Pete
April 6th
As soon at I get retard over here to calm down in a pillow fort in the church, I call Dallon. Dallon's sweet—he'll be a good choice.
I stand in the entrance of the church, my phone to my ear.
After a few rings, I hear Dallon's voice. It's raspy and cold.
"What?"
I snort, "Someone's to the point, eh?"
He groans, and I can hear his shift.
"What do you want, Wentz?"
I roll me eyes, "Well, I've got a crying Patrick Stump in a pillow fort at our church and I'd like you to come here so Patrick doesn't die from fear."
Dallon is silent for a moment, "what the fuck did you do to him?"
His voice is so dark and cold, venom spat with ever word. I swallow hard.
"There's this rumo-"
"Yeah? You two fucked. So what, McAsswipe? No one gives a shit except you."
And I'm about to explode at him and scream at him, but I stop myself. Just breathe, Pete.
Just breathe.
"Whatever. Can you just get over here and bring Travie or Brendon or something..?"
I lean my forehead against a wall.
"Who do you want Pete." He says monotone.
"Literally anyone—Everyone. This deserves a group meeting or something."
"Pete, I just said no one gives a shit about the stupid rumor! It's your homophobic ass that can't comprehend normal human shit!" He yells.
My breathing is more rapid now, fists clenched and eyes watery.
"DALLON SHUT THE FUCK YOU FAGGOT AND GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE BEFORE I KICK YOU INTO A LOCKER AND BEAT YOUR ASS UP!!"
He's silent over the line.
"I'll be there in ten, bitchface. Get your parties out of a wad. I'm bring everyone I can."
And then he hangs up and I'm left with my own thoughts.
Great.
I give myself a moment to cool off, broken breathes grace my lips. I sigh—disappointed that I just screamed at Dallon for something stupid.
After I make sure I've chilled the fuck out quite a bit, i head for the pillow fort Patrick is laying in.
I enter through a hole and crawl in to see Patrick laying on a blanket with his eyes a little watery. His limps were all spread out, and he's staring at the ceiling.
"You know, this place is pretty nice."
His voice is raw and laced with a tad bit of anger, understandably.
"Yeah...back in the day...when the kingdoms were first started..."
He sits up and puts his stubby legs in a cris cross fashion, letting his head fall into his hands and covers the bottom half of his face. He nods.
"...it was just Travie and me, we started this place. Then...Ashlee joined not too soon after," we both cringe, "and then we all moved up a year, and Bob switched sides—which made me mad, and I needed more guards...then senior year started and Brendon is a freshman—he adding a lot of the blankets and made the forts, I swear he's still five at heart."
Patrick chuckles a bit, and a smile crawls onto my face. Patrick rubs his eyes, then looks back up to me, expecting me to say more.
"Uh...then...Dallon..." Patrick frowns, "he swapped...I don't know why. He and, primarily, Ashlee added the lights and all the details."
Patrick looks like he wants to say something, his face scrunched up.
"Dallon said he's coming over; and he said he's being company. I've decided this is a group meeting now."
Patrick scoffs, and I raise an eyebrow.
"Why am I here, then? You can debunk this rumor with them, they're your Young Bloods, Pete."
"Well, you're in the rumor too." I defend.
He sighs, "okay..."
And now he looks like he needs to say something again. I groan.
"What?" My voice shows annoyance.
He coughs.
"Can I invite Gerard and Frank?"
I think about it for a moment—actually considering it.
The consequences, the pro, the cons, the-
You know what fuck it.
"Yeah..? I guess so," I scratch the back of my neck, "this can be an 'emergency meeting' or something. Maybe get Hayley and Bob too..."
Patrick sighs, "this 'emergency meeting' wouldn't just about the rumors though, right?"
I groan, what else could we discuss?
...
Oh I know.
"We could talk about who we're going to pass the thrown down to."
Patrick makes a face of consideration, "Well, I'm gonna be a senior next year. You're the only one leaving. Well, you and Travie...and Hayley for me."
"Whatever, shithead." I say angered a bit.
Patrick rolls his eyes, "and now we wait."
I nod, scooting a little closer to him.
We both sit cross legged, his chin in his hands; his elbows on his legs. I reflect him, but my arms rest in my lap. I'm just looking at his stupid face.
Dumb porcelain pale skin, his black thick rimmed glasses framing his delicate face. Beautiful lips, soft and thin; Pink colored, crimson peeking out through his mouth. His fluffy hair, now dry, sits in a messy bed head type fashion. Light brown straight pieces falling into his face a bit. It's bothering me.
I lift my arm out to brush away his hair from his face, but Patrick flinches back from my touch. I think he believed I was gonna hit him; wouldn't be the first time...
I move my hand back to his neck, placing it lightly on the back of his neck. I lift my other arm to finally brush away his hair, his fedora disregarded on the floor somewhere.
His hair is soft. It's like little rose petals, and I tuck the stand behind his ear. His hair has definitely gotten longer—now reached his cheek on the top, the sides and back shorter.
"Thank you..." He speaks quietly.
And I'm snapped out of it, leaning back. He does the same.
"You should call your dudes...and chick." He laughs.
"I will, Wentz. Don't worry about it." He says, "don't worry about a thing."
