Archaic ||Peterick||

Out Of Body

Patrick pulled up to a busy coffee shop. It was full of early risers, getting coffee for whatever it was they spent their time doing. Pete looked out the window at it and grinned. His time was limited. He was gonna try enjoy it.

"Look babe! It's pink!" He jumped out of the car excitedly, looking at the very garishly decorated café. Patrick sighed heavily. He was guessing it had obviously come under new ownership. Well, it could be worse.

Pete looked around. It was very busy. That was good. The more people there was around, the more time he had. Patrick wouldn't kill him here. He had a reputation to keep.

Patrick rolled his eyes and got out, slamming the door of the car. "Don't call me babe." He growled, and walked inside the unrecognisable coffee shop. Once it had been a moody but cosy place, cedarwood and stone, with a real fireplace. Patrick remembered practising with his band there, clearing the tables away and closing up early just to make an attempt at Battle of the Bands.

They won, sure. Mikey played bass. He was such a dick to the runners up when he won that both Joe and Andy voted to kick him out of the band to 'save face'. Patrick knew it didn't matter. They'd never get anywhere anyway. Who would want to listen to Fall Out Boy?

Now the other two, he'd thought they were going places, but the second place band no longer existed, lying in twisted ruins, each ex-member in varying degrees of humanity (mainly Patrick's fault), and now Tyler of the third place band, Twenty One Pilots, was dating some drummer guy from a reformed Muse tribute band called Fullest Sapling and kept getting repeatedly possessed by Lucifer. He was wrong about all he hoped about. It had always been that way.

Pete skipped in behind him and took his hand in his own. Patrick wouldn't make a scene. He did try subtly to shake him off but his attempts only resulted in Pete clinging to his entire arm. He tutted angrily.

Patrick glanced around and decided it was easier to just accept the new addition to his arm. "Pink for a princess." He mumbled. "Princess Pete."

A toothy grin took over Pete's face. "Can I have a grande gingerbread coffee frappuccino?"

"No. I don't need you any more hyper than you are naturally." Patrick walked up to the new glass counter and ordered two regular black coffees. Pete whined loudly from beside him. Patrick shut his eyes tightly. "Does this look like Starbucks to you, sweetie?" He gritted out.

Patrick glared at Pete from across the brightly coloured plastic table. Pete grinned back happily, pouring in the fifth sachet of sugar into his coffee and kicking his legs under the table.

"So, why're you tryna kill me?" Patrick just ignored the question.

"Well? Is it because I said I love you?" Patrick took a deep inhalation and let it out very, very slowly.

"Because I can not say it. I'm very good at keeping my mouth shut," Pete grinned at him with his wide, toothy grin.

"For some reason, I highly doubt that." Patrick sighed and took another sip.

"Is it because I tried to give you a lap dance in the haunted house?"

Patrick groaned softly and glanced around at potential eavesdroppers. People he knew, or rather seen around, were in the shop.

"Will you shut up?" He growled.

"He speaks!" Pete exclaimed. "Now tell me."

Patrick groaned. "I will spill this burning coffee all over you."

"Then you'll have to deal with me crying."

"I can easily drive away without you."

"Then how would you kill me?"

"Pete!"

"Patrick!"

Patrick rubbed his face and took a deep breath. If he had known how frustrating Pete was going to be he would've left him in the club. Maybe that way Patrick wouldn't have a constant ringing in his ears from Petes unstoppable chatter.

"You know Patrick.. I really thought we had something." Pete sighed dramatically.

Patrick resisted the urge to facepalm. "Jesus Christ Pete, can you shut up for two seconds?" Patrick hissed.

Pete grinned and counted to two on his fingers. "Boom! Did it. Did I win a blowjob?" He asked hopefully as if he actually expected the answer to be what he wanted to hear.

That's something Patrick had noted about him. He was used to getting his own way. He was a little spoilt brat and Patrick wanted desperately to knock it out of him. Pete was a difficult little thing in the way he always managed to come out on top, no matter what Patrick did or said. Pete was crafty.

"Just finish your coffee so we can go." Patrick snapped though there was a hint of defeat hanging on his words. Pete, for once, understood that it wasn't a time for jokes. The realisation that his end was right around the corner hit him like a freight train.

Pete silently drank his coffee, his foot keeping the rhythm of his heartbeat if he had one. Everything he had never achieved flashed through his brain like a 30 foot wave crashing down on an unprepared seagull. Pete stared at the plastic surface in front of him and hid his tears from Patrick behind his mug. He felt pathetic.

Pete felt the coffee he had swallowed get stuck in his throat. He started choking, coming to the realisation quickly that it wasn't liquid in his throat. He let out a cough, not wanting to annoy Patrick by being any louder than his presence already was.

Pete let out a relived sigh that it had worked and he didn't have to make a scene. He looked down at his coffee and swirled it around, freezing when he saw the orange petal floating on top like a autumn aesthetic card.

Pete suddenly stood up, placing the off-white mug on the smudged table with a clink. "I'm done." His voice came out scratchy, him knowing the two words meant more than what they should've.