Poisioned Youth (Peterick Fanfic)

2: My Heart is like a weapon

Patrick's POV

Every Thursday I met with Dr. Wentz. Each moment I spent with him, I always fantasized about us. I scolded myself inwardly everytime I did though. He was easily 10 years older than me, and he would never feel the same way.

But damn, the way he smiles. The way his eyes change to a golden when the sun hits them. The way his face softens when he concentrates on writing. The way he chuckles softly. He's giving me an erection before.

Wait, what?

"Patrick, patrick." Dr. Wentz pulled me out of my thoughts by snapping his fingers. I blinked a few times, trying to recall what we had been discussing.

"Sorry, what?" I asked, suppressing a yawn.

"You're vividly tired and seem distraught. Is everything alright?" His eyebrows furrowed in worry.

I nodded, biting my lip. He stared at me for a few minutes before leaning closer, pressing his elbows into the skin above his knees.

"Don't lie to me," he whispered in a soft but firm voice. The butterflies and emotions that sparked in me were too surreal to explain.

"Just normal sh-stuff," I had developed a habit of stopping myself from cussing in front of him. He always frowned when I slipped up, so I made sure to keep my words PG-13.

"School?" He asked.

I nodded.

"Parents?" He pressed. I had only told him a fraction of my school troubles, but I kept my home issues to myself still.

"No," I replied.

"Patrick-"

"No, sir." I said more firmly. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. I could tell that the less I told him the more aggravated he got with me. It wasn't that I didn't trust him, it was that I didn't trust myself.

Suddenly, his buzzer rang. Our time was up. Standing, he walked me to the door and we said our goodbyes. My mother was picking me up today, thankfully. I tolerated my mother more than my stepfather.

As soon as I got in the car, I was bombarded with a million and one questions.

***
Pete's POV

After I walked Patrick out and turned to go back to my room, I noticed a folded piece of paper on the floor. Frowning, I crossed over and picked it up.

Unfolding it, I immediately noticed the slanted handwriting that belonged to Patrick. I couldn't help myself and began reading. It wasn't until I finished did I realize it was song lyrics. They brought tears to my eyes.

"Dr. Wentz?" I heard somoene say. Craning my neck around, I saw a tall dark-haired boy, whom was the patient I always had after Patrick. Blinking away the tears, I folded the paper up and stuffed it in my pocket.

"Please, come in..."

***
Patrick's POV

After I got home and endured Andy's usual verbal abuse, I went upstairs into my room. Turning on my radio, I blasted BMTH and sat at my desk. Fishing into my back pocket, I fumbled for my song lyrics.

Only they were there.

I set out in a panic, searching for the piece of paper I had taken with me to therapy. I had came up with lyrics to a new song right before my appointment, so I took the paper with me. But, I couldn't find it.

I went out to the car and searched everywhere. I looked up and down the driveway, then went in to tear my room apart.

Nothing.

No no no no!

There was only one place it could be. I never let anyone read my songs, so the thought of my therapist reading it sent me into a panic attack.