Cemetery Drive (FOB Imagine Story)

Part 3

Pete winces in his fear as his father raises his hand to hit him, holding it in the air for a little while before dropping it back to his side with a defeated sigh. The two of them are back at their home in the living room, not having gone much farther into the home before Mr. Wentz shoved his son into the room to tell him off after the party. "For god's sake, Peter, are you trying to ruin my image?"

The boy just hangs his head, knowing that whatever he responds with isn't going to help him in any way whatsoever.

"I swear, it's like you try to disappoint me. First you laugh at my practice and now you're flirting with a man?"

Pete's slowly lifts his head, meeting his father's sharp gaze. "Is that so wrong?"

"No, but it's-"

"But it's what, Dad?" He argues, rising to his feet, "Not normal? Is it so wrong for me to have feelings for another man?"

"You barely even know him, Peter!" His dad exclaims out of frustration, "Besides, he's poor!"

"He makes music, Dad, and he said he's been looking for someone to put lyrics to his music and that I'd be perfect for it!"

"That man is just telling you what you want to hear, son. He's not actually going to collaborate with you, nor will I allow it! No son of mine is going to make music with some...some pauper who steals other people's music."

Pete scoffs. "Pauper? What century are we in? The late 1400s?"

"I mean it, Peter," The older man remarks sternly, poking his son in the chest and causing him to fall back down on the couch, "Don't you even dare try to see that boy again. Because if I find out you are...oh, Peter, you don't want to know what I'm going to do." And with that, the lawyer storms out of the room and retreats upstairs.

The dark brown, almost black haired boy sits on the couch for a moment or two, fury and indignation building up inside of him. In one swift motion, he stands up and flips the coffee table over, the legal papers and folders that were neatly organized atop the wood finished surface flying through the air and scattering across the floor. He surveys the damage for a split second before rushing out the front door, going to the one place he knows he won't be judged or treated differently because of how he feels or what he does.

*****

"Mark, you've got to let me stay here," Pete pleads, looking up at the taller man, down on his knees with his hands clasped together, "Please. I-I can't spend another day with my dad and his lawyer talk. You've gotta bail me out."

"I-I-I don't know, man," He stammers, folding his arms over his chest, "You know I'm always here for you, but I just don't think this is the place to go if you're trying to hide from your dad. You know this is the first place he's going to come looking."

"Maybe I can help," A third voice, familiar to Pete, sounds. Mark steps to the side, revealing the short blonde man who's managing to steal Pete's heart piece by piece without him even knowing. "My sister and I are leaving for home in a couple of days, maybe you could come with us. I'm sure your father won't find you there."

"Really?" Pete replies, rising to his feet and stepping into Mark's home without an invitation. The bass player doesn't seem to mind, closing the door behind him and leaving the foyer to give the two of them privacy.

Patrick nods his head, the corner of his lips perking up into a grin. "Yeah." He hesitates a bit before daring to take the lawyer's son's hands in his and giving them a slight shake. "You know, I was worried I wouldn't see you again after what happened."

"Me too," Pete says, his cheeks growing a deep shade of red.

The blonde takes a step closer to the brunette, their lips inches apart and their eyes staring into one another's. You stand on the second floor, looking down at the two of them with a smirk smeared across your face. Mark walks up behind you and meets your gaze.

"I've never seen Pete look at someone like that," He comments, startling you.

You glance back over your shoulder at him and chuckle nervously. "Well I've never seen Pat look at someone like that either. Maybe they'll get together and Pat and I won't be so lonely anymore." You return your attention to the two men conversing downstairs and mutter, "You know how it gets, living in a big house all by yourself."

Mark adjusts his suit jacket uncomfortably, the corners of his lips slowly curling down into a frown as he looks at Pete. "Yeah, I do..."

"Well, since Pete's here, I must be on my way," You announce, breaking away from Mark's side and heading for the stairwell.

"Where are you going?" He asks you, the question that slipped past his lips plain but the answer you'd have to give him intricate.

So instead, you opt to reply with a lie. "I'm just going for a walk. I should be back soon, and if I'm not, don't worry. Sometimes my walks take longer than normal, depending on the conditions."

"Conditions?" He repeats, unaware that your walk isn't a walk at all. You're simply using the word to disguise your true intentions.

"Weather conditions," You clarify untruthfully, "The weather conditions. If it's too cold or too hot, my walks don't tend to be very long. But if the weather's just right, my walks seem to never end."

He nods his head in understanding. "Well don't take too long. It's getting late and I don't want something happening to you while you're out."

"I'll be fine, Mark," You assure him, a red creeping up in your cheeks, "Besides, I'm not the one in danger." And without further explanation, you descend down the staircase. The two men standing in the center of the entryway have since disappeared. You take note of this and your head snaps back over your shoulder, your hands clenching into jealous fists.

This is how it goes, (Y/N), You remind yourself in attempt to calm your heightened nerves, Don't worry. He'll be yours soon enough. You just have to be patient. Now do what you need to do, or Patrick will never be yours again.

You let out a long breath and continue your way out of the lavishly furnished mansion, slamming the large and heavy door behind you.