A/N: hi, so I made this doodle for the story

So Pete's gonna be a little more punk-ish and '04 Patrick :3 pls enjoy.
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Patrick sat on the cold floor in the school's hallway, blood steadily dripping from his nose and a few possibly cracked ribs. Maybe he's just being dramatic about the cracked ribs but his sides really were sore, like repeatedly being stabbed.

He groaned in pain whenever he tried to stand so he just stopped putting in the effort. Other students passed by, not paying much attention to him or bothering to help, which Patrick was used to. He stopped caring about that ages ago.

The late bell goes off and everyone scatters off to their designated classroom while Patrick stays seated in the hall. His back was pressed against a row of lockers, the slight coolness he could feel through his clothes gave him a tiny bit of relief. As he looked down at himself, he saw that his shirt was covered in dark spots from his bleeding nose. He pulled at the fabric to further examine it and knew that it was going to leave a permanent stain.

It's not like he could do much about it anyway except for push his anger down like he always did. It's not healthy, he knows, but what else could he do? Fighting back would just get him even more injured.

He's startled a bit by a pair of heavy sounding boots thumping his way then stopping directly in front of him. All he did was stare at them as his heart began to speed up a little, he thought someone might have come back to finish what they started. But all of that was dismissed when the boots spoke to him.

"You're sitting in front of my locker, dude."

Patrick didn't recognize the voice so he finally decided to place a face with the voice rather than the boots, craning his neck up to see them.

It was some guy. Short, buzzed hair, leather jacket and almost all black clothes. He had a hoop sticking out from the center of his nose, Patrick's seen other kids with a septum piercing but he thought it suited this guy better. Y'know, just as a first time observation or whatever.

The guy, whoever he is, furrowed his brow and slightly tilted his head to the side in question. He slips his book bag off his shoulder and drops it to the floor before kneeling down to Patrick's level.

"Hey, are you okay? Who did this to you?" He asked, reaching his hand up to brush off some of the dirt on Patrick's cheek. His fingers were a little cold but Patrick blamed that on the weather outside.

"No one, I just-"

"Who did it?" He repeated. He knew Patrick was about to come up with some bullshit lie about how and why this happened. Patrick sighs, getting the feeling that this dude wasn't going to leave him alone.

"It's really not a big deal. I mean, you don't even know me so-"

"Who did it?" He said for the third time, seeming to get a bit impatient.

"Is that the only question you know how to ask?" Why won't this guy just drop it and leave well enough alone? No one else paid him any kind of attention whenever this happened and for some reason this guy did. It just didn't make sense. Patrick would honestly prefer he move along like the rest of the kids.

"Three's my limit, I'm not gonna ask again."

Patrick rolled his eyes, guess he'll have to tell him just so he'll go away. "... Gabe and his stupid friends, but mostly just Gabe. He's kinda tall and lanky-"

"Oh I know exactly who Gabe is." It seemed the guy already had an idea of how much of an ass Gabe was. "Come on, I'll help you up." He reaches his arms out and wraps them around Patrick's waist while Patrick wraps one of his own around the stranger's shoulders, using the other to push off of the lockers. It's painful to move but with the guy's help the pain was dimmed down considerably.

"Thanks, uh... guy." Patrick said causing the other boy to chuckle.

"Pete." He says.

"I don't think I've ever seen you here before." Patrick muses, looking directly into Pete's eyes. He didn't realize how close they were until just then. He could see everything from the colors swimming in Pete's irises to the dark lines circling his eyelids.

"We have, like, four classes together." He laughs. "But it's probably because I'm good at being invisible. And I'm also late most of the time."

Patrick laughed slightly. "Yeah, I noticed."

Pete still had his arms around Patrick's waist but didn't seem too bothered by the fact. Patrick, on the other hand, began to blush. Pete's lips spread into little smile at that.

"You're gonna be alright? Like, walking to class?"

Patrick nods in response. "Yeah, I should be fine. Thanks for the help."

"Yeah, sure." Pete finally frees Patrick from his grip but stays close just in case. Patrick smiles at him awkwardly then begins his slow journey to class.

But then he hears Pete's boots thumping up behind him. "Hey, wait!" Patrick turns around to see what else Pete could possibly want.

"I didn't get your name."

"Oh, sorry." He mumbled. "I'm Patrick."

Pete smiled wide, and it seemed to be a little contagious because Patrick could feel the corners of his own mouth begin to twitch.

"I'll see you later then, Patrick. And don't worry about Gabe, I'll make sure he leaves you alone." And with that Pete walks back to his locker to unpack his things as Patrick slowly limped to class.

***

The day dragged on much longer than necessary, or at least it felt that way. It was Patrick's last class before lunch and the teacher just seemed to be talking about absolute nonsense. But that was probably from Patrick zoning in and out of the lecture. He just wanted the day to end.

On the plus side though, he had a friend to suffer with until class was over. He opened his notebook --that he was probably supposed to be taking notes in right now-- and turned to a blank sheet. He took his pen and wrote something down before tossing the whole notebook onto his friend's desk beside him.

'Wtf is he talking about?' The note read.

Joe, Patrick's curly-haired friend, began writing something underneath what Patrick wrote. It was sloppy but Patrick's writing was much worse, figuring out how to read it was like learning an entire new language.

'Something about global warming and chapstick'

'Seriously?'

'Probably not, I have a 32 in this class'

'Dude, how?'

'¯\_(ツ)_/¯'

Patrick snickered at what Joe had drawn on the paper, trying his best not to disrupt the teacher. Mr. Way didn't fuck around, it was a mystery why Patrick always decided to pass notes only in this class when he and Joe had two other classes together. In fact, just last week-

"Is something funny, Mr. Stump?" The teacher called out, everyone else in the class watching him expectantly. He felt like an exhibit in a museum.

"Oh, uh," He cleared his throat and nervously readjusted himself in his seat. "No, nothing's funny."

"I'd like to keep teaching without any more interruptions. Anything else out of you will result in detention. Understand?"

Patrick nodded. "Sorry, Mr. Way."

Class continued on for another ten minutes but it felt like hours, the bell had finally rang and the class was dismissed to lunch. Patrick put his things away and left the room as fast as he could, Joe wasn't far behind, walking with him to the cafeteria.

"Dude, where were you this morning? I looked everywhere for you." Joe said as they squeezed through a crowd of countless people, most of them were just standing in the hall talking to each other and holding everyone up.

"If you did then you would have found me, Joe."

"Okay so I may have exaggerated a bit, but I thought you were out sick or something."

"No, I was just late." Patrick explained then muttered out, "Gabe got to me before I could make it to class."

"Oh, sorry." Joe knew about Patrick's situation with Gabriel, he tried to help in the past but it only resulted in both of them getting hurt. He just wanted to make sure his friend got out alive but Patrick insisted that he stay out of it from then on. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm-" Patrick's sentence gets cut short by someone harshly shoving him out of the way then running past him. He almost thought it was Gabe but as he followed the person's bookbag with his eyes, he saw that it wasn't him and that they were running toward some kind of commotion. Actually, a lot of people were running toward it. "What's going on?"

"A fight maybe?" Joe said unsurely, following behind Patrick toward the circle of people in the middle of the lunch room. He and Joe maneuver through what seems like the whole school, making their way to the front of the circle.

Patrick's eyes widened when he saw what was there. Gabe was laying on the floor with one of the teachers beside him, holding him with one arm while they used the other to hold their phone to their ear. Patrick assumed they were calling for an ambulance. Gabe --for lack of a better term-- got beat the fuck up and was currently unconscious. His face was covered in blood, bottom lip split and swollen, and left eye purple and blue. For the most part, he was probably fine, just... in a lot of pain. It was shocking honestly, no one ever fought with Gabe and even if they did, they'd lose. He picked on anyone and everyone for unknown reasons, so people just stayed out of his way. Well everyone except for Patrick, somehow he was always in his way.

But none of that was important right now, Patrick has an idea of what happened to Gabe. If Pete was serious about what he said to Patrick that morning then he was probably the culprit. He mumbles to Joe about going to his locker for something then slips out of the crowd, heading back down the hall he'd just walked through moments ago.

He speed walks around corners, doing his best not to run. Every time he ran through the hall there was always a teacher somewhere to scold him about it, so weird walk-running would have to do. It's not until he finds himself outside of the school library that he realizes he has no idea where he's going. And by this point lunch was probably almost halfway over.

Patrick turns around and walks back the way he came. Again. This time he goes out the back of the building that leads straight to the student parking lot. He scans the countless cars that were parked there along with a few students talking or about to leave for lunch. Then he sees Pete standing beside an old, black Mustang, seemingly fiddling with his car keys. Patrick walks up to him and nudges his shoulder.

Pete didn't bother to turn around, he already seemed to know that it was Patrick who had just nudged him. Either that or he was just very distracted by his keys.

"Hm?" Pete hums absently, glancing over his shoulder. "Oh, hey Patrick." He smiled.

"What the hell did you do, Pete?" Patrick asks, stepping in front of Pete to get his attention.

Pete finally looks up and makes eye contact, smirking slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit. What did you do to Gabe in the lunchroom?" It's not like Patrick actually cared about Gabe's well-being or anything, he just wanted to know why.

"What makes you think it was me?"

Patrick groans in annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Because the second you show up and I tell you that he's been kicking my ass he's suddenly being hospitalized the same day."

Pete shrugs nonchalantly, still smirking like an ass. "Coincidence?"

"I know it was you, Pete. Why'd you even do that?"

"I told you this morning that I'd make sure he left you alone, didn't I?"

This caused Patrick to pause a moment, remembering that Pete did in fact say that to him. But he didn't think he was actually serious, Patrick just thought he was saying that to make him feel better. Why would Pete do something like that anyway? They didn't even know each other, that's just not how these things work.

"So, you beat the absolute shit out of Gabe... for me?"

"No," Pete said simply. "I just don't like bullies." Then he proceeded to unlock and open the car's backdoor, tossing his bookbag into the backseat. "Might as well throw yours in there, too."

"Why?"

"Because we're going out to lunch, Patty-boy. That's why." Then he all but yanks Patrick's bookbag from his shoulders and tosses it in the car, slamming the door shut after. He gives Patrick a crooked smile before opening the front door and getting into the driver's seat.

Patrick guessed Pete was serious about the lunch thing, too.

He walks around to the passenger door and opens it before slipping in beside Pete, marveling at the dark red interior and bench seats. Pete put the key into the ignition and started it up, it spluttered a bit and Patrick didn't think that was a good sign.

"This thing's a piece of shit." Pete muttered as he put the car in reverse. "But it's my piece of shit." Before he did any actual reversing though, he turned to something on the radio and cranked the volume up really loud. Patrick knew automatically that it was Metallica.

"Hope you like pizza!" He shouted over the music, finally backing up and driving out of the lot.