Peterick//More Than You Bargained For

one: act one, scene five

A/N, months later:
y'all pls stop reading this ITS SO BAD and i didn't even finish the last chapter fffff read my other story it's more worth your time i promise,,

but here u go anyway

"Patrick Stump and Pete Wentz!" The teacher calls out.

My head snaps up from the scribbled words written in my notebook, and my stomach drops.

"You guys are doing Romeo and Juliet."

My stomach drops further.

"Act 1, scene 5."

And even further.

See, if I were talking in a literal sense here, my stomach would have shot out of my ass by now.

Although it sounds substantially unpleasant, I would rather do that than be partnered with Pete Wentz to perform act 1, scene 5 of Romeo and Juliet.

To clarify, that's the scene where they kiss.

Twice.

How funny. There's no way I'm interacting with Pete Wentz in any way whatsoever.

I stand up to talk to Ms. Smith, the drama teacher, about switching groups.

Me and Pete arrive at Smith's side at the same time. I act as if he isn't there.

Pete takes the scripts from her, and offers one to me; I ignore his outstretched hand. He groans. "You can't seriously still be mad?"

I glare at him, keeping my lips sealed as a silent protest.

He rolls his eyes.

"Miss Smith," I say quietly, and she looks up from her list of groups to look at me. She smiles and says, "Don't worry, you two don't have to kiss," she adds with a wink, "but you're free too, if you like."

I'd rather put a stick up my ass than kiss Pete Wentz.

I say nothing.

Pete looks at me curiously, and I ignore him once again.

She looks back down at her paper and calls out, "Brendon Urie and Ryan Ross, Romeo and Juliet. Act 1, scene 3."

"Miss Smith," I try again.

She looks back up. "Oh, I was kidding, Patrick. There won't be any kissing in our class's scenes."

A frustrated sigh is released from my lungs. "Miss, that's not-"

"Now, now. Go sit down with your partner." Smith raises her voice to surpass the other students' noise, "Today will be one of your only days to rehearse in class, so everyone should be exchanging numbers with your groups so you can organize to meet outside of school."

I give up, and spin on my heel to return to my seat. A hand clamps onto my arm before I can get very far.

"Patrick, we need to rehearse. Please," Pete pleads.

I look at him with stone eyes and jerk my arm out of his grip. After stalking to my seat, I sit down and read what I've written in my notebook.

I hope this is the last time
Cause I'd never say no to you
This conversation's been dead on arrival
There's no way to talk to you
This conversation's been dead on
A rivalry goes so deep
Between me and this loss of sleep over you

I jump when I hear a voice behind me say, "That's pretty good. Since when have you been into poetry?"

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A/N
So there's your first chapter.
Hope y'all enjoyed.
My arm is itchy.
And there's a moth in my room.
Wish me luck.

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