Madness of Two ~ a Peterick AU

one

Patrick was staring hopelessly at the back of Pete's perfectly messy hair as the teacher droned on about some assignment they had, when Joe poked him in the ribs.

"Dude! Ow." Patrick whisper-yelled. Joe rolled his eyes and leaned from his desk.

"Sorry I had to tear you from your Wentz-tastic daydream there, droolboy," Joe said, as Patrick blushed and actually checked he wasn't drooling, "But I've just had word that Andy Hurley's having a party tonight. You in?"

Patrick made a face -
"I don't know man, I - "

Joe cut him off.
"Before you say no, dude, I've had word that Pete'll be there."

Patrick hated parties; he hated everything about them, apart from the music. He had heard of Andy's parties, especially - they were rumoured to be wild, and his house the biggest and best in the town, complete with a pool and about five floors.

But then Patrick thought of Pete, his long time crush who he'd barely ever spoken to.

Joe knew he wanted to actually have an excuse to talk to him. Which he really did want. He needed to talk to the boy with the emo reputation and the t-shirts of all Patrick's favourite bands, even if they never had a chance together.

"Sure." He said, and it came out surprisingly confident. "What time?"

Joe grinned.
It was about time Patrick started to live life anyway.

Pete didn't feel like partying. His parents had just been in another screaming match, and he had locked himself in his room with his bass and his stereo, playing along to rock tunes and trying to drown out his parents.

Stacey had just broken up with him a few days ago - he wasn't entirely sure why but apparently it had something to do with Mikey Way, a guy he'd dated a few months back.

He was still playing his bass. It used to be his dad's, but he doubted his dad even remembered how to play with the state he was in now. Pete had repainted it black to make it look new and taught himself how to play, with the help of YouTube.

When the song was done, he put on one of his favourite pop punk albums and flopped onto his bed. It creaked sadly. Man, in this house, even the bed was sad.
He decided maybe a party would be good. He could drown out his sorrows with a couple beers, see his friends, maybe find someone suitably drunk to hook up with.

He threw on a slightly cleaner band t-shirt than he had previously been wearing and smudged on a bit of eyeliner. It was cool and gothic, and it was his style, even if it was emo or gay or whatever shit Weekes and the others called it.
He grabbed his ripped denim jacket from the back of his chair and texted Andy he was on his way.
He didn't know why he bothered: the night was still young but Andy would be wasted by now.

Pete clambered out of his window, landing on the makeshift wooden platform below like a cat, and slinking down the tree to reach the ground. Not that his parents would've noticed or cared if he'd have walked out of the front door anyway. At this time his dad would be staring into his hundredth pint of the night and his mum would be smoking in front of some trash show.

The darkness was crisp and cold around him, but Andy's was just a ten minute walk away. The route was almost like watching a time lapse: the neighbourhood got visibly better as you walked from Pete's to Andy's. They were two opposite ends of the scale.

Music was already throbbing from Andy's house, and Pete made his way up the extensive front yard to the open door.

Inside, strobe lights were flashing - he didn't know where Andy had got those - and the place pulsed with throngs of people - all teens, dancing and talking and making out and sloshing beer, all pressed against each other even though there was all the room of a five floor house and the back yard, which was enormous.