Cemetery Drive (FOB Imagine Story)

Part 5

"I can't believe he's dead," Pete mutters, standing under the umbrella that Patrick is holding up, rain falling from the sky in buckets. A somber feeling hangs over the large group of people surrounding the six foot hole in the ground and the casket sitting beside it. The group consists of Mr. Wentz's friends and colleagues, family members, family friends, a couple of strangers, and of course, you and Patrick, and you're all dressed in black.

"I can't either," Patrick deadpans in agreement, his eyes locked on you and Mark who are standing across from them. You cling onto the party host's arm, your cheek resting on his sleeve and a dejected expression on your face as you hide yourself from the water droplets.

"What am I going to do?" The man who doesn't know he's being played croaks, tears filling his sad brown eyes. "I-I'm all alone."

"No you're not," Your brother reassures him, giving the crying boy a slight squeeze, "You have me." Pete glances up at Patrick and grins gratefully, despite the sorrow building up inside of him. The two of them lean in and share a brief, gentle, tender kiss. You scoff and roll your eyes in disgust.

"What a shame-" Mark began to say when you interrupt him, trying to finish the sentence

"The poor groom's bride is a whore?"

His eyebrows knit together. "No, I was going to say what a shame that Mr. Wentz was murdered," He mumbles under his breath, breaking your gaze with the two affectionate men standing across from you, "I mean, sure, he wasn't the greatest of guys, but...he was Pete's dad, the one person he had left in his life, the one person keeping him connected to his mom."

"Yeah, well, people die all the time," You grumble, returning your attention to the casket and avoiding Mark's wide eyes that travel down to you, surprised by the words that slipped past your lips.

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what'?" You snap back, "It's true..."

Later that evening, Pete spends the night at Mark's house with you and Patrick, though he really only spent time with Patrick, the two of them escaping to the room Mark was nice enough to lend to you and your brother and subsequently kicking you out.

With Pete sitting on his lap on the bed, facing him, Patrick plants kisses along his exposed collarbones and neck, their arms wrapped around one another to hold them close. Pete is trying his hardest to enjoy the moment and appreciate the attention Patrick is giving him, but he's finding it difficult when all he can hear is his mother's words ringing in his ears.

"Beware of Cemetery Drive."

Patrick snaps Pete out of the daze he's fallen into by bringing their lips together and starting to suck on the dead lawyer's son's bottom lip, trying to get a response out of him. Stunned, Pete pulls out of the embrace, looking at the man he wants to love but can't with wide eyes.

"Beware of Cemetery Drive!"

"What's wrong, Pete?" Your brother asks, moving his thumbs in a circular motion on the man he's trying his hardest to seduce's back.

"I'm sorry," He apologizes, tilting his head down, "It's just..." He climbs off of Patrick and gets out of the bed, turning away from the blonde and folding his arms over his bare chest, hugging himself and never finishing his sentence.

Your brother rolls out of bed and approaches Pete from behind, slipping his hands around to his front and shortening the distance between the two, placing a quick kiss on his shoulder blade before murmuring, "I know it's hard, Pete. I was the same way when my mom died." He looks back over his shoulder, meeting your brother's bluish green eyes and saying Your mom died too? without actually speaking. "Yeah, it was rough...she was all (Y/N) and I had. We didn't even have a dad - he left when we were really little."

"That's horrible," Pete retorts sympathetically.

Patrick shrugs. "It's okay. And you want to know why? Because I had (Y/N) and she had me. Together, we got through that rough spot in our lives and we're doing just fine," He lies, "And Pete? You have me." He leaves another kiss on him, this time on his cheek. "And it's going to be okay."

"BEWARE OF CEMETERY DRIVE!"

"You really think so?"

The corner of Patrick's lips curls up into a smirk. "I know so." And with that, the two of them sink back to the bed, returning to their shared moment of bliss - this time with no interruptions or distracting thoughts.

While lying beside one another afterwards - the covers draped over the two of them and their breaths slightly labored - Pete blurts out, "I'm scared, Patrick."

Your brother turns his head to look at him. "Why?"

"My mom..." He mutters, keeping his eyes locked on the ceiling above him, "...I can still hear her. She screams at me, warning me about this...this place. And I don't know what to think of it."

Patrick turns on his sides and grins reassuringly at yours and his target. "It's probably nothing, Pete, don't worry about it."

"I don't know," He disagrees, finally looking over at your brother with a frown on his face, "If it was nothing, it wouldn't be happening every day. It wouldn't be getting louder and louder and-"

"What if you left?" Patrick interrupts him, causing Pete to raise an eyebrow, "Yeah, maybe if you left with (Y/N) and me, it'll stop."

Pete sits up, skepticism written all over his face. "You think that'll work?"

"It's worth a shot," He replies, sitting up as well and taking one of Pete's hands into his, interlocking their fingers, "Besides, I don't want to leave you here."