an: petes realllllyyyy stressed but hasn't been venting.

"Hey Bronx, Declan. How was school?" I ask as the two sixteen year olds come the front door. "It was aight" Declan grins and slumps onto a chair, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Bronx smiles "amazing." I raise my eyebrows but go back to typing, I've been making amazing progress with my writing today. Bronx sits on the chair next to me, he smiles, his eyes crinkle at the sides like mine do.

"Why was school so amazing B?" I ask and close my project, he moves his curls that were covering his forehead. "Is that a fuckin' bruise?" I ask and push his curls back, a large purple bruise covers half of his forehead. "Jesus fucking Christ, are you alright?" I ask and tie his hair in a bun with the hair tie from my wrist. I open the freezer and grab a bag of frozen peas and throw the bag to Bronx. "Put that on your forehead" I tell him and go to the medicine cabinet Patrick installed.

"Did you loose or win?" I ask while looking through the cabinet for Neosporin. "Lost, half of the football team is a bit of a match for three unsporty sixteen year olds." I find the Neosporin and smear it all over Bronx's forehead"who else was involved?" He wrinkles his nose "I'm not a snitch." I laugh "I won't tell their parents, I just wanna know who else got hurt."

"Miles, Kaleb and I. Bandit was out.... doing stuff so she wasn't there. Urie can really pack a punch" He chuckles, Declan's head shoots up "what about Sam?" Ha, now he's interested. "Sam Urie, the fucking captain of the football team. Dude he's a bitch, he put Kaleb in the hospital for a week." I raise my eyebrows again "are you sure you're talking about Sam Urie, Brendon Urie's son?" Bronx nods "Sam Marshell Urie." Declan shakes his head "Sam wouldn't hurt a fucking fly." Bronx snorts "well then your boyfriend is two faces because I can remember him slamming my head against my fuckin' locker last week."

"Jesus fucking Christ Bronx, you gotta tell me when this shit happens" I groan and pull out my phone again to text Patrick. "What were you going to do if I did, call his mother?" Bronx laughs at his own stupid joke and puts the bag of frozen peas on the table. "Jesus Christ, I could of done something... being beaten up is shit, believe me"

"Whatever you say. I don't get beat up all the time, I win every once and a while... Dad, I'm fine. If I get into a fight it's probably my own fault" Bronx tightens his hair in the messy bun. "At least you should learn to fight?" I bite my lip and shrug. "Who's gonna teach me?" He snorts. "Andrew."

Bronx grins and pumps his fist in the air "will he be shirtless?" I slap my forehead "He's thirty, you're sixteen." He shrugs "that didn't stop you and Joe." I grab a beer and shake my head "never fucked Joe." Both Declan and Bronx laugh "yeah he fucked you" Declan slaps his hand on his thigh and laughs even harder. I blush "shut up, we didn't fuck."

"Mm, I'd sure hope not" Patrick nips my neck and snakes his arms around my waist. Fuck, I love him touching me, it made me melt. He laughs "you melt under my touch, Princess." Declan and Bronx laugh harder and I scowl "I hate all of you." Patrick chuckles and rubs my side "you love me Wentz." Bronx wipes tears away from his eyes "please, I'm gonna die from laughter." I shove Patrick away lightly and grab my computer, then I head up to my office.

I hear Patrick sigh before I slam my door shut, music, I need music right now. I hook my computer up the my Bluetooth speakers and put my music on shuffle. Drums start to bang and bass starts to pound into my soul, I turn the volume up a bit then slouch onto my chair. This beings back memories being a teenager, in someways I still am. Still have my stupid hair, stupid outbursts of anger, stupid nightmares. No wonder most people avoid me, I'm a teenager stuck in a grown mans body.

Scissors are in the bathroom cabinet, room next to mine. I run out and slam the bathroom door as well, scissors, scissors, scissors. I find them and stare at myself in the mirror. Black long floppy hair, fried from years or straightening it and dying it. I hate it, I hate how I look so I used to think I could just hide my face by covering it. Bye hair.

—

"Tell me something about yourself that I don't know." Patrick tells me while running his fingers through my short, tight curly hair. He doesn't know a lot about me, I probably don't know a lot about him either. "Um, my full name is Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the Third, you probably knew that....I'm the three bi's, biracial, bipolar and bisexual." He hums "didn't know that you were biracial, I've never seen your hair like this before so maybe thats why." I shrug "don't like my hair when it's like this, probably cause of bullying...I used to wear my hair like this all the time and it was I dyed it blond once....I looked like a black Eminem" I laugh at the memory.

"When we first met you had cornrows, I thought you were the weirdest looking mother fucker. When we fucked for the first time you had your emo hair, I remember because you asked me to pull on it" he kisses my forehead then goes back to massaging my scalp and twirling my curls around his fingers. "I hate scary movies, Pizza is my favorite food and I write poetry" I tell him and squeeze his thigh.

"The great Peter Wentz hates spooky movies" he laughs. "You've never told me that you're bipolar" he rubs my cheek and scoot into his lap. He kisses my cheek then wraps his arms around my waist "did you not trust me enough?" I shrug "I don't like telling people about...that part of myself. I still don't trust you fully but you're almost there Tricky" I kiss his hand and pull my blanket around myself. He's warm, the blankets warm and his lips softly graze my neck. "I love you" he mumbles and kisses under my ear, biting a bit at the skin. "Love you too weirdo."

"Not weird, just...Weird" he chuckles and goes back to sucking down my neck. He has sharp teeth, mother fucker "you bit me dick shit." He laughs and licks the bite marks he had just made "I'm your weirdo Wentz, you're stuck with me." I pout and rub my neck "that hurt." He hands sneak under my shirt, rubbing my hips "I miss your body" I shiver, his voice has dropped about an octave. I want him, I also don't though, not sure why. His fingers scratch my abs, fuck this. I squirm out of his grip and roll onto my stomach, face in his pillow.

"Pete?" He pulls my blanket off of my back and wraps it around my shoulders. "No sex, I don't want sex Patrick. I still get uneasy about the thought of having sex with you, I don't know why but I just can't. Leave me to my left hand and I'll leave you to yours." He turns away from me and pulls his pillow out from under my head. I really pissed him off, sex god Patrick Stump can't have sex and now he's gonna give me the silent treatment.

I roll over and tug my seven year old ratty blanket around my body. I miss his warmth, his hands running though my hair as I lay my head on his chest. "Trick, miss you" I mumble into his upper back. He pushes me away, don't over react Pete. "Don't ignore me" I hiss and climb out of bed. He doesn't move and I head to the bathroom, why is the bathroom my new safe place. I need my pills, pills, pills.

Keep the door locked, stay quiet and don't leave a mess. Bad habits die hard, a handful of pills go down my throat, followed by a few more pills. My skin tingles and I start to pick at my tattoos, I need them off of my skin. Someones fist raps against the bathroom door. "I'm fine!" Too loud. I'm always too loud, too happy and too smiley. Thats me. "Dad what are you doing?" Bronx, bronx, bronx. Fuck, I don't need this.

"I'm fine." Two times is always a lie. He bangs his fist against the door again and screams for my boyfriend. Weird word, boyfriend. I hear Patrick join the shouting, Declan and Bronx and screaming but I can't make out what they're saying. "Peter" Patrick screams as the door busts open. Caught red handed with a handful of pills.