"Stop smiling." I shivered as Gerard's voice seemed to protrude from nowhere, his words interrupting my general procrastination and wasting my life away. "It's annoying."

I lay curled up on the sofa with the TV on mute in the background. There was some modelling show on that I wasn't quite gay enough to be interested in entirely, leaving me to resort to scrolling through Twitter on my phone and ignoring the copy of Pride and Prejudice that lay on the table, with a page curled and a tatty bookmark hanging out the top of it. It was painfully unread to the point it was rather obnoxious. 

"You're annoying." I counteracted, my voice resonating poorly due to my visibly sleep deprived tone of voice. I hadn't sleep in what... forty eight or so hours now, and despite being as knowledgeable in medical practition as a chipped coffee mug, I still knew that this wasn't exactly the healthiest of things to do.

I couldn't get to sleep, though, so it wasn't entirely my fault. Well, I was tired as heck and it was showing in the way I was slouched out on the couch like some sort of dopey zombie, but the caffeine hadn't quite left my bloodstream yet, leaving my veins buzzing and rushing with sugar, even if the rest of me wanted to slowly drop off.

"My best quality, I know!" He smirked manically as he gave my body a gentle shove, allowing him to inhabit half of the sofa at the very least. His voice had remained in a sort of permanently sadistic tone ever since the incident with Frank; he just couldn't be happy, and for once I could understand as to why.

Gerard was never the most optimistic or happy go lucky of creatures, and spent a great part of his years before Frank in a depressed and mildly suicidal state, which was horrible to watch especially when it was someone you really cared about, and especially when you were fifteen - five years younger than Gerard, and five years too young to do anything about it.

I was just eternally glad that Frank came along when he did, because I don't know quite how he managed it, but Frank did do something about it. He did a lot, actually... in fact, he pretty much fixed Gerard, coming to think of it, but those pieces only seemed to stay together when he was around. And now he wasn't, Gerard was shattering like bad pottery, his legs forever stuck and slowly sinking into a monstrous pit of quicksand.

"I wouldn't say it was my best-" Gerard let a smirk lap over the corners of his mouth like a gentle tide going into shore. It was a strange kind of calm, and almost didn't fit in place with the rest of vengeful, chaotic and restless Gerard. He was strange sometimes- a lot of the time. Frank didn't seem to mind, though... but now he did. I was confused as to what could have possibly changed his mind, because Frank was too strong willed for it to be just Ryan Ross.

"Yeah, well you're wrong." I was hit with a snappy tone out of nowhere - Gerard was either PMS-ing, or this was a result of the rift between Frank and him.

"Sorry." I guess he noticed what impact his words had had, for once. That’d be a first.

"It's okay." I mumbled, the corners of my smile slowly faltering, especially as my eyes met with my copy of Pride and Prejudice lying suspiciously on the coffee table. Mum had definitely planted it there, but I couldn't exactly blame her - I wouldn't want to have both of my sons fail in life. Well, if I’d even make it beyond this prolonged state of adolescence that had somehow leaked into my twenties.

But despite mum's efforts, it really did look like Gerard was going to be stuck in the basement for years, and I... in Pete's basement, most likely. Considering the amount of kidnap that had occurred involving a Mr Pete Wentz recently, I wasn't even exaggerating at all, and that fact concerned me far too little for my sanity's liking. Again, I blame Pete's coffee, and candles... and kissing.

His kissing was... indescribable, and in a heavenly manner. It was different, godly even - not that I'd entirely had an awful amount of experience regarding kissing, but Pete was rather insistent upon changing that, and maybe, just maybe, I might let him.

If I was going to fail this English course, I may as well have Pete to leech off of for the rest of my life, even if it does end up involving an unfortunate amount of Breaking Bad.

"Care to tell me as to why you were smiling?" He smirked at me, waggling his eyebrows suggestively; something that Gerard had an unfortunately persistent habit of doing. Not only was it embarrassing, but intrusive and sometimes just downright annoying. Mainly because I didn't want Gerard to know what- who was buzzing around in that crazily caffeinated little coffee zombie brain of mine.

"No." I was smiling because my mind wouldn't leave the topic of Pete alone, and as irritating as he was, he still remained a perfectly adequate topic to think about. Then there was also the kissing, dear god the kissing!

Pete was just an addictive substance to my grey matter; I thought maybe it was the coffee and he'd just drugged me, but I gradually found myself realising that it was just him. Perfect and addictive was just how Pete was, and I don't think even the end of the world could change that.

"Oh c'mon, make me smile. It doesn't matter how insignificant you think it is." Gerard shuffled closer to me, attempting to sweet talk me into confession. What he was even imagining that could be about to confess, I simply didn't want to think about.

It seemed like us Way brothers had a certain love-hate relationship with confessions; I just hoped this wouldn't jinx my relationship with Pete, much like it felt as if I had cursed Gerard and Frank's relationship via the treacherous means of one simple confession.

Rationally, I knew that Ryan's arrival in Frank's life had nothing to do with the confession, and most likely wasn't even aware of the confession's birth into reality, and for that matter neither was Frank. With the latter however, I think that was precisely the problem.

"Pete." It just slipped out, Pete being a subject far too comfortable on my lips. I should probably touch wood or something just to make sure that my superstition doesn't accidentally detonate my slowly forming love life, but the coffee table's too far away to reach and I don't even think my limbs work anymore.

Gerard's eyebrows rose like a reflex, a reflex of sarcasm and sass, and generally all other things Gerard Way; probably a little sprinkle of homosexuality in there as well. "What exactly did Pete do?" Now this was the question I wanted to avoid answering. I was horribly afraid that exactly the wrong set of words would slip right off my tongue and leave both Gerard and I mentally scarred for life.

"Nothing, Pete did nothing." It's apparent that I've inherited the lying trait from a certain Pete Wentz, and this was one inheritance that I really wasn't proud of.

Lying worked well on a devious and attractive Pete Wentz with his flirtatious winking and blowjob jokes, but it didn't on me - a sleep deprived and socially awkward English student who would get kicked out of college before the test could even be marked.

"That's an awful lot of nothing for you to be smiling over." Gerard was uncomfortably inquisitive at times, and he was awfully good at doing so. This probably was to make of up for Gerard's total lack of regard from social norms, general hygiene and manners, along with the acceptable amount of time to stay in your house for. Gerard had definitely flown way off the course of the latter.

"Yeah, you know what? It is." Sassing Gerard wasn't going to work, or even end vaguely well for that matter, but of course, that didn't stop my idiotic brain from trying. I blamed the idiocy upon sleep deprivation, and the sleep deprivation on Pete, because things just weren't morally right if I didn't blame something on Pete.

"Did you have se-" Oh my god, he didn't not think- Of course he did. It was Gerard, and this was regarding Pete, what else could he possibly assume? That we'd sat down and played Barbie dolls? Nah, not a chance in hell.

Gerard's interrogation was flawless, besides the one simple fact that we actually didn't do anything of the sort. Much to Pete's annoyance, of course, but I don't think a day could quite be done without pissing off Pete Wentz once at the very least. This was mildly sadistic, but true, and there was no denying that.

"Fucking hell, no we didn’t!" I couldn't stop my cheeks blushing a deep scarlet even though I knew that his suggestion was far from the truth, and quite thankfully so, because I really didn't want Pete and I to go quite that far... well not yet anyway. Give it a few months and maybe I'll reconsider, but it's just the fact that the world of dating is depressingly new to me, and half the time, I really don't have a fucking clue as to what the hell I'm actually doing, but I don't think Pete does either, so we're fine. In Pete's case, it isn't due to inexperience whatsoever; he just has an awful tendency of making a habit of being very drunk.

"Sure?" I nodded far too eagerly, causing his eyebrow mechanism to go up again. Gerard had this horribly habit of being naturally skeptical with everything I said. It was annoying to say the least.

This was especially so ever since I lied about losing his leather jacket when I was eleven. Eleven. That was nine years ago now, and I'd definitely grow up by now, and at sixteen Gerard should had at least known not to trust pre-teens with items of value and/or importance. Gerard was a reckless and moderately naive teenager, but I think he would have figured that at the very least.

And it's not as if I even purposefully wrecked the thing, I was just lying to buy myself a little extra time to retrace my steps and find the goddamn thing. Unfortunately, Gerard had retraced the situation before I could even stumble backwards.  

"What did he do to you then?" Gerard was definitely in search of a confession; there was no denying that. Perhaps, he was getting revenge for the cursed confession regarding a certain Frank Iero, whom he doesn't mention anymore, or maybe he was just bored. Gerard gets concerningly mad when he's bored, and it's particularly the most pleasant of things to witness.

"He-he-he..." Fuck, I soon came to the awfully uncomfortable realisation that I would in fact end up having to admit the truth to my overly skeptical and unfortunately suggestive older brother. I didn't want to tell this to anyone, I could barely even get the guts to discuss it with Pete, let alone confess it to Gerard. But Gerard was persistent, and somethings, they just demanded to be said.

The words would tap on the inside of my closed lips, until eventually it hurt too much to let them in any longer, and the words came pouring out in some sort of dysfunctional waterfall of confessions and embarrassment.

"He kissed me." Gulp. Eyes down. Cheeks red. Inhale. Exhale. Remind myself that breathing was necessary. Inhale. Exhale. Silence. Fuck.

"So you're smiling because you finally got a decent reason to get rid of him...?" I hated how I wished that this was true, and I hated how I hated that. I was glad Gerard eventually let his words penetrate the silence, and thank god for that too, despite how little I wanted to hear my brother's reaction to this, or even know my brother had a reaction to it, I was just awfully and desperately glad to be rid of the ear-splitting silence. 

"No..." I couldn't just- fuck... I had to. I had to confess my fucking sins to Gerard, and dear god this was excruciating. "I kissed him back. More than once actually..." My words slowly trailed off as our eyes met. I wasn't sure what to expect from Gerard, but at least with him being as blatantly homosexual as he was, he couldn't be homophobic at the very least, but he was my brother and an irritating one at that, so he would just let this slide by with a shrug and a nod. Gerard really wasn't like that at all.

"I called it!" Gerard's voice called from the heavens in a manner that likened him to some sort of gay angel, but I was very certain of the fact that he was called Gerard and not Castiel.

"I fucking called it - you little pansy, you." He ruffled my hair in a weirdly affectionate manner in comparison to what he was saying. Gerard was certainly not the most conventional of older brothers, or people, for that matter, but then again, I don't think he'd be Gerard without that unconventionality.

"Shut up." There was no denying the fire truck red colour my cheeks were burning. It was embarrassing as hell, and there wasn't even anything I could blackmail Gerard with that was vaguely morally okay - Frank was most definitely off limits, and that statement was taken unfortunately literally by Gerard's life.

"Awh, Mikey’s in love." He cooed and I felt myself close to slapping him, but my arm was weighed down with the weight of what felt like several thousand invisible bricks, and the sofa was comfy and warm. Gerard's face was not. It was cold, spotty and just a little greasy.

"So are you finally in a relationship then, little bro?" He winked at me, falling further back into the sofa, letting the back cushion consume his whole body raw.

As a new-born, mum literally lost me within the cushions of the sofa, and I'm pretty sure that's the reason she didn't have another kid, well along with the fact that Gerard was quite possibly the most argumentative and downright rebellious pre-schooler nature could ever concoct. I on the other hand, was apparently a breeze in comparison to Gerard, but in comparison to Gerard, raising a baby alligator could be a 'breeze'.

"I don't know..." The truth hit me as I relayed it to Gerard, because there was the fact that I really did not know as to what the hell was specifically going between Pete and I at all. I also wasn't entirely sure that Pete would be one for a relatively mature discussion, you know, with being Pete and all. "Pete- well, we didn't exactly specify any details or anything... it was just..."

"Yeah, Pete's not exactly that good with words." Gerard noted, a smirk twitching and tugging at the corners of his lips like an impatient terrier, eager for you to throw a ball for it again. I was just awfully curious as to what the hell could possibly be tugging this smirk, but if it's concerning both Gerard and Pete, I thought it best for my sanity that I didn't know.

"I noticed." Pete's poetry was apparently a no show entirely, not that this was something I was entirely disappointed about, considering the fact that it'd probably be not far off the literary equivalent of dog shit. I say not far off, because nothing can be quite as bad as Twilight.

"I'm kind of glad I don't have to put up with another fucking cutesy couple though." This was the first time Gerard had addressed Ryan and Frank's relationship, even indirectly, and I wasn't quite sure if this was acceptance of just subtly expressed jealousy.

I was just glad he addressed it via the means of indirect couple bashing as opposed to directly and screaming at Frank, because we all know just how well that worked last time.

"Oh come on, I'm sure there's someone you've got your eye on." The words kind of slipped out as some sort of haphazard way of comforting him, and only afterwards did I quite realise that my words really wouldn't have the intended effect, because relationships (almost ones specifically) were rather a touchy subject with Gerard, and I'd imagine the same would be with Frank, not that I'd spoke to the guy since the 'incident'.

"Well..." Gerard just flushed a pinkish colour, my words apparently not fazing him as much as I suspected they would. Perhaps he was even over Frank- no, that really was a long shot. It'd taken him ages to get over Frank, let alone find someone else; there was even a part of me that doubted he ever would.

"I got asked on a date today-" Well, it looks like I just got proven completely wrong then, but in this case, for Gerard's sake, I wasn't going to let the stubbornness get to me.

"You what? How? You never even leave the house?" I was mildly jealous, despite having Pete metaphorically attached to me by the hip, however I assumed that later the aforementioned statement wouldn't quite be so metaphorical soon enough, especially if Pete had anything to do with it, which, unfortunately, he would.

"We ran out of coffee." What else? Gerard's caffeine addiction was really concerning, and it was even backfiring onto me; my demand for caffeinated beverages had increased rapidly over the past twelve months, or in Gerard's terms, ever since mum bought instant coffee.

Gerard seemed to treat this as the industrial revolution, because there was only one problem with Gerard's constant need to have coffee every moment, well apart from the health risks and the addiction, but that was the fact he'd need to make it. Someone as lazy and impatient as Gerard did not like waiting for a kettle to boil, dear god.

I rolled my eyes at him; his coffee addiction was ridiculous, but at the very least, at least caffeine was legal.

"Of course it was that. So are you going on this date?" I was awfully curious regarding who would actually invite someone like Gerard on a date; especially in the state I imagined someone like him would drag himself down to the shop in search of another desperate fix of caffeine.

"I don't know if I should or not." He mumbled, his eyes drifting to floor, leading me to realise just how little experience Gerard had regarding the dating world, but then again, I had half of what he had. Frank just came into his life rather like a five foot four, cute, wrecking ball with good music taste and an attraction to guys who wore eyeliner and had severe caffeine addictions (if Ryan drank coffee I was calling identity fraud).

"Why? Come on, it'll cheer you up - a date's just a date. You don't have to fuck him or something." I was far too keen to get Gerard out of the house, partly to cheer him up  and partly because I wanted to see Pete again, and I don't think Gerard would even consider letting him in without a seriously thorough interrogation, regarding matters that I'd really rather my older brother didn't know about.

"Yeah... I just. It's a she." His eyes met mine, and his cheeks went scarlet. Dear god, now this was something that by the looks of it, neither of us were expecting. An actual female was interested in Gerard? Girls tended to have hygiene requirements and shit didn't they? I was just awfully confused as to how in the hell this had actually occurred, or whether Gerard had been hallucinating due to caffeine withdrawal.

"You little pansy, you." I mimicked and he gave me a playful nudge, the menacing eyes shortly followed. We were really just a pair of homosexuals, though, weren't we? It was actually ridiculous and I just loved the fact that mum didn't at all mind, and in fact she practically shipped us with Frank and Pete.

 It was getting creepy, maybe to the extent I'd have to check her internet history and just pray she didn't get a Tumblr. Can mums even get Tumblr? Now that was something I didn't want to think about.

"I just don't know what my sexuality is... I don't know if I like her... I mean she's pretty and she has a sense of humour, but fuck-" He was rambling now, and I doubted he'd ever stop without some form of brotherly intervention, even if it was of an impolite and slightly forceful nature, but then again, Gerard would get nowhere without me, and the same goes the opposite way without a question.

"Just go." Our eyes locked in a sincere gaze, my eyes screaming at him to just fucking stop being a princess and take the goddamn opportunity.

"A date isn't commitment, Gee." But deep down, I didn't think it was the commitment that was scaring him. Deep down, I guessed that maybe, it was just the fact that she wasn't Frank. He'd never admit this, of course, so I'd just be left to my own assumptions.

"Do you think I should? She wants to meet me tonight - I haven't texted her back yet." He pulled his phone out from his pocket, which only led to convince me that maybe Gerard was just a little into this girl, even if she wasn't Frank, even if she was female and even if she was just a hallucination. Well, okay maybe the latter wasn't the best of circumstances, and maybe that one would have to be crossed off, but I didn't think Gerard was quite that insane yet.

"Yeah, text her back, but take a fucking shower first." I meant this one; I knew just enough about girls to know that personal hygiene mattered an awful hell of a lot to them.

This would be a concept Gerard would find quite hard to grasp, and things probably wouldn't work out due to this fact. Not to sound pessimistic, but it's really not that far too being true. "Also a little background info on her would be appreciated?"

"She's called Lindsey, black hair, brown eyes, and a bit shorter than me, kind of cute." I raised my eyebrows trying not to remind myself as to whom else pretty much fit that description entirely - someone Gerard had messed things up with, someone called Frank Iero.

"Good luck." I winked at him, wondering whether this Lindsey could actually be attracted to my pig of a brother and for god knows what reason why. This fact would haunt me and confuse me eternally, but I didn't want to be any more pessimistic than I already was, so I just pushed these thoughts into the furthest corners of my brain and left them to rot.

"What's that supposed to mean? That I need it?" He raised his eyebrows at me, and I had to force myself not to downright agree with him. You could blame my natural instinct though, because to agree with him, would be the truth; Gerard wasn't exactly the best when it came to dating, but what could I say? I was the virgin, here; much to Pete's annoyance, as well.

"I'm just being polite, Gee." I felt a smirk creeping over the corners of my lips; I liked winding my brother up far too much, but he was my brother so it was kind of regulation... compulsory and shit. It's not like it didn't go both ways as well - Gerard really did make sure of that, being the little princess he was, of course.

"Sure you are, Mikey." He narrowed his eyes at me in suspicion, and he had every right to be suspicious, just as I had every right to find his suspicion terribly amusing. As you can tell, maybe I'm not the nicest of people, but you know what? I'm going to blame Pete - he's an awfully bad influence, you know? With the dick jokes and Breaking Bad episodes, I swear I'm on the fast track to hell right now.

"Will you just shut up and text her?" I exclaimed, far too excited to know that my brother may quite possibly be getting laid tonight, which definitely didn't sound quite so weird initially, but whatever.

It was actually kind of weird to think of the possibility that Gerard might get a girlfriend, because Gerard was literally the opposite of straight, the epitome of gay itself nested in my caffeine addicted and lazy older brother.

"If you don't shut up, I'll being texting Pete about your little moment of intimacy." Oh god, Pete would probably enjoy receiving that text and along with that would make no hesitance in replying to Gerard with no details excluded.

"Dear god, I hate you." I had to, because with siblings it was only natural, and practically regulation. Gerard and I were most certainly no exception to this.

"I know you do, Mikes, I know you do."

-

"Pete, remind me again as to why I'm in your garage?" I looked around at the grey walls of his garage, watching as my words reverberated around the square room. My eyes fixated upon the guitar in the corner; it was a bass guitar, coloured flamboyantly in black and red.

I came to find myself wondering just how someone like Pete Wentz come have come across such a noticeably expensive guitar, and after a few moments of pondering the aforementioned, I found myself pushing the thoughts aside and deciding that maybe it'd be better if I didn't know.

"Just wait, other people are turning up-" Other people? Jesus, what the fuck had he been planning here? And since it was Pete, a great chunk of me simply did not want to know, and I think that part was the rational part. Then again, rationality was boring and Pete was not, even if sometimes I'd rather be bored than put up with half the shit Pete throws at me. But he's Pete and unfortunately rather irreplaceable.

"If this is a party, or a gangbang, or a drug festival-" I couldn't be taking any shit from Pete Wentz whatsoever these days, and I just  hoped the police hadn't quite grown the brains to figure out that maybe Pete's house having wiretapping should be government priority. I just don't think the government could handle half of the porn he's described to me in great detail. The problem is Pete just doesn't know when to shut up, in fact, I don't even think he has that function.

"Mikey, this is my band; I've invited you to our practice." Oh dear god, didn't Pete telepathically read how attracted I was to band members? Because fuck, music was hot, band members are hot... and kind of, so is Pete. I just never would even consider admitting that to him, because his ego really wouldn't be able to take it all. In fact, it was expand and mutate until it burst into a mess of eyeliner and ego centricity.

"More like you kidnapped me to your practice." He shrugged it off, as he would do, of course. Kidnap seemed to utterly unfaze Pete at all, which was really rather concerning when you thought about it for more than two seconds, which is why I didn't make a habit of doing so.

"What are you called? Breaking Bad Blowjobs? Pete's Pussy Patrol?" I rolled a few absurd band names off the top of my head, and just prayed that Pete hadn't actually gone and called this band something similar to what I called absurd, but with him being Pete, he probably had done, and I didn't know whether laugh or ring the nearest psychiatric ward.

"No, but those are great names - I will take them into consideration-" Oh Jesus. This guy really had boundaries whatsoever, no matter what the subject. And Pete's awfully apparent and total lack of boundaries was really going to end up killing me some day; there was no doubt about it from either of us. Pete just loved taunting me,

"Please don't." I interrupted, my fingers crossed as I hoped the actual band name did actually sound as if it was worthy of both a Nobel Prize and sectioning. The aforementioned two were definitely an odd combination, but they seemed to be the only combination that fit Pete.

"We're called Fall Out Boy." That didn't sound particularly dodgy from first impressions, but with Pete you really could never tell. It actually sounded pretty alright, maybe a band I'd listen to, but with Pete the lyrics would be dodgier than a weed dealer behind a kids nursery, so I wasn't really that sure how on earth I could react when this band actually began practicing.

"And who else is in this band?" I flung the question into reality simply because it demanded to be. I was both eager and terribly nervously to hear as to who the hell would want to make 'music' with someone as mentally and sexually deranged as Pete Wentz. I most likely wouldn't even have heard of these people, considering my social level of a blind tortoise, but it was just the normal thing to ask.

"My friends Patrick, Joe, and Andy." He glanced at the time on his phone, the LED numbers bringing a little more light into the room, that was currently mainly in shadow due to a very faulty set of fairy lights that he'd definitely purchased from a 99p store.

"They're late." He noted, his voice not disappointed but factual, almost as if he'd expected this to happen, and really, considering Pete, I would have expected it too. That's probably not the nicest way to put it, but Pete's sadistic bastard tendencies were clearly rubbing off on me, and maybe I didn't even care that much.

"Or they’re just running away from you." I liked irritating Pete far too much, and I took the opportunity to yet again blame this upon Pete, because well, he's Pete, he's corrupted to hell. He's practically the epitome of corruption, a little bit of forced blame is not going to affect him in any way, shape or form or whatever. Perhaps, he'd even accept it as a compliment; it sounded absurd but then again, so was Pete.

"Don't even think about it - the door's locked." He could sense my eyes magnetising towards the door as I weighed my chances of escape. He'd got awfully perceptive when it came to my thoughts and emotions recently and it really wasn't the best of things to know about. At the very least, I was glad he wasn't an actual mind reader or psychic or something of the like, because then, well I'd really be in some shit. In my head there are thoughts that are keep that was, as private thoughts, for a goddamn reason.

"That's really disturbing - how much this is like a kidnap. I really should be concerned. This is concerning." The words fell from my lips in a waterfall of rambles as I attempted to express my emotions within a mildly coherent manner. As expected, this really was not my forte. Thinking about it, I didn't really have a forte, other than procrastination and excessive coffee drinking.

This was actually startling as I came to realise just how blatantly downhill my productive and hopeful life was going. I chose not to think about it though, because I had awfully more important things to concern myself with right now, things such as Pete Wentz.

"So's your dick." Thank you, Pete. I wasn't sure how he could possibly bring himself to make such a harsh assumption, considering he hadn't even laid eyes upon my painfully fabulous dick. It was a surprise worth waiting for, even if Pete could never quite wait long enough, being an impatient bastard and all that shit.

"You haven't even seen it." I planned things to stay this way, well at least for quite a while now; Pete was far too eager considering just how little we knew one another. We hadn't even done cheesy coffee dates and shit yet - there was no way an episode of Breaking Bad was coming anyway near him before that. So maybe I had found my forte: living as a walking cliché.

"Unfortunately so." Pete grumbled, and it did both amuse and concern me as to just how much this pissed Pete off. It was actually rather startling as to just how constantly desperate this guy could be - it was ridiculous, and not at all attractive... most of the time.

Sometimes, he was actually quite cute. But only sometimes, I wasn't going soft or giving in to the 'Wentz Charm' or whatever other form of bullshit he could possibly concoct, and most likely will in the near future.

"Thankfully, you mean." I corrected him with stern eyes that drilled straight past his eye sockets and back out the other end of his skull. He just sighed in an amusingly diva like fashion, which reminded me an awful lot of Gerard, which was really quite uncomfortable, considering just how painfully attracted I was to the twat that was Pete Wentz.

"Whatever - I'll see it someday." He sounded awfully sure of his words and himself, which only gave me all the more incentive to pull on a devious smirk and try my hardest to prove him wrong. I loved proving Pete wrong; it was stupidly entertaining and never quite failed to keep a smirk settled upon my lips. His sadistic tendencies were most definitely rubbing off on me - that was for sure.

"Are you sure about that?" I raised my eyebrows at him in skepticality, because I was the one who'd be making sure of these things, Pete would just have to be a good little princess and deal with it.

"I’m very sure." He pressed a quick kiss to my lips, not quite giving me enough time to inhale all that was good about him - the smell, the taste, before it was all gone, his lips were gone from mine and I didn't like it, I didn't like it at all. And then the thrash of cold air from the backdoor opening hit me over the head like a baseball bat. And shortly after I heard footsteps; three guys walking in with instruments - Pete's band I had assumed.

"Ah, I told you this band had members, Mikey." He smirked, gesturing towards the three guys who had just walked in. I had concluded that the Pete Wentz smirk was quite possibly the most irritating thing in existence upon this whole fucking planet, and I think that's exactly what made it quite so special. Pete would argue otherwise, but I wasn't going to let him.

"That's Mikey?" A guy with a mildly overgrown mop of brown curly hair raised his eyebrows as he scanned me over. I felt exposed; more exposed than I would do with Pete seeing me naked, because he'd probably already spent days visualising that to the most realistic and finite detail.

However, I didn't know a thing about these guys, despite the fact they were Pete's friends, and really that wasn't the most reassuring of things at all.

"Yeah... I am..." I mumbled out, wondering as to what the hell could possibly follow my confirmation of identity. How the hell would these people even react to me, and if they were anything like Pete, I should be scared, I should be hella fucking scared, but I wasn't because Pete was here, despite the fact that that was the original problem.

"I'm impressed." A guy with short brown hair joined in with the commentating upon my existence. This was not something I particularly enjoyed, and really didn't do any wonders for my continuously and rather rapidly dwindling self-confidence. Pete did know how to boost it up though with some casual Wentz style flirting and a Breaking Bad offer - an offer I'd decline, yet appreciate nonetheless.

"Wait... what?" I raised my eyebrows at Pete who only smirked - there was definitely something fishy going on here. Had Pete introduced me as his fucking mother in law or something? Hell, I didn't know. I mean, I'm sure the awkward lesbian thing wasn't that noticeable, especially after I'd showered.

"How exactly did you introduce me?" I fired the question directly at him with a stern gaze to match. He wanted to break eye contact but I didn't let him. The two of us waited in a bubble of silence for three very prolonged seconds until the words finally departed from his lips.

"I introduced you as my private prostitute." Jesus fucking Christ, of course he did. Why the hell had I ever considered befriending Pete Wentz? What had possessed me? Pete Wentz. Yeah, that sounded awfully about right.

I could kill Pete and his powers of persuasion, suggestion, flirting and that box set of Breaking Bad. I wanted to say I would rather read Pride and Prejudice than be in this situation, but that was a downright lie; I'd rather jump off the Eiffel Tower than read Pride and Prejudice, which really left me screwed, didn't it?

"Actually," Short brown hair spoke up again, "I think the word you used was boyfri-" -end. Boyfriend. Whoa. Pete had actually? I felt like a thirteen year old girl who just found out her crush likes her, and I almost found myself fighting the urge to physically jump up and down with glee.

"Shut up, Andy." And I think that was the first time I'd ever seen Pete blush. It was really very cute - there was no fucking way of denying that at all. It was just weird to use a word as innocent as 'cute', to describe someone as corrupted as Pete Wentz.

He turned to me, blush still painfully intact, and a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips, "so that's Andy, and this dickhead is Joe," he pointed to the curly haired guy who'd spoken first, "and this is Patrick, he's kind of shy and considerably less of an asshole."

The ginger haired guy with glasses whom I now knew as Patrick chuckled a little at that. He smiled and waved awkwardly at me - at least someone here was vaguely sane, but first impressions could really change, couldn't they?

Pete grabbed his bass guitar as the others set up their instruments. I watched as he looked me directly in the eye, turning around to the others, exchanging thumbs up and nods after a way moments, before he turned back to face me and said, "this one's called '7 Minutes In Heaven'."

Of course it was, and it felt narcissistic to say, but with Pete there wasn't a doubt - this song was probably about me.

-

Much to my surprise, Fall Out Boy, were actually really good. Pete could actually play bass, and the lyrics were clever and Patrick's voice really did them justice, I was just mildly concerned when it came to Pete's occasional groping of Patrick.

I hoped it was just stage-gay or Pete being Pete, because only now did I realised just how awfully attached I was to Pete. He wouldn't let this go easily of course, so I decided it for the best not to tell him.

"What's up, princess?" My thoughts were interrupted by Pete wrapping his arms around me from behind in a way that succeeded in both making me jump and blush.

He was impossible - downright impossible and also ungodly attractive which were a devilish combination; a devilish combination that without a doubt, would be my end. Pete knew this all too well and really just loved abusing it, as of course he would, being the little bastard he is.

"Will you ever stop calling me that?" I grumbled, turning around to face him and feeling just a little flustered at the abundance of personal space I had with Pete centimetres away from me. I wasn't complaining; as such, having Pete up, close and personal really wasn't a cause for complain.

I just loved to protest a little, and as Pete would unfortunately say, I was a little princess. It was just a very gay thing- well, we were a very gay thing... it was just awfully feminine, and even I deserved the tiny shred of masculinity I had left somewhere in this lanky awkward lesbian body.

"Nah, I think it suits you." It kind of did, but that wasn't going to make me agree, because I was far too stubborn for Pete Wentz, and that just goes without a doubt. Anyway, I really couldn't be a princess without a tiara - it just wouldn't be morally right.

Then again, nothing really does quite seem to be morally right anymore, and strangely enough, I don't even seem to mind that much at all. Pete's corruption must be secondhandly corrupting me, and maybe that wasn't even much of a reason to complain, because if Pete was corruption, corruption was a hella good thing.

Morals would disagree, but sometimes morals were wrong, and I think that most definitely, this was one of those times, despite the fact I was naive enough to argue that fact regardless. And again, I found myself blaming Pete.

"You're weird." I pouted ridiculously, in turn just making me look even more like a princess, so really my words were having very little to no effect, but that really would not stop me from trying.

"It doesn't suit me." The words came out firmly, but inside I wasn't at all that sure, and there was just this little part of me that found it cute, that found Pete cute, which found this all cute, and therefore was pretty much blind... but somehow in a cute way. Does that make sense to anyone else, because it most certainly doesn't make any to me?

"You're weirder..." He paused, letting a smirk overtake his lips, a word poised behind them, and even I could guess exactly what the word would be. It'd be nothing other than the word I hated, the cutesy taunt, Pete's signature move - it'd be, "princess." I wanted to slap him, but I couldn't quite bring myself to ruin that perfectly sculpted face of his.

"Shut up!" He just giggled and it was kind of hella cute so I didn't press the matter; Pete Wentz was blinding me with cuteness, now this was downright ridiculous. I wouldn't stand for this, but I did, I really fucking did. "You know what is weird, though-" A smile concocted itself upon my lips, as memories of Gerard and a certain Lindsey passed through my mind.

"What?" I rolled my eyes - he couldn't keep his mouth shut for more than two seconds. Pete was actually ridiculous - genuinely, fucking ridiculous. What I do with this guy I didn't know and what he wanted to do with me, quite frankly, I did not want to know, but knowing Pete, he'd inform me on a regular basis.

"Shut up and I'll tell you." I waited a moment or two, until I was complacent with his silence, teasing him a little, because I was a nice person just like that. You couldn't blame me, teasing was fun, and when Pete finally got his way, I'm sure there'd be an awful lot of teasing involved.

"Gerard went on a date last night." I finally birthed the words into reality. Pete really raised his eyebrows at that, and I didn't blame him, because Gerard on a romantic date was even more surprising than Pete becoming a nun, but it was the next part that was really the shocker.

"With a girl..." I let the words slowly tumble into reality as a mess of slightly off pitch syllables and unstrung words, because even now it surprised me like hell.

"I thought he was gay." Pete seemed mortified at the decreasing number of guys he could get into his bed, not that my brother was ever qualified for that list in the first place. Because well, he was goddamn fucking brother, even Pete should have boundaries, despite the fact I wasn't sure he even knew the meaning of the word.

Actually, I knew he didn't. Hmm... Maybe I should aim a dictionary at his face or would that be a little harsh? Harsh - another word not in the Wentz dictionary.

"So did he, actually." Pete definitely seemed shocked by that one, and was probably regretting a thankfully missed 'opportunity'. Doing my brother was not an opportunity - it was plain weird, maybe even slightly treasonous, or was that a little over the top - I just didn't know anymore.

"I was the one who convinced him to go. I haven't a clue how it went, though - he was still asleep when I left." Gerard being Gerard was curled up under seven blankets like some sort of dysfunctional caterpillar, not quite ready to leave his cocoon. When Gerard did get up, he was hardly a butterfly though, kind of more of an emo moth.

"Do tell me how it went. Also who the hell is this girl?" Pete's fascination in this matter concerned me just a little, was he too going on a sexuality reverb and chasing after my brother's not quite girlfriend, or was he just interested in my brother. You couldn't tell with Pete... my boyfriend Pete. My life really was just the definition of dysfunctional - there was no doubt about that at all.

"She's called Lindsey. Gerard says she's 'cute', with black hair and brown eyes, and she's shorter than him." I relayed Gerard's description of Lindsey to Pete, cringing just a little with every word- what if they'd have se- no.

They wouldn't have - this was Gerard, not Pete, but there was no telling how drunk he could have gotten, was there? Jesus, why was I always the one picking up the pieces?

"Remind you of anyone?" Pete and I just shared a look, because we both knew and we both didn't want to know, but we still found ourselves in a situation like this, maybe just because life was like that.

We remained with locked eyes for what felt like far too long for it to be anything but awkward; at least I could make good use of oogling him for a good silent thirty seconds, and as he was Pete, I imagined- knew he was doing much the same for me, most likely even worse - he was probably imagining me naked or something else I equally did not want to think about-

"Yeah." I sighed into the silence, interrupting my very unsilent thoughts, who thankfully now took the initiative to shut up.

"I don't want to think about it - maybe he just has a type." I didn't want to think about Frank anymore - it wasn't out of spite, it was stop the guilt weighing down on me until I simply collapsed into a heap of guilt and mess.

"Maybe, but I think his type is men only." Pete confessed, a smirk not far off the corners of his mouth, as always, because he was Pete and this was the standard, but then again, with Pete, everything was at face value, so you could thank him for that at the very least.

"Is that just a subtle way of saying that you want to fuck my brother?" Knowing Pete there wasn't a doubt that it wasn't, because Pete was just painfully irritating like that. It was a given quality with a high school drop out who's had more sexual partners than passed exams and an unfortunately recurring Breaking Bad addiction.

"Well... if you're off the market-" I sent him a real death glare at that - I wasn't off the market, I just had a very, very long and extended sell by date, meaning it was best to save me and use me later- now, that really did just sound kind of creepy.

"I'm not saying I want to... I just wouldn't pass up the opportunity." He smirked that Pete Wentz smirk and I wished I had a throwing knife to physically remove it from his face with.

"Same thing, Wentz, same thing." I reminded him with stern eyes and stern words, because I was Mikey Way and he wasn't getting away with this that easily.

"Wentz? Getting kinky are we, Way?" He bit his lip in exaggerated seduction with the only purpose of making me uncomfortable, and he really did a good job of it - there was no doubt about that for sure.

"In your dreams."

"How did you know?" Dear fucking god - Pete Wentz was genuinely fucking impossible.

-

It was 5pm and Gerard still wasn't awake yet - I hadn't the heart to wake him and I'd been without human contact since Pete left for his shift at the comic store, which was actually ending soon. Maybe I should surprise him or something, or was I just getting far too elaborate in my new methods of procrastination?

That copy of Pride and Prejudice seemed like it would actually never be read, which was both depressing and enlightening - enlightening how I'd sort of just managed to accept my ultimate state of failure as a very lazy and mildly homosexual human being... or awkward lesbian, whatever Pete says.

I just really did not want to read that goddamn book, though. I'd end up admitting defeat and watching the film, Jesus Christ, and even with that, I'd still absolutely spectacularly fail, much to my professor's sadistic delight.

I probably wouldn't even make it through the film without falling instantly asleep, despite the fact that to everyone's surprise, I'd actually managed to get seven whole fucking hours of sleep last night, but with the state I was in yesterday, it was kind of to be expected - it was just surprising that God had been nice enough to actually allow my brain to shut up long enough for the clutches of sleep to claim me.

Regardless of the fact that there were still at least a hundred unread pages of Pride and Prejudice, I found myself waiting outside Pete's house for his arrival home. It was a mildly stalkerish thing to do, but overall, I couldn't quite find the capacity to care, and I couldn't find the capacity to care about my capacity to care.

I came to wonder exactly what I'd say to him when he eventually returned and as to whether he'd think I was terribly insane, but it didn't matter, because Pete was definitely the definition of insanity with just half of the things he'd said to me on a regular basis. There was no doubt about that whatsoever, despite what he might argue.

After nearly twenty minutes had passed and there was still no sign of Pete Wentz, I began to become unfortunately rather concerned, even letting the unlikely thought that he could have been murdered past my mind, despite the fact that most likely he'd probably just gotten in before I had even arrived. I was horribly neurotic at times. Even if Pete was getting murdered, he'd probably be giving the murderer a blowjob right now, because boundaries and social rules simply weren't relevant in the world of Pete Wentz.

I pressed down on the doorbell, and even after a minute there was no answer. I knocked on the wood, ignoring my slightly bruised knuckles for a minute, and even then there was no reply. Pete wasn't there, but then I came to realise that the door had in fact been left open- fuck, had he been murdered inside of his house?

Was the murderer still there? Was the murderer still a virgin? These were all important questions regarding the apparent emptiness of Pete's house. I probably shouldn't go, maybe call the police or something - or was that a bit too extreme? Fuck...

I disregarded these thoughts and just walked into Pete's house, which still smelled rather pungently of scented candles and I began to wonder if he burned to death due to the awfully apparent fire hazard he called romantic. This could quite possibly be one of the worst ideas I've ever had, and I could even have the possibility of not ever leaving the house... alive.

I started to explore the rooms and generally nose through Pete's possessions and things I'd rather not be aware of the existence of, particularly a large amount of the items in the bathroom, but every room was devoid of life, and I was beginning to give up and suspect that Pete had simply been murdered elsewhere.

But when I walked into the living room, I got the shock of my life... Pete was shirtless; Patrick was on top of him, also in minimal amounts of clothing. I just what the fuck...? I didn't know how to react, I could react - I was just there and there were too. I felt like floating straight out of reality, but of course I couldn't... I just existed.

I wanted to look away but I couldn't.

I wanted to say something but I couldn't.

I just was stood there, my world shattering and watching as Patrick's eyes widened as he noticed my presence. Pete then stopped, causing him to notice me too.

Our eyes met only for a second, but it was the most painful second I've ever endured, because this heartbreak, a loss of trust, all my world collapsing all at once - questions that shouldn't be answered surfacing and a mind scattered with thoughts that made little to no sense.

Did I really just mean nothing to him?

It couldn't be. I didn't want it to be - I was selfish. So was he; this proves it. Pete Wentz is a selfish, selfish creature. We are. I was selfish to want him; he was selfish to want Patrick.

"Mikey-" He stammered out into the silence, but I didn't care, I couldn't care - I should have known, though. This was Pete, it was bound to happen. He, himself had said that commitment wasn't his thing, and he was most certainly making that quite clear right now.

I just didn't like how clear he was making it - I could have lived with it little fuzzier than this, but Pete had no respect for that. Pete had no respect for me and I had very little respect for him now.

"Oh." I forced one simple word out of my lips before my eyes drifted to the ground and I stood like a statue, unsure what to do or how to live on from here. I wanted Pete, I needed Pete, but I couldn't have him now, not anymore - that was unfortunately clear.

"I can explain-" He tried and I didn't let him. We were done, that was quite clear... or maybe there never even was a 'we' in the first place, whatever - there was definitely nothing left now... he'd even bothered to burn the ashes.

"Don't." I had to stop him; I couldn't cope with this, I couldn't cope with him - this was all a major fucking headache and one that no amounts of Advil would ever quite solve. This was a permanent headache, this wasn't even a headache at all... it was a big old case of heartache.

"Mikey-" He was Pete, so he tried to get his point through once again; oblivious to my protests and far too stubborn to accept that he'd messed up. That he'd messed up hella bad - bad enough to make this over, to make us over. There wasn't even an us anymore, that's how messed up things had gotten.

"I said don't!" I raised my voice, glaring at him with eyes that glistened with anger; I liked hating Pete Wentz, because it was surely a hell of a lot easier than loving him - Pete didn't do love, which was now rather apparent; Pete Wentz was a creature of selfishness, jealousy, and lust.

"You don't do commitment; I'd figured that out by now." I was pretty much screaming at him, as a flushing Patrick pulled on his jeans in an out of place modest attempt to make himself slightly less naked.

Pete, however was content just sitting here with his bare chest on display; he probably thought he could win me back with looks alone, but trust me - that was not going to happen at all.

"I'm sorry, this was just a mistake-" He spoke like Patrick wasn't centimetres away from him, and I didn't like that, because Patrick had feelings too.

Patrick wasn't a mistake, it was trusting Pete that was his mistake, as was mine. I should have run whilst I could, but I was ignorant and hopeless, and Pete was quicksand, pulling me down and keeping me there with endless flirtations, a Breaking Bad box set and a cell phone number.

"Was I a mistake too?" I really wondered as to what answer he could possibly concoct that he could imagine would fix this in any way, because there was no denying this all - that I was nothing. Nothing to him... I wasn't special - I was just like Patrick.

I began to wonder just how many people he had going on at the same time, and soon enough I realised that I simply didn't want to know. You couldn't blame me.

"No-" Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies.

Pete Wentz was a liar and a terrible, stinking terrible one at that. I should have sniffed this all out sooner, but I was naive, I was stupid, I was stubborn and Pete Wentz was a liar.

"How can I believe you now, how can I believe you at all-" I couldn't express my emotions at all, and Pete just couldn't understand - he was expressionless, emotionless and empty shell of selfishness and lying... and fucking immature flirtations that made me want to punch him in the face on a regular basis.

"Don't act so pissy it wasn't as if we were 'official' or anything, cool it." Those were the words that broke my heart, and they did an awfully good job of it.

In fact, they didn't just break my heart, they shattered it into a million glass shards for me to step on and cut my feet open into bloody messes, and then I'd curse myself for being stupid enough to walk on glass with bare feet in the first place.

And that just summed up my relationship with Pete, so I deserved the fall really.

"So I'm really just your personal prostitute?" I tried to fight back the tears but I just couldn't manage it anymore; I looked pathetic, I knew I looked pathetic, but Pete was pathetic - the epitome of pathetic, in fact.

He'd lied, he'd led me on, and I didn't dare to imagine as to what would have happened if I actually ended up sleeping with him.

It was weird to think that if I didn't decide to somehow go and 'surprise' Pete after work, then none of this would have happened at all, and I wouldn't have gotten the 'surprise' of my life.

I wondered if as soon as Patrick left, Pete would be texting me and I'd be putting down my copy of Pride and Prejudice and listening to his stupid voice flirt with me and tell me I'm pretty until three in the morning, because I was an insecure little shit and I found I needed that, but I didn't need him.

I didn't need him at all.

"I thought I loved you, but it was just how you looked in the light. I despise you, Pete Wentz." I despised how much of a mess I looked with tears clouding up the lenses of my glasses; I despised how it was he who made me this way. It was both humiliating and ridiculous, and I just downright hated it... and him.

I hated him, more than he could ever know, or wanted to let that inflated ego of his admit.

"Whatever, bitch." He rolled his eyes and moved back to Patrick, who to my surprise backed away. At least one of us was going to take a stand against his flirtations and continuous attempts to get into bed with whoever he made eye contact with.

Patrick had some decency at the very least; I was just shocked because he actually seemed like the nicest of all of the members of ‘Fall Out Boy’, and now... just fuck... Pete had even introduced me as his boyfriend so there was no confusion there. I'm just beyond shocked and very hopeless.

"Don't." Patrick's reply surprised me and confused Pete, who just couldn't understand as to why anyone wouldn't want his cheating, lying asshole. I, on the other hand, had plenty of reasons, his one am phone calls being one of them, and his commitment issues a close second- sleep was important, okay.

"I said don't!" Patrick threw his shirt back on, getting up and almost scrambling away from Pete in a desperate manner that almost broke my heart, because Pete was an asshole and despite the circumstance, Patrick didn't deserve him at all.

"I'm leaving as well." His words were sternly and his eyes locked directly with Pete's; he meant it and he wanted Pete to be more than sure of that.

"Leaving me or the house?" Pete was still trying to make this a light-hearted matter - I fucking hated that guy. He couldn't do this and for god knows what reason; his fucking overly inflated ego couldn’t comprehend that at all. It was ridiculous - he was ridiculous.

I wished I'd never gone to that fucking comic store ever; there'd be no confession to fuck up Frank and Gerard, and no Pete to fuck me up. Things would have been better that way, but no fucking Gerard needed his fucking 'limited edition' comics- fuck. I couldn't blame it on him, this wasn't his fault... this was mine. It was all on me.

"We weren't 'official' or anything - cool it." Patrick's mimicked words came out like a bolt of lightning, striking Pete directly through the heart, and then, I decided that I really quite liked Patrick.

He didn't react at all. He just sat there shirtless and shocked... and alone. He deserved it; he deserved it so much, I almost smirked at the sight of him - completely astounded as how anyone could turn his arrogance, lying little bastard ass down. Dear god, I hated him more than I could possibly even fathom upon expressing.

We made no hesitance in leaving, dashing for the door before Pete could tempt us back in with drugged coffee and Breaking Bad box sets, and slamming the door on a shirtless and alone Pete Wentz was quite possibly the most satisfying thing I've ever done, despite the situation. But the situation didn't quite matter, it was the revenge that did.

-

The cold air was refreshing. I was glad to finally rid my respiratory system of that pungent scent of rotting scented candle that seemed to occupy Pete's house eternally. I coughed a little, releasing all the toxins of Pete Wentz into the world and out of my organs - I was glad to finally be over with him and what I'd just done felt as good as hell- well, what we'd just done. There was still the matter of Patrick to sort out.

Patrick knew he was guilty here, looking at me sheepishly behind black rimmed glasses, his cheeks tingeing a rosy pink. I didn't want to be angry at him, especially as he seemed so innocent, but Pete had trained me against this - to never trust anyone ever... even if they're cute.

Especially if they're cute.

"Why did you let him... kiss you?" I fired the question at Patrick without fear, yet my eyes daren’t go anywhere near his - a true coward at heart.

I think maybe I felt just a little guilty and maybe that was just a little more guilty than I should have felt but I found myself in a state of not at all caring that much.

"You knew about me and him..." I was just confused, and to add to that, I hated vocalising the fact that Pete and I were ever considered an item, even if only just in my eyes. It hurt - it hurt like hell and stung like a bitch.

"It's Pete... you're not allowed to say no." Patrick breathed his words out like a sigh; a sigh of disappointment, regret, and an awful amount of self-hatred.

Patrick wasn't guilty, but he looked as if he was; he felt guilty, but he shouldn't - Pete was quite clearly the one at fault here. Patrick and I were just pawns who gotten mixed up in the wrong games entirely.

"Yeah..." I didn't like to think about this at all, but I found myself in an unfortunate situation where it was the only topic of conversation on the agenda. I didn't want to ask the question that I'd have to ask next, because I didn't want to upset Patrick, I didn't want to make him feel inadequate or guilty; Pete had now done a more than adequate job of that already. "Why did Pete ask you to...?"

"He said you never wanted to do... stuff like that..." His words trailed off, his cheeks filling up with a rosy blush again. Patrick was innocent - far too innocent to be corrupted by Pete, in fact. It just felt unlawful, not right. I hated Pete, and I hated him more for what he'd done to Patrick.

"Yeah, and there's the reason why." I snapped, my words coming out far harsh than I'd initially intended. I'd screwed things up for Patrick as well now... maybe I should just stop speaking entirely.

Maybe the world would be better without my voice ringing throughout it. I didn't know about that, but I knew Patrick definitely would be better without me, without Pete, without any of this.

I began to walk away, wallowing in my bitter sorrow and revenge plans, when Patrick's voice interrupted my spiteful exit. It was a weird sentence, one that really didn't fit, but it brought hope and light in the darkness of Pete's reign, so I let it exist just momentarily.

"Hey Mikey, can I get your number?" Patrick turned around to me and smiled, he smiled that hopeful, nervous smile. The one that was unsure, and I was unsure at first, but then I realised Patrick was just like me, another of Pete's 'victims'.

Mum had been right when she said Gerard wasn't exactly the best at choosing friends. Just remind me to avoid people at all costs in the future; I'll move into the basement and become a hermit with Gerard, much to Mum's ultimate displeasure and total disappointment with both of her sons.

"Yeah sure, you can." I pulled off a smile, which was hard considering the situation and the shattered heart fragments barely able to function inside what felt like a gaping empty hole within my chest. Patrick was actually an alright guy, unlike Pete.

However, Patrick wasn't nearly enough of an asshole to be my type. I was stupid, I feel for the wrong ones. Patrick was cute, but not devilishly cute, not Pete cute.

He handed me his phone and I typed my number in under the contact name of 'Mikey' before handing the object straight back to him, making extra special care as not to drop it, considering how clumsy I was, and just how bad of a first (well, third, but this one was the real introduction) impression that'd make.

"Thanks, I hope you're okay - Pete can be an asshole." His eyes were sincere because he was right. Patrick was a good guy though, just far too innocent, far too innocent for Pete, me or any of this colossally corrupted mess.

"No, he just is an asshole."

-

"Hey, you'll never guess what I got you!" Gerard's over excited voice penetrated my ears as I slammed the door behind me, tears trailing down my face - I looked pathetic and I didn't want him to see me like this. I didn't want him to know what had happened with Pete... well, what Pete had done.

It wasn't a matter of trust or any lack of it, this was me trying to save Gerard from anymore weigh on his shoulders; he already had Frank and Ryan to deal with and I didn't want to watch him cripple from carrying this pile of shit on his shoulders as well.

"What?" I managed to choke out, keeping my face to the door, and just hoping he'd be content with shouting his words across the house as opposed to having a conventional face to face conversation. Gerard was the unconventional type, okay.

The tears were running freely now, and my whole face was red and puffy; the reflection in the silver door handle was only making me grow to despise myself more. This was stupid this was pathetic and it shouldn't be myself whom I was despising - it should be Pete, and it is Pete. There wasn't a doubt about my brewing hated for Pete at all.

"Lindsey had a Pride and Prejudice DVD I managed to 'borrow'." By borrow he meant steal, of course.

Gerard was ridiculous and my bemused and mildly sadistic chuckle blocked out the footsteps in the hall; the sound of Gerard noticing I hadn't left the front door, and he almost sensed that I'd remained here for a reason. Unfortunately, he just couldn't sense that this reason was or his own good.

"First date and you steal from her." Typical Gerard - it amused me nonetheless, and it amused me enough to manage to trick myself into believing that the footsteps weren't there; that they weren't real and that Gerard wasn't going to notice. Gerard would come, Gerard would notice and Gerard would be anything but complacent in the matter.

"Yeah, it wasn't working out." The footsteps had stopped now, and only because his voice was loud enough for him to barely be further than half a metre away from me; I could hear his breathing centimetres away my ear. It scared me, because I didn't want to face Gerard, I didn't want to explain, and I didn't want him to know. Gerard had different ideas, however.

"Mikes, are you okay?" His tone softened as he placed a tentative hand on my shoulder in a weirdly comforting manner.

It wasn't the gesture, it was just Gerard; my big brother matter and I needed him more than anything right now. Without a thought, I spun around and buried my tear stained face into his chest, because no, I was not okay.

"No, I'm not." I mumbled against the fabric of his actually washed for once shirt. He'd actually washed it for Lindsey and for things to not work out was just a pisstake. I know he was blatantly gay and Lindsey had probably realised that within the first five minutes of their 'date', but Gerard didn't make a habit of washing his clothes.

Lindsey should feel honoured: he didn't even wash them for Frank, then again, Frank seemed to be awfully attached to the 'unique' and awfully pungent smell of Gerard. Ryan and his gay man hygiene hasn't got anything on Gerard and his ‘organic and original’ scent.

"What happened?" He ruffled my hair as he held me against his chest. It was comforting and I just took this moment to forget Pete and be thankful that I had a brother like Gerard. He certainly wasn't perfect, but he was damn well the best big brother I could ever ask for - there was no doubt about that one.

"Pete happened." I admitted, the tears coming down like Niagara Falls and giving Gerard's t-shirt its second wash of the year, both of them in the space of two days of course. Maybe I should make a habit of crying into Gerard's shirts; it'd clean them a little at the very least, which would make my moping around at least mildly productive.

"Dear god, that guy. He can make you grin like crazy just twenty four hours ago and now-" Gerard was clueless as to what had actually happened and I wanted it to stay that way, but things weren't so simple and it couldn't, because Pete and Gerard couldn't be friends anymore, it sounded selfish but after what happened, Pete didn't deserve any friends, he didn't deserve anything.

"He cheated on me." I needed to get it out even if it wasn't at the most convenient of times.

Gerard's breathing stopped for a few moments and as my ear was pressed against a chest devoid of a heartbeat, I came to wonder if I'd accidentally murdered my own brother.

"Fuck that bastard!" I chuckled a little at that - Gerard was the best of brothers, there was no doubt about that. He knew when to make a situation light-hearted... Pete didn't. Pete never knew how to react. Gerard was dysfunctional and social awkward in his actions, but even he knew what was morally right to some degree.

"The guy he cheated on me with was from his band, but he's an alright guy - Patrick, you know him?" Patrick was actually really quite nice, and I was considering texting him later, but I think maybe I should turn my phone off, because this wouldn't stop Pete from bombarding me with text messages and voicemails, but at the very least, Gerard wouldn't be here to open the door for him when I didn't pick up.

Gerard would slam that fucking door in his face, and he'd more than deserve it. Mum wouldn't exactly appreciate the body of an unconscious guy at our doorstep when she got in from work, though - I'd leave the explaining to Gerard, of course. He was the oldest anyway, so it was his responsibility.

"No I don't know him, but don't go after another one, Mikes. We can be bitter singles together for a while longer." He chuckled, and I smiled into his shirt - that sounded like a bitter but good idea.

Gerard was my brother, best friend and the only one I could trust, but I think that was for a reason. Nothing was stronger than us; we were invincible together and we didn't need any shitty almost boyfriends fucking up our lives with other guys.

"I liked it when it was like that, things were simpler." I confessed and he nodded, agreeing with me. We just hugged in silence for a few moments; I was content with just knowing I'd always have my big brother and that he'd always have me. Family was more important than anything in this goddamn world.

"Yeah," he pulled away from me after a prolonged silence, his eyes meeting mine to ensure I was okay for one last time. Once he was satisfied, he continued, "I'll go make us some coffee and you put the Pride and Prejudice DVD in and I'll help you take your mind of shit, caffeinate you, and help you pass your course at the same time, aren't I just the best?"

"Yeah, you're my favourite brother." I winked at him, a smirking twitching at the corners of my lips.

"I'm your only brother."

"That's what I meant."

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