Every time something good happens to Patrick, he's brought back to reality. Written By Ruth. R&R?
The speakers stopped vibrating with music as the guys started to take off their instruments. I sat up on the couch, seeing Andy and Chris turn off the amps.
"You guys are done already?" I stood up to start helping them but an arm snaked around my waist, bounding me to the body behind me.
"Yep," Pete’s voice flowed into my ear as his lips brushed past it.
"We have to get ready for the show we’re playing tonight," his strong jaw rested against my shoulder, dyed black hair caressing my cheek.
"You’re playing tonight?" I asked, slightly taken aback by the sudden news.
Pete nodded, his hair rubbing against my skin.
"At Malcolm’s bar. Didn’t I tell you?" I shook my head while moving Pete’s arm away, slipping from his embrace. "Oh," Pete looked at the gray concrete floor before his brown eyes found mine.
"Well, we’re playing at Malcolm’s bar, can you make it?" I rolled my eyes at Pete’s idiotic grin and late invite. "I’ll try," I answered knowing well enough that the response won’t satisfy him.
His brown eyes were filled with slight horror. I rested my lips on top of his, placing a faint kiss.
"Of course, I’ll be there."
The words traced around his mouth which turned up into a smile.
"I love you," he told me.
"You guys are my best friends and all, but I really don’t want to see you grope each other," Andy said from the corner of the basement, taking apart his kit. I smiled sheepishly at Andy before moving out of Pete’s warm arms. I jumped at Andy's voice; I thought we were alone. Hopefully he thought of our embracing as a friendly gesture... if not, we were basically in shit.
I helped the guys pack their stuff into the van, the sun already setting, turning the skies dark.
Pete and I were walking home after he declined the car ride Chris offered. His calloused fingers interlinked with mine as we occupied the empty sidewalk. His thumb made small circles against my skin.
"You know, you can just come over to my place," Pete offered, pulling me close to him. I smiled as his arm snaked its way onto my shoulders. "Don’t you have to get ready for the show?" I questioned, looking up to see the beginning of his smirk spread up his lips.
"I only have to take a shower. You know, you can join in on that," I pushed him away softly, laughing under my breath.
"Alright, alright, you can just watch then," he smiled his trademarked grin as he pressed his lips against mine.
"You’re an idiot, Wentz," Pete’s response was a shrug.
"I know that, and that’s the reason you love me, right?"
I smiled at him as my house appeared up the block.
"Yes, that’s the only possible reason why I love you. See you soon," I told him, walking up my driveway.
"We play at 9," he called out. He flashed me his patented megawatt smile before I shut my front door. My heat fluttered as I rested against the hard wood. I was rushing up the stairs when my mother’s voice floated up behind me.
"Where were you?"
Wow, now she cares? My pace didn’t slow down as I reached the top step.
I didn’t hear a reply as I entered my room.
Malcolm’s bar was as dark and gritty on the inside as it was on the outside. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat and sex. I moved my way through the crowd, which had occupied the small dance floor, and made my way to the bar. I sat on an empty stool, ordered a drink and searched the room. The place was packed with kids, some I recognized from school and others were just blank faces. They filled every inch and every corner, only the stage seemed to be empty. My eye caught a glimpse of an enormous pair of black rimmed glasses in the far corner near the stage entrance and my heart felt as if it was made of stone.
Brendon was here. The news struck me like a baseball bat and I wondered why.
Brendon was Pete’s boyfriend; he had a right to be here, so why couldn’t I stop feeling angry at Pete? That wide tooth son of a bitch could have warned me. Fury numbed and glued me to my seat. I didn’t even notice the guys were on stage already taking their place. I jumped off the stool when the lights dimmed and the guitars and drums roared from the speakers. Arma Angelus was already into their set and I couldn’t bring myself to move my feet. People bumped against me, following the music, and my chest felt heavy. The feeling didn’t leave until the end of the show when I rushed out of the bar, right when Pete pulled Brendon up on stage. I tore through the front doors, gasping in the fresh air, my heart slowing down. I don’t know how long I rested against the dirty brick wall waiting for my stomach to settle but crowds of people started streaming out onto the streets. Sweat beaded my forehead and I jumped almost three stories when a hand clamped on my shoulder. I turned to see Pete with a worried expression on his face.
"Why did you run out like that?" He questioned, pulling me into an empty alleyway probably where he just came from. Tear lined at my eyes, not ready to fall. I shrugged. He sighed heavily.
I bit my lip before opening my mouth to say something. The words were caught in my throat when Brendon appeared through a metal door.
"Patrick, you’re here? I didn’t see you inside," Brendon said, walking toward us, wrapping his arm around Pete’s. I cleared my throat and answered him.
"I was at the bar and stuff. I’m leaving anyway, see you."
Brendon smiled at me before kissing his boyfriend.
Pete seemed surprised at the sudden action and stiff as he opened his mouth. His eyes found mine and seemed to say only one thing: 'I am so sorry.' I gave him the same look and started to walk out of the alley.