Just Once - A Peterick Fic

Chapter 3

        Pete and I didn't talk after the show that night or on our way back to Chicago the next day. In fact, we hadn't talked at all since I'd walked off the bus unless what was necessary during the show counts. We always did that, though. If we were fighting, the anger disappeared while on stage so we could give the fans the best show possible. Afterwards, we went back to being mad at one another. I don't remember us ever fighting for this long, though. This was serious.

        My thoughts were another story. I couldn't stop thinking about that night and Pete. I wanted us to be more than a one night thing and couldn't help but wonder how he was feeling about it, if his thoughts had changed at all after our fight on the bus.

        There were several times I contemplated calling him but had chickened out before hitting the green call button. I'd typed up countless texts only to delete them before I got up the courage to hit send. I knew I'd have to sooner or later, though. We had another show on the 2nd of December and band practice, meetings, and interviews before that. I couldn't avoid confrontation forever and it'd be better if I called him before practice but I really didn't want to.

        I was sitting at home, not doing much when my phone buzzed, pulling me out of my thoughts. Ding! Ironically enough, the display read One new text from Petah.

        >Petah: Are we just going to ignore each other forever?

        He had a point. It had seemed like forever since we'd talked when in reality, it had only been about a week. Biting my lip, I shot a text back.

        >I'm sorry. I wanted to text or call you, I just wasn't sure what to say.

        >Petah: I know and I'm to blame for that. I'm the one that should be sorry. I fucked all this up.

        >Well I certainly complicated it

        >Petah: I guess we're both at fault then.

        >Yeah, I think so

        There was a longer pause than normal before Pete replied. Even through text, I could feel the tension between us.

        >Petah: So what comes next?

        That was a question I didn't know the answer to but sure as hell wanted to find out. I know what I wanted to happen between us, but I felt as though Pete probably wanted to forget about the whole thing.

        >I don't know but I'm open to suggestions.

       >Petah: Would you like to meet me at the record shop a couple blocks from your house in 15 minutes to talk about it?

        I smiled to myself as I read his text. I had a good feeling about this.

~~~~~~~~

        Pete arrived before I did. Browsing through the titles, he glanced up only after hearing me walk up.

        "Hey Pattycakes. What took you so long?" he asked with a slight smirk, turning away from the shelves and towards me.

        "Oh shut up," I told him, returning the smirk. Even through our playful tones, the tension could be felt. It would be a while before things were back to normal. Then again, I wasn't sure I ever wanted things completely back to normal but that's what we were here to discuss.

        "That would make my being here pointless," he countered, a small smirk still curving his lips and squinting his eyes just enough to let me know he wasn't being entirely serious.

        "Fair enough," I agreed, my smile fading but still there.

        "So... What're you thinking?" he asked, the smile gone, not even a trace of it left.

        "What are you thinking?" I countered, wanting to hear his thoughts before I told him mine. It was a childish move but, quite frankly, I was almost too nervous to even spit mine out.

        "I asked you first," Pete said, an almost forced smirk curving the left side of his mouth.

        I bit my lip, nervous to say what I was about to even though he probably already knew. "Well, I was kinda thinking we should..." I started, pausing before I actually told him. I couldn't hardly bring myself to say it. "...or I at least wanted to...see if we could become something more?" My voice was quiet and timid, like I didn't want him to hear me admit it, and I couldn't meet his eyes

        "Look at me," he said and so I did. Pete was smiling, like he was glad I'd said it. "Patrick Martin Stumph," he started, using my real name and catching me off guard. "Would you do me the honor of being my boyfriend?"

        My lip curved into a smile, as I nodded, saying, "Yes, Pete. Yes, of course."

        That's when he pulled me into a hug, holding me like that in the middle of the record shop, our arms wrapped around one another. He had surprised me; I thought he'd tell me once again that it was just a one night thing and to forget it ever happened. This, though, was a nice surprise, nice being the understatement of the century. "Pete Wentz is my boyfriend" is now something I can say instead of just wish and damn did it feel good.