Archaic ||Peterick||

Introductions at Sunrise

"Where is your mom's house exactly?" Pete asked, struggling to keep up with his shorter companion.

"Chicago." Patrick said, sticking a piece of chewing gum in his mouth, and pulling his blazer on tighter as he walked.

"And why am I coming?" Pete asked. Patrick didn't answer for a second, while he weighed up the morals of telling him the truth, or a downright lie. He decided to do the right thing.

"Because I need company." He admitted, getting into the car and turning on the radio. Pete looked at him confusedly.

"Well, aren't you going to get in?" Patrick asked, patting the empty seat in the tiny blue car beside him.

"I'm going to Chicago because you need company?"

"Exactly. Get a straw and suck it up."

"What if I turn around right now, and walk back home again?" Pete asked, folding his arms. Patrick chewed his gum obnoxiously.

"I'm not going to stop you, but that sun is rising in about a half hour, and it's a forty minutes walk from here to there. Do the math."

Pete quickly and inaccurately calculated.

"I'll be there with ten minutes to spare!" He cried in derision.

"No, you'll be a pile of ashes before you get to Henley Street, and keep your voice down. It's a quiet neighborhood."

Pete looked over at the window of the house next to Patrick's. A head quickly ducked out of view, behind the curtains pulled across the window. He tutted and sighed. He didn't have much choice. Patrick had set him up. He really didn't have the upper hand. Inside or outside the bedroom.

"Fine. But what's in it for me?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe. Patrick looked confused.

"So your not getting burned to death isn't enough?"

Pete glared. Patrick smiled.

"Come on, you can't organise one or two criminals who could die for the greater good?"

"Your stomach is the greater good now, huh?"

"Shut up."

"I'll see what I can do for you, Pete."

Pete raised an eyebrow.

"I will try my best... Needy ass bitch."

"Scuse me?"

"Nothing. I said nothing offensive at all."

Pete got into the car. It didn't strike him as particularly strange, getting into the car with someone he'd met that morning. Patrick slotted a tape into the player in the car, and through the speakers came the distinctive introduction to Babooshka by Kate Bush. He looked at Patrick. He wasn't sure why he'd been expecting something a little more badass.

"What?" Patrick asked.

"Kate Bush?"

Patrick's face lit up.

"You know her?"

"Not my cup of tea to be honest."

His face fell slightly.

"Oh."

Pete looked at him, taking everything in. It was like a different person. Just an hour ago, that sad face had been contorted into a pained smile, as he carved a heart into his chest. Just an hour ago, the baby blue eyes framed by thick set glasses had been staring into his with all the qualities of a power hungry megalomaniac. He wondered how he did it. Did he act normal, when he was truly a psycho? Or was he just normal, and acted like a psycho to scare vampires?

"What's it like?" Patrick asked, unexpectedly. Pete jumped.

"Wh-what?"

Patrick glanced at him.

"What's it like?" He repeated.

"Being a vampire?"

"Yeah."

"I like it."

"Yeah, but what's it like?"

"It's... It's... It's a bit like being an addict. You want something, you're so desperate that you'll do anything under the sun to get what you need. It becomes normal."

Patrick nodded. Pete added, quietly:

"I've only been this way five years."

Only five years. It was a miniscule time frame compared to some of the others, fifty years, a hundred, five hundred.

"I've always been like this." Patrick said, taking the chewing gum out of his mouth and chucking it out the window. For a minute, Pete thought he was referring to being a vampire too, but then he related it back to the fact that Patrick was a hunter.

"What's your last name then?" Pete asked.

"Stumph." Patrick smiled.

"Seriously? Like... Like a tree stump?"

Patrick nodded. Pete cackled.

"What was your dad's name? Patrick tree?" He laughed.

"That's not really how names work. What's your last name?"

"Peter Wentz!" He proclaimed proudly.

"Really? So your name's Pete Peter Wentz?"

Pete nodded happily, then realized what Patrick had actually said.

"Oh, no. No. That's not my name."

"It is now."

Pete tutted. Patrick got on his nerves. And to think, all this would never have happened if he had just gone for that cute girl by the wall.

Patrick kept his eyes trained on the road. Pete was daydreaming. The sun was slowly coming up over the horizon. They'd only covered 15 miles, but it was time to call it a day. He knew a cheap enough motel about a mile away. He could get them there before the sun started to burn.