Saturday // Peterick Oneshots

8. Of All the New Year's Parties in the World

Sorry this is late, my family's moving so everything's going to hell in a hand basket :) Thanks to BANDlTOS for giving me the inspiration for this one. Idk if this is exactly what they meant, but this is what I wrote. Mid-hiatus. Tiny bit of angst, because if your hiatus fic doesn't have angst you're doing it wrong.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

This was a bad idea.

Patrick didn't even know why the hell he agreed to come to this party, and now he's trapped in the outskirts of a sea of people with Pete Fucking Wentz making his way towards him. Of all the New Year's parties he was invited to, why did he decide to come to this one? What cruel twist of fate has put him and his best friend in a room together like this?

Well, ex-best friend, if the months of radio silence only interrupted by the occasional ten minute phone call containing all the intimacy of a empty train car has anything to say about their relationship.

Patrick regrets every decision he'd made before leaving the house the moment Pete smiles at him. If he'd worn a duller suit, in a more subdued shade of blue that the bright one he was wearing, or if he'd combed his hair differently, maybe Pete wouldn't have noticed him. He wished he could disappear into the wall he was cowering against.

"Hey man, long time no see!" Pete's smile widened, and up close Patrick could tell it was forced. It didn't reach Pete's eyes, which Patrick could see weren't lined in eyeliner, but were weighed down by dark bags that could only be the result of some really shitty nights.

And fuck, that meant that Patrick could still read Pete like a book, even after all this time.

Patrick took a deep breath. "Hey. How've you been?"

"Uh, fine, I guess." Pete shrugged, ducking his head a bit. "Surviving. How about you though? I listened to Soul Punk the moment it dropped." Pete shook his head. "You never cease to blow my mind, Tricky."

"I'm doing alright," he said casually, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. "Touring is still as tiring as it was when we were together." He added with a small laugh.

"Yeah." Pete sighed. "I figured out the same thing while working on Black Cards. It's been hell, especially without you around."

Patrick missed Pete too, but he didn't want to say it. Saying it would open a door for other confessions that he needs to keep to himself. It's essential to his survival. And his dignity.

(He is not getting rejected by Pete Wentz.)

"I get that," he said instead. He drained the remaining champagne in his glass.

"You look great by the way!" Pete gave him a quick once over and smiled. This one actually reached his eyes. "I mean, you've always looked great, but I don't know, you're so much more outgoing now. Confidence looks good on you."

The heat returned to Patrick's face. He cleared his throat and decided to not comment on what Pete said, instead asking, "Where's Ashley? Is she here with you?"

At that, Pete's grin faded. He's the one clearing his throat now, messing with his suit jacket as if it didn't already look perfect on him. "She's not here." It's only then Patrick sees the absence of a ring on his hand. "We split up."

"Oh Pete," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

"You're fine. We've been trying to keep it out of the papers, so." Pete shrugged, and Patrick could see how tired he was.

Before Patrick knew what was happening, a reporter came over and started badgering him with questions. When they finally left him alone, Pete was gone.