Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy

I Want To Feel Like I Am Home Again

by liable 4 reviews

Patrick/Pete , William/Pete - Patrick is afraid of what Pete has become but he's more afraid of losing him to the vampire that turned him

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Drama - Warnings: [V] [?] - Published: 2009-05-31 - Updated: 2009-06-01 - 1397 words

I slouched against the wooden door frame and studied him warily. I didn’t want to approach him hastily and frighten him or irritate him. I could sense his anger, confusion and hostility and was unsure if I attempted to comfort him now, he would snap. I still loved him and cared about him and couldn’t stand what he had become.

“Are you going to come in or are you going to lurk out there all night?” He asked, turning his head to look at me. I was surprised by his calm, unruffled voice. Perhaps I had read him wrong tonight. Ever since he had turned, it was like he was not the same old Pete anymore. Not the best friend I’d shared so many warm memories with. Not the Pete I fell in love with.

“Uh, yeah. I’m coming in.” I said, gingerly walking into the room and stopping a few metres away from where he sat on the couch by the fireplace.

“Sit,” He said, patting the space on the sofa next to him.

I hesitated. My first initial instincts had been right about him tonight. He had just come back from a hunt. Even though it wasn’t written in his voice or his facial expressions, you could tell from his dark grey striped hooded jumper was covered in blood.

“Seriously, sit Patrick” He said, a hint of irritation in his voice. I quickly scooted down onto the couch beside him without a word.

“Patrick, I’m still the same person. I swear.” He said, his glaze fixed intensely on me. I stared into the flickering flame and wished for everything to just be normal again. I hate what he had become and he was forever lying to me.

“You’re not, Pete, and you know it. Ever since William seduced you and bit you, you’re been different. I didn’t think you could get any worse though; a cheating, lying bastard and now a murderer.” I said turning suddenly to meet his eyes. I don’t know where my unexpected burst of courage had came from but I was regretting it as I could see him filling with rage.

“I didn’t cheat on you with William, how many times, do I have to tell you?” He said, his voice getting increasingly louder and harsher with each word.

He grabbed my upper arm tightly with one hand. “I would never lie to you on purpose Patrick and I’m not a murderer. Everything I do is to protect you.” His grip on my arm getting so progressively tighter until the tips of my fingers began to feel cold and become numb.

I swallowed deeply. “I know Pete, I’m sorry.” I knew if I argued this any further it would not end well.

I know the truth about William and Pete, about Pete’s late night adventures recently and all the secrets. I know about it all, as does Pete but still he treats me like a child and chooses to keep me in the dark to ‘protect me’, but really its just to protect himself. Sometimes I even wonder if he truly loves me.

Pete sighed crossly and let go of my arm.

“I’m sick of going through the same thing over and over again with you Patrick. I love you and that’s all that matters,” Pete said, stroking my shoulder soothingly.

“I bet you love William’s cock more,” I huffed inaudibly under my breath and twisted away from him like a bratty youngster.

“What?” He asked, grabbing my shoulder and turning me back to face him.

“Nothing,” I said. He tried to read me for a second; I could tell by the way his brown eyes were half shut and how the creases formed around them. He gave up and got up from the sofa.

I let out a sigh of relief. I missed the feeling Pete used to give me when he was close to me. I used to tingle all over and get weak at the knees. My stomach used to somersaults just hearing how he said my name. All that’s gone though. I feel defenceless and intimidated by him. I can’t predict what he’ll do next; he has no boundaries with what he will do to me when he is angry or upset and he’s a lot stronger than me.

Pete began to head over to the door but abruptly turned back around. The look in his eyes had completely changed and he advanced over to me quickly.

“P-Pete?” I said anxiously, shifting uncomfortably. This is what I’m talking about when I say unpredictable. I had a really uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

He didn’t say anything; instead he lunged forward and snatched me up by the collar of my denim jacket.

“Pete, please don’t.” I whispered, but he refused to listen. Instead he threw me violently against the wall beside the fire place. I sunk down on to the dark carpet, whimpering.

He said nothing which is worse than him saying anything. He took advantage of my position on the ground, cowering at his feet and started kicking me in the stomach over and over again. Each kick harder than the last. I felt a surge of warm blood rush up my throat and leaned over to cough it up all over the floor. He bent down next to me, and ran his hand along my jaw before lifting my face to his.

Slowly, he edged closer to me. My heart was racing a million miles a minute and my palms were beginning to get sweaty. He tenderly placed his lips onto mine and began to kiss me passionately, cleaning away all of my blood with his tongue as his hands explored my sore and stinging body. He began to lay a trail of kisses down my chin and along my jaw. I took a deep breath, and softly nudged him away from my neck.

“No Pete.” I said softly but sternly, trying to keep my voice from wavering too much. “You can’t just beat the shit out of me, and then kiss me.” I added pushing him away as he made another attempt at kissing my neck. Surprisingly he complied with my request and shifted away from me, sitting on his heels beside me.

Unexpectedly, he delivered a swift punch to my face, sending me flying backwards into the edge of the fireplace...


After being knocked out for I don’t know how long, I gradually fluttered my eyes open and was greeted by burning sunlight and a vacant room. My whole body was aching and my head was spinning.

“Pete?!” I called sitting up and rubbing the back of my head gently hoping for some sort of pain relief. “Pete!?” I shouted again. There was no answer so it was a pretty safe bet to say he had run away from last night’s incident and wouldn’t be back for a few days.

I dragged myself off the floor and into the bathroom where I peeled back the blue curtains that hang over the small window to illuminate the room. I had dark purple bruising and swelling around my right eye that extended down my cheek. Some dried up blood was sitting in the grooves of my parched lips. Careful not to hurt my injuries, I shook my denim jacket off, followed by peeling my black t-shirt off my body. Standing up on my toes, I examined the bruises on my stomach and ribs.

“Ouch, that’s got to hurt Stump,” cooed a familiar voice from over in the corner of my bathroom.

I turned hurriedly to see none other then William Beckett sitting on my closed toilet seat. I hadn’t noticed him when I came in because my glasses were absent from my face. They must have fallen off last night in amidst all the drama.

He wore a sleek black pin striped suit with white gloves and a black bowler’s hat. He had a fur scarf slung over one shoulder and polished, pointed black shoes on each foot. He was sickly pale and sickly thin.

“Beckett,” I growled angrily, reaching for my shirt. “What do you want?”

“I have a proposition.”
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