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by MyNomDePlume 2 reviews

Pete's temper matched his height - short as hell.

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama - Warnings: [!] - Published: 2012-06-03 - Updated: 2012-06-03 - 450 words

When we pulled into the garage, Ryan, Jon, and Patrick were waiting for us. As soon as I stepped out of the car, they were on top of me in a matter of seconds.

“Guys...get off...can’t breathe!” I choked out.

“Look who decided to come home.” a familiar voice jeered.

The three guys backed away immediately, not wanting to get in Pete’s way. He was not one to mess with. His temper matched his height - short as hell.

“Look, I’m sorry about running off. You yelled at me until I couldn’t take it! I was sick of hearing you nag me about things that didn’t matter, so I left! Simple as that.” I jumped to my feet and folded my arms over my chest.

Being taller, I had the upper hand, but he was far more aggressive than me. Pete took a step forward with his infamous death glare, making me shrink back immediately. Gerard stepped between us and shoved Pete backwards.

“What’s your fucking problem?”

“My problem?” Pete shouted as he poked Gerard’s chest with each word for emphasis. “Only that fact that you don’t take anything seriously anymore! We were left to take care of them, and I’m sure as hell not about to lose a kid!”

I covered my ears and backed away, trying to put as much distance between me and the yelling as possible. The volume of the arguing increased by the second, becoming almost unbearable. I felt Ryan’s skinny arms encircle me and relaxed slightly. He always had that effect on me, not that I minded. We were all like brothers, but Ryan was the closest thing I had to family.

We ran away from the Doctor together when I was five and he was six. Ever since then, Ryan always protected me from anything bad. Especially when Pete yelled.

Whenever Pete yelled at me, Ryan was the only one who knew to look for me in my closet. He would sit next to me in silence and hug me for hours.

“He’s just worried about you”
“It doesn’t feel like it”
“Yeah, well he’s a jackass who doesn’t know how to talk to kids”

Ryan would eventually drag me out of the closet and take me downstairs where Pete would mumble a forced apology. Even though Pete would forget the half-hearted apology after a few hours and a bottle of beer, Ryan made everything better.

“Let’s go inside. Ray said he was making dinner.”


“You know he can’t cook, right?”

Without another word, the two of us ran inside to evaluate the damage.
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