The Emo Mafia

•Unbelievable (2)•

Patrick cuffed Pete's hands in front of him instead of behind his back like he knew he should have. But he thought he could cut him a little slack. He already felt bad about turning him in, it was the very least he could do at the moment.

The click of the cuffs was the only sound in the room. Pete stared at Patrick while he tightened the metal around his wrists, waiting for him to finish.

"Takin' me in won't solve anythin', y'know." Pete says. "There's still gonna be a gang war that will destroy half of Chicago."

"That's not my problem." Patrick mutters.

"It is your problem."

"It's really not." Patrick clarifies. He moves away from Pete to pick up his discarded gun, sticking it in the waist of his pants.

"Yes, it is!" Pete scolds. "We made a fuckin' deal, remember? You can't just walk out on that."

"Oh, I think I can. I don't exactly remember shaking hands."

"No, but we kissed on it."

Dammit. Patrick sighs.

"Like it or not, I need you to help me. You don't just disappear on me for a month then put a gun to my head thinkin' you'll walk away clean afterward. That's just not how this works."

"I can't help you, Wentz."

"It's not that you can't, you just won't." He goes and stands in front of Patrick, looking him dead in the eye.

"I can't." Patrick repeats, emphasizing the word. As much as he wishes he could do something for Pete, he's too stuck on trying to do the right thing. Which he has been questioning ever since he stepped into Pete's office.

Pete backs off then, seeing how Patrick is so determined to do good that he's blind to what's right and wrong. But Pete will stand down if this is what Patrick really wants.

"Fine. But before you take me in, answer me this: What do you hope to get out of this 'good intention' of yours? 'Cause the road to Hell is paved with those and both of us are probably on our way there."

Patrick purses his lips, locking his gaze on the floor. Patrick never wanted to do this anyway, he just thought that doing right would be better for him in the long run. But he wanted Pete, the urge to keep him was overwhelming.

"I don't want to do this." Patrick admitted. "I never did."

"Then why are you?"

"Because I'd rather be alone than live with constant guilt."

"Guilt from what exactly?" Pete scoffs. "Helpin' a bad guy or fallin' for one?" Patrick glares up at Pete. "Or is it both?"

At Patrick's silence, he continues. "You used to be so good back then, huh? Before we met? And you associated yourself with me, the bad guy. Somethin' you probably vowed you'd never do, right?"

"What are you getting at?"

"You take me down, half of Chicago goes down with me. Who's gonna stop Blurryface, huh? The cops? The feds? You can't just lock them up, they'll be out in a month tops. Same goes for me too, lockin' me up is pointless, us wiseguys have lots of connections. You're not doin' good here, if anything you're goin' to make things worse. The only thing that will keep Chicago from turnin' into ruin is me and my guys... and you."

"I told you-"

"I need you, Patrick. You can take me in when it's over just, please."

Again with the word 'please'. And the desperation in Pete's voice was something foreign to Patrick's ears. Either Pete is great at acting or he genuinely needed Patrick. But for what? For some gang war, what would be his role exactly? Or was this just to get Patrick to stay? Either way, it was kind of working.

"Okay." Patrick says, taking out a cuff key from his pocket and freeing Pete's wrists. "I'll help you this one last time, but that's it."

"Thanks, Patty." Pete rubs his skin where the cuffs dug in, then quickly grabs Patrick by his shirt. "You ever put a gun to my head again, I will break your fuckin' ribs. You understand me?"

Patrick nods quickly then Pete looks at him a moment before yanking on his shirt to pull him into a kiss. "But thanks for decidin' to help me."

He releases the younger man's shirt but firmly grabs his wrist, pulling him out of the office and down the stairs all the way down to the basement. Patrick can feel Pete's pulse through his fingertips and it's as calm as ever.

"What are we doing down here?" Patrick asked once Pete let him go, but he didn't answer. "Look, I'm sorry I tried to-"

"Shutup."

"But-"

"Shutup, Red."

Patrick opened his mouth to say something else but Pete gave him a warning glare, so he immediately shut his mouth. But then Pete unexpectedly pulls Patrick into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around his neck. Little does Patrick know that that month he was gone really took a toll on Pete.

"I should break your fingers for fuckin' with me like this." Pete murmurs. "But I won't 'cause I missed you."

"I'm sorry, I never meant to-"

"Shutup."

"But, Pete..."

Pete pulls back to look at him, smiling a bit at the use of his first name. That's a first, Pete thinks.

"It's fine, 'Trick." He says. "But do it again and I'll break-"

"Break my ribs, got it."

They both laugh a bit before Pete goes back to hugging him, and Patrick hugs him back.