Wentz Is Addicted [REWRITE]

Chapter 7

Brendon told me we needed help.  That the amount of fights we got into wasn't healthy and the amount of sex we had wasn't healthy either.  That a relationship can't be based on sex and fighting.  I knew he was right.  But I also knew that Pete was still learning how to have a decent relationship.  I knew Pete never had a real relationship in his life and that this was all he knew.  Pete spent the day throwing up constantly so I called him out of work.  I remembered what he told me about how stress does this to him.  All I could really do was rub his back and help him through it.  I flopped backwards on the couch tiredly.  In sickness and in health right?  I finally got him to sleep.  This was probably more than just stress there's a stomach bug going around.  I grabbed my phone and called Brendon.

"Hi best friend"

"Hi.  Peter's throwing up non stop.  I'm staying home with him.  Sorry to cancel on you so last minute"

"Dude it's all okay.  We can have lunch any day.  How is he?"

"Dying in our bed.  And he's not handling it well.  He's used to taking care of me not the other way around"

"He feels independent?"

"Yeah.  I usually do too.  I give him a hard time when I'm sick.  But if he snaps at me one more time I might slap him"

"Oh my god record it" Pete moved around upstairs.

"Gotta go.  Love you"

"You too" I hung up and ran upstairs to check on him.  He was trying to get a suit on. 

"Peter" I said.  He jumped and looked at me.  I raised my eyebrow and stared at him.

"There was an emergency at the office I have to go"

"You're sick"

"I'm fine" He grabbed his dress shirt and pulled it on.  I grabbed his hand stopping him "Patrick-"

"If I can't leave this house when I'm sick then you can't leave when you're sick.  Take the suit off and get back into that bed right now" He stared at me.  I gave him my 'I'm not playing' look.  He rolled his eyes and started unbuttoning his shirt. 
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I brought a bowl of soup up praying he'd try to eat.  He stared at me when I entered the room.  I sat down at the edge of the bed and handed him the bowl. 

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"Shitty" he admitted.  I bit my lip.  "I don't want you sick.  Can you please just try to stay downstairs?"

"Doesn't work that way.  Sorry scruff" He pouted at his soup "If you can't eat it I won't force you"

"I wanna at least try" My phone buzzed freaking us both out a little.  I picked it up and ignored the call "Who was it?"

"Some unknown number.  It's been trying to call me constantly.  At least twice a day" I said.  He held his hand out to me.  "What?"

"Gimmie your phone.  Maybe I know the number" I handed it to him.  He unlocked my phone.  He bit his lip and called it.  He waited patiently staring at me.  "Hello?" He asked "No, his husband.  Why are you calling him?  Who are you?" He stared at me then his eyes went cold "Don't call again" he growled.  He hung up.

"Who was it?" I asked.

"Nathan"