The Kid Was Alright -- Part 1
The Kid Was Alright
Pairing: Eventual Peterick (Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump)
Words: around 2,600
Summary: Pete Wentz is Senior in high school. A soccer jock, popular, comes from a great family. He's also clinically depressed. Maybe it's the feeling he gets when it's night time and he's all alone with his thoughts or the dreams he has, but the depression is real and the suburban monotonous blanket is threatening to swallow him whole. He puts on a good face though, he really does. He controls it. For now.
Patrick, the new kid at school is bullied to the max, by the kids and his parents. Pete learns about Patrick's recent suicide attempt as he jogs by one morning, and now he just can't help but stick his nose in Patrick's business. Little does he know he's going to find more than a friend in Patrick Stump.
Notes: So. This would be my first attempt at writing a fan fiction. I suck at summaries. Um. I hope you like it. I guess it's going to have chapters if people like it. . .enjoy(:
On a quiet day in December, Pete sat in his room. Band posters littered the walls, The Smiths, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Joy Division, and The Editors. The posters made him feel good; just a little closer to the music that keeps him going. They were bands not many people still listened to anymore, but they for the most part wrote his moods. He’s home alone, apart from his younger brother who was probably studying Trig in the kitchen, being the over achiever he was. Andy, short for Andrew, was younger than Pete by roughly one hour. Pete was born on September 17th at 11:07 pm and Andrew was born at 12:09 am the next day. They were fraternal twins, and in fact Andrew looked older than Pete. Pete had brown hair that was cut short around his ears, but his bangs hung a little past the middle of his forehead, and he had creamy light mocha colored skin, his brothers skin was slightly lighter than Pete's. Pete constantly dyed his hair black just to separate himself further from his brother. Pete was only 5’6’’ tall where his brother was 5’11’’. He had soft features, very boyish, where his brother had a prominent jaw. His eyes were a light hazel that was golden in the light with green rimming his iris. His brother had deep chocolate brown eyes. Pete lay back on his bed, thinking about everything and nothing in particular. His room was dirty, he rarely cleaned it. His parents told him to, many times of course, but it would take him over a month to do it when they told him. Personality wise, they were complete opposites. But they couldn’t be closer.
Spur of the moment, he decided he wanted to do something spontaneous; something that would piss his parents off. Pete rolled off his bed and into a sit-up position on the floor. He pushed himself up onto the balls of his feet, and trotted downstairs, wearing basketball shirts and an old yellow Ramones shirt that he cut the sleeves off of. His brother, just as he guessed, was sitting at the mahogany table, reading his Trig book intently. Pete walked by him, got a water bottle and smacked him in the back of the head.
“I’m gonna dye my bangs blonde.”
Andrew ‘mhmmed’, did a double take, and then looked up at him. “Do you want them to start beating you?”
Pete grinned crookedly. “You gonna sit there like a lump or are you gonna help me?”
Andrew returned his grin. “Let’s do it then.”
Pete grabbed the bleach from the laundry room and met Andrew in their bathroom, and sat down. Andrew helped him dye his bangs, and after some begging and pestering, he got Andrew to come up to Pete’s room to hang out while he waited for his hair to settle.
“What made you want to dye your hair?”
Pete shrugged. “Just wanted to piss off the parentals”
Andrew nodded. There was a brief uncomfortable silence. “Are you okay Pete?”
Pete gave him a look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You just seem kind of . . . different lately.”
“I don’t feel different.”
That was a lie of course, Pete felt very different from the 16 year old he was a month ago. It was as if overnight something changed in him. He always had an underlying depression, and severe mood swings, but he had been able to swallow it back then, with a pill of course. But it was getting worse. It was getting scary.
Andrew nodded and turned his IPod on to break the silence. 20 minutes went by and Pete tended to his hair, which came out just how he wanted. He had dyed it black a week before, and now his bangs were a blonde that contrasted with the black. He decided it was time for a jog, and called up his friends Joe and Andy to tell them to meet him at the crossroads so they could run together.
They were all on the soccer team, and Pete was the captain. He was a very good soccer player, built nicely for the sport. He had a lean athletic build with long muscles instead of bulky muscles like his brother. His parents expected him to either become a lawyer or a professional soccer player.
Joe and Andy waited for him, standing in the middle of the crossroads, chatting. They were Pete’s best friends. Joe was white, from Jewish decent, and had dark brown thick curly hair that he kept cut short. He had blue eyes that were kind of small and kind of close together, but he still easily had a handsome face. Andy had reddish brown hair that was also curly, but he grew it out a bit longer, in a skater cut. His face was kind of scrunched together, like a pug, but his strong jaw made it a likeable face. He was, like Joe, from Jewish decent. They both were easily a foot taller than Pete, but that was alright because even though it felt like it sometimes, they never looked down on him. They weren’t like those regular high school friends, they were those true ones that are golden and they shine enough to blind you to the ones that aren’t really friends.
“Hey Pete!” Andy yelled out when Pete walked up to him.
Joe patted him on the back. “I like the new hair man, awesome. You’re parentals are gonna be so pissed off.”
Pete chuckled. “Yeah. C’mon lets run. We gotta stay in shape so Coach doesn’t kill us when we get back.”
“Rogers will kill us with suicides and bleachers when we get back no matter how in shape we are.”
“Then we better get started.”
They took off down the road at an even pace. The road that they took running leads them all the way around town, the distance was about seven miles total. They didn’t talk while they ran because that was bad for their lungs, but the company kept among close friends was nice.
Pete loved running. It kept his mind off the other things that flooded his mind. Things like the fact that he hates his mousy brown hair, which is why he dyes it, but blames it on the fact he just doesn’t want to look like Andrew, or how he hates his horse toothed smile. How he constantly feels like the fireworks that didn’t go off. Like, no matter how hard he pretends, he never really feels happy anymore.
“Pete! Dude stop, the trains coming!”
Pete hadn’t realized because he had fallen deep in thought as he ran, but sure enough he was jogging towards the track when the train was indeed coming. Pete slowed and stopped and watched the train chug past.
“Dude you okay?” Andy asked in a concerned voice?
“We thought you were gonna get hit.” Joe added.
Pete nodded. “I’m cool, I just got lost in thought as all.”
Both his best friends snorted.
Pete frowned. “Hey, I think a lot of meaningful poetic things!”
They all cracked up and finished the mile. When they reached the crossroads, it was around 6:30. Pete bid his goodbyes and jogged home until he was out of sight, and then he walked the rest of the way. He took a detour that lead to the railroad tracks near his house and walked them, just thinking. He saw flashing red and white lights and wandered to them. He found the sidewalk that lead to the commotion. There was an ambulance outside a house where a new family had just moved in. Pete’s house was just three blocks away around the corner. A teenage boy that was Pete’s age was being put into the back of an ambulance on a stretcher. He was familiar, and Pete remembered him as the weird new kid no one really talked to. Most people were mean to him, but Pete just stayed away; he didn’t have it in him to be a jerk to someone he didn’t know anything about. He noticed, right before he vanished into the ambulance, that his wrists were wrapped with gauze, but the gauze was already stained with blood and more blood was on the kid’s shirt and pants. The ambulance was shut and it sped off. Pete watched it even after he couldn’t see it, he watched it until he couldn’t hear the sirens anymore, and stood there even after.
Finally, Pete sprinted home.
He shut the front door behind him noisily. His parents were in the kitchen, eating dinner with Andrew, and immediately the two got up and rushed over to him.
“Where have you been Pete? Its 9:30, you were supposed to be home three hours ago!”
Pete smiled lamely. “Sorry mom. I went walking after I jogged and I kind of lost track of time. I’m really tired; I’m going to go to sleep.” His mom nodded and went to sit back down, his father gave him a sturdy, ‘we’re not done discussing this’ look and followed.
Pete trudged upstairs and shut the door to his room and locked it, then lay on his bed. His mind was buzzing with questions. Had that kid really tried to kill himself? Had he always cut himself? Was it because people at school were so mean to him or was there something more to it? And most importantly at the moment:
What was his name?
Pete took a shower and plopped back down on his bed. He closed his eyes and listened to Third Eye Blind until he fell asleep.
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Pete took a different route during his morning run. Instead of calling and Joe to run with him, he ate breakfast and left straight from the house and ran around the corner, down three blocks, and to the house the ambulance visited the night before. A black Lexus pulled into the driveway, and Pete moved behind a telephone pole to hide himself. He didn’t want them to see him staring like some kind of nosey neighbor. He didn’t see himself as being nosey. He was just . . . He just had to see this kid.
He saw the parentals get out of the front seat of the car, and after a short moment, the teenager got out of the black. His reddish blonde hair was mussed and disorderly, sticking out under his hat he was wearing, he had on thick black plastic rimmed glasses and there was no color to him. He looked pale and his arms were wrapped in clean bandage.
Pete leaned around the pole, trying and failing to be stealthy about it to get a better look at the kid. He decided it would be easier to casually slowly jog by. He caught some of what they were saying.
“That stunt was ridiculous Patrick.”
“Get inside. You have school in an hour.”
Pete sped up into a full speed sprint, running out the anger that was building up inside of him. They were going to make him go to school after he tried to kill himself? What was the matter with them?
He sprinted a mile and then made it back home, very noisily opening the front door and slamming it behind him. He took off his muddy shoes and raced his thoughts up the stairs and into the shower, washing himself angrily. He got out and put on a pair of clean boxers and jeans and a fitted Smiths shirt, and some striped black and white converse and headed downstairs. His mom and dad were already down along with Andrew who watched him, knowing something was up with his twin just be the way Pete’s jaw was slightly tight and the left side of his lip curled down a tad bit.
His mom began to say something but Pete cut her off quickly, “I’m going to school, see you later tonight.”
He grabbed his bag and quickly hopped into his black 67’ Chevy Impala. He loved his car; he had to do a lot of groveling to get his parents to drive all the way to Richmond, Virginia, to buy it. He started it, and drove to school. He parked in the back, away from everyone else, and turned his car off.
He didn’t get out and go inside straight away because he had some time and wanted to think.
He had to find that kid when he got inside. He got out of his car, and headed inside the building, determined to find Patrick.
No such luck. He was late to class, pouting as his teacher scolded him and sent him to his desk. Pete stopped walking halfway down the row between desks, staring at the boy with reddish blonde hair and black thick rimmed glasses that stared on ahead looking depressed. He realized Pete, the strange emo kid with blonde highlights, was staring at him because he looked up, obviously afraid of the possibility Pete would make a rude comment towards him. Pete tried to regain composure- and failed- then smiled awkwardly at the boy, and took the empty seat behind him, setting his bag down. So. This is where he had been. He must have went straight to class when he got to school so no one had a chance to pick on him.
Pete knew they weren't in second grade anymore, but he didn't have the patience to wait until after class to talk to Patrick, nor did he have the opportunity to actually speak to Patrick with the teacher lecturing like it was going out of style, so resorting to notes it was.
Hey. . . I'm Pete. The guy behind you, that awkwardly stared at you. I really like your hat.
Pete folded the note carefully and then stared at Patrick's back. He could try to get Patrick's attention, but that would probably get Mr. Jacobs' attention too, Pete was far too loud to even manage a whisper. He waited till Jacobs' back was turned, and lobbed the note over Patrick's shoulder. Patrick gave a little startled jump, and then slowly turned around partially to look at Pete, not positive that the note was for him, and Pete winked and nodded at him. Patrick turned back around, and Pete waited and waited until Patrick's arm reached back secretively, the folded note in his hand.
Oh. . .thanks. I'm Patrick. I like your hair.
Pete smiled to himself, and replied. This went on the whole class period, just random things and questions back and forth, until the bell rang. He had learned he had first period, lunch hour, and every period after lunch with Patrick. The final question, from Pete, had been, 'Wanna sit with me and my friends at lunch?' but Patrick hadn't replied.
Patrick turned around in his seat, and looked at Pete. He had the craziest green eyes he had ever seen in his life. They were great. He couldn't stop looking at them, and he found himself even getting lost in them . . . he blinked, wondering why the hell he was thinking like that. That was weird. Really, really weird.
"Do you really want to me to eat lunch with you and your friends? I mean . . . No one ever really talks to me-"
Pete cut him off. "I'm talking to you. My friends are super nice. I swear. Scout's honor. I'll see you at lunch?"
Patrick chewed on his lip. "Okay. I'll see you at lunch."
Pete grinned his horse grin. "Good, catch you later Trick."
He grabbed his backpack and headed out the door, almost running because damn, he had English in a different building entirely and if he didn't run there he would definitely be late.
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