The Church Boys ➸ Peterick/Brentrick

2: Better Than Fifa- Soccer Superstar

Pete had always been good at soccer, but he never thought he was good enough for a scholarship. Naturally, of course, he also didn't think a lot of things- like he didn't think he was good at baseball, math, or science, yet he was brilliant in all those things. He especially was, however, aware of a talent for English, the language in general and making word vomit turn into word porn; and for going to a private, religious school that was definitely one of the more interesting ways to put it.

"Catch!"

He in fact, did not catch it. He ducked, narrowly avoiding the football and letting whoever was behind him catch it. Instead, Pete picked up the soccer ball and kicked it towards Matthew, who took it and shoved it into Pete's backpack. There was a collective sigh, then Pete sat himself on the grass and went quiet, picking at the strands and pulling them apart.

"What's wrong with you? Don't you-?"

There was a sigh, then silence ensued.

"Okay, what's the issue?"

Pete's eyes flicked to his friend, but he didn't speak again.

"Jesus, you're moody. That time of the month again?"

"You're a dick."

"The first words you've spoken all day...why am I not surprised. What's really up? It's bugging me how you refuse to tell me anything."

He shrugged, going back to shredding the grass.

"It's Michelle, isn't it?"

The shredding of the grass halted for a minute, only to nod, then it's brutal mutilation continued. Pete recalled lying to his friends about the gender of Michael, as they hadn't met him yet but it looked like they might not ever. Besides, if they found out Pete was as gay as they come, they'd probably dump him on the spot.

"What happened now?"

"I...don't know, really. She just keeps blowing me off. Like, I know she doesn't go here so she doesn't see me all the time, but she could fucking respond to my texts once in awhile, you know? I need coffee, you coming?"

It was Matthew's turn to pause and consider it all, but he nodded. "Yeah, let's go. Coach won't mind if you miss, you're like the best on the team."

"Bitch, I'm better than Fifa, he can suck my ass if he wants to make me run laps."

By the time they got to the coffee shop, it was full, and Pete walked out pretty happy with the large drink in his hand and his bag thrown over his shoulder. "I think maybe we should just ditch practice all together, maybe head down to the beach, get a tan in the dying sunlight. Night surfing...c'mon, we can pick all the shit we'd need up at my house."

"If that would make you happy, okay. I'm getting my board though, cause it's better than yours. We taking the truck?"

Pete nodded. "I'll be over in like half an hour to get you. That cool?"

"Mhmm, sure."

-

Patrick had Brendon over a Skype call as they tried to work out the details of what Mr Flowers had put them up to. He'd told them to get there early, and as people were coming in to do some original songs, and as it closed as well. Supposedly, he'd be writing them notes for when it came to going to first period, but they'd see about that. 

"I mean, I just..I dunno, I think we should both sing," Patrick concluded, "do you have your own acoustic? Like...you could open and I could close or something like that."

"Nah, I don't think so. It's fine; and besides, I'm the drummer, I shouldn't be singing," Brendon protested, getting his box out and moving to sit on it. "So, I mean, the song you were doing earlier today was cool. We could do that-"