Pete was basically in love with Patrick since the first time they met. But Patrick had some problems, and Patrick needed somebody to take care of him. Pete didn't mind. He didn't even mind when he ...
Once he managed to get his stomach to calm down, he went to make coffee. It turned out there wasn't any left, so he threw on some clothes that only slightly smelled and decided to just stop at Starbucks. His parents would probably buy coffee on their way home from work anyway.
It wasn't until he almost ran over some kids walking home from school that he realized how late it was already. He didn't even have the energy to care.
He was thankful to find the line in Starbucks was short, and he happily took his coffee and headed towards the door. He was going to go home and watch TV for a while, and maybe call Joe and see if there were any bands worth seeing tonight, and...
He didn't see the kid until he ran into him. He spilled his entire coffee and the kid managed to drop papers pretty much across the whole room.
"Shit, I'm sorry!" Pete said, trying to ignore the scalding coffee he poured on his arm and help the kid clean up his papers. Some of them were distinctly coffee coloured, and Pete felt bad.
"It's okay," the kid said quietly, trying to gather up the papers as well. He was short, chubby, and he looked about sixteen. He was wearing a trucker hat, and clothes that didn't match. "My fault."
Pete picked up a particularly dripping piece of paper and considered it. "I think this one's done for."
The kid looked up- he had glasses, Pete realized, and probably the most adorable face he had ever seen- and then smiled slightly. "That's what I get for doing my homework in Starbucks, I guess."
"This is your homework?" Pete asked, looking at the huge amount of papers. "What the fuck, are you like going to med school or something?" He didn't really look college aged, but you never knew.
The kid laughed quietly. "No, just taking all AP classes."
"Whoa. That's crazy. I never even got homework in high school," Pete said, eyes widening. (Well, if he had, he never actually did it...) "I wouldn't have been able to pass AP classes, though. You must be, like, insanely smart."
The kid blushed slightly- oh, god, Pete already felt the distinctive want course through him- and said, "I guess." Pete just grinned at him.
"I feel so bad about this. Can I buy your coffee and help you rewrite some of this?" Pete asked after they had picked up all the papers.
The kid looked very hesitant, but slowly nodded. Pete got the coffees while the kid sat down and started to put the papers into piles.
"I'm Pete, by the way," Pete said as he set down their coffees.
"Patrick," the kid said, smiling slightly, and Pete decided- this kid would be his.
It wasn't exactly stalking. It's not like Pete had even known for sure the kid- Patrick, he remembered, and couldn't help grinning- would be there. But people tended to have habits, and Pete hoped Starbucks was one of Patrick's.
The first couple days, Pete had felt way too creepy to actually go talk to Patrick again. So he sat where he could see him easily and just watched Patrick and took a very long time drinking his coffee.
One day, though, Patrick came over to him and said, with a sigh, "Do you want to help me colour this poster for my bio class?" Pete was pretty sure that meant he was a very obvious stalker, but it was okay.
After that, Pete would immediately go sit with Patrick. Usually he would annoy Patrick until he finished his work by trying to be helpful and then they would talk for a while until Patrick would "really have to go eat something, I'm fucking starving, I've been here for hours" or "dude, there's a new CSI on soon, I have to go."
And the thing was, Patrick was cool. He loved music and was an amazing singer, which Pete discovered when Patrick sang him a Frank Sinatra song because, "you have to hear this right now, oh my god, you can't wait and go look it up! You have no idea what you've missing all this time!" And Patrick was funny once he stopped being as shy, and he was ridiculously smart, and he was really, really cute.
So one day when Patrick complained that he was starving, Pete decided, "We should go get dinner together."
And Patrick blushed and couldn't look Pete in the eye. "You mean, like a date?"
Pete hadn't, but he said, "Depends. Are you eighteen?"
Patrick laughed, cheeks still pink. "In two weeks."
Pete grinned. "Good enough. Let's go."
They ended up going to a Chinese restaurant, where Pete learned Patrick was a vegetarian and also was really bad with chopsticks. Pete got a fortune cookie that said, "Love is in your future." When he showed Patrick, he turned bright red and dropped some tofu on the floor. And then later Patrick read his fortune cookie, "You are talented in many ways," and made Pete choke on his sweet and sour chicken when he added, "In bed."
And then Pete drove Patrick home and tried not to stare too obviously at the rundown trailer where he lived. Patrick seemed embarrassed by it but just thanked Pete and then hesitantly gave Pete a kiss on the cheek before turning red and rushing inside.
"So...are we dating?" Patrick asked the next day when Pete sat down at his table in Starbucks. Pete's eyes widened and he just stared at Patrick until Patrick turned bright red and looked at his feet and mumbled, "Sorry, I just thought..."
"Wait," Pete said, interrupting him. "You want to?"
"Well, yeah," Patrick said shyly, still not looking up. "I mean. If you want to."
"Dude, definitely," Pete said with a grin. "Didn't know you liked me so much, 'Trick."
"Patrick," he corrected, but with a smile. "I don't like nicknames."
"Not even stupid pet names? Cause you know, I'm totally going to use them now that we're boyfriends," Pete said, laughing, and he decided then that boyfriends was the best word in the entire world, especially with the way it made Patrick beam at him.
"Dude, why are you taking such hard classes?" Pete demanded as he brought back coffees for them one day during one of Patrick's longer study sessions. "We could be making out right now if you were stupid."
Patrick managed a smile but was busy writing things down at an insanely fast speed. "But making out won't help get me a college degree."
"You never know," Pete said, with a wink, and Patrick let out a surprised giggle. "But seriously, you don't really have to like get a bunch of college credits while you're still in high school."
"Yeah, but this way, I might actually be able to afford it," Patrick said, his smile fading. Pete was surprised- this was the first time Patrick had directly mentioned the fact that he was poor- even though it was very obvious. Pete was pretty sure that Patrick only owned a couple different outfits, even if he did own a lot of different hats.
"But...but you'll get scholarships, won't you?" Pete asked.
"Some, sure, but I'm only third in my class, Pete. And I don't have any money," Patrick said, sighing. "I honestly don't know how I'm going to pay for it."
"I will," Pete said, completely serious, but Patrick still laughed, kind of bitterly.
"Do you even have a job?" Patrick asked, raising his eyebrow.
"No, but I can get one!" Pete said. "I'll take care of you, 'Trick."
"You're crazy. You hardly know me," Patrick said, his voice unreadable.
"I mean it, though," Pete said earnestly. "I promise."
"Whatever," Patrick said, and Pete wasn't sure, but he maybe sounded a little pleased. "Do you know where I put my Calc notes?"
"So!" Pete said excitedly as he walked over to Patrick at Starbucks.
"So?" Patrick asked, smiling and raising an eyebrow.
"I have a job!" Pete said proudly.
"Oh, god," Patrick said, rolling his eyes. "You're such a dumbass."
"A dumbass who's making money for you, baby!" Pete said, grinning.
Patrick laughed and smacked him lightly on the arm. "Whatever, get me coffee," he said. "Make it a large, you've got a job."
Pete brought a large coffee with a very proud grin, and Patrick smiled and gave him a tender kiss.
"I'm glad you're not vegan like my friend Andy, because ice cream dates are adorable," Pete said, licking his ice cream cone as he started down the street with Patrick.
Patrick rolled his eyes. "Whatever. This ice cream is not adorable because it's going to make me even fatter." He was still eating it, though.
"Dude, no way. You are not fat!" Pete said.
"As charming as they are, your lies will not work on me, dear sir," Patrick said, giggling.
Pete laughed. "It's a truth! Like the fucking Cobra!"
"What the hell?" Patrick asked, laughing so hard he almost dropped his ice cream.
Pete blushed. "Sorry, I have this friend...he thinks Cobras come up to him and tell him all sorts of ultimate truths or something," he explained.
Patrick laughed even harder. "Oh my god, you weirdo."
Pete pouted until they walked by a little playground and he decided, "Hey, race you to the swings."
Patrick really did drop his ice cream then, although he won the race. They sat on the swings next to each other and shared the rest of Pete's ice cream cone, even though it was getting kind of chilly and Pete was shivering a little.
"You're really awesome, you know?" Pete said conversationally.
Patrick smiled and looked at his feet. "Lies."
Pete frowned at him. "I mean it. Best guy I've ever met. And cutest!"
Patrick just kept looking at his feet. "You're the only person who makes me feel like I'm worth anything, Pete."
"Dude, how?" Pete demanded. "You're so smart, and funny, and..."
"I love you," Patrick interrupted, looking up with a determined look in his eyes.
"Oh," Pete said, and he was suddenly light-headed. "Oh."
Patrick blushed deeply and looked away again.
"I, uh," Pete said, and he was surprised that he was still nervous about it. "You know. I love you too, 'Trick."
Patrick looked at him and smiled shyly. Pete leaned over and kissed him, hard, and knew for a fact that it was the best moment of his life.
"Is something wrong?" Pete finally asked Patrick after at least two weeks of him being unusually quiet.
"No," Patrick said, sounding surprised. "Just tired."
"You're always tired lately," Pete pointed out.
"I think it's the weather," Patrick admitted, motioning to the Starbucks window where they could see the snow falling outside.
"Yeah, but how can you be all sleepy and depressed with Christmas a month away?" Pete asked.
Patrick rolled his eyes. "Christmas isn't really that exciting for me."
Pete gasped and he said in a mock-offended voice, "Well, then, I'll just have to make this the best Christmas ever for you!"
Patrick blushed but he didn't look away. Instead, he grinned brightly at Pete.
"Dude, I don't think this is right," Pete said as he looked over Patrick's history assignment.
"What?" Patrick said, sounding annoyed. Pete figured he was just stressed. "Let me see it." Pete gave it to him. He looked over it and then glared at Pete. "I don't see anything wrong with it."
"But, uh, shouldn't..." Pete started to say.
"Oh my fucking god! You hardly passed history in high school, don't tell me how to fucking do my work," Patrick yelled.
"I'm sorry!" Pete said, hurt. "Jesus, why are you so irritable all the time?"
"Because you always correct everything I do!" Patrick said angrily. "Could you please leave me alone so I can actually get my work done?"
"O-kay," Pete said. He was still confused, but mostly he was angry. He got up and stormed out of Starbucks.
The next day, Patrick apologized, embarrassed, "I really didn't mean to yell at you. I'm just having a hard time lately."
And Pete just pulled him into a hug, forgiving him easily.
"These classes are a lot harder than I expected," Patrick said exasperatedly one day. "I think I'm almost failing bio."
"I doubt this," Pete said, smiling.
"No, really," Patrick said miserably. "Seriously, I can't even concentrate in class anymore and I forget everything we go over. Maybe I should've just taken regular classes."
"I have faith in you, 'Trick," Pete said.
Patrick just sighed again and took off his hat for a second to run his hands through his hair.
"Dude, your hair's a mess," Pete said before he could stop himself. Patrick's hair was completely tangled together.
"Oh," Patrick said, absentmindedly, and he seemed surprised when he reached back and felt the knots. "I guess I haven't brushed it in a while."
"Patrick," Pete said, worried. "Please take better care of yourself, baby doll."
"I'm just so busy. I've been forgetting to do everything," Patrick said. He looked away and Pete could tell he was incredibly embarrassed.
Pete sighed and went over to Patrick and pulled him into a hug. "Please try," Pete said. "I know things are tough, but you can do it."
Patrick didn't say anything, but Pete was pretty sure he heard him sniffle.
Pete worked at Hot Topic, which wasn't as cool as it sounded. He always had the same shift as this annoying guy named Mikey, who constantly hit on Pete and made fun of the customers. (Even the ones who didn't really deserve it.) But it was the only place that didn't care that Pete had tattoos and emo bangs, so it would have to do.
It was just a regular day of work. Mikey was going on and on about unicorns or something to anyone who would listen, Amanda, the manager, was distracted by a group of cute girls in short skirts that came into the store, and Pete was seriously considering buying a pair of zebra striped skinny jeans.
There was some kind of commotion at the front of the store, but nobody bothered to see what it was. Suddenly, though, Mikey said, "Whoa, look, there's a crazy dude!"
Pete looked up, not really interested, and then froze. Patrick was there, hair uncombed, hat on sideways, and generally haphazardly dressed. He was babbling incoherently, and he looked absolutely terrified.
"Oh, shit," Pete said, and rushed over to him. "Patrick!" He grabbed a hold of Patrick's arm.
Patrick stopped screaming and stared at Pete confused for a second. Then, relief swept over his face. "Oh, thank god. Pete, you need to help me."
"What's wrong?" Pete asked, worried it would be another one of Patrick's bizarre answers.
Patrick mumbled something Pete couldn't understand, but then finally said, "The people at Starbucks tried to poison my coffee."
"Patrick," Pete said, not sure how to deal with this. Patrick was acting crazier and crazier every day. "Sweetie, they wouldn't do that."
"They did!" Patrick screamed, causing everybody to stare at them.
"Calm down!" Pete said hurriedly. "Can we talk about this calmly, please?"
"Okay," Patrick said, a little sullenly.
"Alright. Now, why would they try to poison you?" Pete asked, hoping he'd be able to reason with him.
"I...I don't know," Patrick admitted quietly.
"So they probably weren't going to poison you, were they?" Pete said gently, afraid that he might accidently make Patrick angry.
"I don't know, Pete," Patrick said. He looked really confused. "But they did! I think."
Pete sighed sadly. "How about you just go home and don't worry about it right now? I'll go with you to Starbucks tomorrow and make sure it's not poisoned, okay?"
"Okay," Patrick agreed. "Do you think you could take me home?"
Pete hesitated but now that Patrick was calmed down he looked absolutely miserable. "Okay, I'll go ask my boss," he said, and walked over to the back of the store where Amanda and Mikey were watching curiously.
"Hey, can I take him home quick?" Pete asked.
"Absolutely," Amanda said, looking concerned. "Who is he?"
"My boyfriend," Pete said. Normally, he would've been kind of pleased by the upset expression Mikey made.
"Oh," she said. "What's wrong with him?"
"I don't know," Pete said sadly, wishing he did. "I don't know."
The next day Patrick, his face a deep red and almost in tears, apologized for his outburst and said he honestly didn't know why he had thought that. He didn't mention it again, and he went an entire week without even the slightest incident. Still, there was this underlying feeling if unease that became a dark cloud over their lives. Pete was pretty sure that they were both just waiting for Patrick's next freak-out to take place.
The feeling of unease only grew worse, and Pete would sometimes throw up several times a day because his stomach was churning with worry. So even though he started the day by barfing up his breakfast outside the mall, he didn't have any feeling of wrong any worse than any other day. He had to say his life was pretty bad at foreshadowing.
Pete spent his morning helping a confused-looking middle-aged woman find a birthday gift for her son and trying to ignore Mikey telling his brother really loudly that "Pete's dating a fucking psycho!" (Pete was pretty sure Mikey never actually did any work, except maybe for getting his brother to buy a bunch of comic book t-shirts.) It wasn't even that bad of a morning, and he actually managed to get down some delicious tacos during his lunch break.
The problem was, though, that when he returned from break Amanda was on the phone with her eyebrows hunched in worry. As soon as she saw him, she motioned him over and handed him the phone.
"Hello?" Pete said.
"Hello, is this Pete Wentz?" a woman asked.
"Uh, yeah," he said.
"This is Monroeville Hospital. There's a boy here, Patrick Stump; he says he's your boyfriend," the woman said.
"What's wrong with him?" Pete asked, trying to fight down the bile. So much for those tacos... "Is he okay?"
"He's fine. He just, uh, had a little freak-out at school today. Do you know how I could get in contact with his parents?" she asked.
"No, I don't," Pete admitted. "Why? Does he need something?"
"Would you say you were basically Patrick's caretaker?" the woman asked.
"Yes," Pete said without hesitation.
"Alright, how soon can you get here?" she asked. "He's fine, now, but I'm going to need to discuss some things with you. I also think he would calm down even more if you were here."
Pete hesitated. He needed to work if he was going to pay Patrick's bills, and if Patrick was okay... "My shift ends at three. Is that okay, or do I need to come earlier?"
"That should be fine," she said. "See you then."
"Bye," Pete said. He hung up the phone and then just stared at it.
"Is everything alright, Pete?" Amanda asked softly. Pete was very aware that she was staring at him, along with Mikey and his brother.
"Yeah," Pete said.
"Is is your boyfriend?" she asked carefully. "At the hospital?"
"Yes," he said sighing. "But he's okay. For now."
"Do you need to leave?" she asked.
"No, he'll be fine for now," Pete said. "They just didn't know who else to call."
Amanda smiled sadly at him and then pulled him into a hug. Pete hugged her back and tried not to cry.
Somehow, he got through his shift.
As soon as it was over, he threw up the tacos in the bathroom, got a coffee at some generic place because it was faster, and almost ran over an old lady and a dog trying to get to the hospital as fast as he could.
He gulped down his coffee on his way to the building and once he was sure it was going to stay down, he went inside.
The white walls, cheery background music, and clean smell were almost anticlimactic. Still, he almost threw up again, and he had to wait to calm his stomach and his nerves before he went up to the receptionist.
"Hello, how may I help you?" the woman asked, smacking her gum and barely looking at Pete. He wanted to punch her so she wouldn't be so calm.
"Uh, yeah, I'm here for Patrick Stump," Pete said, trying to keep his voice even.
She clicked the keys with her ridiculously long fingernails and then said. "Room 718. That's the 7th floor."
Pete nodded and practically ran over to the elevator. He got on the first available one. He pressed the little button with a seven and tried to stand still while he waited. He felt a little better, though, because there was a baby on the elevator crying, and that meant Pete wasn't the only person there that wasn't calm.
It felt like hours until the elevator finally reached the 7th floor. Pete raced off the elevator and started looking for Patrick's room, but somehow he got lost and was about ready to just fall over and start sobbing when a woman in scrubs came up to him and asked, "Are you Pete Wentz?"
Her tone was soothing, and it was the only thing that kept Pete from crying as he nodded.
She smiled gently at him. "I'm Dr. Salpeter. I've been taking care of Patrick. Come with me, his room is right over here," she said, starting down the hallway. Pete followed her.
"Has Patrick been diagnosed with any mental illnesses?" she asked as they walked.
"Um, no," Pete said. "But he has been acting weird for a while now, so this isn't very surprising."
She nodded. "How so?"
"Well, he's been having these freak-outs a lot lately. Like, he thinks people are trying to poison him or attack him or whatever. And he's been really forgetful lately. And irritable I guess. And depressed before that," Pete said. "Stuff like that. Do you know what's wrong with him?"
"Yes, that helps confirm what I thought. I believe Patrick has schizophrenia," Dr. Salpeter said. Pete stared blankly at her, not sure what that meant. "Luckily, with treatment, he should be able to function normally."
"Oh," Pete said. He still didn't really feel any better. "But he doesn't have like multiple personalities or whatever."
She smiled. "That's not what schizophrenia is. It's delusions, confusion, forgetfulness, making things up. That sounds like Patrick, doesn't it?"
Pete nodded. "Yeah."
"Alright. I can give him a few days worth of medication right now, and a prescription. This should work, but if not, just schedule a doctor's appointment so he can try something else. I highly suggest that he starts to see a therapist to help keep an eye on his condition and deal with any depression," she said. "I think he should also stay the night here at the hospital."
"I'm not sure if we can really afford that," Pete said. "Is there any way he could come home?"
"Alright, sure," she said with a smile. "That should be fine as long as you stay with him. Anyway, here's his room. Go and tell him he can leave soon. I'll go write the prescription and be right back." She walked away, leaving Pete waiting at the door.
At first, he just stood there. He wasn't sure what he was afraid of, but there was the anxiety again, gnawing at his stomach.
He closed his eyes and just thought about Patrick in there all alone, probably still upset, and opened the door as he opened his eyes.
"I took the medicine already, I promise," Patrick's voice said, but Pete couldn't see him. The room was really dark, only a little light showing through the blinds. Pete's eyes adjusted, and then he saw Patrick, lying on a hospital bed, looking absolutely exhausted, and yet still wearing a hat. He smiled despite himself.
"Hey. Are you okay?" Pete asked him, walking right over and sitting in the chair next to the bed.
"Pete!" Patrick said. He sounded relieved. "I'm sorry they had to call you at work, but I couldn't think of anybody else."
"Are you okay?" Pete repeated. "What exactly happened?"
Patrick looked away and admitted quietly, "I threw a desk across the room. I guess I thought the teacher was stealing answers out of my head so I would fail. I honestly don't remember." He sighed. "I'm so fucking crazy."
"Dude, you threw a desk across the room? That's, like, epic," Pete said, because seriously, it kind of was.
"Yeah, well," Patrick said, blushing slightly. "Did the doctors tell you what's wrong with me?"
"Yep," Pete said, smiling. "Schizophrenia. Nothing the meds can't fix."
Patrick frowned. "There's no way I can afford medicine, especially if I go to college."
"I said before I'd take care of you. I meant it," Pete said. "It's not a problem."
"Pete, I don't expect you to..." Patrick started to say, exasperated.
"I mean it. I'll take care of you. I want to," Pete said, as firmly as he could.
Patrick looked like wanted to argue, but finally he just sighed and agreed quietly, "Okay."
Patrick didn't get better over night, but the even at first he difference was obvious. Patrick was much calmer and he actually could concentrate on things.
Still, even as Patrick improved, he was still stressed. He had gotten behind in all of his classes and was stuck with trying to make up assignments and bring up his grades. The worst part was that the drop in grades had made him lose the opportunity to get a lot of scholarships.
Pete did what he could to make things easier and help him get things done. Patrick basically moved into Pete's house, which wasn't even awkward with Pete living at his parents because they loved Patrick a lot. Patrick still didn't like talking to strangers, and he didn't like being left alone because he was afraid he would revert if he was left by himself, so he spent a lot of time hanging out at Hot Topic while Pete worked. At first, Mikey spent a lot of time glaring at him, but even he warmed up to him after a while. Amanda, of course, loved him from the start. Patrick was pretty awesome, after all.
Pete was slowly saving up money, Patrick's grades were slowly improving, and every day was looking brighter and brighter.
"Hey sweetheart," Pete could hear Amanda say warmly from the front of the store. "Pete was an idiot today and came back from his lunch break late because he was looking at shoes, so he has to finish restocking t-shirts, but he'll be done in a minute."
"Okay," Patrick said quietly, but even then there was an unmistakable tone of happiness in his voice.
Pete put down the shirts he had been holding and basically sprinted over to Patrick. "Hi!"
"Hi," Patrick said, grinning. "Are you done yet?"
"Almost," Pete said.
"Well hurry up. We need to go get a celebration dinner!" Patrick said.
"Celebration dinner?" Amanda and Pete asked at the same time.
"I got into Monroeville University! $5,000 scholarship included," Patrick said, practically beaming.
Pete pulled him into a hug. "You're amazing, Patrick!"
Patrick just blushed and said happily, "I'm going to college."
"You are," Pete said proudly. Patrick grinned shyly.
"Uh, hey, I can finish restocking for you, Pete. So you guys can go," Mikey said quietly, surprising them. He was standing by the door with his jacket on, obviously on his way out.
"You sure?" Pete asked, feeling kind of bad.
"Yeah," Mikey said with a smile. "Dude, he got into college!"
Pete grinned. "Thanks," he said. He took Patrick's hand and they walked out of the store. Pete felt like he was on the top of the world.
"I'm nervous," Patrick said, fixing his hair in the mirror. "Do I look alright? I wish I could wear a hat."
"You look fine," Pete said. "And there's nothing to be nervous about."
"I have to give a speech," Patrick said.
"And you'll do fine!" Pete said. "Come on, dude, you've made it through high school. You should be happy, not nervous."
"I am happy," Patrick said, fixing his tie. "And nervous."
"Well stop it," Pete said. "There's absolutely nothing to be nervous about because you'll do fine. And after that, you'll have the summer off, and then!"
"I'll go to college," Patrick said. He was practically glowing with happiness.
"Yep," Pete said. "Now, come on, you're going to be late."
Pete didn't cry when Patrick gave his speech or got his scholarships, but he had to admit there were a few tears when Patrick actually got his diploma.
Pete was pretty sure this was the only time he would ever be happy to carry boxes up several flights of stairs on one of the hottest days in July.
"I still can't believe you got us an apartment," Patrick said as they climbed the stairs. "I have no idea how you're going to afford all of this."
"I can manage. I'm working a lot of hours right now," Pete said. "Besides, it's just for four years. Once you graduate, we'll have plenty of money."
Patrick blushed. "Yeah, well."
They got to their floor and opened the door into the hallway. They walked to their door, which Pete somehow managed to unlock while holding two boxes, and they went into their apartment.
Patrick set down the box he had been carrying and then wandered through the house again. There was a small kitchen and a small bathroom, and then the rest of it was one room, but it was clean and affordable. "I love the kitchen," Patrick said. "It's so adorable."
Pete grinned as he set down the boxes.
"You know what? We're going to wake up every morning together," Patrick said.
"And I'll make you breakfast!" Pete said, walking over to Patrick.
Patrick smiled at him and gave him a tender kiss. "I love you so much," he said. "Thank you."
Pete just smiled. "I love you too."
Patrick looked around the apartment again. "We can put our bed over here, I think," he said, gesturing to the right. "And maybe put my desk over here," he said, this time pointing somewhere to the left.
Pete laughed. "Whatever you want," he said. "Whatever you want."
"You've been practically shaking all afternoon," Amanda said. "What's up?"
Pete smiled sheepishly. "Today's Patrick's first day of classes."
Amanda smiled. "Oh! So you're worried?"
"And excited," Pete said, grinning. "He's going to love it, I know."
She laughed. "I'm sure he will."
It was only a few minutes later when Patrick showed up, smiling.
Pete ran over. "Well?"
"Awesome," Patrick said. "Today was awesome."
"Yay!" Pete cheered, pulling Patrick into a very tight hug.
"I even met some people already," Patrick said. "There's this Brendon kid in my music class who was singing Disney songs the whole time. And I met this really cool guy named William in English, who's really smart but also really quiet."
"Sweet," Pete said.
"I don't mean to be a party pooper, but somebody still has half an hour in their shift," Amanda said. "And those new tutus need to be put on display."
Pete mock glared at her and then turned to Patrick. "Hey, why don't you go get a new hat in celebration? And then we can get some pizza and rent that new movie you wanted to see."
"Okay," Patrick said. Pete liked it when he was happy enough to not protest spending extra money.
"Tutus, Pete," Amanda said.
Pete gave Patrick a quick kiss and then went back to work, finally able to calm down because he knew for a fact that everything was wonderful.
"Hi I'm Brendon Urie!" an energetic blur of a person said as it ran into his apartment. "I'm Patrick's friend. You're Pete?"
"Uh, yeah," Pete said. "Hi."
Patrick came into behind Brendon, laughing. "Sorry."
Brendon pouted. "Anyway! Nice to meet you! I like your apartment. You work at Hot Topic? That's pretty cool. I work at the smoothie place at the mall, I think I've seen you before. You have the Jack Skellington tattoo on your arm, right?"
Pete laughed, already liking Brendon. "Yep," he said, pulling up his sleeve to show him.
"You are so cool," Brendon said, as if it was some important decision.
Brendon stayed for dinner- "If you weren't Patrick and I didn't have an amazing boyfriend myself, I would marry you, Pete," Brendon had said, matter-of-factly, "Because you make the best fucking tacos in the world."-made them watch The Little Mermaid and Aladdin, and drank about half of their coffee.
"Did you know you have the smartest boyfriend in the whole world?" Brendon asked him before he left.
"Well, yeah," Pete said.
"Good. Cause Patrick's awesome," Brendon said. "And you are too!"
Pete decided that Brendon was probably one of the coolest people he had ever met.
Pete started hiding the bills after Patrick read one and demanded, "How can you possibly afford to pay for this?" It was easier if Patrick didn't know tight the money really was.
But he was starting to get overdue notices, and it was getting harder to hide.
Pete was trying to make dinner with that they had left in the kitchen, because he had enough for the rent, but only if he didn't get any more groceries until he got paid again. He was about ready to just make the last instant ramen for Patrick and just go hungry himself. He'd make up some excuse about why he wasn't hungry.
But Patrick came in and saw him staring at the instant ramen and said with a sigh, "Pete, I'm not stupid."
"What?" Pete asked, trying to sound innocent.
"We're running out of money," Patrick said. "It's okay. I knew this would happen eventually."
"Maybe I can work more hours or get a side job," Pete said. "It's not really that bad. I'm not sure what else we can do, 'Trick."
"Maybe...maybe, since I'm going really well, we could just not get my meds for a little bit. Just until we're back on track," Patrick suggested, quietly.
"Absolutely not," Pete said.
"But if we had to..." Patrick said.
"We don't, and we won't," Pete said. "That's too important. Trust me, I can figure something out."
"I just don't see how," Patrick said, quietly. "And I don't think that it's fair for you to have to make all the sacrifices."
"It is," Pete said. "Because you've never had anybody to take care of you, and because you mean more to me than anything else."
Patrick sighed. "Okay, but we are splitting that ramen, don't you dare try to give it all to me."
Pete smiled and rolled his eyes. "Fair enough.
Patrick was at class and Pete was getting ready for work when the phone rang. "Hello?" Pete answered it with.
"Hello, is this Mr. Peter Wentz?" a man asked.
"Uh, yes," Pete said, putting his shoes on as he talked.
"Are you aware that your electricity bill is two weeks overdue? If you don't pay it within a week, we will be forced to turn your power off," the man said.
"Oh, shit. Look, I'll have the money as soon as I can, but I don't know if I can do a week..."
"Dude, I'm sorry. I know how things are, but things are the same for us too. Money in a week or no power," he said.
"Yeah," Pete said. "Okay."
"You can drop it off between nine and five every day," the man said. "Anyway, have a good day!"
"You too," Pete said, sarcastically, and he hung up. He knew already that there was no way he could have the money in time. He had to pay their rent in two days, and they were almost out of food again, and Patrick needed a refill on his meds next week. And if their power went off, Patrick would have to insist on not getting them, and Pete just didn't want to risk it.
He debated about it all day at work. Amanda seemed worried about him, but he just told her he was tired. In his mind, he kept playing over and over how could possibly get the money.
By the end of the day, he knew he had no choice. He cared more about Patrick than anything else in the world, and he would do anything for him.
Even become a criminal.
After Pete finished his shift, he raked his brain for ideas on how exactly he would steal the money. He thought about different scenes from movies he had seen, and the only thing he could think of would be to hold somebody at gun point and demand that they hang over their money. He didn't even have a gun.
Still, he had to do something. He bought a toy gun at the Dollar Store and painted it with silver nail polish like he had read in a book. He started towards the part of the city where the nightclubs and bars were, but he decided he didn't feel safe there with only a fake gun. He went home and found a pocket knife he had from being a Boy Scout as a kid, and he put that in his pocket just to be safe.
He tried to calm his nerves as he walked, but still found himself shaking. He threw up in a back alley on the way, and felt a little better, but it still seemed like everybody could tell what he was going to do, like he CRIMINAL branded on his forehead.
He got to a back street between a glowing nightclub and a lively bar. He wandered around there until he saw a corner where the light was out, and the shadows could easily hide a person. He stood there and waited, trying to keep still and quiet.
"-and then, oh my god, he totally asked her out!" a girl said to a group of her friends as they walked by his hiding place. He thought about it, but they looked college-aged and he doubted they were very rich.
After a while, a man came out onto the street, talking loudly on his cell phone. "Yeah, I just won like $300 in a bet tonight, I knew that chick was a lesbo," he said. "Yeah, no, I think I'm gonna take a certain lady friend of mine out, maybe get myself laid!"
Pete took a deep breath and then stepped out of the shadows, gun raised. "Put your hands up!"
The man dropped his cell phone and put his hands up, wide-eyed. "Yo, dude, please don't shoot me!" he pleaded.
"Give me your money," Pete demanded.
"Hey, now, I don't have any," he said.
"Bullshit. I heard your fucking conversation," Pete said. "Now give me your fucking money or I'm going to shoot you!"
The man, shaking, reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He took out the money and threw it at the ground in front of Pete.
Pete nodded at him. "Get out of here!" he said.
The man nodded quickly and then bolted down the street. Pete picked up the money, and then saw the man's abandoned cell phone. It was an iPhone. Pete didn't even hesitate before taking that too.
Pete put the gun, money, and phone into his pocket and calmly walk home. Once inside, he broke down into heavy sobs of fear and guilt.
It was not a one time thing. It wasn't even close. It happened far too many nights for Pete to ever believe he was a good person again, but at least the bills got paid.
The guilt never went away, but Pete learned to hide it back behind everything else. And Patrick's happiness more than made up for it.
Patrick never questioned how the bills were suddenly paid, and for that Pete was grateful. He wasn't sure if Patrick just trusted him or had already figured it out and just didn't care, but he was glad he didn't have to come up with excuses Patrick wouldn't see right through.
Still, sometimes the guilt would be too much for Pete to take and they would fall behind with the bills again.
So when Patrick answered one of the calls about an overdue payment, he refused to get his prescriptions. Pete couldn't refuse without revealing what he was doing, so grudgingly, he let Patrick, figuring a short break from the meds couldn't really cause too much harm.
Pete was sure that Patrick was already home, so when he walked into the apartment and only heard the faint noise of the TV that was sitting unwatched, he was a little worried. Patrick always made sure to let Pete know if he had any plans.
Pete checked the kitchen but it was empty, along with the bathroom. Finally, though, he heard a muffled thud from the closet. He went to open the door but he couldn't. "Patrick?" he asked.
"Pete!" Patrick said from in the closet. "You have to help me!"
Pete closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down. "What do you need?"
"I don't know. I just can't leave her because monsters are escaping through the TV and they want to kill me," Patrick said. "I've been in here for a while."
"Would it help if I turned off the TV so they couldn't escape?" Pete asked after a minute.
"Uh, yeah. But be careful!" Patrick said. "They might try to kill you too!"
Pete walked over to the TV and turned it off. After a minute, Patrick cautiously opened the closet door and came out. He looked around anxiously and then finally with a sigh of relief ran over and hugged Pete. "Thank you so much!" Patrick said. "You're so brave!"
Patrick was wearing sweatpants that smelled like they hadn't been washed in weeks. His hair was a mess, and he had dark circles under his eyes. Pete had even seen him last night, and he had looked- well, maybe not quite up to regular Patrick standards- but certainly not this bad.
Patrick pulled away from Pete and muttered some nonsense before he sat on the couch and watched the TV carefully, as if it would somehow turn itself on again and start attacking him.
Pete didn't let himself cry until Patrick fell asleep, and he didn't waste any time. Patrick needed this, and there was nothing, no guilt or fear, that could stand in the way.
He just didn't know it would turn out like it did.
Pete had only been waiting a few minutes when a girl and a big guy who looked like a bodyguard came out. She was talking on her cell phone. "Ryland, did you seriously get lost already?...No, I'm outside. It's too loud in there...Seriously? How did you even end up there?...Well, I'm waiting for Nate too. Maybe I'll send Zack...I think I can handle myself for a few minutes, I'm not that famous...Okay, bye." She hung up and then turned to the bodyguard. "Ryland's on the other side of the city, can you go help him find this place?"
He nodded. "But be careful. He's at the Disco Chicken, right?"
"Yep," she said, and the bodyguard left.
Pete waited until he was sure the bodyguard was gone, and then he stepped out with the gun. "Put your hands up!"
The girl did, but a lot calmer than most people would. It unnerved Pete, especially as stressed as he was. "Give me your money," he said. She calmly opened her purse and got out her wallet, taking the money and handing it to him. He reached to get it, and then she pulled the money away.
"That gun's fake," she said. "You're pretty bad at this, I've got to say."
He stared at her. She calmly looked back and then turned to walk away.
Pete grabbed her arm, dropping the fake gun. "Give me your fucking money!"
She took her other arm and elbowed him in the stomach. He pushed her into the wall, and she almost immediately kicked him in the groin with her high heels. Pain flashed through him, and by the time he regained control, she was walking away. He was pissed off and he needed the money- he couldn't risk that Patrick might have to wait even another day. So before he had the chance to think about it, he pulled out his pocket knife and ran over to her, pulling her back and stabbing her in the stomach.
She hit at him furiously, trying to fight him off. He pulled the knife out and stabbed her again and again and again until she stopped moving.
He grabbed the money, put the knife away, and then calmly got up and walked away. He was out of sight but not earshot, in time to hear footsteps and, "Vicky-T? Oh my god, are you okay?"
Pete made it home before the guilt hit him. He managed to clean the knife and check on a sleeping Patrick before he threw up for an hour and then curled into a ball in the bathtub and cried until he couldn't stay awake anymore.
He was a killer. He had murdered somebody. He was a monster. He wanted to die himself because he couldn't stand what he had done.
When Patrick ended the semester with straight A's, incident free, a week later, Pete knew it was worth it.
He never planned for it to happen again, but the more times it did, the less he avoided it. Killing five people really wasn't that different from killing one.
And if Pete needed the money, he didn't hesitate to use the knife. It made it easier to find the richer people, it made it easier to not be afraid.
It didn't matter if he sobbed for hours after it was done. It didn't matter if he stood on a roof and almost jumped off but couldn't because of Patrick, because all that mattered was Patrick. He did this all for him, and he would continue to, as long as it was needed.
"Did you know that sometimes the news can be really cool?" Brendon Urie told Pete one day as he walked into the apartment. Brendon and Patrick were sitting on the couch, watching TV.
"Uh, sure?" Pete said.
"Yeah! There was this story about this guy who fucking save a little girl from a fire like a superhero!" Brendon said. "And there was a story about people adopting a really mean dog and now the dog's like the nicest one ever! I wish I had a dog."
"Brendon's lucky the one day he watches the news, it's a good news day," Patrick said laughing.
Pete grinned and sat down next to him. The TV was currently showing a bored looking weatherman talking about snow. "What, is Disney channel broken or something?" he asked.
Brendon pouted. "No, my friend Spencer said it's important to watch the news. Or something. And him and Ryan were debating about something that happened and I didn't know what they were talking about, and I felt dumb. And then Jon was talking about cats a lot- I think he was high- and I felt left out."
"Isn't Jon always high?" Patrick asked, laughing.
"Yeah," Brendon agreed. "Pretty much."
The TV changed to a spokeswoman who said, "Police suspect that many of the recent 'nightclub murders' were done by the same person. Starting with pop singer Vicky-T's death a month ago, several more very similar murders have occurred. The murderer picks victims outside of nightclubs, stabs them, and steals their money. There are currently no suspects in the case, but police are looking into several possible leads."
It took all of his will power not to freeze up. He tried to keep his breath even and pointedly looked only at the TV.
"Whoa, that's really scary," Brendon said. "Ryan likes to go out to nightclubs. I should probably warn him."
"Yeah," Patrick said. "I just can't understand why somebody would do something like that."
"Well, if they steal the money, that must be why," Brendon said. "Some people are too greedy. I can't even stand hurting animals, imagine killing a person!"
"You'd have to be pretty messed up," Patrick agreed.
You would, Pete silently agreed. You would.
Pete was always really careful to clean up his tracks, and he couldn't believe he had slipped up on something so stupid. But there it was- his pocket knife, still bloody, sitting on the kitchen counter. And Patrick was sitting at the kitchen table, staring accusingly at Pete as he walked in. "What the serious fuck?" Patrick demanded. "Please tell me this isn't what it looks like. Please tell me, I don't know, you fucking skinned a deer or something."
Pete couldn't even get his mouth to move. He numbly walked over and sat down.
Patrick just stared at him. "You killed all those people?"
"I'm sorry. I had to," Pete said quietly.
"Why?" Patrick demanded. "Why would you have to do something like that?"
"We needed the money, Patrick. I didn't have a choice," Pete said.
Patrick's eyes widened. "That's how you got my medicine and paid the bills?"
Pete nodded. "I'm sorry."
Patrick was shaking by then. "There are other ways to get money. There is no excuse."
Pete just shook his head. "I just didn't want you to worry. Or stop taking your meds."
Patrick got up suddenly, knocking into the table. "I just...I'll talk to you later, okay?" he said, practically running out of the room.
Pete just laid his head down and let the sobs shake through him.
It was probably about two in the morning, and the only light was from the glow of the TV. It was on mute, though, playing infomercials that were ignored. Pete was laying there, eyes burning but unable to be closed. He didn't have the energy to move, but he couldn't get to sleep.
"Pete?" Patrick said quietly, coming out of the kitchen. "Are you awake?"
"Yes," Pete managed to choke out.
Patrick walked over and sat down on the floor in front of Pete. "I'm sorry I freaked out on you. I'm not mad. I was just surprised."
"I killed people," Pete said. "You should be mad."
"But you did it for me," Patrick said, sounding awed. "That's awesome, Pete. I can't even believe you love me that much."
"Well I do, of course I do," Pete said.
"Yeah," Patrick said. "And it's okay. If that's what you have to do to pay the bills, then that's okay."
"Seriously?" Pete demanded, sitting up.
"Yeah," Patrick said. He sat next to Pete and pulled him close. "I love you."
"I love you too," Pete said, holding back just as tightly, tears of relief running down his face."
"Pete, can I ask you something?" Patrick asked one night as they were eating dinner.
"Yeah, sure," Pete said, stabbing at his chicken.
"Do you like plan who you kill?" Patrick asked.
Pete froze. "Uh, what?"
"I want to understand this more," Patrick said. "It makes me feel guilty you do this for me and you have to bear all the consequences."
Pete just stared.
"Sorry," Patrick finally said after a while.
"I don't really plan it," Pete said. "At first, I just robbed people that I thought probably had a lot of money with them. Then one time killed, and I didn't see any reason to stop. Killing means I can get the money when I need it, that's all."
"Oh," Patrick said. "So you just pick anyone?"
"And I don't kill if I don't have to," Pete said.
"Well the news is making you out to be some sort of super sophisticated serial killer with plans and reasons," Patrick said. "I just thought maybe that was true."
"No," Pete said.
"What's it like to kill somebody?" Patrick asked.
"It's like screaming at the top of your lungs," Pete said after a minute. "Or throwing a glass at a wall just to see it shatter."
"Could I...could I see it?" Patrick asked. He must've noticed Pete's displeased expression, because he continued, "Please, I just want to understand..."
"No," Pete interrupted. "I don't want to have to see something like that."
The next time Pete went out for money Patrick came with him. He stood back in the shadows while Pete stabbed a teenage boy to death. Pete was pretty sure under regular circumstances he wouldn't have had to kill him, but he did, to show Patrick.
Patrick seemed even less disturbed and even more interested.
"I feel bad that you have to do that all the time," Patrick said as Pete threw up in a garbage can on their way home. "I should help."
"Absolutely not," Pete said, but he knew by then that Patrick always got what he wanted.
It was only a few days later when Pete went out again. Patrick came along as well, this time equipped with a kitchen knife.
Pete picked their victim, stepping out of the shadows and demanding money from a Paris Hilton look-a-like. But Patrick was the one who stabbed her n the heart until she died and then cutting her throat so it "looked cooler."
Pete was the one who took the money from her purse and had to break her little dog's neck so it's barking wouldn't get them caught.
He really didn't know what any of this meant, but he was sure it wasn't good.
It was another night when they were in the shadows when two guys walked out. They made out of a while before the one got a phone call and had to leave. The other one went back inside and Patrick then said, "Oh my God. That's Ryan."
"Who?" Pete asked, confused, his mind on other matters.
"Brendon's boyfriend," Patrick said. "That fucking asshole."
"Oh," Pete said.
"We have to do something," Patrick said.
"What can we possibly do?" Pete asked.
"I don't know. Make him pay for being a slut?" Patrick suggested. "I think he's pretty rich, so it wouldn't even be a waste."
"No," Pete said. "Patrick, what about Brendon?"
"He can find somebody new who's actually decent," Patrick said, starting towards the door. "Maybe you should hit on him and convince him to go home with you to lure him out here again. I don't think I'm hot enough, and he might recognize me."
"No," Pete said.
"I'm not asking you," Patrick said, seriously. "And if you won't help me, I will do it by myself. Do you want me to get caught?"
Pete sighed and then, quietly, "Alright, I'll help you."
Patrick nodded. "Then come on."
"So you don't like go to college or anything?" a very drunk Ryan was asking him, arm draped over his shoulder, shouting into his ear over the blaring music.
"Nah," Pete said, trying to sound normal. "I'm too lazy."
Ryan looked at him thoughtfully. "Kay," he said finally. "You're fucking hot."
"Yeah?" Pete said. "You too." He tried to sound like he was flirting.
Ryan giggled. "You should take me home. Cause my dorm's too crowded. I need space, you know?"
"Yeah," Pete said. "You don't mind a walk."
"No," Ryan said. "If I can take one of these awesome wine coolers with me."
"Sure," Pete said. "C'mon."
Ryan grabbed his wine cooler and got up with Pete, leaning heavily on him. "I am very drunk," Ryan said, matter-of-factly.
"You are," Pete agreed.
Pete lead Ryan out the side door, as Ryan went on and on about something random.
Pete stopped once the door was shut and waited. Patrick stepped out of the shadows after only a few seconds. "Hey, Ryan, do you know who I am?"
Ryan squinted at him. "Are you one of the lesbian chicks in my art class?"
"I'm Brendon's friend," Patrick said.
Ryan paled and quickly let go of Pete. "Shit, dude, don't tell him."
Patrick smiled. He actually smiled. "Ryan, you don't deserve Brendon," he said, calmly. He pulled out his knife and walked slowly towards Ryan.
"What the fuck?" Ryan screamed.
Patrick reached him and didn't even hesitate before stabbing him as hard as he could, over and over again. Ryan screamed and begged for him to stop as his blood splattered all over. Ryan stopped screaming and his eyes fell shut, and Patrick kept stabbing.
"He's dead, you can stop," Pete finally said, unable to watch it any longer.
Patrick did, and then he blinked at the body, looking surprised. "Oh," he said. He took out Ryan's wallet and took the money. "Sweet, he had $75." He pocketed the money, wiped the knife of Ryan's pants, and walked away. Pete followed, shocked to the point where he couldn't even talk.
They were at Starbucks when it happened. Patrick was working on his homework, and Pete was reading a book about vampires.
After a while, a person walked over to them and they looked up to see it was Brendon. He looked anxious, his skin was pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. "Uh, hey, Patrick! Have you seen Ryan lately? I haven't seen or heard from him in a few days, I'm kind of worried."
Pete's heart just hurt.
"No," Patrick said, with sympathy that Pete wasn't even sure how he could fake. "But you know how Ryan can be."
"Oh," Brendon said, his face falling even more. "Yeah, it's just. I'm really worried cause even Spencer hasn't. I just...I don't know where he could be, you know."
Pete could hardly even breathe. His lungs were clouded with guilt and misery.
"It's really weird because we were going to go get a puppy yesterday because I finally convinced him we needed one. Ryan wanted...wants to name him after this dead emo poet or whatever," Brendon said. "Well, I guess I should go look for him some more. Call me if you find him, will you?"
"Of course," Patrick said.
Brendon was only a few feet away when two guys came into Starbucks and walked over to him. They both had very grim expressions/
"Spencer," Brendon said, obviously worried. "Did you find Ryan?"
"Brendon," one of the guys- Spencer?- said quietly. "Brendon, he's..." His voice was shaking, and he cut off suddenly.
"He's dead," the other guy said quietly.
Brendon at first just stared. Then, almost angrily, "No. No, he can't be. How do you know?"
"The police had me ID the body," Spencer said, starting to tear up. "It was him. They think it was that nightclub killer or whatever."
Brendon, after a minute of silence, fell to his knees and started sobbing. It almost sounded like he was screaming, tears streaming down his face. The other guys cuddled around him, crying too.
Pete quietly escaped to the bathroom and threw up as he listened to Brendon's sobs in the background.
It was maybe ten minutes after Brendon left when Patrick came into the bathroom. "Are you okay?" he asked, hardly sounding concerned.
"Brendon," Pete said, almost in tears. "How?"
Patrick rolled his eyes. "It's better for him in the long run. Ryan wasn't good enough for him." It really sounded like Patrick meant what he said.
Pete started crying. Somehow, he had screwed up somewhere, and he had gone this to Patrick. He had ruined Patrick, while trying to save him.
He didn't know what to do.
Pete was at Hot Topic organizing CDs when the cops showed up. There wasn't any real reason why he knew they were there for him, but he did.
They went over to Amanda and finally, confused-looking, she pointed at Pete. The cops walked over to him, Amanda following behind them. "Mr. Wentz?" one of them asked.
"Yes?" he said, knowing there was obvious nervousness in his voice.
"You're under arrest," he said. "Anything you say can be held against you in the court of law." He grabbed Pete's arms and handcuffed them behind his back.
"Don't you have to have like, probable cause to do this? Evidence?" Amanda asked. "What did he do, anyway?"
"Well, you tell me," the other cop said. "His fingerprints were found on more than one of the bodies from the nightclub murders, and there are knifes at his house with human blood on them."
"Pete?" Amanda asked, eyes wide.
"Patrick, you know," Pete said. "It was the only way to pay for his medicine."
Pete was pretty sure he saw her crying as they drug him away. And, for the last time, he felt guilty.
He was sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole. The worst part was that Patrick was left on his own. He wrote a letter to his parents, begging them to help Patrick. He had one last phone call with a crying Patrick, and then he hung himself off his bed with a strip of his shirt.
Travis McCoy was getting a new roommate today, and he had to admit, he was worried.
"He's a nice guy," Spencer had admitted. "But you know...you know his boyfriend was the guy that killed Ryan, right? I mean, he didn't know, but you still think he'd have to have some idea."
So Travis was worried.
He was in the middle of a pretty epic video game battle when there was knock on the door. He paused it and answered the door.
It was a short, chubby blonde kid with a hat who had to be his new roommate.
"I'm Patrick, you're new roommate," the kid said.
"Hey, I'm Travis!" he said. "Come in, get settled."
"Okay," Patrick said, walking in and pulling a suitcase in behind him. "My...uh...parents are bringing more later."
"Okay, cool," Travis said.
They hung out for a while and it turned out, Patrick was pretty cool. He was kind of quiet, but funny, and he loved to talk about music. He was also really bad at video games, which made Travis feel good about himself. Travis had to say that Patrick really was perfectly normal.
They hung out until it started to get dark and they both realized they had homework to do. "I'm going to go to the library," Patrick decided, getting his stuff around.
Patrick packed his messenger bag with books while Travis started doing his stats homework. Travis saw a glint of silver out of the corner of his eye and looked over. For a second, it looked like Patrick put a knife into his bag, but Travis blamed it on the rumors making his eyes play tricks.
It's not like Patrick could possibly be a serial killer too, or anything.