just kiss him. Patrick felt disappointed when the kiss was over, because it was a good kiss, and he wanted it to last longer.

So, he kissed Pete again. He felt Pete smile against his lips, and when he opened his mouth, Pete did the same without hesitation. It was slow, as neither of them was expecting anything, or was in any sort of a rush; what happened happened, and what didn’t didn’t, and that was it. Pete moved closer so that their chests were pressed together, and he felt Pete’s sunglasses hit his leg as they fell to the floor, having been knocked loose from where they hung at the neck of his shirt. Pete didn’t seem to care; in fact, he didn’t even seem to notice. Instead, his hands moved down to Patrick’s waist, and began to lift the hem of his shirt.

Patrick didn’t stop him. In fact, his breath hitched, and he found himself gripping Pete’s hips more tightly, and tilting his head back, and then he was gone.

Somehow, they wound up on Patrick’s bed. Clothes were discarded, the mattress creaked, and the sound of their breathing filled Patrick’s bedroom. Pete whispered things into Patrick’s ear every now and again, and every time, Patrick had to close his eyes and bite his lip, fearing he would cry out. But he never did, even if that had been Pete’s intention in whispering those things. Patrick would just grip Pete’s arms tighter, enjoying the soft feel of his skin, and let Pete kiss him until he couldn’t breathe.

When it was all over, they lay there for a long time, Pete’s head on Patrick’s chest, until Patrick fell asleep.

[//]

When Patrick woke up the next morning, he was in disbelief. He couldn’t believe that he had gone and done something like that, especially with someone he really didn’t know all that well. He didn’t even know Pete’s last name, he realized. He quickly discovered that Pete had left, and really, he hadn’t expected him to stay. The rational side of his brain was telling him to check his valuables, but his gut told him that Pete hadn’t come to take anything.

Patrick felt a certain hollowness in his stomach when he realized he may never see Pete again. He knew that was generally the point of a one-night stand, but Patrick didn’t want to think of what had happened between them that way.

Patrick developed all the pictures he had taken that day, and chose the one he liked the best to submit to the contest. That particular one was a close-up of Pete’s face; his head was turned away from the camera, and the sunset could be seen in the background. There was a bare tree reflected in his sunglasses, and really, it was breathtaking. Even more captivating than those details, though, was his smile. Patrick didn’t know how he managed it, but he always looked so carefree when he did that. Patrick made an extra copy of that picture, and pinned it on his wall next to the first one.

Weeks went by, and he didn’t see or hear from Pete at all, but not a day went by when he didn’t cross Patrick’s mind. The most commonplace things would remind Patrick of him; a cup of tea, a pair of sunglasses, a sunset—he felt like he was becoming obsessed.

It was a while before Patrick picked up his camera again, but when he did, he realized that not only was a roll of film in it already, but it was on frame two. This shocked Patrick; even if he had absent-mindedly re-loaded his camera, he couldn’t think of any time where he could have accidentally released the shutter, and he most definitely didn’t take the picture on purpose. Patrick hastily finished off the roll, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Upon removing the canister from his camera, he discovered that a small square of paper was taped to the underside. His palms started to sweat as he gently removed it and unfolded it. Written on it was a single sentence:

You’re beautiful when you’re sleeping.

Patrick’s heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t recognize the handwriting, but then again, he wouldn’t, would he? He knew it had to be Pete, but the doubtful part of his brain was telling him that there was no way.

Patrick developed the film, and after he did so, he squinted at the first frame. He could barely make out what it was, so he decided he’d have to print it. Upon placing the negative in his enlarger, he was shocked to see his own sleeping form on the easel. He exhaled slowly, not quite sure what to make of this. Then, he reached into his pocket and touched the corner of the small square of paper.

[//]

A few days later, Patrick got a letter in the mail from the organization that held the photography contest he had entered. It informed him (in a very procedural tone) that he had won. Patrick was happy. Very happy, in fact. Especially because the letter said his check for $500 would be coming soon.

But Patrick didn’t feel as victorious as he should have.

And he was pretty certain he knew why, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

[//]

It was another week before Patrick wanted to shoot another roll of film, and he definitely hadn’t expected any surprises this time around. However, Patrick was quickly learning that he got surprises, especially when they were unexpected.

He kept his film in a box, on the counter in the darkroom. When he flipped the lid open, he immediately noticed that a small, folded piece of paper was taped to the inside of it.

This time, it was ten numbers, separated by dashes. A phone number. Patrick dropped what he was doing instantly and rushed to the kitchen, in search of his cordless phone.

[//]

Patrick heard it ring four times before someone picked up.

“Hello?” a man’s voice said, and Patrick felt his throat close up. He tried to make a noise, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Pete?” He sounded hoarse, but it didn’t matter.

Patrick could hear Pete smile. “For a photographer, you’re not very observant. Sure took you long enough.”

Patrick gripped the phone tighter and sat down, a smile crossing his face as he realized that he had won more than just a contest.

END