question everything (( Peterick oneshots ))

hitchhiking idiot

Patrick sticks his thumb up, out towards the high way. He hums to himself as he waits for a car to slow down.

"and where is your boy tonight..." he mumbles random lyrics he wrote in history class earlier.

He sighs.

Here he is—backpack slung over his shoulder, dried tears on his cold face. His phone and a pocket knife rest in his back pocket. He grabbed a few items from his fridge and threw them in his backpack.

He leans back on his heels.

It's fucking raining.

Why is it always rain here? It's odd looking because it's dark out, it's like 10pm, Patrick thinks. Probably somewhere around that time.

An old red truck slows and Patrick smirks. Such a classic scene; he's 90% sure this would be a murderer in this truck.

Eh whatever.

The truck pulls over completely and Patrick walks to he window. He gives a thumbs up and goes to hop in the back thing of the truck.

What's that called again?

As he goes to walk there, the window rolls down and he sees the man sitting in the driver seat.

Definitely not the normal old creepy guy with a shovel in his passenger seat—he was younger. He looked like Patrick's age. He was really tan, something that suggested he was biracial, maybe. His jet black hair is a little long in the front, making a short of...fringe, I guess? It's really straight as well. He's wearing a sweatshirt too.

What an emo.

"You can ride in the passenger seat if you want. You're not an animal."

His voice is weird.

It's not really low, but definitely not high. It's this weird middle—sort of a voice you'd expect a voice crack with every word, but in reality it's smooth speech.

"Thanks." The man unlocks the door.

Patrick puts his backpack by his feet and puts on a seat belt. The man seemed a bit impatient, reaching over Patrick and closer the door for him.

"Pete." The man says.

"Patrick."

Pete nods, eyeing Patrick's backpack. It's grey and blue, but covered in pins. Spider Man, David Bowie, Pride shit—pretty cool.

"So, where are we headed?"

"Um."

Patrick hadn't really thought this through yet. Where would he go? Maybe to Gerard's house...he lived upstate though—that's pretty far away.

"How about I drive you to a train station and you figure it out, eh?" Pete mutters.

"Okay, sure...thank you...again." Patrick scratches the back off his neck.

"No problem."

There's a peaceful silence.

Patrick takes in the surroundings, dull, clean—sad. He can smell Pete. Not like he smells bad, just had a strong scent. It's nice. And, of course, Patrick had to ruin the peaceful haze of silence.

"We're all animals."

Pete looks confused at him, away from the road for a moment.

"What?"

"You didn't want me in the thing cause 'I'm not an animal.' We're mammals. Mammals are animals. We're just intelligent, better evolution, I guess." Patrick says, not even looking at Pete.

He keeps his eyes fixed on the road in front of him.

Pete glances at him for a second, then back to focusing on his driving.

"You're weird." Pete says.

"Yea, I know," Patrick bites his lip and speaks more quiet this time, "I'm not that weird though, right?"

"You're asking someone you met not even five minutes ago."

"This is true." Patrick slumped into his seat.

There's about 20 minutes of silence in the car, before Pete takes a right into a more run-down neighborhood.

Patrick sighs, bored.

"Aren't we supposed to be getting on the highway?"

"Yea."

Patrick raises an eyebrow and looks at Pete.

"Then why aren't we..?"

Pete doesn't respond, and Patrick rolls his eyes. He sits up more.

Pete takes another turn into a more desolate parking lot. It's dark out, rain beating down on the truck.

"This is nice."

Pete is very surprised when he hears Patrick speak so calmly and happily. He looks at him confused, then back in front of him.

"Okay..?"

He parks the car in a random spot, no one around. He smirks devilishly, turning to Patrick.

Patrick doesn't have his eyes open, face pressed against the window.

"You know, you're a very predictable murderer...or rapist or whatever you're gonna do to me. I just hope you don't pull a Jeffery Dahmer and eat me cause that's kinda gross."

Pete does a double take.

"The fuck?"

"I mean can we just look at the situation we're in? You're obviously ready to do something to me." Patrick open his eyes, turning to look at Pete.

"Oh."

Patrick laughs. Fucking laughs. He grasps the pocket knife in his back pocket, pulling it out.

"I mean," he plays with it a bit, "I'm totally cool with you killing me. I don't have anything going for me, I'm also cool with you letting me go. But I'm definitely cool if you wanna actually bring me to a train station so I can go somewhere and start fresh. Also with any outcome you can have my knife, unless you let me go—in that case I wanna keep my knife Incase I ever wanna...end it all."

Pete blinks in disbelief.

"Kid, what is wrong with you?" Pete looks sad, "are-are you...okay?"

"Haha, yea, no."

Pete takes his knife out of his pocket and throws it in the backseat. He grabs Patrick's knife. Patrick raises an eyebrow but let's Pete take his blade. Pete throws in the backseat as well.

"You've ever killed someone?" Pete asks.

"No. I'd like to not be locked up for the rest of my life." Patrick says monotone.

"You wanna?"

"Maybe."

"Patrick, lets go for a ride."

________

NEWS UPDATE:

Woman, 26, murdered in Target parking lot at around 2 a.m. last night. No suspects have been brought, but there was a blood-covered pocket knife found under the woman's car hood.

Please stay inside after dark, and make sure to lock your door and windows. Thank you.