The Golden Rule || Patrick Stump fanfic

Chapter 16: Growing Up

•Patrick•

Last night we came home from Vegas. It was awesome! Best place I've been to so far in my life. I enjoyed it. Electra loved it. Heck, I even think little Kyle had a lot of fun. Brendon and Sarah were so nice for letting us stay in their Vegas home with them whilst they were there. They're such nice people. We also got the privilege of meeting Dallon Weekes and Spencer Smith. Also two great guys with an outstanding sense of humour. Oh! We got to meet a Mrs. Breezy Weekes and her two wonderful children, Amelie and Knox Weekes. Just everyone was so nice to us. I could go back at any minute and be greeted like its my home I haven't been to in years. Brendon took us to this awesome little restaurant, (where we met a fangirl), and when we came back the whole band of Panic! At The Disco performed for us in Brendon's garage because the Vegas show was cancelled.

Overall: Best trip of my life.

It's a Saturday. One week ago was Electra's birthday. She's doing family things today with her dad and step-mom and step-siblings and half-siblings. I was sat at home, waiting for Joe and his friend, Pete, to come over and audition me. Joe was sixteen, not quite seventeen yet. And Pete was like five years older than me, at twenty-two. He's the notorious Pete Wentz of Chicago. He's played in a load of bands and heck has he got talent. And now he wants me in one of his bands. Me. I'd put this audition off for weeks but today is finally the day I did the audition that could possibly change my life forever.

I sat in the living room, eagerly waiting. I was nervous, to say the least. I had my drum sticks at hand, nervously drumming one against my right knee- the right leg curled underneath myself.

My mom was home. No one else but me and her. Kevin was out and so was Megan. I was glad my annoying siblings weren't there to ruin my audition. My mom was in the kitchen, quietly making sugar cookies.

Man... Do I really sweat this much?

I guess I chose the wrong clothing choice today. I was wearing shorts, which was fine. Although, I felt kinda nerdy with my socks slightly pulled up. Eh. I don't care. I had an argyle sweater on... Don't ask why and don't judge me. My hair was messy and kinda fluffy from the shower I had had prior. My classic sideburns, I had recently cut them after coming back from Vegas so they aren't too long anymore, were of course making an appearance. My long hair messy sat at my shoulders with a trucker's hat atop. My glasses on my face and, as I mentioned before, my drumsticks at hand.

And then the, long waited, knock at the door. I took a deep breath in, almost forgetting to let it out again. I stood up and went to the door.

Joe stood there. His hair still incredibly curly but now short against his head, and not falling everywhere like it was when I first met him. His piercing blue eyes stood out from his curly mop of hair. He was wearing a white t-shirt with a leather jacket on top. He wore denim skinny jeans on his legs and black Converse with no scratches or scuffs. He had a red telecaster guitar at hand, no case.

Next to him stood a slightly shorter man. He was shorter than Joe but just slightly taller than me. He had dark brown eyes that were heavily cased in dark eyeliner- or guyliner. The mans hair was raven black and seemed to have no parting. It was neat at the front, creating a neat fringe, and messy at the back, sticking up in all directions. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a zip-up black hoodie on top, black skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees and black vans. This guy sure did like black. He had a black (surprise) fender bass guitar in hand, again no case. Why don't these people put their guitars in cases? This man was the legendary Pete Wentz.

"Hey! Patrick dude." Joe enthused, holding his hand in the air for one of those high-five-hand-shakes. I did what was silently requested. "This, my boy, is Pete Wentz."