Hey guys, long time no see. It's been a hectic year so far. I was on my gap year, travelling the wonders of Europe and getting ready for a relaxing holiday and then BOOM 'rona happened. So what else is there to do when your only other activity is going to your essential job and sleeping? Writing!

I 👏🏼 have 👏🏼 missed 👏🏼 this 👏🏼 fic

Get ready for angst and crying x

"You can't be serious Pete, we've an exam in the morning!"

"Oh Ryan, I'll be home for midnight, keep your panties on."Pete blinks in the mirror, making sure that their eyeliner isn't smudged and that the light layer of eyeshadow they placed on their eyelids doesn't look too tacky and noticeable. Gee had given them a lend of a couple of makeup supplies, mostly out of morbid curiosity or maybe to appeal to Petes slutty personality. Either way, Pete was becoming a pro of applying make up and gaining the confidence to use it more and more out.

And out, exactly, was where Pete was heading tonight. For the fourth time this week, but who's counting? Ryan Ross, that's who. But Pete has become a pro of filtering out what people say about them, or to them, or through them, whether that be big headed biggots in school or the concerning pleas of a best friend that just has their best interests at heart. Ryan means well, Pete knows that, but Ryan just doesn't understand and it frustrates Pete to the core.

Because as much as Ryan is worried, he's concerned, questioning, full of 'You can always talk to me' and 'Do you really think you should be drinking that much alcohol?', it doesn't seem to help, it just makes Pete worse. And he's not doing it just to spite Ryan, to give the teenager an early onset heart condition and forgo his already crippling anxiety, a part of Pete just wants to show Ryan that some things just can't be fixed by having a lovely chat and a cry on a shoulder.

Sometimes, people just need to get drunk. Or high. Or have outrageously amazing sex with strangers.

Dallon, on the other hand, seemed to have gotten the memo way back in the bathroom. He seemed to understand that what Pete wanted was to be left alone, to lick their wounds in private, to deal with this strange, new bountiful of hurt and betrayal in their own way. Dallon may be the Dad to Ryan's Mom, but just like a Dad, Dallon knew when to interfere and when to just leave Pete alone.

"Or you don't go and actually put some effort into your education instead?"Ryan suggests, eyes almost wide and cartoonish when Pete regretfully turns to look at them. Ryan has an awfully great skill of making people feel guilty while maintaining such an innocent facade. It's the soft brown eyes and the dimply smile. Pete looks away just as quickly, throwing the eyeliner at the direction of their desk.

"I'm sorry but when did you push me out of your cervix and christen me as your child?"

"Pete, you're acting like a child. Just sit down and talk to me."Ryan pats the bed beside him because it feels like it's been so long since Ryan has properly spent time with Pete.

"I don't want to talk, Ryan! Why don't you fucking get that. I don't want to talk. I don't want to cry. And I don't want you to look at me the way that you do. Just stop it!"And it's just the tip of the iceberg of many emotions and a massive temper tantrum but it's something; and it definitely wasn't the reaction that Ryan Ross was expecting as he sits there on Petes bed, hand pressed to the sheets where he was patting, eyes wide as he stares at Pete who just looks so infuriated.

Because. Ryan. Won't. Listen. To. Them. And Pete has had enough. They want people to stop telling them what to do, how to feel, how to dress, when to drink, what to say, how to act because if Pete wants to act like a child then so be it, Pete will act like a goddamn child and if Ryan thinks that's Pete acting like a child then he's seen nothing yet. This is just a crisis, a crisis that Pete is dealing with on their own.

"Right, uh, I guess I'll go then."Ryan finally speaks up after a couple of very long minutes of staring at each other, both too stubborn to speak first and break the silence and both very unsure of how to react to Petes sudden outburst. But it's not sudden, it was oncoming, they both knew it, Ryan just hadn't expected it to be directed at him.

"Yeah, I guess you should."

~~

"Dallon Weekes! Where have you been?!"The words that Pete hears are so clear, crystal clear, rolling off of their tongue in a playful, banter full manner because Pete just feels so happy, so buzzed, so alive in this moment that nothing can ruin their utterly blissful mood. However Pete may hear those words, it's not the truth because heads are turning, whispers are murmured, snickers are shared because Peter Kingston Wentz The Third is indeed, shitfaced.

There's no nice way of putting it because Pete has been nonstop drinking since the moment they entered the house and they haven't been shy on introducing themselves to absolutely everybody at the party of some stranger that Peter neither knows the name or the face of.

"At home, sleeping."

"Well you're not sleeping now, silly! You're here to drink- drink, drink alcohol- beer! You like beer! Let's get you some beer!"But why isn't Ryan here, why did Ryan not come along? Usually he's the first to jump on the bandwagon that is the 'Saving Pete Wentz Squad' but why isn't he here now? Taking their arm and dragging them into the car? Explaining to their mom what has happened and why Pete is in this mess. Again.

"Pete, I'm here to take you home."Dallon sighs and Pete thinks he looks so tall and tired as he rubs a hand down his face to shake of the fatigue because he had been having such a nice sleep, dreamless but deep and to be rudely interrupted has just put him in a bad mood. Especially when it's not his responsibility to deal with The Pete Show™️.

"Why? I'm having so much fun, Dal! Come meet all my new friends, come...come... wait do you think jizz is called cum because it usually comes forward?"Pete asks in all seriousness, loud and making people stare and Dallons face roars red as he clears his throat awkwardly, making a grab for Petes arm.

"I- right, home, now. C'mon, I was called to come and collect you."

"Who called?"Petes voice is full of accusation as they shake off Dallons arm, eyes narrowing in question or maybe because their vision is blurred from the amount of alcohol that they've drank. Pete wants to know who dared to rain on their parade.

"I did."Pete turns to the voice, or so they think they do because the world seems to spin 180 and shake like they're trapped in a Magic 8 Ball before it settles and Pete can make out the figure approaching them, a hand coming out to rest on their shoulder. It's Frank and Pete knows it's Frank because they squeeze their shoulder in that weird, all-knowing way that only people who are like Frank are capable of doing. "You're going home, Pete."

"I'm not going home, I'm having fun. I'm- I'm dancing and singing and having the fucking time of my life and-and you all hate me for it!"Pete stumbles back, away from Franks touch and Dallons grabbing hand and worried face because why does everyone feel the need to tell them what to do? Pete is having fun. Pete just wants to have fun. Pete just wants to feel like they're having fun.

"Pete, watch yourself."Dal takes a step forward to grab Petes arm for a second time, this time to stop them from falling and making an even more embarrassment of themselves.

"Don't tell me what to do Dal, I don't need your hel-"It's too late because not even Dallons grabbing hand can catch Pete as they stumble over a coffee table, arms out frantically, bodies moving out of the way, drinks spilling as Petes slams into the bookshelf opposite, face first before they hit the ground. It's a shock of pain, instant and there, but only for a moment before it's gone but it still aches in that warm, pulsing way that an open wound would.

"I told you to watch yourself."Dallon is pushing stiff bodies out of the way that do nothing but stare and gawk and grab for their phones to take embarrassing pictures with. Holding out a hand for Pete to take, Dallon watches as Pete visibly jerks away from the hand as if what Dallon was offering them was a trap, that if Pete took that hand Dallon would yank off their arm. "For god sake- Pete, let me help you."

"I'm fine, I'm fine! It's just a bit- a bit of blood, I'm fine."Pressing a hand to their open wound, Pete suppresses a hiss because it's really not all that bad, it's just a cut and some blood, Pete has been worse. Like a broken nose from your ex-boyfriend.

Pete doesn't need help, they handle things on their own because sure sometimes Pete would love to be able to gibe up their responsibilities, to let their walls fall around them and relax; talk about what happened, cry on a shoulder, have their hair petted and their forehead kissed, they can't muster the ability to do that. Because the last time that Pete felt that comfortable with someone, they turned against them and Pete doesn't think they can go through that kind of hurt. Especially not the one that Mikey came with.

And what hurts the most is that Pete sees him every day of his life. It wasn't a stranger that caused Petes broken nose or bruises on their chest that still haven't fully healed, or a constant, dull headache that seems to get worse as the days get on. It was a classmate. It was an ex-boyfriend. It was one of their friends brother. It was Mikey. Pete saw them at school, in class, at the skatepark, at parties, at Gerards House. He was always there. He was always lurking. Always watching. And it made Petes skin crawl.

It made Pete feel so terrible because Mikey just has that ability to make it feel like it was all Petes fault. That it was Petes fault that they were in that bathroom, that stall, that day, that hour, that minute, that second. That they asked for a lighter to have a smoke, that they washed their hands. That they accidentally walked into the wrong room that one afternoon and met Gerard and new doors began opening before Pete. Because that's how it all started and as much as Pete resents it, they don't regret it.

"I'm-"Pete hiccups, grabbing hold of the wall to lean against for a second, let the world settle before moving any further, "I'm goin' to clean myself- myself up."

"Let me help."It's Frank this time that perks up to help, taking steps forward to follow Pete towards the stairs that they certainly don't look like they could manage on their own. But Frank is put in their place because Pete turns, a hand pressed to their gushing forehead wound, blood seeking through their fingers and running down their face as they speak, slurred with alcohol and pain and annoyance.

"Alone. I'll be 10 minutes and then I'll leave."

Hey guys, this was a short chapter but I broke up this chapter into two parts because I was afraid that the chapter as just one would be wayyyyyyy too long. This is a build up to some major fucking angst and I'm not ready for the angst

Please tell me what you all thought! I hope you are all doing well!

What are your thoughts on Pete and how they are coping?

Your thoughts on Pete and Ryan's strained relationship? And Pete and Dallons too?

What do you think is going to happen in the next chapter?

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Peace ✌🏼