Madness of Two ~ a Peterick AU

four

Pete was the one to arrive first this time. He'd left home at the time he would usually for school and the early morning air was bright and cool. Without the hazy afternoon sunlight, the Stay Frosty sign was thrown into harsh reality, and didn't have the same rustic charm as last night.

He watched Patrick approach.
"Hey." Patrick said. "Follow me." His tone was confident but Pete don't know that was because he'd been practicing those three words the entire way there. Pete followed obediently, hands stuck in pockets.

"Where are we going?" He asked, if only to to make something resembling conversation.

"I can't tell you. It'll be a -- a surprise." Patrick cursed himself for stumbling over his words and hoped that Pete didn't think where they were going was too lame.

But he was fairly sure that Pete had to have a nerdy side, if he had accepted a day out with the geeky blob that was Patrick Stump.

Patrick crossed the street and Pete followed, trying to look confident and regretting wearing those skinny jeans.
Pete had to do a little skip to catch up with the speedy Patrick.

"Woah, buddy, slow down."
Patrick realised he was travelling forwards at immense speed and slowed.

"I - I love your T-shirt!" Patrick realised as he properly took in what Pete was wearing for the first time. "Green day, right? I love them!"

Patrick felt that glow he always did when someone shared his bandoms, plus something... more.

"Yeah! Do you like Misfits?" Pete replied, grinning fully for the first time since Patrick has known him. It was stunning.

Their conversation about their favourite music and bands escalated, and soon they were debating about the best Smiths song, and best classic rock band.

Pete didn't fell like he had to constantly have his guard up and regulate everything he said around Patrick. Talking came easier with him than with his other "friends".

Soon Patrick crossed the street, Pete walking lazily by his side. A grand building was situated in front of them, like a giant gleaming marble dog sat on its haunches.

Steps led up to the doors, which were shut, and adorned with a sign proclaiming the word 'CLOSED'.
'Russell Greene Art Gallery' said the banner hanging over the door.

"Here we are." Patrick said proudly, cheeks flushed under his favourite fedora.

"It's closed." Pete said, feeling stupid.

"There's a back entrance. Come on, it's always really cool in there when it's shut." Patrick said, tugging on the sleeve of Pete's Jean jacket.

Patrick was so adorable, Pete had to surrender another smile. He felt like he was running out of smiles and his face would break soon.

Patrick Lee him through an unkempt grassey alley and then a large gap in the fence. Clearly, no-one worried about people breaking into the gallery.

"There's not much valuable in there." Patrick explained. "It's mostly local stuff."

Pete didn't think he'd been in there before - maybe on a field trip when he was younger - but he'd always liked art. Especially photography.
The way someone could capture a moment, or a place or a person, and it would seem completely different than how someone else would see it.

Patrick was right, the back entrance wasn't locked - they slipped into a door which, in the building's mansion days, had probably been a servants' entrance.

Patrick was right. It was magical when they were in there alone. Beautiful paintings lined the walls, and there were even a couple of rooms of photography, but you could easily see how once upon a time this had been a home. The rooms were furnished grandly, and looked like they had been frozen in time.

They giggled as they passed from room to room. The centre of the house had the biggest room, and staircases lined each side of the room, spiralling up to the next floor, where more paintings covered the old-fashioned wallpaper and four-poster beds with gold sheets and rich red drapes were bathed in light by the large windows.
This place was amazing.

They went through to the reception area, where a vending machine sat, and when Patrick hit it twice with his fist two Twixes and (hitting in a different spot) a diet coke came out.

"No-one uses it anyway." He said. "If anyone notices they assume the caretaker took some. He has a key to the machine."

Pete just shrugged and took his Twix. He was all up for the 'illegal' shit. It kinda got him on an adrenaline high just being there.

They sat munching on a plush sofa and stared at a few paintings of the ocean, hung carefully on deep red patterned wallpaper.

"Do you come here often?" Pete asked.
"Yeah. Usually Mondays, sometimes Thursdays, occasionally during the night... basically when I want to be alone. Which is a lot when I have such a massive family."

"So you do skive off?" Pete knew he should've noticed. They had Advanced English together, and Pete had barely noticed this pretty boy.
Patrick nodded.

"I told the school I had bipolar disorder, depression, suicidal tendencies. I faked a doctor's diagnosis and I think legally I am allowed to stay home if it... uh... happens." Patrick said.

"You think?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure. They might just feel bad for me."

Pete laughed quietly.

"What?" Patrick asked.

"Sorry. I wish I'd thought of that." He said. "I guess no-one would suspect you. You've never been involved in anything bad at school in your life."

Pete was always in some fight or found smoking pot or some kind of trouble. "You, Patrick Stump, are a secret badass." He was full on laughing now, snorting with it.

Patrick joined in and they soon both had tears streaming down their faces, Pete's taking already smudged eyeliner with them. But Patrick couldn't have cared less.

"What about security cameras?" Pete asked when the apparent hilarity had died down.
"Oh, they conked out ages ago." Patrick asked.

"How did you even know all this, to come here in the first place?"
"My... uh..." Patrick hesitated. "My mom basically set this all up here. She helped out a lot with this place when it was starting. She's the Mayor." He said.

"I'm skipping school with the Mayor's son!!" Patrick exclaimed. "I think you're too respectable to be hanging out with the likes of me." He joked.

"More like you're too good for me!" Patrick retorted. "I'm just some fat loser." He said it jokingly but Pete looked at him, dead serious.

"Don't call yourself that, 'Trick." The name just slipped out.

"Why not?" Patrick forced a choked laugh. "Everyone at school calls me that. Or worse." He added dryly.

"Just because those assholes say it, it doesn't mean it's true." Pete said.

"Most people seem to think it does. A lot of the time I think they're right."

"Patrick." Something about Pete's voice made Patrick look up from his hands twisting in his lap and into Pete's puppydog eyes. They seemed to stretch on forever, swirling a beautiful brown with green flecks like freshly fallen leaves fluttering on the ground.

"Trick. If you think that any of the art in this room - no, scratch that, in this house - is more - - -" Pete's palms were sweating, his heart racing - "perfect then you are, more beautiful or valuable, then you're wrong. You are the only piece of art I haven't been able to take my eyes off all day." He searched into Patrick's bright, wide eyes for a second, and when he didn't find an immediate response, he looked down.

"I'm sorry, Trick, that was - I -" now who was the bumbling fool?

Patrick softly said, "Pete..."

He placed a hand under Pete's chin and raised his head until they were level with each other. Slowly, cautiously, he leaned in and their lips collided in a moment of pure bliss.

~hello and thanks to my, like, two readers. Please let me know what u think - but don't be nasty! There's a lot of angst and dramatic plotlines and weird things to come so keep reading please~