Gerard hadn't left me with much choice other than to leave a desperate Pete Wentz in his awfully noisy living room. I sorted of minded, but in a way that I wouldn't dare admit; Gerard was more important than Pete any day, because Gerard was my flesh and blood, I had him forever and without a doubt, and Pete, well Pete was... well Pete. I just couldn't describe it; it was hella complicated. He was just Pete- no, he was my Pete, and he always would be, or at least I hoped so, because despite the irritancy and phone calls at ungodly hours, Pete was kind of my backbone, and as sad as it was, my only and best friend.

As I opened the door, I was met with an unusually full kitchen - had someone died?

"Hey Mikey, this is Ryan." I hurried through the door, leaving a frustrated and overall just generally disappointed Pete Wentz, in favour of my distressed brother, only to be met by Frank standing in my kitchen, alongside the guy I recognised with the eyeliner from my lectures. Gerard was curled up on the countertop in the corner, seeming to be distancing himself from Frank and Ryan as much as possible.

This was confusing, and I only managed to gather one thing from the whole situation - it wasn't looking good, it wasn't looking good at all. And I have should know; I practically have a master’s degree in the art of things not looking good.

"Hey." I waved awkwardly at the boy who had now been introduced to me as Ryan, before glancing around to find Gerard sat rather unadroitly on the kitchen countertop, a cup of coffee releasing steam at a rapid pace whilst being trapped between his firm grasp. I was struggling to find what was so urgent for me to return home - not that I was at all that upset to leave Pete, there was just the matter of Pride and Prejudice laying on my desk, with several tonnes of guilt pressing down on me with every unread page. Guilt was an awfully puzzling emotion, because as much guilt as there was, there was twice as much of me that didn't want to read it.

Ryan grinned at me - he looked friendly enough and didn't see what Gerard’s problem was. Maybe he was just being selfish and he wanted Frank all to himself, but the expression on that sullen face of his told a different story entirely.

"Hey Mikey, don't I see you in my-" I didn't want his life story, so it'd be rather necessary to cut him short - he was a competent English student, he was going to have an ego the size of the sun. It was possibly even competing with Gerard's, and maybe that was simply the problem here.

"You see me in my lectures, yeah." I finished for him, looking between Ryan and Gerard warily, wondering as to why there could possibly be any cause for dislike or possibly even jealous between the two of them.

Perhaps it was something to do with the eyeliner- Fuck, I don't know. The two of them looked pretty similar, even down to the eyeliner, except Ryan looked like he'd actually showered within this past week. Hygiene was quite obviously, not one of Gerard's strong points, as you could tell by the stench, but I honestly think he liked it - how Frank puts up with it though, I really don't know.

"Oh yeah, cool." He stood awkwardly beside Frank, looking between Gerard and I, possibly wondering which one of us was just the more opposed to him.

I mean, he was okay, he just reminded me a little too much of Gerard, but he'd taken away all the uncanny 'Gerard' traits that made him feel like an imposter almost, like an alien within my own home.

"I'll be seeing more of you now, so that's cool." He used the word 'cool' too much, and quite frankly, it was rather beginning to irritate me. He was an English student with far too much eyeliner and far too many scarves, whose languages choices seemed to masquerade him as some kind of Californian surfer dude - this was something he most certainly was not.

I raised my eyebrows at him, "how so? Are you planning on kidnapping me or something?" I let out a maladroit laugh, the situation reminding me just a little of Pete, and his questionable mannerisms.

Pete was just very questionable- well, odd, well... just Pete, really, Pete was odd, that was taken for granted, but Pete was irreplaceable; who else could I have a phone call conversation about dildos with at three am? Exactly!

"I hope he isn't!" Frank butted in, winking at me and I laughed, until I noticed Gerard's devil eyes from beneath his unwashed matt of black hair - something had occurred between him and Frank - that was for certain. And I'm sure this something would kick off the exact second a certain Ryan Ross left the room.

Frank and Gerard hadn't argued once in the few years they'd known one another, so for something like this to be that relevant, it really had to be something important, that was for sure.

"Yeah, I'm not - don't worry." Okay, maybe he isn't quite so reminiscent of Pete. "It's just with me being Frank's boyfriend-" I nearly spit out my internal organs as I did a double take, Gerard and I's eyes meeting as I suddenly got everything.

A wave of guilt washed over me as I realised I'd be leading Gerard on, when Frank already has this English student with better eyeliner than him and personal hygiene, and the apparent need to pretend he's Californian with every word that leaves his mouth.

I suddenly realised that Ryan had in fact stopped talking and was now watching my reaction, and by the way my eyes bulged out into Gerard's general direction, he'd probably gotten the wrong idea entirely. "That is okay, isn't it?" His words came out with a little slither of poison, and my eyes darted in Frank's direction for help, however the chestnut haired boy was in fact looking in Gerard's direction, his eyes loaded with an equal amount of poison. This was not the best of situations, and quite clearly at that.

"Yeah, of course it is." I met him with a sincere gaze, to show him that ironically, I was in fact the opposite of homophobic. "It's fine - great, actually." I didn't quite manage the word 'great' without gulping at the amount of guilt regarding Gerard and just how much I'd pressured him, only for things to turn out like this.

Fuck, Gerard's soul was probably shattering at this very moment in time and that was not something I wanted to imagine, or even remember that I had caused, because despite what I think I can trick myself into thinking, it was my fault, well and truly my fault- well, not all of it, there was some blame to be placed on Frank and Ryan, but you couldn't really hate them for falling in love, even if it wasn't 'right' by Gerard's terms.

"Yeah..." I found myself being met by the untrusting gaze of Ryan Ross. His eyes seemed to follow me like trackers, noticing my every moment and noting it down instantly - it was unnerving to say the least.

"Oh fuck off, Ryan! He doesn't give a shit about your little gay butt-fucking relationship - none of us do. Just take your great big ego and get the fuck out of my house!" Gerard had snapped.

Gerard had well and truly snapped, and maybe this time, I didn't entirely blame him, because maybe, I too, wanted an overly pretentious, eyeliner wearing little twat out of my kitchen just as much as he did. I just wasn't quite so direct about it. Manners were what it was; what Gerard was lacking.

Frank just stood there dumbstruck, grabbing onto Ryan's hand simply to prevent him from lashing out on Gerard. I didn't blame Frank either, because I couldn't imagine that he'd ever seen Gerard in a state like this before, and I bet that his little Ryan filled head couldn't quite imagine as to what the hell could possibly have caused it.

Frank was far too innocent for his own good sometimes, and actually in the best of times, it was rather cute, and I think that's what Gerard liked, knowing that Frank was sweet and innocent and worth staying good for, worth putting the needles and the pills down for. Frank had kept Gerard strong, that was for sure. I was just terrified as to how Gerard would end up after what was inevitably about to occur

Gerard seemed unimpressed at the fact that Ryan Ross was still stood, infuriated expression intact, in his kitchen. He was probably checking out his eyeliner in the reflective fridge door, that, or Frank's butt... Then again, Gerard was probably looking at Frank's butt right- fuck, maybe even Frank was- okay, maybe I should slow down regarding the butts.

"And you can take your fucking pansy little boyfriend with you." I didn't think anyone in the room could entirely believe that Gerard had just actually insulted Frank. This was a new low entirely, because never, never had things gotten quite so bad between them before, not ever, and no one was expecting it to, not even now.

"What the fuck did you say?" The words simply tumbled from Frank's lips and I'd never quite seen someone of five feet and four inches get quite so angry before, but I didn't exactly blame him: jealous, stubborn princess Gerard was more than a handful to deal with - he was like a whole fucking armful to deal with.

"Frank-" Ryan tugged on Frank's arm, but he was far too busy striking down Gerard with optic poison, to care about Ryan, eyeliner, hygiene and all. Ryan's eyes grew big, inflating with eyeliner and egotistical status.

"Fuck off, Ryan!" Frank snapped, Ryan letting go of him instantly, and then did him compose himself, only just realising what he'd said. His eyes blamed Gerard entirely, yet his mouth just let out a sigh, as I remained practically paralysed in the doorway, watching as Gerard may just quite possibly be about to mess his own life up.

"I'm sorry, just go." Ryan didn't need telling twice, clearly over glad to be rid of Gerard, and Gerard was of course, equally as glad to be rid of Ryan, it was just Frank that was the matter now, Frank and his stupid blindness towards Gerard's love for him. I just hoped it wasn't blindness out of choice.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, Frank's fury turned up, and the aforementioned 'something' tumbled straight out. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Gerard? Can't you just be happy for me, even if you 'despise' Ryan, can't you just accept that I'm happy?" Well, I say tumbled, they were more like precisely aimed missiles. Maybe even grenades, or nuclear war weapons, or strands of Hitler's hair- god, I don't know.

"You're so happy with your pansy little boyfriend with his English degree, and his ‘great life’, with coffee and his lovely Instagram account and those scarves- I can smell a gay man a mile off, so I didn't know what was up with you saying you were just friends at the start. Oh and that fringe, that fucking fringe. I hope you're fucking happy - don't lie to me, Iero." Gerard was beyond jealous, Gerard was the queen of jealousy, Gerard was the princess shouting down from her tower because the dragon slayed her prince. Never before have had I found myself comparing Ryan Ross to a dragon, but, something you try something new every day, I suppose.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean, that you're jealous?" Frank shot Gerard a look of repulsion and disgust, and Gerard shot one back, but really Gerard was jealous, he was hella jealous, and I hated that I was the only one in the room that apparently had the intelligence to figure that out.

"And maybe I didn't tell you because I knew you'd freak out like this with your fucking 'I'm single and I love it - couples can go get fucked', stuck up attitude!" Okay, maybe Frank had a point and a valid one at that, but... fuck, Gerard had really screwed up this time, and I couldn't help but feel like it was entirely my fault.

"I'm still confused." I butted in before Gerard could fuck things up further. "Can someone explain to me what the hell's just happened, civilly?" I looked between the two of them with a stern gaze, and almost felt like I was talking to a pair of very stubborn five year olds. Which, it did in fact feel like I was, because Frank and Gerard were practically the twenty year old equivalents.

"Well, this arsehole here," Gerard waved one trembling finger at Frank, his eyes darting in my direction - they were bloodshot, with veins crawling in like ivy, "comes in with his fucking little perfect cock-sucking boyfriend and lets him waltz around as if he owns the place-"

"No, no. I invited Ryan over, because maybe, I thought I could trust you and your arrogant pratty little ass enough to trust you to meet him, but no, of course not, you're Gerard Way, and it's not as if I can have any other friends, is it?" Gerard was very possessive, but I guess he had his reasons, Frank was special to him, and he'd be practically dead without him.

"I'm not saying that-" Gerard kind of was, to be honest, but it really was just in his possessive, selfish, arrogant, pratty, but overall entirely lovable nature. Or was it just our blood relationship shining through here? It didn't matter, because Gerard did.

"Yes, yes you are!" Frank didn’t care at all; he’d broken, they’d both broken. This had broken them, and not just as a pairing, but as individuals.

"Guys, can you just calm down-" I tried to stop the argument thrashing through the flood gates, but of course, neither of them would let me.

"Fuck off, Mikey!" Gerard's words came out with so much poison, even I, who was more than used to this, shuddered. He barely spoken to me like this ever before, and even though I was used to Gerard's diva mode, it was still a bit of a shock... well, as were most things when it came to Gerard. The guy was awfully spontaneous.

"Leave your brother alone!" Frank screeched at him, protecting me for no other sake than to spite Gerard, knowing this hurt a little, but it didn't hurt as much as the fact that I knew Frank and Gerard's friendship had been well and truly ripped straight in half, and I was unsure as to whether it could ever truly be fixed again.

Well, there could be fake smiles and fake apologies, but it'd never quite be the same between them again, and I think, I really do think that it'd affect me too. And it wouldn't just be the backlash of Gerard's pissy mood, it'd be missing Frank, it'd be missing watching Frank make him happy and Gerard making Frank happy, because deep down it made me happy to know that there were two people that could fit together so perfectly, but.... apparently not.

"He's my brother, I have to be careful, you don't go snag him up and date him as well, you little whore-" Gerard did not just- he did. Gerard just called Frank a whore, and really it backlashed onto me more than it should have, because I'm stuck in an awkward situation of caring greatly for both of them and not knowing where the hell to go from here.

"You really are bitter, aren't you?" Frank looked at Gerard with pure fucking repulsion. "Have a nice life, Gerard Way. Have a nice fucking life."

And with that Frank was gone, after a certain confused and pissed off Ryan, whilst I was left to pick up the pieces of my emotionally shattered older brother as I tried to refrain from punching him straight in the face. It's a great life, isn't it?

-

I'd dreaded going into my lecture today, and not just because of the lack of Pride and Prejudice I'd read, but now there was horribly apparent and rather irritating issue of Ryan Ross, who was now glaring at me from a few feet away, whilst viciously texting someone, who I assumed to be Frank by the constant hating glances he sent in my direct direction quite so frequently.

 Ryan was a stubborn bitch, even more so than Gerard in fact, which in turn led my mind to brush over the fact of just how similar both of them are, and that in turn led me to wonder if Frank's subconscious just had a weird way of letting him know he was in love with Gerard, or whether I was just the pissy little bitch here.

After sitting down, I'd become rather tired of Ryan's persistent and annoyingly consistent stares, like fuck- did that guy even need to blink? I decided that maybe I could beat him at the rapid text game, and regardless of my stubborn and naturally competitive nature, I'm sure Pete would love to be filled in upon the current situation regarding Frank and Gerard, and even if he didn't, it would still provide a suitable distraction to prevent me from more accidental pyromania as the lecturer's voice continuously droned on for the next hour and a half about Jane Austen and her boring literature. Couldn't she have chosen something that was even mildly interesting to twenty year old guys, this was old woman literature and literally no one in this lecture hole apart from her fit that demographic.

Hey Pete sorry about having 2 leave yesterday x

I tapped out a message as quickly as my fingers would let me, before quickly scanning it over and once I decided that my eight words were satisfactory, I hit send, and I just hoped Pete hadn't decided to be asleep at ten in the morning, because other than that, I was out of options. Gerard wouldn’t even leave his duvet for the next week, especially with what had happened with Frank. But, really I didn't entirely blame him that much; Frank's irrational emotions were out of his control and his own symptoms of irrationality were sure to follow.

My phone beeped just a little too loudly as it signified my response, and I quickly turned it onto silent and the screen brightness down considerably, before checking the contents of Pete's reply message. I certainly didn't want to give that bitch of a lecturer yet another reason to hate me, not that she was in anyway short of them. In fact, she probably had a whole list of them just in case.

Mikeyyy! Its ok how r u? x

I grinned, just simply being glad I didn't have to hear his ear-splitting greetings down the phone line, or let alone, in person. It was nice to have Pete's company, it was just even nicer to be able to put him on mute and for him to not even know, because I could really get tired of people, and Pete was most certainly no exception, except, Pete did seem to want to think that he was everyone's exception to everything and not a slightly fucked up, but well-meaning guy. I cared for him nonetheless.

I’m good. Gerard isn’t & that’s why i left:( x

I began to wonder if Gerard would particularly appreciate if I filled Pete in with the exact details regarding Frank and Ryan, but I came to the conclusion that if he could suggest that Pete and I were having sex, especially in front of our mother, then I could tell Pete about his argument with his not quite boyfriend, who he was definitely very in love with despite Frank's apparent unreturned feelings. It just didn't make that much sense though, because the way Frank looked at him and the way Frank looked at him days ago, were looks of two very different people.

Nothing made any sense, but then again, life just had such a habit of being dysfunctional, especially to me. I was just a dysfunctional black hole at the centre of a dysfunctional universe. Orbiting me we have: Pete, the planet of odd, Gerard the planet of divas, Frank the planet of indecision, Ray the planet of the 'fro, and Ryan the planet of eyeliner and boyfriend snatching.

What’s happened? :o X

I began to prepare myself for quite possibly the longest text I'd ever send, because there was more to say than just a few words could cover, and even with the briefest of descriptions, I'd have an entire essay.

Well... frank has a boyfriend and it isn’t Gerard. It’s this kid called Ryan Ross in my English lecture right now and is glaring at me as i type this. Ryan’s kinda like Gerard with the eyeliner except he has personal hygiene. and so basically frank introduced Gerard to Ryan and well Gerard was a little princess about it and started insulting Ryan so he left and then it all when off between frank and Gerard they were screaming at each other and Gerard called frank a whore and frank told Gerard to fuck off. It wasn’t pretty. And Gerard’s a real fucking mess now cos he’s definitely very in love with frank despite the existence of Ryan. I doubt gee will ever leave the house again now fuck :( x

It took Pete longer than usual to reply, but I didn't blame him, because I'd given him rather a lot to read and process. I'd given myself rather a lot to live with and Frank had given Gerard rather a lot to not want to live with, and that was the most frightening thing of all, because Gerard took things seriously, and Gerard without Frank was not a Gerard I particularly wanted to see.

Oh god... well at least we know franks gay. I’m all for the murdering of this Ryan bitch. In your lecture you say? X

Despite how much Pete insisted upon them, his murder plots were simply never going to work, especially if I wasn't keen on spending the remainder of my sad little life in jail. Pete was quite the little sadist, but he meant it in an innocent manner... well... kind of... not really. It was Pete, there was no such thing as innocent in that sexually distraught head of his.

No. Pete I’m not fucking killing him. I just want advice on what to say to Gerard or frank fuck idek?? :S x

I wasn't quite sure if it was out of place to talk to Frank about this, and I wondered if he'd even want to talk to me at all now, seeing as the guy he loved wasn't the one directly related to me, and the house he would be spending so much time in, was no longer mine. It took a toll on me too, because Frank was a good guy - I liked having him around. Frank was just as important to me as he was to Gerard sometimes, because Gerard and I were close, close enough to share friends, in fact. Or maybe that was just my pathetic loneliness taking its toll.

Ok that is a tricky situation. I’d try to just cheer Gerard up and take his mind of frank like do something just the two of you that you haven’t done since he met frank to take his mind of him entirely. I would try & break up Ryan & frank but i suppose ur nicer than that ;) x

I had to chuckle just a little at that, in turn, of course, gaining Mr Ross' immediate attention, which of course came in the form of murderous eyes and a face of repulsion, but he was right to think my laughter was in some way related to that sad little life of his.

As I examined his face, I came to realise that he was wearing even more eyeliner than yesterday, and I even came to wonder if that was at all possible, because it really did seem to be. He was less of a pratty boy and more of a scarf wearing panda. It sort of worked for him though, even if I didn't like to admit it, I could kind of see as to why Frank might be attracted to him, but there was also the little fact that he reminded me of Gerard, just more than a little, and I'm sure Frank sees that too.

Idk what though he and frank were closer than close: / x

Frank was a part of Gerard in fact, and I couldn't imagine what it was even like for Gerard right now, for both of them in fact, because I soon came to the realisation that this would be hurting Frank too and then maybe things wouldn't be quite so hard to fix, or at least I hoped not.

Gerard and Frank were conundrumous enigmas of themselves. When those two unreckonable forces were put head to head, only hell could break lose, because when two attracting magnets tore part, you knew the whole world had gone into ruin.

Then try and fix the friendship and let the luuuurvvee return after ;) x

Pete was so goddamn cheesy, it was making me blush, there was just the fact that I hadn't the slightest idea as to how on earth I could mend a friendship as shattered as Gerard and Frank's, especially when Gerard was such a stubborn little princess. I wasn't even sure if I could mend it, or whether that'd be something they'd have to fix between themselves, but they were far too stubborn to even consider apologising.

Suddenly, I felt a hard shove to my right side, and spun around almost instantaneously to be met with the smug and eyeliner coated face of Ryan Ross. "Fuck." Only after a few moments did I realise that my profanity thoughts had blurred the lines and actually slipped my lips.

"Ah, fuck." And it happens again. He just seemed to be all the more amused at my mistake the second time it occurred, but really, I didn't blame him; I could only hate him. I was a walking travesty.

"Mikey." He addressed me in a stern, yet hushed whisper, apparently much more cautious than myself when it came to drawing the lecturer's attention.

I wasn't one to particularly care for this, seeing as she already hated me enough for me not to even vaguely care about opinions upon me, as long as I passed this fucking course and would never have to see her again.

"How's Gerard?" He threw a snide comment in my direction and I wanted to physically remove him from existence, but I soon remembered that I was in fact a very weak and lanky guy - I'd get Pete to do it for me. Pete would surely be more than happy to as well; Breaking Bad wouldn't even need to be involved (thank god).

"He’s fine, thanks." I spat back with an equal amount of inner cyanide, wishing I could just tear that ego of his to shreds, and just for Gerard's sake, because I was beginning to develop quite a profound hatred for the guy too. I think it was a brotherly thing, especially with Gerard and I being so close. Or maybe it was just human instinct to plot the murder of assholes, or was that just natural selection - I couldn't tell anymore.

"What? Even now that he can't fuck my Frankie?" I couldn't see his facial expression in the darkened lecture hall, but I didn't even need to see it to know it was a smirk, a devious, fucking, 'I'm Ryan Ross and look I've won the whole world' smirk.

The guy had turned from someone I didn't mind into the epitome of repulsion over the course of a few brief hours, and if that doesn't prove to you that hatred is the strongest force in life then you're wrong. I can't think of anything witty - you're just wrong. You can see why I'm failing English, can't you? Curse whatever in the hell possessed me into choosing to get a degree in this bullshit.

"What-" I was confused as to how Ryan had sniffed out Gerard's attraction towards Frank, or whether it was just a snide comment, but either way it was unnerving, because Ryan seemed to have this knack of being right on par with his insults.

"I can see the way he looks at him - I'm not blind. And I know you know too." Ryan was stupidly clever, and in fact, probably clever enough to have read Pride and Prejudice by now, so maybe it was in my best interests to actual befriend the guy, even if he was a massive asshole.

It was just the way he spoke that made me want to fire a bullet through his cranium, also the way he acted both to Frank and Gerard, and I knew that it wasn't exactly my business, but it felt like it, because Gerard was my brother and he mattered. Therefore, whatever mattered to him, in turn ended up mattering to me.

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter, because of you and Frank." The words were hard to say, but I knew they were the right ones. It felt like treason, but it was the non-douche thing to say. I wanted to try and be the nice guy here, maybe just to outline Ryan's douchebaggery, or maybe a seed of kindness had somehow be planted within my grey matter - I blame Pete's coffee. That shit is dodgy.

"I didn't expect someone related to Gerard to say that." I ignored the snideness of his comment temporarily, simply to let my mind focus on the true purpose here - obliterating Ryan from existence. Yup, Pete had definitely been influencing me. Give it a month or two and I'd be the one suggesting an episode of Breaking Bad - dear god that sounds like a scene from a horror movie.

"I'm not Gerard - everyone just seems to think so." Okay, I was close to Gerard, but I certainly was nowhere near as close to being Gerard as Ryan was. If only he'd come down from his fucking tower of pride for a moment to see that. I highly doubted this would happen though, of course. Ryan was the epitome of arrogance, only short come by Gerard himself.

"You two are pretty close." It's not like we're fucking brothers, is it? I have the right to be close to Gerard. Ryan's right to be close to Frank? There simply isn't one.

"He was closer to Frank." I shouldn't have said that and I knew the moment the words left my mouth - his facial expression only there to remind me.

Ryan was clearly not the happiest with my little confession, and maybe, after all, that was a good thing, because assholes warranted douchebaggery, even in the most repulsive of forms. I blame Pete and his drugged coffees for all of this, as I would, of course. I'm only human; I'm only going to blame someone else.

"Was, he was." He emphasised, his words spiked with the most deadly poison that man could possibly fathom concocting. "That's the keyword."

He was awfully adamant when it came to the issue of Frank and whom he should 'belong' to. The whole concept of belonging that had been planted in Ryan's head was scarily possessive, scarily to the point I was concerned about Frank's safety more than Gerard's sanity.

"You're awfully proud of that, aren't you?" Shots fired. I liked testing just how far I could go with this, maybe this was Pete's coffee or maybe it was just the fact that I've developed more than just a little sass ever since I walked into that goddamn comic store.

Therefore, did that somehow make Pete liable for all my mistakes- nah, I wasn't that lucky. Pete however was most definitely liable for any dirty mindedness created from this colossal mess of grey matter I had brewing up there.

"So what if I am?" He didn't seem at all fazed by my accusations, in fact, he seemed to enjoy them. He was just arrogant enough to bask in the limelight, shimmer under the reflection of strobe lights on several hundred pairs of glassy eyes.

"What's the problem with that?" The problem with that is your existence, honey.

Sass level = Gerard.

"That you're an asshole, that's the fucking problem." I reminded him, because quite frankly, he looked like he needed a reminder, and I wanted to watch him shudder as the words sank in like tiny little poisoned daggers - thousands of them, pricking every inch of his skin like needles with purpose.

"No, that's not the problem; your opinion is the problem, Mikey." He spat my name as if it was something to be taunt, a word not even worth his precious time. I was nothing to him; just the little brother of someone he hates, and that made me nothing more than the dust under his shoe or the gum he'd shove under a desk and regret it when he accidentally touched it.

"Back off, not just from me and Gerard, but from Frank too." His eyes widened at that, and I knew that things were really starting to get sadistically interesting now.

He had the right to back off from Frank, because he didn't deserve that guy, and I wasn't just being bitter or stubborn, but someone who's such an ass to their boyfriend's friends shouldn't be able to date that asshole. Frank just needs reminding that Gerard and I will be there for him always; I'd just have to work on getting Gerard to admit that. However, luckily, it seemed apparent that I had a certain way with confessions.

"Frank's mine and not his - he needs to learn that-" Now, that was red flag language. Red flags and warning signs and a big deportation ship with Frank on it, sailing as far away from Ryan Ross as he can.

"No," I began to correct him, "Frank is his own fucking person, you do not own him, Gerard doesn't own him, and President fucking Obama doesn't even own him."

 Okay, maybe the president did kind of own him in a way, but this was supposed to be a free country and I'll interpret that as I like, thank you very much.

"You'd be surprised in the bedroom." He leaned in closer to me; his facial expression was reminiscent of Pete's, but without the joking aspect, without the safety and the backbone. "He's rather submissive." Ryan just fucking winked, and then it sank in: Ryan's screwed Frank. Frank's screwed Ryan. That wasn't something I wanted to consider, let alone imagine, or fuck, even know about.

My jaw just fell open, my mouth gaping, open and wide - I looked ridiculous, but I didn't care, this was an appropriate reaction in my books at the very least. "You- had se- with-" I could barely form a sentence as I struggled to imagine Frank really with someone that wasn't Gerard. It just wasn't right, it just wasn't Frank.

Ryan simply snorted, his eyebrows rising and his eyes moving round in a circular motion, before he let out a few spiteful words, "I knew I shouldn't talk to virgins."

-

It was one am, and by now the words on the pages of Pride and Prejudice were still nothing but a blur, and I was still not even half way through the goddamn book.

Jane Austen was simply a subject that made very little sense to me, as did rather a lot of things considering my unfeasibly incompetent intelligence that seems to have rotted as opposed to developed over the years.

The sound of my phone ringing penetrated the unholy and generally unstudious silence; I needed to concentrate, but this was simply too much concentration, as if the world expected too much of me, and as if that made any sense at all.

I picked up my phone knowing it was Pete, but I picked it up regardless; I was truly tired of Pride and Prejudice, and was just about admitting failure in the eyes of my English professor.

"Mikeyyyyyy!" Came Pete's scream down the line, and I immediately put into onto speaker and pushed the damn thing to the furthest corner of my desk.

Pete was a necessity but an irritating one at that, but sometimes even the best things came in oddly shaped packages. I'm definitely not talking about what Pete wishes I was, okay?

"Yes, hello Pete." I replied in a suitably unenthusiastic tone, maybe it was just to piss Pete off, but whatever, I didn't exactly care that much.

"It’s past one in the morning." I physically groaned as my eyes flickered over the retina shatteringly bright, red, LED display numbers on my alarm clock, which sat on my beside table, living only to haunt me and to haunt me more as the night went on.

"I'm aware." Pete was definitely smirking - I could tell that through the phone line without question.

Pete's emotions were generally irrational, but overall predicable if you'd been friends with him longer than an hour, but seeing how much of a dickhead the guy is, I'm assuming that I'm the only one who's accomplished such a lengthy friendship with him so far.

"And yet you still find it a suitable time to call me?" One am was in no way a suitable time for me to be awake, or suitable time for me to have to force my eyes to scan over text that simply refused to sink into my brain, and overall, it was most certainly not a suitable time for someone quite as irritating as Pete Wentz to decide to scream into my ears, even if it was over telephone lines.

"Yeah, well you picked up didn't you, and I'm bored, Mikes." With Pete, there was no choice as to whether you picked up or not, but Pete, of course, didn't acknowledge that directly; he just liked to use that to his advantage.

Pete's boredom was also a rather pressing matter that I'd only come to care about via the direct matter of him very frequently reminding me of his boredom, and complete incompetence when it came to entertaining himself with something other than flirting or the occasional one night stand.

"And why's that my problem?" I didn't quite see how our 'friendship' warranted his incapability to menially entertain himself to somehow become my concern, and a concern greater than my one regarding my English course and how terribly shit I was at the whole ordeal, not even the subject, I think college and I just didn't mix, but I was stuck there now and pretty much all out of ideas when it came to anything else, so I guess I was okay, or complacent at the very least.

"I'm making it your problem, Mikey." And believe me; he was doing a rather good job at that.

Pete's overly sadistic tendencies seemed to allow him to guilt trip over people whilst bypassing the whole moral code and all that bullshit. This had become increasingly annoying other the past few days, and had especially greatened with increasement in phone calls and the rather apparent decrease in hours that either of us spent sleeping.

I really should blame Pride and Prejudice, but I think I'll just settle for blaming Pete, maybe because it's easier, and maybe because he deserves it. I'm not entirely sure if I agree with the latter of the two quite yet anyway.

"Yes, I noticed." Pete had been doing rather a lot of that recently - making me notice.

He was good at it, especially when it came down to making me notice things I didn't particularly want to notice, such as how many box sets of Breaking Bad he owned, or the kisses we both somehow ended up insisting on putting at the end of our text messages to one another, or just how much I looked like a dysfunctional lesbian immediately after waking up. The latter was definitely one of my favourites, without a doubt.

"Come over to mine." It wasn't a request; it was a demand, as things always were with Pete. That sounded worse than I expected, but I assume that Pete actually intended it to be that way, as he would, being Pete of course. Why Pete wanted me over at his was a whole other matter entirely and one I'd rather not discuss, especially in detail.

"Did the thought that I might be busy not even cross your mind?" I began to wonder, but with Pete it wouldn't have, because I seemed to be Pete's top priority and he assumed this'd be the same for him. This was kind of cute and heart-breaking at the same time, yet totally irrational and inconvenient, so I let Pete's emotional wellbeing take a hit to ensure that I don't end up homeless within the next five years.

"Dude, what the fuck could you do at one in the morning?" It's rather clear that Pete doesn't go to college, and I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't even graduate high school. I'm not insulting his intelligence, it just doesn't seem like Pete's scene, and he'd take no hesitance in informing the entire educational board of that surely.

"I’m doing my English coursework." I reminded both him and myself, because I was actually doing very little studying compared to how much I seemed to be telling Pete I was, which in turn made me some sort of dysfunctional, procrastinatory hypocrite with a strong dislike towards Jane Austen and other classic novels.

"It's like this book is fucking refusing to be read." It was more to do with the fact that I didn't want to read it, and my subconscious knew this and was fucking messing with me, because my subconscious had the sadism level of Pete Wentz.

"That's why I didn't go to college, man." This I had previously gathered. College was definitely not Pete's kind of scene, as I'm assuming there isn't a course in 'gay men' or 'one night stands', or some wacky combination of the two. Pete was just odd, like fucking odd, man, but that's really what made him Pete and I don't think I could ever forgive myself if I replaced him.

I think, kind of, in a way, but not really, Pete was my Frank. Well, in the same way that Gerard and Frank hate each other yet are stuck in this limbo of not wanting to live without the other and there's only this fucking stubbornness that's preventing either of them from realising or accepting that.

Pete was my Frank because I hated him and needed him at the same time, and to put it lightly, it was making my head want to roll right off my shoulders, which certainly wasn't a pleasant thought at all.

"Are where are you now? Without any college degree or education further than high school?" Pete was working in a comic store, and somehow his career seemed all the more fruitful than mine had any hopes of being. Like what the fuck could I actually do with an English degree over than sit around in a snobbish manner and pretend I'm Shakespeare?

"I’m having more fun than you." This was true; he certainly was.

Comic stores were definitely a laugh, and especially when they're compared with lecture theatres, study halls and all-nighters pulled over some mediocre book that I'm more than intent on burning, despite my constant denial of my supposed pyromaniac tendencies, which of course, totally are non-existent.

"You're evidently having more fun than me." I paused, grinning to myself as an idea popped into my mind, letting myself watch and smirk as the words rolled off my tongue as easy as easy can be, "seeing as you called me because you were bored."

Pete moaned down the phone, admitting defeat rather than jacking off, I hoped, but with Pete you really couldn't tell and that was most definitely the dodgiest part of it all.

"Yeah, whatever, just come over please. There was this fucking party and oh god, assholes, I need someone to rant to in the safety of my own home." He sounded mildly drunk as he always did which led me to consider whether that was alcohol or whether just permanently spoke with a slight slur to his words. It would probably be offensive to ask, but I wonder if Pete could even take offense to anything I said, considering half the shit he's mumbled on about to me in the early hours of the morning.

"It's one in the morning." I reminded him again, the red LED numbers refusing to leave the corner of my eye from where they seemed to be set out on permanently imprinting upon my already partly damaged retinas. Let’s say studying all night doesn't exactly do wonders for your eyes, as you could have guessed.

"And?-" Being Pete, he of course didn't seem to find any problem in the lateness of the night, or earliness of the morning, whatever.

 I swear Pete slept less than me, and I was a deprived, partly insomnic, college student, who drank far too much coffee and had far too much coursework. However, Pete's sleep schedule was quite evidently even more fucked up than that strange little head of his was.

"I don't have a car." He still didn't seem to get it - I am not walking through the pitch black night in fucking Jersey. Then again, Pete and health safety aren't exactly best buds, in fact, they barely even know of one another's existence.

"I can't walk this late at night; I'll get mugged and murdered and rap-" He didn't let me finish, calling out my neuroticism before I could even notice it. I was overly neurotic and downright paranoid at times, but I think this time warranted it, because who in their right mind would walk out this late at night.

"What, all at the same time?" Pete was just taking the piss now and we both knew this far too well; Pete was never one for seriousness as you can tell.

If Pete had such a lax relationship with health and safety and even just general common sense, I had begun to wonder as to how he was still even alive at this point in time, but it was Pete and he seemed to have magical fucking powers and an eternal stash of condoms, which with a lifestyle like his, I guess, came more than in fucking handy.

"Yes, I will!" Okay, maybe I was overdoing it, but I really did not want to get forced into this one, especially not by someone quite as arrogant and ego centric as Mr Pete Wentz himself. Somehow, however, Pete just managed to pull off arrogance and with ease at that fact. He was a stuck up little prat some times and still managed to be fucking attractive in the process.

"On a five minute walk, really?" Here came the endless amounts of sarcasm, but really, what else could I be expecting from someone like him? Give it a minute; we're awaiting the irony missile and the friendly, not quite so friendly, insults train.

Pete was good at the offending people straight to their faces and tricking them into thinking he didn't quite mean it tactic. I, on the other hand, was really not. I didn't make friends, I lost them. Hashtag trendsetter.

"Yes!" He sighed audibly pausing for  a moment, clearly more than fucking tired with my constant attempts to evade capture from the lesser spotted Pete Wentz.

"Alright, princess, I'll come and pick you up." Princess? Oh my lord, we were not going there. Nope, nope, nope - not at all. Pete, however, didn't seem to care, and was more than happy to call me 'princess', in fact, if I let him know it irritated me, he'd probably only persist in doing so. Therefore, I'd just have to shut up and wear my princess tiara with pride.

"Uhh..." I stopped him, not sure whether I was less keen on the kidnapping or the whole 'princess' thing, because with Pete, everything was really a royal, bloody mess, and part of me thought- part of me knew, that it was just how he liked it. "I never said I wanted to be kidnapped into your house again, Wentz."

"Oh, come on, I know how much you hate that fucking book-" He had a point and my procrastinatory side was getting more than tempted to listen to him, despite how ridiculously easily it was proving for him to overpower me, which only made me glad I hadn't agreed to an episode of Breaking Bad, because I wasn't 'his', and he certainly was not my Ryan Ross. That, if anything, was for sure.

"I could just go to sleep." I reminded him, but really, I doubted that sleep would come at all. Sleep evaded me like my own sanity these days. I think it was the guilt, the endless guilt that came with countless study devoid hours and days when not a single word of Pride and Prejudice entered my head, let alone registered somewhere up there. The latter was definitely a rare occurrence.

I was going to fail this exam so hard it'd be spectacular. My name would go down in the history books for being an incompetent little piece of fucking shit. 

"Please?" Puppy dog eyes alert - my Pete facial expression reading skills were getting scarily advanced, which only led me to remember just how much fucking time he'd stole from me and put into mindless phone conversations.

"No Breaking Bad." My voice was stern, but it wouldn't mean a thing to him, because he was Pete and he did what he liked and he fucking got away with it.

"Fine, I promise." Pete Wentz was such a fucking liar. "See you in five..." He paused, a word at the tip of his tongue, "princess."

 -

"All those candles are a fire hazard." The first thing I noticed as Pete dragged me through his doorway, were the thousands of candles that littered the living room floor.

It looked like a scene from a pyromaniac's childhood and it probably wasn't far off what my lecturer imagined my house to look like, which it certainly didn’t, of course; Gerard would trip over the majority of them on a daily basis.

"Shut up, I was trying to be romantic." Yeah, romantic definitely wasn't Pete's degree of expertise, as we had covered pretty much within our first conversation, but you could only give him credit for trying, I guess. But, still we'd remain Breaking Bad free.

The candles were all horribly scented as well, and it was make me just a little nauseous, and I was wondering if he'd drugged the candles too, as my head was light enough to feel like it could roll off my shoulders without me evening realising. The aforementioned was not realistically likely to happen, yet in the array of dodgy, sedative and mildly illegal scents, my mind was hazy enough to consider the downright impossible within the field of rationality.

"I thought we agreed no Breaking Bad." I raised my eyebrows at him, sniggering a little to myself at the definition of romanticism we had established between the two of us.

Then again, I should have remembered that Pete was a liar, and a terrible one at that, because he'd never quite give up on that Breaking Bad promise, even when we were like seventy years old, and I was living in Tanzania or something equally as far, far away from Pete Wentz, and he'd be living in some sort of asylum for sexually deranged, but he'd still find me, and of course, he'd bring a very specially haunting box set.

"Blowjobs aren't exactly romantic, Mikes." Pete winked at me, locking the door behind us. "They're not for you anyway - the candles. Blowjobs can be arranged for you any day." I raised my eyebrows at him, winking just a little.

There was not a doubt in hell that Pete would never drop this whole Breaking Bad thing, and it was beginning to lose its stigma entirely, becoming all the more irritating as opposed to frightening in any way. Pete was most likely awfully disappointed in this fact, and was without a doubt working on fixing my apparent immunity to his advances this very second.

"Hey, you promised, no Breaking Bad-" I tried to butt in and explain myself in some messed up way, but really, it just wasn't working.

Pete's constant broken promises were another thing to be wary of; he made far too many promises and kept far too little of them, which wasn't the best of personality traits, but at least he wasn't a nuclear bomber in his spare time or something equally as sadistic and concerning. It was concerning because Pete does have an awfully developed interest in sadism.

"Blowjobs aren't strictly limited to Breaking Bad." He winked at me, suggesting the painfully and annoyingly obvious, because it was Pete, what else would he actually want to do? I wondered if Pete actually liked me for my personality or friendship, or whether I was just another vaguely attractive guy with a dick that took Pete's fancy.

I really did hope it wasn't the latter, because Pete was my only friend and a vaguely decent one at that, and I guess, it would actually kind of hurt to lose all hope upon our 'friendship', and not just out of bitter loneliness, because as little as I'd ever want to admit it, I was actually growing rather attached to the guy.

"How about no blowjobs entirely?" I made an ultimatum that Pete would surely disregard without a moment's thought, because well, he was Pete and in his books, he was pretty certain that he could do that. I, on the other hand, was not quite so sure, about Pete's constant persistence in the fact that he was always right regardless of circumstance. It was a little pratty and a tad arrogant, but it did in no way compare to flaming ball of ego centric arrogance on legs, Ryan Ross.

"Spoil sport." Okay, now Pete had clearly ran out of ideas, and was just resorting to friendly insults, that maybe weren't quite so friendly after all, and we just mediocre- well, not even mediocre, just shitty attempts at flirting. Pete liked to think he was a flirt, but he didn't exactly have the best way with words, he just kind of didn't think with his brain an awful lot.

"Manwhore." I, of course, retaliated, because I had grown far too stubborn recently to even fathom letting Pete win this one. I know stubbornness wasn't the most desirable of qualities, but it wasn't as if Pete was entirely fussy when it came to the personality and appearance of the guys he called his 'friends'. And by 'friends', I mean the people he wanted to watch Breaking Bad with, of course.

"That's a compliment, Princess." Oh dear god, I really just hoped he'd stop calling me that, because it was hella embarrassing, and the vivid shade of pink my cheeks went whenever he referred to me by that name did not help my case at all.

"Stop calling me that." I tried to put a stop to his efforts, ignoring the fact that my attempts would of course be entirely unfruitful for just long enough to fool myself into thinking my words would have any effect whatsoever.

"Only when you stop being one." Dear god, I hate Pete Wentz - I was not a fucking princess, that was him if it was either one of us, but I'm sure we could mutually agree on passing the metaphorical tiara onto someone pissier, such as Ryan Ross. "Anyway, this fucking party, drugs fucking everywhere - not my scene, man."

"Good." I replied all too snappily, mainly because the word 'drugs' instantly brought severe flashbacks of seventeen year old Gerard and this piss poor excuse for a human being, Bert McCracken. These were times it still hurt to think about, because their effects were still painfully visible upon Gerard, and if it still hurt Gerard, it still hurt me, and as inconvenient as this was, it didn't matter to me at all.

"What-" Then he realised, just sighing the name out, "Gerard." He paused for a few moments, his mind probably running over a few things Gerard would have reluctantly told him in the past, "he needs Frank, doesn't he, do you think-"

As much as I agreed with him, I just really didn't want to discuss this, especially not now with everything else weighing down on me at the same time, because thinking about my own problems, and Gerard's at the same time was pretty much the definition of personal hell, especially when both of our problems were far too heavy for even the both of us to carry together.

"Pete, don't." I sighed, letting the silence ring out for a few moments, before turning back to Pete, "sorry, I just-" I tried to explain, but I was struggling to, and thankfully, Pete butted in, finishing it all off for me.

I think this would always remain the only time I would ever be thankful for Pete cutting off my speech ever, but it was nice to know his persistent arrogance had some uses, even if they were only in exceptional circumstances.

"I understand." That was kind of a first, and my words were kind of harsh, but overall undoubtedly true, because Pete really had a certain knack for just not getting things like this.

"So, how's that English work doing?" I'm glad that we both mutually agreed not to discuss anything regarding Frank or Gerard, it just wasn't a happy topic, and we weren't them. It kind of wasn't our business, and I didn't want to weigh myself down further with the continuous and persistent weight of all Gerard's boyfriend troubles.

"Oh fuck off! Pride and Prejudice can go suck my dic-" I caught the look in his eyes, that fucking Pete Wentz look; it was unmistakeable, and unfortunately so.

"Don't!" Jesus Christ; Pete was actually impossible, but then again, here he was sat right in front of me, the exact words I was hearing exactly leaving his mouth, "you are not a Jane Austen novel." I was sure I'd never catch Pete being jealous of a fucking classical book, but you know what, there's a first time for everything, and one am really does mess people up. And Pete and I are most certainly no exception.

"I can be anything you want me to be." He winked at me, candles flickering behind him making this look like some fucked up rom-com. A rom-com that was waiting to turn into a horror movie as the candles flickered the room suddenly erupted into flames and then someone's mum would go up on the ceiling in flames, and then everything would just get a little supernatural. Hey, maybe they'd even through a gay angel into the mix- or wait, was that Pete? He was certainly gay, but I'm not quite sure he was angel material.

"I need to sleep, Jesus." I batted his looks off by now, no longer caring at just how frustrated he was with me, and not in an angry way, more of an infatuated way. Which, really should only scare and concern me more.

"The book makes no sense, and I'm so hyped up on caffeine that I physically can't sleep." I grumbled on continuously about Pride and Prejudice for the seven hundred time and was just waiting until Pete got so physically bored of me he'd give up on me and the whole Breaking Bad ordeal entirely.

"Herbal teas, man." Pete sounded like some fucking hippie stoner and it was mildly amusing, but then again, there was also the slightly concerning factor that came with just about every word that left Pete's mouth. It was like a buy one get one free that you couldn't escape, not ever, and certainly not with ease, because that fucking free product would haunt you and chase you down your whole life until you had it.

"Those teas give me fucking weird dreams, man - like I had this dream where I was a horse, like what the fuck?"

I think the one time I had trusted Gerard to make me something 'herbal', was not the best of times, as he'd probably classed weed as herbal, and judging by the dreams, he'd probably chucked some LSD in there for good measure, because he was just a nice guy like that. Yeah, don't trust nineteen year olds with 'herbs', even ones that make an awful habit out of never leaving the house.

"Have any dreams about me?" He crawled closer to me and spoke dramatically, posing a little, and I knew he was about to say something awfully suggestive, and generally Pete esque, overall, "naked?"

Oh my dear god. The worst part of this all wasn't his assumption, it was simply the fact that his assumptions had to come from somewhere and I very much suspected that he'd had dreams of the aforementioned nature involving me, and maybe just the odd episode of Breaking Bad.

"Dream on, Pete." I rolled my eyes at him, growing awfully tired of his persistent attempts to get me to crawl into bed with him, though I didn't exactly blame him, because of course, I was more attractive than you could even imagine, but whatever, maybe that was just my 'princess' side coming through, but I had the fucking right, because I was the goddamn prettiest princess in this whole fucking land, motherfucker!

"I wouldn't see you naked in my nightmares." Okay, maybe that was just a little harsh, but maybe just a little bit of a lie as well, so things made up for themselves.

"But you are the dreamer, and we are the dream." His words came out poetically, making very little sense, as did the rest of Pete generally. Pete and making any sense didn't exactly go well together, but he tried to make it work and I had to give him credit for that at very least, if only that, but that nonetheless.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I raised my eyebrows at him, confused, still awfully disappointed that I hadn't had the delight of reading any of Pete's poetry yet, well, if there was any poetry at all; the likelihood of this seemed to be growing less likely by the day. I was beginning to think Pete had just made up the whole ordeal in yet another desperate attempt to give me his number, and unfortunately for him, this turned out quite well in his favour, didn't it?

He blushed a little, but shrugged it off, clearly just more than a little embarrassed at my dissecting of his spontaneous poetic outbursts, but you couldn't exactly blame me: I hadn't the slightest clue when it came to crypticism. "It doesn't matter."

The conversation died down after that, because despite what Pete said, we both knew it did matter, and we both knew it all too well. All that didn't matter was me knowing and Pete had made that quite clear, crystal clear, in fact.

"It's so weird to think that everyone else is asleep by now." It was rather deep, but a monologue directly from the hippie part of my brain, said only to diminish the awkward silence that now had the room within its grasps.

Monologues were exactly what they said on the tin - dangerous and peculiar things, because monologues weren't processed, censored or filtered, monologues were simply thoughts; monologues were the truth, and in a society like this one, we couldn't be having any of that now could we?

"Yeah..." Pete sighed, pulling all the air from the room into his lungs in one single breath, it was mildly concerning, but overall nothing compared to some of the things Pete's done.

"Mikey." He said my name far too sincerely and into the silence, which only led me to suspect that there was something important he needed to tell me, and then maybe it did matter after all.

"Yeah..." I mumbled out, just a little intimated by his sincere voice in the peaceful silence, and far too scared as to what he could possibly come out with next, because it was Pete, and with Pete you couldn't expect anything at all.

"Can I tell you something?" He didn't even wait for my response, he just went straight for it, spontaneously and irrationally, and that's what I both hated and loved about Pete Wentz. He was just eternally bittersweet, and horribly expertised in the matter. "I lied about the candles."

"W-What?" I was confused, and then his lips were on mine, and I was just paralysed for a few seconds until I threw myself into kissing back, and despite how weird it felt and how much I had to remind myself that this was Pete, it just felt right, and it didn't just feel good, it didn't even feel odd, it felt perfect. 

Perfection was an odd concept, one that couldn't quite be defined with words, only with actions and certain moments in time, which of course led it to mean and feel different to entirely different people. I wasn't quite sure I believed in perfection, because believe me, even Pete had his flaws, but his kissing abilities quite evidently did not. And it wasn't just the kiss, it was the moment itself entirely, because Pete had tried and I had tried and together we'd all made this somehow just perfect.

But all things have to end, and he pulled away, and eyelids opened and I was left there gazing into those brown eyes of his, wishing worlds away, in favour of the only thing I wanted, and the only thing I wanted was the dysfunctional mess that was Pete Wentz. "The candles were for you."

"You're such a bad liar."

"Shut up." And then his lips were on mine again, but more passionate this time, this time was like he meant it, before was just a test run. And believe me, the test run had been more than successful.

I was kissing Pete Wentz, practically making out with him in fact, and they only thought that could cross my mind was, 'God, I'm going to fail this semester', but you know what, I didn't particularly care.

Hey guys:) I hope you liked this chapter^.^ Also votes and comments for the little kiss which occurred;) Love y'all<3