Wow, Clubs Are Hard to Start

guess who's back, back again.

Chapter 1

Well, he should have seen it coming.

Pete wipes the blood from his nose and tries to pull himself up. So maybe it wasn't a good idea to reply to the guy calling him faggot, especially with something snarky. Yeah. Pete would keep that in mind the next time he went out.

Using the wall of the alleyway as support, Pete starts stumbling forward. He pulls his other hand away from his nose and fumbles around for his phone. Brendon was making sure Gabe didn't hook up with another random guy, and Joe, their designated driver, would be taking care of those two, so Pete calls Andy.

You know, it doesn't matter how gay you think everyone is, there is always a homophobe to ruin it.

Pete makes a weird grunting sound and sits down on the sidewalk, a few blocks away from the nightclub. His gut still hurts, but sitting helps. Andy picks up on the second ring. "Wentz?"

"Hurley." Pete says, trying his best to sound cheery. "You mind giving me a ride?"

There's a pause, and then some shuffling noise. "Who's house are you at?"

"I'm actually a few blocks away from The View. You know, the nightclub in town?" When Andy doesn't respond, Pete just hums. "Whatever. I'll text you my location."

"Okay. Are you staying the night?"

"If that's okay."

"Sure. See you soon."

"Bye." Pete hangs up, and an app to send the location. It's Friday, but the weight of the week has pushed him to rockbottom. At least, he thinks this is rock bottom. Being punched in the face and left outside isn't really what you would call the highlight of your week.

Andy's mom usually wakes up early to get to work, and on weekends, she sleeps in late while Andy made breakfast. Pete has crashed at Andy's house enough times to know the routine, though sometimes he stays up late and sleeps through Andy's breakfast-preparation routine.

Tonight, though, he kind of just wants to sleep.

Pete sticks his phone back into his pocket, and pushes the sleeve of his black hoodie against his nose. It could have been worse, he tells himself. You could have been drunk and still lying in that alleyway. You could have been mugged and dead.

"'Scuse me, can you tell me where The View is?"

That is not Andy's voice, or any voice that Pete recognizes. He looks up, seeing a boy staring down at him. He sort of glows in the streetlight, with his little white rimmed glasses and black winter coat, and a gray beanie.

He's pretty.

Very pretty.

"It's two blocks this way." Pete points with his free hand, the other one still pressed to his nose. "They'll be playing loud music and have bright lights. You can't miss it."

"Thanks." Pete nods in response, waiting for him to leave. Except this pretty blonde guy seems reluctant to go, and just sits down next to Pete. His eyes flick down to Pete's hoodie, then back to his face. "You okay, man?"

"Great, actually. You don't happen to have a tissue, do you?"

"Not on me, sorry." He studies Pete's face for a minute. "What happened to your nose?"

"Some guy called me a faggot." Pete replies. He shrugs. "I asked him if he could spell 'denial' and he dragged me outside and hit me."

The other guy sort of grins at him. "Cool." He sounds sort of approving, which makes Pete feel better about the blood gushing out from his nose. He's not sure why.

Blonde guy shoves his hands into his pockets. "Fuck, are you not cold?"

"Nightclubs get hot." Pete says. He smiles at the guy. "What's a nice boy like you doing looking for The View, anyways?"

The boy scoffs. "I could say the same about you, Eyeliner Boy."

"Eyeliner is cool. And this is my scene, yo." He says in a half hearted attempt to make a joke. The other guy laughs, and Pete just grins at him. "I'm actually here at the request of my friends."

Blondie raises an eyebrow. Friends?"

"They're with our designated driver. Still at The View, I think."

"And they didn't check on you?" Blondie gestures towards Pete's face. "You with the bloody nose?"

"They're probably defending my honor." Pete replies.

"Good friends." Blondie says. Pete can't tell if he's being sarcastic, but before he can ask, Blondie kind of shrugs. "I'm making sure my brother isn't dead."

It takes a moment for Pete to realize he means dead from partying, not my brother could be murdered in a sketchy alleyway. "Younger brother?" He asks.

"Surprisingly, no. He's two years older, and got invited by some 'friends' to party. Gotta make sure he's not drugged or some shit."

Pete nods like he understands (he doesn't). Blondie seems like a college student, being responsible for his family and going out late at nights on his own. "Does he do that a lot? Get messed up partying?"

"Eh." Blondie stares at the sky. "He's had like, a few bad ex-lovers." Pete notices how he says lovers and not girlfriends, but doesn't comment, and just let's him continue. "And I'd rather he be okay, so I go out and shit. The only time I leave the house, actually."

Pete grins. The other guy sort of smiles back, and Pete decides he's pretty cool. He's about to ask him more about himself when a car honks and Pete looks up. Andy's minivan rolls up next to him.

Blondie raises an eyebrow. "One of your friends?"

"He's more like my mom, actually, with the minivan and everything." Pete knows Andy can hear him, but they've joke about this many times and it's pretty much true. "So, I'll see you around...?"

"Mikey." The other guy says. He's getting up, probably about to go to The View.

"No last name?" Pete asks, getting into the passenger seat.

"Not a chance, Eyeliner guy." Mikey says, but he's smiling. Pete smiles back.

"Well, I'm Pete Wentz." Pete replies, ignoring how Andy mutters "stranger danger" under his breath. "I hope I'll see you around, Mikey."

"Me too, Pete." Mikey says. "Good luck with your nose." Andy drives away before Pete can respond, but he just smiles and Mikey until he becomes a speck in the distance.

"Fix my black eye for me?" Pete asks Andy after a moment.

"But of course," Andy replies, and Pete falls asleep seconds later, dreaming about neon nightclubs and strange evenings.