Dick Pics (Peterick) **REWRITTEN**

02

CH. 2 -- PATRICK

"You're Patrick, right?" A guy asks, sitting down in the empty seat next to me. I nod and swallow the lump forming in my throat. "I'm Nick Scimeca, the third baseman. Your Pete's friend from Chicago, right?"

"I wouldn't call us friends, but I knew him." I say, flipping open my biology book. "This is a class with majority freshman, right? What are you doing in here?" I ask, shutting my book and turning towards him.

"I didn't have time for baseball or biology last year, so I here I am, juggling around with both, a shitty job, and a girl that doesn't want me anymore." Nick says nonchalantly, shrugging when my eyes widen.

"Shit, man, that's rough. If you need help, I blew right through this class in high school." I offer before I even know what I'm doing. Nick smiles at me, though, and nods, which makes me realise I did the right thing.

"Quiet, students. I am Professor Williams, and I am aware that this is most of the class's first day and class of college. As for the sophomores in here, you will probably wish by the end of this class that you picked Professor Johnson's class. If anyone would like to escape before the bell rings, I'm sure Johnson would accept you transferring in to her class." He waits a moment, no one even making the slightest movements to leave, before the bell rings, and he slams the door. "Tough ones, huh? We'll see how tough you are."

I flip open my notebook and grab a pencil as he opens his biology book. He launches right into talking as fast as he can, not waiting for anyone to catch up. I write as fast as I can, but damn, my hand is killing me.

The bell rings, cutting him off where he was. He marks the place in his book before slamming it shut. "Quiz tomorrow on what you have written. I suggest you get together with someone that writes fast, Mr. Scimeca, if you don't want your nice little baseball scholarship to walk right out the door." He walks to the door, opening it, and this time everyone rushes out.

Nick catches up to me and shakes his head. "That guy is such a dick." I nod in agreement as we walk out of the building.

"When's your next class?" I ask, shoving my biology book and notebook into my bag. He pauses to think for a second.

"That was the only class I had today." Nick says, scratching the back of his head. "I'm gonna go get an early workout in with Andy." Nick waves goodbye to me as he begins to look for 'Andy.'

I shrug as I keep walking back to my dorm. When I'm there, I realise I left my key inside, so I beat on the door. Dallon isn't going to be happy I woke him up, but oh well.

"Stump, I swear to god, if you leave your key one more time. We've lived together for literally two days, and you've left your key five times." Dallon says as he opens the door, walking off after he finishes his short speech.

"You're just glad I woke you up in time to make your sociology class." I call out to him. Dallon reappears in front of me, backpack slung across his shoulder.

"Thanks, little man." He ruffles my hair and winks at me before going out the door. I sigh and sit on the couch.

I dig my phone out of my pocket. The first thing I see is a text from my father. I open it only to sigh at what it says.

After a good few minutes of sulking, I pick myself up off the couch and walk to my room, changing into a long sleeve shirt and my old school jersey and my baseball pants.

I grab my phone as I'm walking out the door, bat bag on my back as I click the contact name I'm dreading. "Hello?" He says, and it sounds like he's just woken up.

"Hey, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to throw a bullpen before class? If you don't, that's cool, and I'm sorry I woke you up. I just need to get my mind off shit." I explain, and he pauses for a second.

"Yeah, sure. I'll meet you there in about ten." We say our goodbyes after that, and I walk to the field in silence. No one speaks to me, but that'll change after the first game. I know it will.

When I get there, I go ahead and put my shin guards on, carrying my chest protecter, helmet, and mitt to behind the plate. I drop both my helmet and mitt, putting the chest protector on and strapping it.

"Hey, man." I hear, which makes me look up. Pete stands there, smiling at me, glove and ball in hand and dressed similar to me.

"I appreciate you coming here, dude. Seriously." I say, and Pete just nods, walking about fifteen feet from me and throwing the ball softly to warm up.

"So, I know we're not the greatest of friends, but I am a good listener. Or that's what Ashlee tells me." Pete laughs after that, and I just nod.

"You're not gonna.. tell anyone, right?" I ask, licking my lips. Pete shakes his head, stepping back a few feet as we throw.

"What's said on the field, stays on the field, Stump. I have your back." He says, and I take a deep breath before throwing the ball back.

"My dad is cutting my allowance off, so I'm not going to have any money for food or anything unless I can get a job." I say quickly, and Pete holds his hand up for me to not throw the ball at him.

"You're serious? Why the fuck would he do that?" Pete asks, honestly surprised. I bite my bottom lip.

"Yeah, this is the hard part. Just promise me something really quick." I say, and Pete nods, walking closer to me to hear better. "Even if you're disgusted by me, you have to throw with me still. I have to figure something out, and I only think straight when I'm catching."

"Yeah, man, sure. I won't be disgusted." Pete assures me, but that's before he knows who I am. The real me hasn't been able to be himself ever, up until now.

"I'm gay, Pete. One hundred percent for guys, and my dad doesn't like it." I say, dropping my head. I hear footsteps, and I look up to see Pete about two steps from me. "Just.. just punch me. Don't tell anyone. I'd rather you hurt me than tell people."

I close my eyes tight, only to be brought into a hug. Well, that was unexpected. "Patrick, I.. I'm proud of who you've become. I really admire that you can stand here and tell me exactly who you are. Fuck your dad, and fuck everyone who doesn't treat you exactly the same." Pete lets go of me and puts both of his hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eyes. "You know who you are? You're Patrick Stump, whether you like dudes or chicks or anyone else. You've come a long way from who you were when I left you in Chicago. Good job, Stump."

After patting my back, he returns to the mound and pitches the best I've caught in a while. It helps me clear my mind.

chapter two is in the books and I'm loving this fucking rewrite.