question everything (( Peterick oneshots ))

Preacher's son

I was listening to planetary (GO!) while writing this and it really set the mood
———

Peter! We're leaving in ten minutes! Please come downstairs!" My mom shouts from downstairs.

I roll around in bed. "What?" I shout back.

"Peter, we're leaving!"

My head shoots up. I grabs my phone on the nightstand, checking the time. 7:36 it reads behind my blood aesthetic picture.

"Shit."

I leap out of bed, "coming, Ma!"

I stop in front of my mirror, I have a total bed-head mess of black hair, there's eye liner still under my eyes that's all messed up from sleeping, I'm not wearing a shirt, and I have hickeys lining my neck. Fuck.

I first dress myself, throwing my sweatpants somewhere towards the hamper, grabbing a black shirt off the floor and smelling it. "Good enough."

I throw on some jeans that are...probably not ripped. I slip on my my combat boots, and grab my gray and black striped sweatshirt.

With one last lookin the mirror, I move onto the the rest of me. I dash to the bathroom, grabbing my phone on the way out and slipping it in my back pocket.

I slam the bathroom door closed behind me, and look at my neck up in the mirror. God I'm a mess.

I simultaneous brush my teeth and wipe off any leftover eyeliner with my mom's makeup remover wipes. After I'm done, I try to sort out my hair but just end up throwing on a beanie.

Now, the hickeys. It's either a scarf or foundation, and there's no way I'm wearing a damn scarf. I go back to my mom's bag of makeup and put on enough foundational cover all the hickeys I have.

"Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III, downstairs! Now!" I hear my mom yell.

"Ugh...Coming mom!" I yell back.

I run into my room one last time to make sure I don't look like a complete train wreck. I mean, I just kinda look like an emo kid who hasn't slept in nine years—but that's no too far off from what I am. I nod at myself in the mirror, quickly trudge down the stairs.

When I reach the bottom I see my sister and brother arguing, both wearing quite respectable clothes. My father stomps towards the door, my mother following him.

She stops to look at me. "Peter! You need to put on something that doesn't make you look like a hobo! Now we're going to be late..."

"Sweetie, we need to leave," my dad ushers my siblings out the door, "Peter, my boy, come on! What your wearing is unexceptional."

"We have to leave now, don't we though?" I smirk.

My mom rolls her eyes. "In the car, now."

"Whatever you say, ma'am." I jump out the front door and slide down the railing. I hop into the back seat on the right side, my sister in the middle and my brother on the other side of her. I smile evilly at them, they both roll their eyes.

My mom rushes down the sidewalk in her heels, my dad opening the door for her. She politely thanks him, and takes a seat. She shuts the door while my dad sits in his seat, fixing his hair in the rearview mirror. And with that we start driving.

"Who's turn is it to have auxiliary cord?" My dad asks.

"Oh it's mi-" I start.

"It's mine!" My sister smiles.

"No it's mine."

"Peter! Please, your sister is a beautiful young woman and you should be a courteous young gentleman." My mother fixes her makeup.

"Okay, I'm sorry, ma, but that's bullshit!" I say.

"Peter! We do not use that kind of language!" My dad yells.

I roll my eyes and sink into my seat, trying to block out the lecture I'm getting. Eventually, my mother hands the auxiliary cord to my sister. She plays a song called "Look what you made me do" by Taylor Swift.

I want to die.

Ten minutes and a fuck ton of Taylor Swift and Noah Cyrus later, we arrive. My family quickly moves out of the car, I take my time though. They all jog slowly towards the church. I walk normally, looking around.

It's raining out, maybe that's why their running. I like the rain though, so I'm taking my time. Dancing around in it a bit, laughing as I almost slip and fall.

"PETER!!" My mom yells, "CHURCH. NOW."

I cough and laugh a bit, running towards her and into the church, walking straight past the holy water bowl everyone is supposed bless themselves with when they enter.

My family smiles as the pastor greets them, a boy looking around me age beside him. I'm them behind a bit though and still laughing from running in the rain.

I take my hat off and shake my hair out, the pastor looking unamused. He must have seen me skip the holy water, and maybe got a bit on water on him from me shaking it out. But the boy beside him looks like he's trying not to laugh.

"Good morning, Peter." The pastor mutter coldly.

"Hey! Father! Good morning to you too." I say laugh rudely, and turn to look at the boy, "and who might this be?"

He's really fucking hot. He's wearing a blue worn out button up, and I'm not talking about you go to an office and someone's wearing a blue button up—I mean this guys got fashion and that blue button up with other blue patches on it with the sleeve rolled up is so hot. He's wearing black skinny jeans and chucks, show laces untied. The fedora on his head also just screams pin me to a wall and fuck me-"

"This is Patrick. He's my son...he's finally decided to show for a service." The pastor glares at him.

"Patrick, Patrick, Patrick..." I snap my fingers, "I like that!"

Patrick scoffs and laugh with a small smile. "Thanks, and you would be..?"

"Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III," I bow, "or Pete for short."

"Well, Peter, you should probably catch up to your family, I don't think they've realized you're gone." The pastor points to my family who are all greeting other members of the church.

They seem to be oblivious that I'm not with them, or I think that until they introduce themselves to a new family in the church as being family with a mom, dad, and only two kids. I don't care that they don't want me anymore...or I'm trying to convince myself that.

Patrick sees the sadness on my face, realizing how my family isn't including him. He reaches out his hand to touch my back, but I move away before he can touch me. "I'll catch you after mass, eh?"

Patrick smiles worried and nods, his dad not paying attention to us because he's greeting another family.

Now I just have to suffer through mass.