Pete
April 9th
It's really eye-opening what one blowjob can make you realize.
Think about it.
Blowjobs can be something with a hearty amount of emotion attachment, for example a newlywed husband and wife on their honeymoon. But blowjobs can be messy and from someone you just met, like a one night stand.
This is the first time I've ever wanted to push a dude down into his knees and shove my cock down his throat.
This isn't okay.
Recently I've let my emotions get a little out of hand. I feel like I'm falling for Patrick, but I'm just not gay. It's out of the question. I dig chics. Thots without a dick.
So I'm started this week as good ol' Pete Wentz. The one who licks pussy and doesn't give a shit about your opinion.
However this ends quickly when I walk into school only to see Travie and Ashley (Halsey) dragging Patrick into the boy's bathroom.
This can't be good.
I follow, not because I'm concerned for Patrick...I'm just curious.
And I watch as Travie and Ashley wash out Patrick's mouth with toilet water, shoving his against the sink and Travie placing some nice hits on his body. I hear his noises of pain, his calls for Gerard or Frank, his hope that eventually flees from his eyes.
I just walk away, through the halls, up the stairs and into the library.
There's a stare, bitter silence in there. Dry and cool, tired and ghostly kids all hanging around.
I see Hayley and Bob sitting at a table. They're seemingly having light conversation, and I think Hayley cut her hair at some point between me watching her walk off on Saturday morning and at this moment right now.
The once bright orange, straight hair that went to her shoulders has been replaced by a bright turquoise bob cut and light curls. It looks pretty cute, actually.
Bob looks in adoration, and his runs his fingers through the swirls, and I can see his mouth moving to form he words "so pretty, Hayls."
She smiles lightly at his words, and I would sit with them but I don't want to ruin the moment.
So I leave the library before they see me, shuffling through the 2nd floor halls. I weave my way through people. It's still early, so there's not too many, but still enough where I need to navigate my way around them.
And into the upstairs bathroom I make it, glad no one's in here. I trudge over to sink, looking at my broken reflection.
Tired eyes, brown faded orbs. Lips turned upside down and chapped. My messy hair slightly contained under a beanie with black stands poking out and into my forehead.
I turn on the faucet and splash cold water onto my face. The mirror is blurred.
Get it together, Pete. You got this...you got this.
Monday's really do suck.
I hear the bathroom door open, and just pretend like I'm walking my hands. I can see a boy behind me, curly hair and a Green Day sweatshirt. I know him.
"Hey, Peter."
I sigh, "good morning, Ray."
I dry my hands off, glaring at him lightly and scooting back into the hallway. I head back to the library because I don't really have anywhere to go.
Hayley and Bob sit alone still, Bob still gushing over Hayley's newly dyed hair.
Seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into hours and soon enough-
I hear the slam of a lunch tray in front of me. Um the only one at our lunch table, and I look up at the person sitting across from me.
His eyes are scared and his lip pulled into a frown.
"I'm sorry." I rush out.
Brendon looks at me surprised, eyes wider. "It's okay."
"No," I say whiny, "Bren it's not...I...I don't want you to ever feel like you aren't who I want you to be because whoever you are, or whoever you love it doesn't matter to me; because I'll love you the same, man. I'm so fucking sorry."
I block out tears. He looks relieved, yet still so sad.
"Thank you." He chokes out.
Dallon plops down next to Brendon, sliding their hand hands together.
"Hey, Pete." Dallon says cautiously.
I smile so wide, my face red from almost crying. "Hi, Dallon."
———
Travie shoots for the basket.
The basketball spins around the orange ring and into the basket. Three pointers—it's a challenge. He's seemed to have gotten it down pretty fucking good though.
"Here, Wentz." He passes the ball to me, "you good, man?"
I shoot the ball, it hits the backboard. Travie catches it and passes it back to me. I dibble a little, then line up to shoot again.
"Yeah," I shoot and it goes through the basket off the backboard, "just feelin' a little distant lately. You know, with the whole thing that happened at the church Friday and Saturday."
He grabs the basketball and backs up. He tosses the ball back to me, and I pass it right back to him. He raises an eyebrow.
"Have you talked with Bren and Dal?"
He passes the ball back to me, and I reluctantly shoot at the basket. It misses horribly and I groan. Travie jogs after the ball.
"Yeah, they're together I think. But I'm back on good terms with them." I say.
Travie back up, and shoots. It swooshes through the basket and I cringe slightly—I don't know why.
"So...you're cool with them being...you know...gay..?" He breathes out looking at me.
"I mean..." I scratch the back of my neck, "I guess so."
Travie hums, "I though Brendon had a girlfriend."
I think for a moment. Yeah. He said he did...Sarah something. She hangs around us sometimes. She's lab partners with Brendon. Maybe she was just a cover up, and I say this.
"Oh...I guess maybe." Travie sighs.
"Are...are you cool with them?" I ask hesitantly.
Because Travie is my best friend. Because he judgement and his word means a hell of a lot to me. If he's not cool with it, something's gotta change on someone's end because there's not way I'm kicking him out of his position.
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
He snorts, "Pete, since when has it ever been okay? I'm wonder what caused you change of heart...you know, Patrick seemed to be cooling you off a bit. He's gay. Has he talked you down?"
I bit my cheek, "maybe."
Maybe.
