Archaic ||Peterick||

30- Home

The car was silent as the city passed by. Pete was curled up on his seat with Patrick's hoodie on once again. He had previously been hanging out of the car but Patrick had successfully scared him with the threat of his head being chopped off.

He had obediently gotten back in the car until they turned down a deserted back road. Chicago was still busy at night and Pete can't remember seeing anything more beautiful.

Pete shut his eyes, letting the wind fly through his un-straightened, natural hair. He felt transported. All he could hear was the wind and the buzz of the radio. He felt at peace for the first time since he had met Patrick. He wasn't thinking about anything, which surprised him. He usually needed medication to clear his thoughts away.

Patrick glanced at the frizzy haired boy and couldn't help the small tugging on the corner of his lips. Though he'd never admit that. Pete looked so young and free and Patrick couldn't wash away the feeling of guilt deep in the pit of his stomach. But he had to. He had to do this. He couldn't change his mind now.

Petes eyes slowly cracked open and he watched the distant city lights in wonder. "They're pretty.." he said softly, as to not ruin the mood, and got back inside the car fully. He leaned his arm on the door and his head on his arm. Patrick thought he looked like a small dog. In a way, Patrick thought, Pete was very much like a small dog. He was always hyper, following whoever would lead.

"The lights?" Patrick asked softly. He couldn't help but feel relaxed in the moment. Everything had been go but now he could just relax and drive the familiar route home. Home. If home is where the heart is, then I'm fuhked, Patrick thought bitterly.

Pete silently nodded. Patrick did too, in agreement to Petes statement. "It's my favourite part of living in the city." He glanced at Pete again.

Pete smiled. He wished he could live in this moment forever. Even after his undead death. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He couldn't think about that right now.

"Hey Patrick..?" Pete finally tore his gaze away from the blurry, dazzling dots and landed his gaze on the boy next to him. Patrick hummed in response.

"I know you don't wanna hear this but.. I love you. Just don't say anything okay? I just wanna enjoy this moment." Pete looked back outside the window.

Patrick bit back any response he had. He was about to kill the boy, to end his already ended life, he'd let him have that. His grip on the wheel tightened ever so slightly. He just nodded to himself, coming to terms with the fact that what Pete believed couldn't be changed.

Pete sat back in his chair and let the soft music wash over him. His head fell to the side so he was facing Patrick again. "Where are we going?"

"My old house," Patrick glanced down at their hands which Pete had joined. He sighed. "Pete-" he started sternly.

"Don't-" Pete started coughing violently, though he should've been used to it by now. He hacked up a marigold flower and threw it out the window in anger. "-please don't." He mumbled. He sounded defeated, nothing like the annoying yet charming boy Patrick first met.

Patrick just looked out at the road again silently.

Patrick groaned loudly and turned off the music, pulling the car to a stop. Pete took a sharp intake at the complete change of mood in the car. Pete suddenly felt the cold of the wind on his skin and shivered.

It was like the bubble around them, separating the car from life, had burst and they were plunged back to reality. Pete took a deep breath to calm himself.

"What?"

"Those fuhking kids." Patrick growled and jumped out of the car, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Pete looked up at the house. It was like the haunted house they had gone to before. Pete shivered at the thought. The house stood tall, proud and old in front of him. It looked almost daunting. The wood on the fence and house was rotted and the garden was dead, not overgrown like the movies. The house almost shone in the darkness.

Petes eyes zeroed in on the edgy teenagers standing outside it. They were every cliche. The emo, edgy, bad kids and the scared one. Pete remembered when he was in a group like that.

He jumped out of the car and made his way over to Patrick who was talking loudly.

"What are you cunts doing here?!" Patrick near screeched at them. Pete was surprised such a sound could come from such a little man like him.

"We're exploring."

Pete looked at the boy who spoke and felt as though he was staring into a mirror. The boy was decked out in black. He wore a ratty t-shirt under a black leather jacket. His jeans were almost painted on and his liner ringed eyes were half covered by his fringe. And don't even get Pete started on the chains.

"What're you gonna do? Call the cops?" The boy laughed. Patrick growled at him. Pete reached out and gently pulled him back.

The boy laughed. "What? Need your boyfriend to protect you?"

Pete rolled his eyes at the boy. "Don't act like you're not gay. It's pretty obvious. I mean, skinny jeans and makeup?" Pete turned to the boys friends. "Is he really fooling you?"

The boy glared and tried to make himself look taller. He was obviously trying and failing to think of something witty to say.

"Give it up and beat it, right?" Pete sighed in exasperation.

The kids started walking away in defeat but yelled promises of coming back. A taller boy gently tugging at the emo boys hand. "I wouldn't go in there to fuhk if I were you. It's known as the murder house!" The boy yelled as his friends tugged him away in a flurry.

Patrick took deep breaths, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Thanks, I guess."

Pete noted the bitterness behind the words. "Murder house?" He questioned. Patrick just shook his head, signalling to Pete that he wasn't in the mood.

Pete followed his love up the rickety steps.