A/N: nice long chapter for ya, but that's probly from the uh *cough cough* smut *cough* soooo....yeah have fun with that.
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[Joe]

Another week, another college related headache. It's not so bad really, just boring as hell. Patrick keeps texting during class, probably Pete, Frank still stares at Gerard from across the room like a fucking creep, and me? I just kinda gaze at the board and pretend I know what Hoppus is talking about.

There's a bit of good news: Patrick and I got B+ on our assignment, which is awesome because all we did was fuck around and glue pieces of paper to each other. Frank got an A though, one of the highest grades in the class.

Some more good news: I think Patrick and Pete finally hooked up, but I'm not entirely sure if that's a good thing or not. So we'll just call that semi-good news. It's hard to tell with those two, they're crushing on each other but neither will admit to it. Pete will get super protective and possessive over Patrick but always says something like 'I don't like him like that' or 'I only like him as a friend' which is bullshit. But at the same time I'm not really surprised, Pete's always been that way. That's how I could tell if he liked someone. He did the same thing with that Ashlee chick, which didn't end well, and the same thing with Mikey, which also didn't end well, and those other people who I refuse to mention only because I can't remember who they all were.

When Pete falls for someone, he falls hard and sometimes it's so bad that he can't get back up. I helped patch him up and I helped with the aches and pains, but the more something shatters, the harder it gets to pick up the pieces and put it back together.

Pete is as fragile as it gets but he sees it as a weakness and covers it up by yelling and fighting, giving the appearance of being tough and strong. But he's not, he's broken and needs friends. Without people like me and Patrick, he'd probably be dead. As much as I hate to say that, it's the truth. He needs reasons to keep himself going and if I know him like I think I do, then Pete's running out of reasons.

[Frank]

I never held up my end of the deal, the one where I tell Gerard how I feel about him and Patrick tells Pete what we did about three weeks ago? Yeah, that one. I'm sure you're probably wondering what happened so let's just say that a certain person (Patrick) and this other guy (me) got drunk (not really, that's just how we pretend we weren't conscious of what we were doing) at this party over at Gabe's place. We maybe played this stupid party game (we totally played a stupid party game) and Patrick and I ended up doing...stuff (fucking) in the upstairs bathroom. It shouldn't matter now though because Patrick didn't meet Pete until after that happened. We promised never to fuck each other again because we didn't really like each other that way but, damn, was Patrick a great fuck.

[Patrick]

Pete decided to stay at my dorm while I was in class because he didn't want to sit out in the heat and wait for me. Which was fine because I never asked him to sit on my car and wait for me in the first place.

After class ended, I said my goodbyes to Frank and Joe before I slung my bookbag over my shoulder and left the classroom, eventually leaving out the double doors and hopping into my car. I get to the place that I call my home for the moment and head inside.

"Pete?" I call out as I toss my bag on the floor. No answer. So I call out his name a second time.

"What! What! What happened?!" He shouts, running out of the kitchen as if I just screamed 'fire'. With a spoon in his hand.

"Nothing. What's with the spoon?"

He looks down at his hand, probably forgetting that he had it. "Oh, I was making a bowl of cereal." Then he turned back into the kitchen and grabbed his bowl of Apple Jacks, walking out and sitting on the coffee table dangerously close to the TV.

I sat on the end of the couch so that I'd be able to see the the screen. "You know, you shouldn't be sitting-"

"Shhh!" Pete hisses. "Misfits is on, shutup."

Fine. He's lucky I like this show or else I'd kick him off the table.

[•time skip, later that night around nine pm•]

"Patrick."

I look up from my laptop to see Pete standing over me, blocking the TV with his body and making him appear as a silhouette. It's a little, y'know, creepy. I can't see his features but judging by his stance, his arms are folded over his chest and that usually means 'I'm pissed'. Well, fuck, what's he pissed about?

"Something wrong?" I asked warily, muting the TV so I can hear what he has to say.

"Frank sent me a text a few minutes ago. He told me something pretty interesting..."

Shit. I think I know where this is going. "Yeah? And what might that be?" I ask in faux confusion, while still staring down at my laptop pretending to be doing something important.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe that you two fucked in Gabe's bathroom."

Goddammit.

[Pete]

Patrick sighs, purposely gazing at the fucking computer screen to avoid looking at me. I can fix that. I bend down and get close enough to his face so that our noses are nearly touching, he looks up at me then. There isn't much of his face that I can see but if I had a guess, I'd guess that he wasn't showing any hint of emotion. That's his defense mechanism, he wipes his face clean to keep others from reading him and it's hard to tell what he's feeling or thinking. Smart man, pulling his pokerface out on me.

I lift my hand and touch my fingers to the back of the laptop screen, pushing forward until the light cuts off and closes entirely. Patrick doesn't react, which is good, I have his full attention.

"So when did you plan on telling me about you and Frank?" I ask quietly but just loud enough for Patrick to hear.

"Never." He responds. "Because there is no 'me and Frank'." Then he moves his laptop to the side and places it on one of the empty couch cushions.

"You didn't want me to know?"

"You didn't need to know. It happened before we even met, Pete. And why do you care so much anyway?"

"I care because being left in the dark is what got me here in the first place." I stand up straight and back away from him then he gets to his feet, standing directly in front of me. The TV flashed behind me and I saw a small glimpse of Patrick's expression; confusion and sympathy. "People leave me in the dark when they don't want me around. My roommate, Andy? I haven't seen him in over a week and when I do, it's only for like thirty seconds and then he's gone again. And we live together. When I ask where he's going, he always says 'out'. Brendon and Gabe, haven't seen or spoken to them in nearly a month. Last week was the first time I've been to Joe's house since Halloween. People leave you in the dark when they want to shut you out. And now you. I have no one left but you and that fucker with all the tattoos!" And maybe Joe, but I don't mention it. It feels like he's leaving something out too, he's slowly drifting away. I can feel it.

"I-I'm..."

"What, sorry?!" I finish his sentence. "I don't need your fucking sympathy, alright. That is the last thing I need right now!"

"What do you want from me then? Want me to punch you, scream at you, hurt you, just so you feel alive?! So you can feel anything else other than your goddamn emotions?!"

I bark out a bitter, sarcastic laugh to try and cover up the fact that he's right. I laugh so he'll feel like what he said was ridiculous and didn't make sense, so he won't think that he's right about me. I wish he was wrong. "There you go again thinking you know who I am. I'm not a fucking book! You can't skim over me and figure me out without knowing what I'm really about!"

"You're so much easier to read than you think, Pete." Fucking liar.

"Fuck off, Patrick. Why don't you go to Frank's and--"

"Fuck him in a bathroom?" I know, I know, weak comeback on my part. "It was one time. What the fuck is up with you and this whole 'sleeping with Frank' business, huh?!" He shouted.

First I was jealous of Joe and Patrick's friendship and now I'm jealous because Patrick fucked somebody who wasn't me. Yeah, I can admit that. I've been crushing on this pretty little shit since the goddamn parking lot and someone else got to have him before me. Should've been me. "Because it should've been me!" I shove him and he nearly fell down onto the couch but caught himself.

"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you?!" He shoves me back and I almost fall over the coffee table but manage to keep my balance.

"Fuck yes, I would. You know why, because I fucking love you!" I shove him again. Shit, what'd I just say?

"Yeah, well I love you, too, asshole!" Fuck, what'd he just say? Instead of him shoving me like I expected, he grips my up by the collar of my shirt and pulls me close until our noses are mere centimeters apart again and I can feel his breath ghost over my lips.

I just told Patrick that I loved him...but Patrick said he loved me back, holy shit, he just said that! Did he really mean that? I mean, I did, but did he? Two fucking weeks -or was it three, who cares- but those three words make this so real. This is actually happening. I should say something, I should ask him if he meant it, I should say so many things right now, but my mouth decides to go on autopilot and says something I wasn't expecting, "You better kiss me you bastard."

He immediately closes the small gap between us, connecting our lips and there's nothing gentle about it. We bite, our teeth clack, it's desperate, hungry, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. And there's that spark again, the one I want to keep forever but can't because I know I'll find a way to fuck this up. I always do, I ruin every good thing that passes through my hands. And I know that Patrick will probably be the last good thing I'll get for a long time, maybe even the rest of my life. So I have to hold on.

Patrick eventually releases my shirt from his grip and moves his hands down to my hips, hooking his index fingers in the belt loops of my jeans. I can instantly feel his heat against me and I want more of it. All of it actually. His tongue swipes at the seam of my lips and I allow entry, I wanna taste this all the time; his sweet fucking mouth should be illegal.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold him as close as I can, as tight as I can, for as long as I can. Because he's mine for the night. Then there's a blur of nothing but fumbling fingers tugging at shirts and clumsily unbuttoning jeans, panting breaths, warm palms sliding across soft skin. Not a single thread of clothing stands between us now and I'd like to keep it that way at least until tomorrow afternoon.

I push him down onto the couch and staddle his hips, feeling his warmth against my thighs. He runs his hands along my sides and I shiver at the sensation, his fingertips barely coming into contact with my skin as he lightly traces my ribs. All this aggression still bubbling between us and he touches me like a feather? No, I'm not having that. I lean down and cover his mouth with my own, making sure it's harsher than the last. Patrick quickly catches on and bites my bottom lip hard enough to bleed, it stings but I moan at the pain. Then he's detaching his lips from mine and pressing them against my neck.

Patrick's soft hands slide down and caress the low curve of my back before they land on my ass, squeezing hard enough to leave imprints. I can't take this anymore, I need him inside me, I need to feel him, hard and heavy, plunging deep.

"If you don't fuck me right now, I swear I'm gonna kill you." I say through gritted teeth.

Patrick only tightens his grip. "Don't be such a bitch, Pete."

"Fuck you, Patrick." I say though there's not enough heat behind the words.

"No, fuck you." He growls out.

Then he's spreading me open and thrusting his hips up until his cock is halfway inside of my entrance. It hurts like hell and he knows it, but he doesn't care and neither do I. I don't need him to prep me, don't need lube, I need the pain that only Patrick can give me.

I cry out the deeper Patrick goes, up until our hips are pressed together. He doesn't move and I'm not sure if it's because he's waiting on me, or if he just enjoys seeing me writhe and squirm in his lap. I'm betting the latter. I can feel his cock throbbing against my walls and the sensation makes my dick twitch.

The TV flashes behind me and I catch a glimpse of Patrick's face. He's biting his lip, eyes half-lidded and gazing at me like...like he wants me. Like I'm his prized possession. I can't say that I hate the look in his eye. He then moves his hands, placing one on my hip and the other on the back of my neck. He pulls me down into another kiss and that's when I start moving, pulling my hips up until Patrick's cock nearly slides out, then I sink back down, causing him to moan against my lips and I eagerly swallow the sound.

I repeat the action, working my hips up and down rhythmically and Patrick gets his fingers in my hair, tugging hard, then he closes his fingers and full on pulls until my head is forced back, he takes the opportunity to bite at my throat and suck on the skin. God, his mouth is gonna be the death of me.

"I like the sounds you make," Patrick breathes against my neck as he licks at the teethmarks he's left behind. "You feel so fucking good." He loosens his grip in my hair and I lean my head down until my forehead it pressed against his.

"Keep talking like that and I'll-- Oh God!" My sentence gets obliterated by Patrick's sudden hip movements, thrusting up into me and meeting my hips with all he's got. His dick diving deeper and deeper with every snap of his hips, the blunt head of his hard cock ramming into my prostate like a fucking bullseye. Our skin is slapping against each other in the otherwise silent room and I brace my hands on the back of the couch, my knuckles turning white from my tight grip. The TV flashes again and this time Patrick's mouth is hanging open, panting just as heavily as I am, a thin layer of sweat covering his flawless body, and his eyes looking directly into mine. He never once took his eyes away from me.

"Fuck, Patrick," I moan, and I know I must sound absolutely wrecked right now. "Oh-- I... I'm gonna-"

The heat of Patrick's palm against the back of my neck is suddenly gone and he places it down on my other hip, helping me to work my ass on his cock. His grip tightens and a few swears drop out of his gorgeous mouth and I know there's gonna be bruises later, so many bruises.

I can feel myself getting closer with each harsh slam of Patrick's hips until I'm shouting "Oh fuck, Patrick!" repeatedly, then I'm cumming so hard that I have to squeeze my eyes shut, untouched, now that's saying something. My body tenses and my release shoots onto my stomach, running down until it slides down the crease of my thigh and drips onto Patrick's throbbing cock.

Patrick's hips stop abruptly, his fingers gripping me so tight that I can feel his pulse. Then he throws his head back against the couch, letting out a deep groan as he cums thickly inside of me in hot spurts, so much that I swear it's pouring out of me. He pulls me close as we both come down from our pleasured highs, which I didn't expect but I'm not complaining, and we breathe for a moment before Patrick says, "Damn, I hate how beautiful you are." He whispers in slight awe, pulling out of me gently.

"Shutup, Patrick." I mumble tiredly. "You're the pretty one." I couldn't remember if Patrick said anything after that because I zoned out, probably from me being sleepy. The last thing I remember was Patrick turning off the TV and carrying me like one would a sleeping toddler, presumably to the bedroom.

Definitely the best night of my entire fucking life.

[Patrick]

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I didn't want to answer it but I had the feeling that it will never shutup if I leave it alone. I reach over and squint at the blinding light and the words that read 'New message: Frank'. I quickly opened it and read the time (1:18 am) before looking at the message.

Frank: U owe me 20$

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A/N: I have another story up called 'Can't You Save Me?' and I kinda like it and I hope you guys will too. Check it out? Thanks, love you all!

❤ na-na-na-nana