the boy on manic street

Eighteen

Pete's POV

I feel sorry about the hickey but at the same time I definitely don't. I just don't like how it's so visible- even if it's basically me 'marking my territory' on Patrick. It makes him look like he has a completely different side than his innocent look and I don't like that, especially in public. So I smile and bring him back to the bathroom, pulling out a kit of makeup Joe has stashed in the cupboard. I try to cover it up best I can and Patrick's uncontrollable giggling doesn't help.

"Stop giggling!" I laugh, pressing my lips against his to make him shut up.

"I-It tickles so much," Patrick giggles, clutching his stomach, "I can't breath."

"Y-You need some mouth-to-mouth CPR?" I laugh again and push him against the wall, making him stop a bit.

"Sure," He smirks and I kiss him before going to apply more makeup.

"Hold still!"

"I can't!"

"Well try!"

Just then Joe walks in, "Whoa- what are you guys up to?"

"I may have given 'Trick a hickey," I smile widely, "So proud." I wipe a fake tear from my eye.

"Why are you covering it up then?" He laughs at the two of us.

"It's really visible," Patrick says, giggling a bit.

Joe rolls his eyes, "Cover it with your sweater. I need you out here working, Pete." He smiles, "Hurry up!"

I go to holding Patrick against the wall, "HOLD STILL."

"I CAN'T," He laughs, falling against the wall onto the ground.

I sit on top of him and apply the most makeup I can before he successfully shoves me off, "AGH WHY ARE YOU SO TICKLISH?!"

"I DON'T KNOW," Patrick yells, clutching his stomach and laughing.

"WHY ARE WE YELLING?"

"I DON'T KNOW."

I laugh, giving up completely, "I'm not gonna try anymore. I need to work." I'm about to stand up when Patrick pulls me down again.

"Peeeeeeeeeete," He whines, sticking out his bottom lip, "Pleeeeaaaaase."

"I've tried for ten minutes now," I grin, "You're too ticklish."

"I guess I'll just have to walk around with a huge hickey on my neck, then," Patrick pretends to feint, bringing his hand to his forehead.

"Guess so," I smirk and stand up, leaving him lying on the ground while whining my name.

"Took you long enough," Andy laughs, looking over at me when I walk out.

"Plan failure," I sigh, smiling.

"How so?" He asks, then sees Patrick stumble out of the doorway.

"Pete, I can't make it without the makeup," He gasps, clutching his chest and falling to the ground dramatically. A couple customers look over at us.

I laugh, squatting down in front of him. I poke his cheek, "You're very dramatic."

"I could be an actor," Patrick says, pulling his sweater over his shoulders more.

"Do you know how to apply makeup?" I ask.

"I've never done it before," He shrugs.

I grab his hand and pull him up, leading him to the bathroom again, "You take the brush and you 'paint' blush all over it after you've smothered it in concealer. Alright? I gotta go work." I smile and kiss his cheek before leaving to go help some customers who just walked in.

-

Around 6:30, a half hour before we close up shop, Patrick and I are lying on the leather couch in the corner, him on one side and me on the other so our legs are tangled up. We both have our notebooks in hand as we scribble down different lyrics we think might work to finish up the second song we're coming up with. Andy and Joe are arguing about something involving drums and vegetarians.

"I'm tired," Patrick whines, setting his notebook on his lap and adjusting his fedora.

"I'm not," I respond, still writing.

He adjusts himself so he's lying on top of my legs, his head underneath my notebook. I move it so I can see his blue eyes looking up at me. I smile, watching him for a bit, "You get anything interesting written down?"

"Just random words," Patrick shrugs, reaching his hands up to the ceiling then flopping them back onto my lap, "I'm still tired."

"I don't know how to help you with that," I smile, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

He pouts, "You missed."

"What?" I ask, confused.

Patrick sits up, turns around and places his hands on the couch beside each of my hips, his face extremely close to mine. It's sort of intimidating, but then again it's Patrick, "You missed."

I blush, sinking into the couch with a smile, "Yeah."

"I think I'm gonna have to fix that," He smirks, leaning in to peck my lips then standing up and walking away.

Now it's my turn to pout, "Paaaaatriiiiick." I whine, holding my arms out towards him as he picks up a guitar. I recognize it to be a Gretsch G5135 Electromatic CVT Electric, black and white. He admires in in awe and turns to me, "This thing is sweet."

Just then Joe walks over, "Yeah, that thing has been here for as long as I can remember. It's gonna be shipped out on Friday 'cause no one seems to want it." Andy follows him with a not-so-pleased look on his face, "At least I'm stronger than you!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Patrick says, strumming the strings of the Gretsch.

"Joe said that he's probably a better drummer than me because he eats meat! As if," He scoffs.

"I was joking! Chill," Joe laughs, punching him on the arm. Andy just mumbles something under his breath and flashes him a sarcastic smile.

"I could never afford this," Patrick laughs a bit as he sets the guitar back in its stand, coming to curl up beside me again, "So, you missed."

I smile, a thought crossing my mind, then turn my attention to the caramel-haired boy looking up at me with admiration. Today is one of his good days. Where his medication has kicked in a great amount and we all get to enjoy the real Patrick Stump.

"I guess I'll have to fix that, then, won't I?" I smirk, looking at his lips.

"Yeah, I'd like that," He smiles, closing his eyes as I lean in to kiss him passionately.

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