"I'm officially a Satanist now." I announced in quite possibly the most casual manner I could muster as I waltzed into the living room, catching the attention of both Gerard and my mother, who took the opportunity to glance up at me in a perplexed manner.

"What?" My mum's voice perked up, her eyebrows raised, as I assumed she would be considering the confusion that would no doubt ensue the words that just left my slightly ajar lips.

"I passed - I passed the exam." Gerard choked on his coffee, the steaming cup tilting slightly as his attention left his hand to cater to his caffeine flooded windpipe. Fortunately, the majority of the coffee remained inside the mug and mum was far too focused upon the grin that began to overtake my face like a vicious grasp of ivy to notice the splash coffee that was now sinking into the sofa.

"That's great, Mikey!" She grinned at me, glad that she actually had some reason to be proud of at least one of her sons for. Right now, I could become a heroin dealer who prostitutes on the side, but to her I'd still be her son who's a heroin dealer who prostitutes on the side with an English degree.

Gerard however was disinterested in her praise towards me, which was probably something to do with the fact that he's a jealous little shit. He looked at the coffee stain momentarily, pulling his face out into an elongated, regretful grin that literally screamed out 'oh shit', after a few seconds he shrugged it off entirely and decided it adequate to simply cover the stain, which was darkening in colour by the moment, with a cushion and simply hope no one noticed.

"You're fucking kidding me?" He exclaimed as he turned back to me, his eyes obnoxiously avoiding the sofa as he tried his best to remove the stain from existence simply with the power of his mind; it wasn't working.

"Gerard!" Mum rolled her eyes, but Gerard was paying the least of attention; he hadn't seen Frank for two days so he was restless as shit, which was kind of explainable, but that didn't affect the fact that it was still fucking downright irritating.

"I'm proud of you, Mikey. I told you that you could pass if you tried hard enough, huh?" She winked at me and it was my turn to roll my eyes. Everyone in this fucking family was stupidly competitive, but at least she was nowhere near quite as unbearable as Gerard. No one was quite as annoying as Gerard; Ryan Ross was close, but still far, far off when he was faced with Gerard.

It seems Frank has a thing for assholes with far too much eyeliner, a bad dress sense, a caffeine addiction, and a generally unbearable personality. The little guy does confuse me, that's for sure.

"He's lying, come on!" Gerard raised his eyebrows at me, his constant and weirdly sustainable disbelief in both my general and academic ability was disheartening to say the least, but then again Gerard was a jealous bastard that barely left the basement for anyone other than his boyfriend, so I guess this just comes naturally to him.

"No, dude. I passed - legitimately, as well. I didn't even cheat- well once, my eyes may have wandered but it was entirely coincidental that they had answered the exact question I was stuck on at that moment in time, but other than that, yeah - I passed." I couldn't quite believe it myself and really the words were only just sinking in as I said them.

"Pete will be disappointed." Gerard noted, the corners of his mouth twitching suspiciously into what I wouldn't be surprised to see would be a grin, but what he would be grinning about, I hadn't a clue, which when it came to Gerard was most definitely a bad thing.

"Less time for sex." No, Gerard go ahead and say that like it's nothing and our fucking mother isn't just in the room, in this conversation, sat barely a metre away from that mouth of yours, which those goddamn fucking cocky shithead words are departing from.

My mum just got up and left at that point, but to be honest I couldn't blame her - the fact that she'd put up with Gerard for a full quarter of a century was already not just commendable but fricking medal worthy. I suppose when he was little he couldn't actually talk that much so that might have been slightly bearable, but then again I have heard that Gerard was pretty much the Satan of toddlers.

"Gerard!" I exclaimed, blushing furiously as soon as she'd left the room, still in utter disbelief that he'd fucking said that in front of our mother. "You did not-" He just ignored my flushed cheeks and my disbelieving protests, letting me mumble on to myself.

"How are you going to break it to him?" He cut into my speech soon enough which was probably best for my sanity in the long run no matter quite how pissed off I was at the guy right now. To be honest, being pissed off at Gerard wasn't a feeling, mood, or emotion, it was a fucking lifestyle, and somehow, it had unfortunately ended up being mine.

"Fuck off-" Of course he was in the habit of brushing off and ignoring practically everything that I said to him, meaning that even the most cruel of insults that I hurled in his direction meant absolutely nothing. This had both its good and bad points, so I guess I was indifferent to it, but it kind of just depended upon my mood, but of course as soon as Frank said anything vaguely offensive to him he'd get all pissy.

"How did you even pass anyway?" He disregarded my insults in favour of yet more excessive questioning regarding my fluke of a pass in my exam.

"To be honest, I'm not sure myself." I really wasn't; I was wondering if somehow I'd been marked wrong or they got someone else's paper confused with mine, because the fact that I had actually achieved something, probably kind of legitimately as well, was just astounding.

In fact, it was even more astounding when you considered the fact that I hadn't even finished the book, and believe me, I wasn't fucking planning to - that was for certain. To be honest, even if I wanted to, I'm sure Gerard would end up burning the damn thing before I could even get my hands on it. And my professor had the nerve to call me the pyromaniac.

"It was probably the pentagrams, dude- speaking of the pentagrams, did any one official happen to notice them or could our dark lord pass on his powers of classic literary knowledge through a 70% cotton black hoodie?"

Ah yes, the damn pentagrams, that had somehow transformed from some messed up part of Pete's head riddled with insanity into the thing that helped me pass my English exam, or at least that's what Gerard reckoned. I wasn't quite so sure, pinning the thing down on a mix up or just sheer dumb fucking luck.

"Nah, I was fine - no one noticed, or at least I hope so, because getting kicked out right after passing would be just fucking ridiculous." I just hoped things wouldn't turn out like that, because not only would it be fucking ridiculous, it'd be damn well taking the piss. And then maybe I'd get a little in touch with my pyromaniac side.

It's funny how apparently I'm the pyromaniac when my brother plans up burning his boyfriend's ex alive on a bonfire and my boyfriend's flat looks like a modern day, scented re-enactment of the Great Fire of London. Ryan probably has a Satan worshipping fire shrine in his garage or something as well, so I don't exactly see why I'm the pyromaniac.

"Exactly your style though, Mikes. Just typical of you to get kicked out like that, and you know, it would be fucking hilarious. Seriously." I shrugged at that, not entirely sure that I agreed with him, seeing as I didn't find my hard- well actually piss poor efforts being put to waste just because my brother thinks it's funny to see me get kicked out of college.

It's not that I actually like college, or look forward to doing another year of this shit for that matter, but whatever, it sure beats living in a cardboard box outside Walmart and becoming a prostitute. Actually, the latter would probably be Pete's job, come to think of it. Yes, he would live in the cardboard box with me, of course.

If I'm going down, I'm dragging him down with me, seeing as I'm such a kind and considerate person, you know.

"What's that supposed to mean? It's my style, you what?" I raised my eyebrows at my brother, clearly unimpressed by his unappreciation towards my every accomplishment. It's not like I achieve much, so it's barely as if I'm asking much of him, but of course he is just a pissy little twat and refuses to do anything over the bare minimum and of course being nice goes over the bare minimum in that head of his.

"You didn't deserve to pass, man." Gerard shrugged it off like he hadn't just been directly offensive to me, and watched as mum cautiously slipped back in. I didn't particularly mind, seeing as it was clearly Gerard was kind of jealous as he really had very little hope of accomplishing anything other than an awful lot of nothing in his life.

Well he was good at fucking Frank, but that's not exactly something he can put on his CV, or at least I hope he isn't planning on doing so.

"Has your brother stopped discussing your sex life yet?" Mum sat back down on the sofa, suspiciously close to the coffee stain and just close enough for Gerard to be anything but amusingly uncomfortable. She directed the question at me, trying to push Gerard into the furthest corner of her vision as he pulled ridiculous faces only to catch her attention, which she was doing a pretty good job of, seeing as she isn't Frank and therefore she has the ability to ignore Pete.

"Yes he has." I gave Gerard a stern glare and he abruptly stopped looking like the biggest prat to ever grace mankind, well momentarily of course. To be honest, I think he was just focusing on scooting as far away from the coffee stain as possible whilst remaining discreet enough for mum to not focus an unusual amount of her attention upon him.

"Really well done, Mikey." She smiled at me, her gaze avoiding Gerard's obnoxious shuffling and fidgeting with the sofa, yet she was gradually edging closer to the coffee stain. She was moving fucking slowly, but the fact that she was moving was enough to unnerve Gerard entirely.

He noticed my raised eyebrows as I watched his nervous state, however he didn't seem all that bother and he simply pulled a childish face. "Ignore him - you've accomplished more than he ever will."

The two of us just looked at each other, and Gerard panicked coming to the conclusion that if she'd noticed his facial expressions, then she'd probably noticed his shuffling and possibly the coffee stain itself too.

"What by bullshitting an English course?" Gerard snorted, trying to pass off his flushed cheeks with bold words like the little prat he was. "Finished that book yet, Mikes?" Yeah, to be truthful, I never even reached the half-way point but that hardly matters now, does it? Well morally, it kind of does, but here in the Way household we're not exactly ones for morals are we?

Mum just sighed, as she'd given up and entirely admitted defeat in correcting Gerard's language by now. Gerard was going to be a vulgar little shithead and that was just a fact of life - it wasn't a particularly pleasant one, but neither was the fact that one day we'll all die, in fact that's probably worse thinking about it.

"We watched the film, didn't we?" I smirked at my brother, reminding him as to how I'd made him sit through it with me as well. The film was tedious to watch and really not my thing whatsoever, seeing as both Gerard and I are really into horror movies, you can tell that Pride and Prejudice was right up our streets.

I couldn't decide as to whether the romanticism or the historical setting was the more horrifying. Gerard would say the romanticism, because he's a bitter bastard like that, but he would say that he's never seen a horror film quite so terrifying.

"Unfortunately so." He practically shuddered at the mere mention of the film and quite honestly I didn't blame him- shit, I think he still has Lindsey's DVD. Well, there's another thing to burn; this bonfire is getting both more exciting and mentally concerning at the same time, but whatever, they're practically the same thing to be honest.

"So, I was wondering if you wanted to celebrate in any way, Mikey." She grinned at me, clearly unaware that I still had the not quite faded remnants of pentagrams spanning across both my forearms. I was just glad that Gerard hadn't thought to inform her yet.

She grabbed the copy of Pride and Prejudice off the coffee table, running her index finger down the spine and then once over the cover. "I can see why you haven't read this - it's just a cliché romance in an overrated, discriminatory, and stupidly romanticised century. I do hate the nineteen hundreds; people overrate historical settings. Yeah, I'm sure they had pretty dresses, but you could be hung for stealing an apple."

I nodded in agreement, glad that someone even if it was only my own mother had managed to understand my struggle regarding just how fucking painful it was to read that piece of well, literary shit. That was kind of offensive, but you may have been able to tell by now that classic literature and I, well we don't really get along.

"Is there a sex scene?" Gerard's voice piped up as he trailed back into the kitchen, presumably to make another coffee, or quite possibly distract attention from the already spilled one, which was sinking deeper into the sofa as we spoke.

"Gerard-" Mum butted in, letting out an aspirated sigh, clearly giving up on her eldest son pretty much entirely by now. I couldn't blame her.

"I was just wondering whether I should recommend it to Pete or not. Oh, speaking of Pete - Mikey got laid last night." My eyes widened as I couldn't quite believe he'd actually said that in front of our fucking mother, but it was Gerard and the words tumbled out like pieces of dust within the air; annoying and somehow always there.

Except Gerard seemed to thrive in darkness, unlike the dust, which had a habit of lingering in the light- well, maybe Gerard's light was just Frank. That kind of made sense, in a confusing and generally nonsensical, yet somehow metaphorical way, I guess.

"Gerard! Shut up!" My cheeks turned an embarrassing shade of crimson and I wondered if my face could melt off into my palms if I covered it with my hands long enough. Unfortunately, I spent at least thirty seconds hidden in shame with no results, the all too familiar grasps of reality still cuffed far too tightly around me.

"I thought we'd finished this area of discussion." Mum butted in, her words stern and her gaze nothing short of disapproving.

"Yeah." I sided with my mum like the sad little weirdo I couldn't help but be. I think sad little weirdo was kind of my style though, and clearly giving myself compliments was not, oh well. It wasn't like anyone but Gerard could hear me, and if Gerard was in the position to be calling anyone a 'weirdo', he'd also be in the position to win the world prize for hypocrisy.

"Anyway, as I was saying regarding celebration-" She was trying to slide us back into a normal and civil conversation, but with Gerard and caffeine in the room, it clearly wasn't a working combination. Well, it wasn't exactly as if Gerard was the civil kind of guy regardless of situation or caffeine levels. Then again, it wasn't even as if there was a time when Gerard's veins flowed with a higher concentration of caffeine than blood.

"Yeah, we should have a massive bonfire and we can burn that book and a church and Ryan Ross." Gerard of course decided to bring up Ryan Ross. I wasn't entirely sure as to how he was planning upon getting a whole church on top of the bonfire, or maybe we could work around that and build the bonfire on top of the church.

"Who's Ryan Ross?" And here comes the dreaded question. Cue rant number one. The worst part was that it wouldn't be something I could stop, because give Gerard a few spiteful words and I'd simply be more than tempted to do nothing short of join in, with nothing held back.

I enjoyed hating Ryan Ross as much as Gerard did and he hasn't even touched my boyfriend... or at least I hope he hasn't, but considering the fact that Pete is Pete, I'm not quite so sure anymore.

"Frank's ex-boyfriend." I piped up, trying to get this off to the most civil of starts, but when the topic was Ryan Ross; could the conversation be anything but a verbal re-enactment of a World War? I passed a smirk in my mother's direction, feeling rather proud of myself and doing my best to ignore the death glare Gerard was shooting me from across the room.

"Thought so." She mused, causing Gerard's eyebrows to rise like a reflex. I could see exactly where she was coming from, because Gerard disliked, possibly even hated a lot of people, but he couldn't hate anyone as much as really hated Frank's ex-boyfriend. And the fact that Ryan really was just a massive douchebag did nothing but add to that bubbling cauldron of hatred.

"Fuck off-" Gerard groaned, hating just how obviously jealous he got regarding Frank. He was just so in love with guy that I could barely blame him. Barely. Because he's Gerard, my brother, and by default that means it's totally my job to blame him.

"Language." She was back at full strength again, recovered from Gerard's previously incidents, which had done nothing short of leading Gerard to drive her into the brink of insanity. "Unfortunately, Gerard, we can't actually burn people unless you want to sort out the legal trouble yourself, because believe me when I say that I'm not doing it. I'm not a fan of paperwork."

She wasn't kidding; we were always late with the bills, no matter how early or late she set them aside to do, the boxes just never quite got filled in. We were just a family of dysfunctional procrastinators with a worrying passion for pyromania, who live off pot noodle and high caffeine intake.

"Ryan's a real fuc- goddamn douche though." I had to raise my eyebrows at Gerard's avoidance of a curse word, because never before had anything anyone had said had any kind of effect on him. Well whatever Frank says is clearly an exception, because it's Frank and well, Frank's just Frank. He matters to Gerard, and he matters an awful lot.

"Frank's not with him anymore, calm down." She attempted to mediate, but the fact that they were no longer together was really besides the point. I'd seen this coming, and I'd tried and failed to prevent it, but whatever, here I was, butting in, with my own shit faced opinion.

"No, seriously mum. I could shoot him too." She raised her eyebrows at that, as I was usually the calm one. This was probably and most definitely Pete's fault, and for once it actually kind of was, instead of me simply passing it off with the reason that something just had to be his fault, because it kind of did, but whatever.

"He's in my English course - he's certainly passed and I think he'll actually just be surprised over anything else to hear that I did too. I'd like to see the look on his face though, you know, see the walls of that massive ego tumbling down. Also he hates, like wants to carve my guts out with his fingernails, hates me, just for being related to Gee."

I was really just hoping that I could be joking regarding the fingernail gut carving thing, but he was Ryan Ross and I was in an unfortunate situation where I really couldn't be sure.

Fuck, he knows where I live too; he could crawl in through my wind at fucking two am and begin his quest of fingernail dissection. Pete would probably call me at about that time though, so I'd like to think I'd at least be awake to watch, if not try and stop him. He'd probably get me with his scarves first though, leaving me with very little chance of escape.

"Well-" She let out a sigh, considering the words we'd just said as she ran them through her head. She gave a look, a kind of motherly look that said that she didn't quite want to hate him, seeing as it was kind of the responsible and example appropriate thing to do, but he sounded like a fucking douchebag so she really fucking wanted to.

"He's into bondage as well and he wears all these scarves-" Yeah, this could be classified as the kind of information that mum really didn't need to know. It was fine to inform her of how he was a massive class A douchebag, but his sex habits, yeah those just weren't for her ears. She'd made this quite clear mere minutes ago, but of course, Gerard being Gerard, he could do nothing but blatantly ignore her.

"Gerard-" I tried to stop him right there, because he would always have something more to say and I had this nagging feeling that whatever could spew from his lips next would be undoubtedly worse than our previous heap of inappropriate and embarrassing garbage.

"The scarves fucking creep me out he looks like some octopus or something and it's just fucking weird man like and the eyeliner - he's fucking plagiarising me-" I wasn't quite sure I agreed with him. Gerard and Ryan did have some similarities, that were true, but Ryan had a terribly significant larger amount of hygiene and he looked like the guy who took daily showers as opposed to Gerard's weekly-if-we're-lucky ones.

"Gerard!" Mum raised her voice to finally interrupt my brother's rant, stopping the whole thing before it could accentuate further was definitely the right tactic, even since it was Gerard, it was most definitely the most difficult to impose.

"Can you please stop talking the sex habits of anyone, and I'd appreciate it if you toned down your excessive use of the 'f word'. You sound disturbed, Gee." It was unusual that mothers were drawn to the brink of insanity where they required calling their children 'disturbed', but in Gerard's case, it was a practical necessity.

"Don't tell me I'm disturbed when he's dating Pete fucking Wentz." Okay, I could see his point - Pete was kind of messed up, but Gerard was not a mentally okay guy. It is psychologically recommended that people don't spend all of their developing years in their mother's basement, but Gerard doesn't seem to get along very well with psychological recommendations, that's for sure.

"Dude, you're disturbed." Again, I found myself siding with my own mother because I was just so cool like that. Cool was my middle name, well at least on Facebook, when I was like eleven. That wasn't a highlight of my life. Mikey Cool Way.

"Will you two-"

"At least my boyfriend isn't basically a fucking prostitute." Gerard interrupted my mother's words without a second thought, her jaw dropping with Gerard's insults racking up in lethality. It didn't affect me all that much, as by now I had come to terms with Pete's man whoreish tendencies.

Well, how could I not have, it was kind of a requirement for dating the guy; a situation I had really not expected yet somehow found myself stuck right in the middle of.

"At least mine isn't into bondage." I could send boyfriend insults right back, and ones relating to Ryan Ross seemed to be both my speciality and the most lethal ones too. Gerard sent me a scowl in return, his top lip twitching a little in disgust, before he quite managed to compose himself in preparation for round two of our boyfriend bashing contest.

"How's that a bad thing? I can get scarves too-" Yeah, I really wasn't quite so keen upon that idea, because not only would I look at him and see Ryan Ross, which would lead to that face of his getting pretty bruised, but I'd have to think about what he'd be doing with those scarves every time I looked at them.

If he was going to participate in bondage- not that I was condoning my brother's participation in kinky sex activities, or my knowledge of his participation for that matter, I was just sure that scarves weren't the preferred method of tying someone down.

Didn't people tend to use handcuffs and shit? Not that I'd know, or have any kind of extensive experience in the matter, seeing as I was a virgin a few days ago. Pete Wentz fixed that for me, I guess. If fixed is the right word.

"How about you stop talking about sex and go get laid for real?" I snapped, grabbing the house phone off the hook and throwing it at Gerard, thankfully it didn't break in the process, because I doubted that mum would be all too keen about that.

And she probably wouldn't even be bothered to buy another landline for at least another six months, leaving us relying upon shitty mobile contracts than had a habit of running out far too often, especially now Pete insisted upon using all of my talk time within like the first day of the month. Yeah, if I wanted to call emergency services, I was fucking screwed thanks to Pete Wentz.

"Go call your fucking boyfriend." I winked at him, watching as he lingered near the doorway, not quite leaving the room yet, but damn he was fucking close so at least we were making some kind of progress here, because even if it was marginal progress, it was still damn progress, okay.

"Mikes-" Mum almost seemed surprised about the apparent flaw in my innocence, but had she really not noticed that I was in fact twenty years old now? That was two decades- fuck, that was two decades.

Shitting Christ, I had been alive for two decades! Midlife crisis ensuing- well, I kind of didn't want it to be my mid-life crisis, seeing as if it were so I'd be dead by forty, and I wasn't really quite so keen upon that idea, you know.

"See, he's not such a perfect angel child, is he?" Gerard smirked and mum rolled her eyes, giving up on both of her sons simultaneously, but what else could she do? We were pathetic little basement dwelling shits. 

"Just go call your boyfriend, demon child." I had to let out a chuckle at that one, noting just the level of insanity as to which Gerard had pushed her to. 'Demon child' was not a typical name to refer to your child by, but whatever why were the Ways, typical wasn't even on our street.

Well actually, it kind of was, if you counted the family with the stay at home mum and dad with a job in business and two kids, but that's beside the point and they hate us anyway.

"I swear it's illegal to refer to your son as a demon child." He protested, not that he'd actually be bothered to take any form of legal action whatsoever. And he was just a little too old for childline, by what... like ten years?

"Mean? Yes. Illegal? No." She winked at him, the corners of her mouth twisting up into nothing short of a smirk.

"Mum-"

"Just go call Frank - it'll do us all a favour." Gerard huffed before stumbling out the room as he began to dial a number which I assumed to be Frank's, or possibly Childline, he could be trying the Childline method, even if he was twenty five, but he was a pathetic manchild of a twenty five year old who insisted upon never quite growing up enough to be considered mature enough to leave his mother's basement.

She grinned before turning to me, clearly quite pleased with the fact that we were now in a Gerard free environment and considering the fact that she was his mother, she was probably just a little bit too pleased, but he'd never know so it barely mattered.

"So how are you and Pete?" She hit me with an awkward question out of nowhere. This was the kind of question I couldn't answer and thankfully Gerard wasn't here to answer for me before I managed to piece together a barely adequate answer, well at least before I attempted to. My success in the aforementioned matter was definitely questionable.

"Good." I mumbled, my eyes trailing down to the floor as I wasn't quite that keen upon discussing my sex life with my mother, unlike Gerard, of course. Gerard just didn't seem to give a shit whatsoever. I hadn't provided the most eloquent of answers, but she should be glad that I answered at all, because if the questioning continued, I'd be awfully tempted to storm out of the room entirely.

"Are you going to elaborate any further?" She smirked at me, almost as if she was asking me to storm out entirely, but I wasn't quite as pissy as Gerard, so I reckoned I could last another minute or two of questioning at the very least.

"You should be kind of glad that I'm not elaborating." I mumbled and she let out a chuckle as my cheeks flushed a horrible colour that I'd rather not think about. But really, I wasn't at all keen upon sharing details of my intimate night with Pete with my own fucking mother.

"He seems like a nice guy." Thank god- or Satan, or Yoda, that she'd had the decency to realise a subject change was necessary.

"Mmm... I love him." I found myself confessing out of nowhere and groaning to myself moments later, because I'd found out the hard way that in the Way family, confessions were really not good things. I did love him though, it just was kind of weird to admit to my mother, yet whatever corner of my insanity ridden subconscious that was in control today had decided it appropriate.

"Properly?" She asked, her eyebrows raised. She wasn't in anyway judgemental or disbelieving in my words, she just kind of cared about me. She didn't want to see me hurt I guessed, but I'd already been hurt by Pete a great deal, so I guessed that at the very least I was prepared. Nothing could hurt me more than Pete had hurt me concerning Patrick, or at least I hoped so.

Speaking of Patrick, I hadn't seen or heard from the guy since our incident, which despite his friendliness, I decided was probably for the best to some degree at the very least. Patrick was a nice dude though, so maybe now we were all okay, or at least so I hoped, that maybe we could go for a coffee and a chat sometime. Well if Pete ever stopped hogging my attention for one moment of the day.

"Yeah, yeah I think so." My voice came out in barely a whisper, my words nothing more than syllabised gasps of breath against cold anxiety ridden air. It was the truth; the truth didn't tend to come out in bold shouts, because somehow we'd decided that the truth was something to be feared. Humans did work oddly.

"That's a pretty big thing, Mikes." She told me as if I hadn't already figured that out already. The concept scared me a little and the fact that I knew it was a pretty big thing was the biggest reason as to why.

"I know - he's just... different, important, I don't know - he's just Pete." She chuckled at that, I wasn't really the most eloquent of English students for certain. I wasn't the best of English students either and quite frankly I was still awfully confused as to why even I still was an English student at all.

"You sound like Gerard." I had to raise my eyebrows at that, because I didn't think I did, well not entirely. I wasn't ranting about everyone Pete's ever slept with for a start, well it was a good thing I wasn't, because if I was I'd be here for several years at the very least.

"I can hear you!" Came a shout from the next room. Of course Gerard would have been listening in on our conversation to some degree, because he's Gerard and although he's lazy he's still a lazy little shit.

"So can I!" Mum shouted back and I didn't even have to see to know that Gerard's middle finger was waving up in the air far too proudly. Mum had probably assumed so too, and for Gerard's sake, I was just glad that she had no physically evidence of Gerard's middle finger waggling.

"You should call Pete - tell him how you passed and maybe the both of you could go get laid elsewhere tonight so I could have some peace for once." My eyes practically bulged right out of their sockets at that moment, because damn was she turning into Gerard or what- holy shit?

"You'd get creeped out by the silence, mum." I reminded her, remembering how when I was fourteen she'd bought an army of fans in the middle of December because she found it weird to not have the sound of Metallica blaring in her ears at two am now that Gerard had discovered headphones. I, on the other hand, was rather thankful for his discovery, and was enjoying the extra sleep I was getting.

She shrugged, because I was right and everyone in this family was far too stubborn to ever admit when they were wrong, "But, I'd get creeped out by the sound of both my sons having sex with their boyfriends more."

"Fair point." I tried not to wince whenever she mentioned Pete and I, because it was just an uncomfortable subject to hear from your mother's lips. But I did look like a massive wussy virgin if I winced whenever someone mentioned sex. I was just a wuss who'd had sex once, and that makes me infinitely better of course, or at least my ego likes to think so.

"I'll go check if Gerard's set fire to anything or simply retreated back down into that basement of his while you call Pete." Damn she really had a knack for knowing exactly when to change the conversation, and it was a knack I was nothing but damn well thankful for.

"You just don't want to hear our conversation, do you?" I eyed her with suspicion, my eyebrows raised, knowing the truth far too well.

"It's for the best." She assured me, and I began to wonder as to what the hell she could possibly think we would be discussing, but with what Gerard's been talking her, I think I'd rather not pursue the subject.

"Yeah, you really do have a point actually." I went along with it, simply waiting until she'd left to break out in a horrific blush.

"Mother knows best!" She smirked in quite possibly the most ridiculous of manners, but sometimes ridiculous was exactly what she did best, before closing the door behind her as she went off in search of Gerard and whatever Frank related havoc he could be causing right now.

-

"Mikesssssss!" Came the all too familiar screech down the phone line, causing me to wince and my thoughts to momentarily hover over the thought of regretting calling him altogether, but I doubted Pete would be awfully happy with that.

"Hey Pete." I replied in a significantly more enthusiastic tone than my usual drivel, yet it was still painfully unenthusiastic next to Pete's vulture screech / war cry of oddly shown affection.

"You sound awfully enthusiastic for an ex-college student." I couldn't help but smirk to myself, because this was the fun part; this when I got to prove Pete Wentz wrong and laugh at his certainty in my failure, and also there would be the the matter of ignoring him completely whenever he even tried to suggest that my unplanned for success was somehow all up to him.

His insanity stricken brain did think up the whole Satan thing but I really did doubt that somehow I could actually blame my sudden goldmine of unbelievable luck upon something as goddamn stupid as that shit. Pete was still going to persist upon it though, because he was Pete, of course.

"Yeah, Pete, this is what I kind of called you about- well, I did want to talk to you too, but whatever- I passed." The words came out in a clustered mess at first, the words a conjoined conundrum of mismatched syllables and mispronounced vowel sounds with a few spoken silent letters thrown in there for good luck.

But after a moment, I somehow managed to get my head straight, or maybe I just stopped to take a breath long enough to the truth to tumble out entirely. 

As expected, the line went silent for a few long minutes and I amused myself in the silence with imagining Pete messing about in a frantic frenzy as he worried about how we could spend every waking moment fucking - not that we would be anyway, regardless of whether I passed or not. Pete wouldn't accept that though.

"It's not April the first, dude." He finally said into the silence, his tone made obnoxiously nervous by the awkward voice crack hidden amongst his words.

"I know, because Pete, I'm not even kidding." I began laughing down the line, because this was fucking ridiculous, man. This whole situation was goddamn hilarious to witness, even down the phone line, because Pete was probably going into some midlife crisis as he put utter distrust in the state of reality as he knew it.

"How on earth-" His words came out as if my words had come from a part of reality that hadn't quite fabricated yet, leaving him to do nothing but tug at nothingness in a semi hopeless, drifting state. It was kind of amusing, but also very cute; Pete was always so sure of himself and it was just different to see him like this, to see him uncertain.

And truth be told, I kind of liked it - in the context anyways, in any other, I guess I would find myself to not quite be so affectionate towards the idea of Pete being lost. But now he was only a little lost and I was here to guide him home regardless; everything is fine in moderation.

"I totally did the Satanism thing you know." The smirk was running wild now, taking total control of my face, bringing my lips up into a creepily enthusiastic smile.

"You're fucking kidding me?" Pete hated being surprised, which was probably why I was enjoying this all quite so much, because Pete had really aided in making me one sadistic asshole for sure.

"No." I grinned at myself, looking like an absolute idiot with no one except Pete down the phone line. "Satan helped me with his extensive knowledge of Jane Austen novels." I wasn't entirely sure upon the truthfulness of this one, but I went with it regardless, because I liked this theory better than sheer fucking dumb luck.

Because dumb luck couldn't be put down to any of my skill whatsoever, and I think I wanted this ego boost to be honest. I was being a little shit, but I had a relevant excuse and that was that Pete was simply a bigger one.

"Have you just accidentally proven the existence of religious beings, and the worst one of them all in particular?" Now that was something to ponder upon, because if this was really all down to Satan then that means that fucking Satan is real. Satan.

No, not god with his heaven and angels and beards and happy clouds yay, but Satan with his freaking demon torture virgin sex dungeons and killing and murder and horns and devils and sacrifice and blood.

Goddamn it, Satan. You asshole.

"Shush, Satan will hear you. He doesn't like it when you're mean to him." Now, I was pretty sure I'd just been possessed by a demon of some sort at the very least, because the words that left my lips didn't feel like my own. Well either the demon thing or I could get the fumes of Pete's scented candles and herbal teas down the phone line.

"He's Satan not a fucking five year old girl." Pete snapped at me as if he was suddenly claiming to be the sane one, despite the fact that he was the one who came up with this whole Satan theory in the first place- what if Pete himself was Satan?

No- now the insanity was really setting in. My boyfriend maybe be fucking creepy and a little sex obsessed, but he was not Satan or at least I hoped he wasn't, because if he was then oh shit.

I took the chance in guessing that he wasn't because I reckoned that Satan could probably spell 'rentals' and there was also the fact that Pete had zero knowledge whatsoever regarding literature of any sort.

"Satan can be whoever he wants to." Just hopefully not you, because that would be fucking weird.

I didn't say the last part aloud as you may have been able to guess, because I'd sound a little creepy and that would be to Pete Wentz of all people. If Pete Wentz thinks you're creepy then Jesus Christ get the fuck away from me. I'm not sure how I can get away from myself though, that is certainly a puzzling one.

"Yeah, I would have preferred you to be a hobo that isn't a Satanist, you know." Damn, Pete crushing my theories and insanity ridden mildly Satanic head that definitely needs some form of therapy.

"I'm not a Satanist, I'm just grateful that I managed to pass. It's gratitude." Well, at least I hoped it was some odd form of gratitude and not just badly hidden slowly forming Satanism, because that certainly could have some not bargained for and marginally disastrous consequences.

"Whatever, dude." He shrugged it off, because being Pete Wentz had an ability to do with just about everything.

"So you don't want to celebrate with me?" I raised one eyebrow despite the fact that I knew he couldn't see me; the gestures were essential okay, even if he'd never appreciate their existence.

"Fuck- let me grab the Breaking Bad." Yeah, let's not actually. Pete and I apparently had rather different and practically polar opposite in form, ideas of celebration.

He'd obviously go with sex because he's Pete and that's just the kind of marginally messed up guy he is, whereas I'd probably go with comic books and horror movies. We could try my idea, but Pete would probably fuck it all up with some sneaky hand maneuveres under a blanket.

"Pete-" I tried to protest, but he wouldn't be having any of it, cutting me off almost instantly like the nice little prick he was.

"Oh don't you be a spoil sport now." He had this goddamn habit of taunting me into doing just about everything and anything and just because he was a nice guy, he took every opportunity to abuse his taunting powers and talents.

I sighed, giving in to Pete far too easily for my liking, whereas in fact, he probably loved it within its entirety. "Whatever - one episode. But only if you can get me drunk enough." I decided that was a good enough, ultimatum, foolishly forgetting that you got high just by walking into Pete's house due to all the scented candles and shit.

"Challenged accepted." I could sense the signature Pete Wentz smirk through the phone lines, because I'd got far too good at detecting those by now and not by choice either, by fucking prolonged exposure to Pete and his Mount Everest sized ego.

"And Pete, nothing involving those dodgy herbal teas or those fucking dangerous 'scented' candles. I don't want a fire hazard." Or to be high. I didn't say the last part, because it'd piss him off a little and Pete got kind of oddly sexual when he was pissed off and really I just wanted a movie and to go to sleep, but he wasn't going to let me get away with that at all.

"Don't worry - the only thing on fire will be our sex, baby." Yeah, I was kind of planning on no sex - an abstinence only night, perhaps? I didn't think Pete even believed in abstinence, let alone morally disagree with it. Pete was just some kind of sex crazed animal that learnt to speak English- well, bad English, and it was apparent that basic spelling and grammar were not things in Pete's head either.

"I mentioned nothing about sex." I reminded him in a desperate and hopeless struggle to somehow get out of this mess, but Pete wouldn't allow that at all. Pete just wouldn't let me anywhere near him without a make out session at the very least these days, passed along with the excuse that I was his boyfriend and was therefore obligated to or some shit that made just as little sense.

"I mentioned Breaking Bad." Yeah, i didn't really need reminding, but of course Pete still deemed it entirely necessary, because he was Pete and that's how he worked.

"I do hate you, you know." I reminded him, because of this, he did need reminding - he needed reminding every moment of every fucking day, Jesus Christ.

"Yes, darling, I've been informed." Darling- fuck. He could call me that forever and I'd be in love with him regardless of what else was in that sentence. Jesus, Pete just shouldn't be able to have this kind of effect on me, because it was sanity crushing, but it being to do with Pete it was of course in a good way - the best way.

"Shut up - I'll be at yours in ten minutes, okay?" Why I was going along with this I didn't have a clue, but I just guessed that Pete was not only very persuasive, but very attractive too. And that seriously the worst and yet most attractive combination God- Satan could have ever fucking created. And of course Pete Wentz was created with nothing other than the intention to completely fucking ruin me.

"Okay." He answered, his voice riddled with smug undertones that I wanted to punch right out of his words, but he had a fucking pretty face so my wants were temporarily restrained by my subconscious.

"Shut up." I settled with a childish and low key retort, because it was generally harmless and seemed to fit moderately well within the situation.

"Make me." Now he was just asking for it, this little bastard. I did hate Pete Wentz at times, yet most of the time I found myself doing nothing but loving him.

"Watch me." I grinned, hanging up the phone, basking in the silence, listening only my own sheer satisfaction of being a pissy little prick.

Mikey: 1 : Pete: 345678

Yeah, maybe my smug satisfaction could only stretch quite so far.

-

"You're late." He announced, opening the door to a house that stank of a mismatched and excessive use of just about every type of scented candle known to man.

I should have expected Pete's utter disregard for whatever I told him not to do, because it was nothing short of a downright inevitability, especially when he was entirely convinced upon the fact that somehow the two of us would be engaging in some sort of intimacy tonight.

I however was really not so sure, deciding that maybe going to sleep would be a whole lot more enjoyable, and would piss Pete off a great deal, which would be nothing short of quality entertainment.

"I'm late by two minutes." I corrected him, pushing past him and into his house. I didn't entirely want to be in a room that stank clearly of something very pungent and probably just as illegal but it sure beat putting up with Pete's flirtatious repetitive mildly argumentative shit.

"You should value that two minutes - that's two minutes that you've missed of my dick sucking prowess." Yeah, that was always a two minutes that was never ever going to fucking happen, but Pete seems to have sailed right past that point as if it's nothing at all.

"You know, I'm getting less keen on this entire idea as time goes by." I reminded him in an awfully disguised hint for him to drop it completely, but Pete being Pete either understood the hint and just chose to ignore it, or simply didn't understand it altogether.

"You know, I already have Breaking Bad set up, so you're far too late to drop out now." Is he that seriously, because for one, I'm simply betting upon waltzing out the front door like the arrogant little prat I'm nothing short of. I blame Pete absolutely entirely, because is there any other way to go about things in life? Yeah, you're right - absolutely not.

"Nah, I don't let dicks who try to drug me with scented candles and herbal teas-" Seriously, I kind of hoped Pete was taking the piss with that shit, but unfortunately, it really didn't look like it at all. Pete was just goddamn crazy, man. Pete was inexplicably Pete and that was pretty much all I could say.

"I put the sedatives in the shots - no need for teas, Mikes." He winked at me, a grin flashing across his face as nothing more than a micro expression. 

I really couldn't tell if he was joking or not, so I just decided to avoid any and all alcohol tonight- in fact, it was probably better if I just avoided any and all edible substances, because if Pete can spike something, he will have done.

Jesus Christ, why is this guy my boyfriend? I will never understand, my love for this guy, but it's fucking strong, I know that. Pete does an awfully good job of reminding me of it as well.

"I could kill you, you know." I couldn't, but I chose to inform him regardless, maybe just because I wanted to tell him just how pissed off I was, but with that cheesy grin that seemed to be permanently plastered between my cheeks, I clearly wasn't doing the best of jobs by any means.

"I'd like to see you try." He taunted me, being a cheeky little bitch as per usual; because I honestly didn't think Pete Wentz came with any other function that to flirt excessively and annoying the fuck out of me in the best way possible. The two often coincided as well, which was just fucking confusing.

"Frankly, I don't think you'd enjoy your own murder awfully that much." I pointed out, taking his words far too literally with no other aim than to severely piss him off, because I was a nice guy like that.

Well, truthfully, I actually was a nice guy before Pete came and corrupted me with his Breaking Bad addiction and a flat to make any pyromaniac proud. I'm not even going to start on the herbal teas, dude.

"You wouldn't kill me, because you love me." He sounded far too certain in his words, but then again he could be, because his words were nothing short of the blatant truth. I was pathetic - pathetically in love with him, Jesus Christ I sound like some kind of thirteen year old girl with a crush. Dear Jesus, what has Pete Wentz reduced me to?

"You sure about that?" I smirked at him, not quite letting him get away with the utter satisfaction of being right at first, but after a second the both of us knew exactly what was going on here.

I think the fact that I was in love with him was also kind of bleedingly obvious, or so Gerard's pointed out to me multiple times whilst being the world's biggest hypocrite as he ignored and passed off any and all allegations regarding him and Frank.

"Yeah, I just think you need a little more vodka before we can act upon our love." He waggled his eyebrows at me in what was quite possibly the most cringe worthy manner. I felt like burying my head deep beneath the pits of hell to be honest.

"Yeah, I second that." Deciding that alcohol, even if it was drugged to hell would at least aid in making this situation considerably less awkward.

"Knew you'd agree eventually, Mikes." I groaned, coming to a realisation upon the fact that I'd just given into Pete Wentz - damn.

"You sure about that?" I counteracted in one final and useless attempt to win back some degree of my dignity. I just pushed it off within seconds, because dignity was only a matter when you were sober.

"Hella." He winked at me, dragging me unwillingly by the wrist into the kitchen, leaving me to lean distrustingly against the countertop as he grabbed just about every bottle of alcohol he could carry in two hands, and of course two glasses.

We couldn't just drink out of bottles now, could we? We were classy motherfuckers.

-

"Fuck, Pete." I groaned as he pressed me down against his bed, the sheets discarded in a heap and the TV making low humming static noises in the background as we both neglected turning the thing off.

By the time Breaking Bad had finished, I was far too drunk to even consider saying no to someone quite as cute as Pete. I was just a little pissed at how successfully his plan had ended up working, because this was all far, far from my initial intention.

My initial intention being to go to sleep and piss him off, but oh no, things did not seem to work out like that, seeing as the two of us were in minimal amounts of clothing, nothing between our skin but sweat and friction.

"You drunk enough yet, or do you want another shot?" He slurred, a lopsided grin making its way onto his lips. He looked awfully fucking cute if I pushed aside his disgustingly intoxicated state, which was actually rather easy to do once I considered my own.

I wondered who of us was the most drunk. It was kind of hard to evaluate drunkenness when you're drunk yourself, seeing as pretty much everything in your judgement is screwed up to a barely comprehendible state.

Pete had probably drunk more, but I was kind of a lightweight- well, more than kind of. I was a fucking lightweight, let's be honest here. Pete practically had some sort of intolerance to anything below a deadly level of alcohol which was kind of fucking worrying, but I was too fucking drunk to give a damn right now.

"I think you're well drunk enough, Pete." I giggled a little as began working away at creating at least a dozen more hickeys to litter my neck. It ticked, goddamn. Also it was really cute, as was everything about Pete. Pete was just awh.

How did I end up with Pete I don't know- something about blowjobs? Yeah, blowjobs, I like blowjobs, I like Pete too. Huh? See a connection because I do.

"You think so babe? I disagree." He mumbled into my skin, his hot breath contrasting the icy air that clung to my skin, leaving the surface with some sort of fuzzy tingling feeling which I wasn't quite sure whether it was down to Pete or simply the alcohol.

I hadn't really gotten quite this drunk before, so I found myself stumbling in the dark regarding what the hell was going on, and I should be panicky as fuck, but the alcohol was sorting that shit out for me. I couldn't give a damn about tingly fuzzy affects when Pete was this fucking cute- damn.

"Mmm...." I moaned as he sucked upon my neck with intense strength. Had he been turned into hulk or was that again just the fuzzy shit? I hadn't a clue; I just knew that this neck action was fucking good and I was never going to let him stop - ever.

"You're wearing far too many clothes." He noted, making a start upon my shirt, pulling the thing over my head and discarding it in whatever direction his throw caused it to land.

I should have been startled, but his actions had barely registered before I was shirtless and by then I just found myself shrugging it off seeing as that was the easy, effortless option and I was a lazy little shit at times. Now being one of them.

"Mmm... you think?" I mumbled into his exposed chest - Pete had gone shirtless just about as soon as we'd sat down to watch Breaking Bad, discretion passed entirely aside, but he looked far too good shirtless for me to even comprehend the matter of making a fuss about anything.

"I know, Mikes." He made a start on my jeans, pulling them over my ass down to my knees, leaving me to kick them down to my ankles and then further disregard them entirely.

Jeans were unnecessary tonight, he'd decided, leaving me to realise that he had indeed well and truly won and there was absolutely nothing I could even struggle to do that would rectify the situation.

I couldn't protest, not that I would, before we were both in our boxers and his lips were pressed firmly against mine, his arms continuously pinning me down against his mattress. It was really comfy as well, so I mean it wasn't as if I was uncomfortable or anything, meaning there was absolutely no point in moving or resisting at all.

His lips moved in time with mine, and perhaps he was even performing better than last time, but I suppose that now he had a little experience with me and had the advantage of knowing exactly what I liked. But there was the matter that he was drunk - he could that work out? Or maybe it was just the fact that I was even more drunk than he was, leaving me unable to judge anything realistically.

However, as I was barely not a virgin and still just as awkward, I was pretty much clueless when it came to him and as to what he liked. He tended to dominate me out of habit as well, so to be honest, I just went with him, letting him guide this whole activity, despite how fucking stubborn I intended upon being sometimes.

"You're so hot." He pushed his words against my chest between kisses. His lips gradually went down my collarbones, before slowly moving down my chest to reach my protruding hipbones, which for god knows what reason, he'd seem to take an awful liking to.

"You're so drunk." I noted. His kissing ability wasn't at all hindered by his intoxication though, as he managed to trail pretty much sober kisses down every inch of my skin.

"You're not so drunk." He also noted, a smug grin lying across his face.

"I had one shot." I protested with not a blatant lie, but possibly just mere under-exaggeration.

"Spoil sport." He grumbled, his hands travelling downwards as they of course, inevitably would have to; Pete wasn't going to be modest about this - Pete didn't do modest.

"What good would the two of be if we were both stumbling around and slurring like absolute idiots?" So really it was a blessing that I hadn't downed four bottles of vodka like Pete had.

Pete shrugged, the vodka not affecting him too much, yet still noticeably. "You'd be easier to convince into letting me fuck you."

"Last time you got me drunk, I ended up fucking you, remember?" I winked at him, a smirk slithering across my features as my gaze happened upon the raging blush that was taking over his cheeks.

"No, honey - that was the viagra." I rolled my eyes; he's my boyfriend - he should have no need to drug me with viagra... "At least you won't be making that mistake again."

"Whatever." He mumbled, grabbing the waistband of my boxers a little too eagerly, almost like an excited toddler, but that simile feels creepy and out of place within this context. "So babe, do you think I could fuck you tonight?"

"Pete-" I sighed, releasing his name along with a prolonged breath.

"Let me suck you off at the very least - I mean it is the Breaking Bad thing. It's on my bucket list as well."

"You have a bucket list?" I raised my eyebrows, not quite seeing Pete to be the type for any of that kind of stuff. He was kind of more of a hands on person, but people never came at face value; I'd learned that by now.

"Yeah, look I'll tell you about it later - let me suck your dick right now."

I couldn't even protest or respond for that matter, before his lips were doing their thing, taking me in all at once and I couldn't help but clutch the sheets and bite back a moan of pleasure, because Pete was stupidly good at this kind of thing, and that coupled with the ability that he was impossible to say no to, was really the most dreadful of combinations.

-

"Pete?" I put my phone to my ear, surprised to have not heard his eye splitting screech of 'Mikes' by now, but whatever it saved my ears a little, so I wasn't complaining entirely. I was still fucking tired out from a few nights ago- Pete had been awfully persistent.

"Hey, Mikessss!" Yup, there it was. It wasn't up to Pete's usual standards at all, which immediately led me to suspect that something was up.

"What's up, Pete?" I asked, curiosity never straying far from my words. "Don't even try and bullshit me - you haven't even attempted to deafen me at all yet."

"I'm in hospital, Mikes-"

"What?" I didn't let him finish, my jaw dropping. "You were fine - you sucked me off like two days ago. Have you managed to snap your spine in that time or something?" I was joking simply for the simple fact that I hoped things would remain that way.

"Dude, I fell down the stairs - I hit my head and passed out, I haven't got concussion or anything don't worry. You're Alastair right?" He joked with his fucking stupid sense of humour.

"Shut up." It wasn't funny; I didn't even want to consider loosing Pete in anyway shape or form.

"So yeah, I have a pretty ugly looking bump and a bandage, but other than that I'm fine and I should be able to leave tomorrow." He reassured me, talking casually about falling down a flight of stairs like the arrogant little prat he is

"And is this some kind of ploy for me to smuggle you shit into that hospital?" Why was I even asking; it was Pete, of course it was.

"Yeah, dear god. Bring me something edible - I can't eat hospital food, Jesus Christ!" Called it.

"You underappreciate me, you know." I was slightly offended, yet overall kind of glad that he hadn't been begging to see me again, but I just had to be thankful that he wasn't quite that creepily possessive over me quite yet. I wasn't dating Ryan Ross for a reason.

"Yeah, dude. Bring yourself too - I want to see you. I miss you." That was clearly the closest Pete Wentz was going to get to actually giving me a compliment, so I just took it as it came.

"How could I not bring myself-?"

"Shut up." He was blushing; I could tell. It was still cute, even when I couldn't see it, because Pete was just always fucking cute. "You're the clever, English student guy."

"We both know how I bullshitted that exam so badly." I admitted for the both of us, deciding it'd be best to end my victory basking right this moment.

"Meh, I think Satan decided that he wanted to make you the world's next greatest novelist." I do worry for Satan's mental health in that case. And there you go - that's not a sentence you hear every day.

"Tough shit for Satan, because if he thinks I'm actually going to do anything with this degree then-"

"Satan will send you to the pits of hell and get his kinky hell demons to tie you down and torture you." I was glad I had pushed aside my theory of Pete being Satan because with that theory intact Pete's words would be nothing short of awfully suspicious.

"What? Don't you just mean Ryan Ross?" I could hear his spluttering laughter through the phone lines and I rewarded myself with a fucking smug little prat smile.

"Pretty much, yeah. Now isn't that an incentive for you to be the next J.K. Rowling, J.R.R. Tolkien, John Green, Suzanne Collins, Stephanie Meyer or whatever." there you go - the only five authors Pete can actually name.

"If I was Stephanie Meyer, that'd probably give Satan an excuse to give me a no returns trip to the very deepest pits of hell."

"True, but whatever. Now stop being a pissy little bitch and come bring me edible food." As if I was being the pissy bitch. Pete wins that title - hands down.

"Is pot noodle good because that's literally the only thing in our cupboards?" I found myself groaning aloud at our literal ignorance towards culinary diversity. The most diverse thing in our cupboards was the difference between the two different flavour pot noodles.

"Fuck, I don't care as long as it hasn't been made by this fucking hospital!" Clearly, Pete was in his pissy bitch mood, as aforementioned.

"Language." I mimicked my own mother, stepping up my pissy bitch game.

"Shut up."

"Okay." I hung up - pissy bitch level up.

-

"Mikessss!" He practically screamed at me as I came in through the ward door carrying a plastic bag full of oddly successfully smuggled in snacks of various kinds. It was weird how no one had even questioned my rather suspicious looking plastic bag that I clutched in my left hand, but then again it was Jersey - no one seemed to care.

"I brought you food." I grinned at him, placing the bag on his bed, and he scrambled towards it, rummaging through the items as I sat down on the chair beside the bed, feeling unappreciated, or at least second best to some pringles,

"I hate it having to see you outside of my bed, you know. You belong right in here."

"Shut up." I couldn't help but blush even if it was quite possibly the worst attempt at flirting known to mankind. How this guy gets laid I will never know.

"This food is fucking godly thank you-"

"Shush, Satan will hear you." The Satan shit was beginning to creep me out as well, so I was beginning to suspect dropping it would be nothing short of the best of ideas, yet somehow I couldn't quite bring myself to do so.

"Stop being a goddamn Satanist. Believe in Yoda or whatever." He demanded this insane part of his brain clearly in control again.

"To be honest, I'd make a pretty shit Jedi, though." I confessed, making note of my atrocious physical ability.

"True." He grinned at me, allowing me to drown in self-pity.

"I hate you." I lied. He just raised his eyebrows at me in a far too certain state of disbelief - I hated his cockiness, but it was a very important part of him and his massive ego. "Okay, maybe I love you, just a little though."

"Just a little?" Yeah, he wasn't buying it at all. I was a terrible liar, so I couldn't blame him.

"Okay, a lot. Maybe." I confessed.

"You're a terrible liar, Mikes."

"You're terrible at not falling down the stairs, Pete." I didn't even know what I was saying by now but I just went with it regardless.

"That's offensive - my injured head is deeply offended, I'll have you know." Why I put up with this guy I simply didn't have a clue. How was a whole different world entirely.

"How did you even fall down the stairs?" I asked, ignoring his mumbling and whining.

"I didn't want to trip over one of my candles-"

"I told you they were dangerous!" I exclaimed with far too much excitement for someone who most definitely wasn't a sadist. "Anyway, so to avoid tripping over a candle, you fell down the stairs?"

"Yup." He confirmed, sounding ridiculous with hilarity within the process. "At least I didn't set the house on fire, though."

"At the very least, yes." I sighed, letting him have that one at the very least.

"I love you." He confessed out of nowhere, his words tumbling out of what seemed like nothingness. "Lots."

"How much?" I winked, not particularly wanting a figure but more of just to tease him because I was an asshole like that.

"I love you in the same way there's a chapel in a hospital."

"What?" I met him with raised eyebrows, because I very much doubted that if those words held any meaning whatsoever, Pete wasn't at all aware of it.

"It's a metaphor... I think." I had to chuckle at that one, because the fact that even Pete didn't have a clue as to what the hell his words meant was nothing short of hilarious.

"You think?" I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, letting myself question my boyfriend's sanity for a brief moment in time.

"Yeah, I think." He confirmed seconds later, yet his words still riddled with mild uncertainty.

I couldn't help but let out a second chuckle. "I love you too." I responded, although it felt like it didn't even need saying I assumed he'd probably feel better if I did say it back.

"I damn well hope so." He winked, a smirk spreading across his features, the darkened shapes contrasting with the placid white that coated every inch of the hospital.

"As if I couldn't, though." I grinned at him, letting his ego have that one out of the kindness of my very own heart.

"Yeah, I know - I'm irrestible-" Yeah, I'm regretting my decision by now.

"I was more focusing upon the fact that you'd shoot everyone I know if I didn't agree to date you."

"You're ruining the moment." He said with a nervous laugh, maybe because my last statement wasn't such an exaggeration after all, or maybe he was just toying with me like the little shithead he was,

"Whatever." I grinned.

 Hey guys:) Thank you for reading this chapter and I'm sorry if there are some grammatical errors as I didn't have time to properly proofread it, so I put it through spellcheck and skim read. I hope you don't mind ahha;) Comments and votes are lovely to see you know;) Love all of you guys<3