Chapter Text
Joe and Patrick were watching cartoons and eating Cheerios out of the box in their nightmare of an apartment. Fast food cups and bags with ecosystems inside of them littered their floor and coffee table, and the smell of Doritos, weed, and body odor encapsulated the small room. An ashtray filled with and surrounded by the remnants of countless blunts stared at them, both in t-shirts and their boxers at 10 am. While it would certainly make the average person gag, it was their day off from work, and sue them for wanting to just relax and ignore the mess. Despite the relaxed morning, their day off was about to get extremely shitty. Just when the South Park theme song began to blare from the speakers of their thrift store TV, their other two roommates barged into the apartment in a fury.
“I am so sick of your bullshit, Wentz!” Darren screamed.
“C’mon, man. You’re overreacting,” Pete replied annoyed.
“I am not fucking overreacting! You stole my favorite shirt! And gave it to some girl you barely know! Did you even know her fucking name?”
“I didn’t have a choice! All my clothes were dirty, and I couldn’t let a chick wear a dirty shirt home! Besides, that thing was super fugly anyway. I did you a favor.”
“You’re unbelievable!”
Patrick and Joe exchanged glances before tuning out their bickering roommates. This wasn’t a new occurrence in their apartment. In fact, it was odd when Pete and Darren didn’t fight. While it was obnoxious to have to strain to hear the TV on their day off, they’d more-or-less gotten used to this dynamic. However, when Darren said, “That’s fucking it! I’m moving out! I’m done! This place is literally hell!” Joe and Patrick decided to tune back in.
Pete rolled his eyes. “You’re such a dramatic bitch.”
“I’m fucking serious! I’m tired of you stealing my shit! I’m tired of Joe getting high and eating my food! I’m tired of…” Darren paused. “Well, actually Patrick isn’t that bad.” Joe raised an eyebrow at that, and Patrick suddenly felt like they were eavesdropping even though Pete and Darren were fully aware they were there.
Pete shrugged, “Sharing is caring.” Darren’s face twisted into the angriest expression Joe and Patrick had ever seen, giving off the same vibe as a rubber band that had been stretched three feet long. Pete Wentz had a habit of getting under people’s skin, which Joe and Patrick were convinced at this point was a stronger impulse for him than self-preservation. Darren had to be at least a full foot taller than Pete, and it was not a mystery who would win that fight. The tension was palpable as Patrick waited for a punch to be thrown and Joe swore he saw a vein protruding from Darren’s head.
However, Darren just replied through gritted teeth, “Consider this my notice! Look for another fucking roommate to leech off of!” and left the apartment, slamming the door on his way out.
Pete, Joe, and Patrick all stared at the door, dumbfounded. They did this in silence for at least a minute before Patrick turned to Pete with, “What the fuck is your problem?”
“I was in a pinch!” Pete put up his hands defensively.
“I took your laundry to the mat last week. You had clean shirts, dude,” Patrick sneered.
“A week is a long time. I ran out,” Pete answered in a weirdly sheepish way. Joe’s nose scrunched up as he studied his face. Something wasn’t right, and Joe had known Pete long enough to know exactly what it was.
“It was a guy, wasn’t it?” Joe deadpanned. Pete was a relatively small guy, and not only that: a small guy who wore even smaller clothes. While the girls he brought home could fit into his clothes, the guys were a different story. Pete’s tanned face turned bright red, and he looked to the side. That was all the confirmation Joe and Patrick needed, so they dropped the subject.
“Well, where the hell are we going to find another roommate? We can’t afford this place at the end of the month between the three of us,” Patrick pointed out getting to their actual problem.
Something in Joe’s expression changed from annoyance to terror. There was something very real and terrifying about what that meant. “I can’t move back home, dude. You know that!”
“I know, I know. I’ll figure something out!” Pete tried to calm them down as he sat at the dilapidated kitchen table that they had found on the side of the road. The three of them sat in silence for what felt like forever as the TV projected Cartman’s voice throughout the tiny apartment. Suddenly Joe’s face lit up.
“I got it!”
“What?” Pete and Patrick said in unison.
“Andy. Motherfucking. Hurley.”
“The vegan drummer guy?” Patrick asked.
“Yeah! I overheard that he was looking for a place at a show last week! And it’s perfect because then I won’t eat his weird food when I get high!” Patrick rolled his eyes. Pete mulled it over.
“Y’know what? Yeah! Andy motherfucking Hurley!” Pete nodded. “We’ve been in a few bands together! He’s pretty cool!”
“I’m not against it, but you guys can’t steal his shit. I don’t want to have to find a new roommate for a fourth time this year,” Patrick chided.
“Cool! I think his band is playing downtown tonight, so we can ask him about it there!” Joe cheered. Pete gave him a high five while Patrick looked up at the ceiling as if he was saying a short prayer in his mind.
—-
Andy knew there was something off about his new roommates after a week. Each of them had some different thing that Andy could tell just wasn’t right.
Patrick was probably the one who seemed the least off to Andy. He was a bit of a neat freak, but he picked his battles living with Joe and Pete. He was quiet until you got him talking about something he was interested in. He was polite and respectful to Andy and his space, and every now and then, the two of them would play cards together. Patrick even stopped eating meat when Andy moved in, which certainly wasn’t necessary, but was a nice gesture. However, Patrick’s reserved and kind demeanor melted away when Pete and Joe entered the picture. Between the two of them, they knew every single one of Patrick’s buttons and pressed them regularly. Patrick got into many fistfights with them because of it, and despite being smaller than both of them, he often won.
But that wasn’t what Andy thought was off with Patrick. It was his collection of journals, each one neatly labeled and placed on a bookshelf in his and Joe’s room. When Patrick wasn’t fighting with Pete and Joe, playing cards with Andy, or at work, he was writing God-knows-what in a composition book. Andy never looked over his shoulder to try to read what he was writing. Patrick had been respectful of his space, so it was only fair that he return the favor. But the mystery of what was in those books nipped at Andy in a way he couldn’t shake.
Then, there was Pete. Andy had known Pete for the better part of a decade now, long enough to know about some of his eccentricities. He knew about his reputation as a “make out king,” about his various exes, his weird mentor/sidekick thing with Joe. But something he didn’t know about before he started living with him was the darkness. Pete had an aura that, quite frankly, scared the absolute shit out of Andy. He couldn’t place what exactly it was, but he knew it was something supernatural. Being a witch drove him absolutely crazy sometimes because he was usually the only one in a room who could see stuff like that. (Did he mention he was a witch?) In fact, the only other person he knew who could also see stuff like that was his mom, and he was not about to tell her that he was living with someone who had that crazy of an aura. So he just had to keep that one to himself.
And last but not least, there was Joe, who was definitely hiding something. In all fairness, so was Andy, but he had a very good reason for doing so. Not only was Andy a witch, he was also a vampire hunter (and every time he says that out loud, he is reminded that sometimes truth is indeed stranger than fiction). Andy had been going out on the streets every other night and hunting alone for about 5 years now. And while this may sound dangerous, being a witch also meant he wasn’t on the menu for vamps, so there was that. However, it didn’t come without its downsides. In fact, it was the reason Andy had to move after a bunch of vamps found out where he used to live. You live and you learn.
But back to Joe, who Andy knew there was more than meets the eye with that guy. Andy had met Joe a few years back through Pete. The guys in the scene kinda saw him as Pete’s henchman more than anything. Whenever Pete wanted to pull off a prank, Joe was there. Whenever Pete needed a ride to a gig, Joe was there. Whenever Pete got into hot water from his messy hookups, Joe was there. Part of Andy used to feel bad for Joe until he got to know him more. Joe was every bit the shit-stirrer that Pete was, and as he got older, he began to morph into a mini Pete (“Mini” being figurative, of course. Joe was taller).
That being said, Andy had gleaned from conversations held in the living room that Joe had a strained relationship with his dad, which obviously wasn’t the weird part. The weird part was that Andy could have sworn he recognized the name Trohman from somewhere, and he couldn’t remember where. He couldn’t tell you exactly why the vibes were off, but they were. Andy pondered over this while he finished the last of his unpacking in his new room, but was interrupted by Joe himself who flopped onto his bed nonchalantly.
Andy raised an eyebrow at him. “Can I help you?”
“Bored. Patrick’s at work, and Pete’s not here.”
“I don’t really have anything that entertaining going on, hate to break it to you.”
“Better than watching paint dry,” Joe shrugged. Andy sighed and went back to unpacking. Joe got up and began eyeing the knickknacks on Andy’s shelf. He studied each weird little artifact intently. Crystals, leaves, beads, and the like. He picked up what looked like a string of beads wrapped around a tree branch, and began to study it. “What’s all this stuff?”
“Mine, so you should probably put it down,” Andy replied calmly. Joe narrowed his eyes at him before a massive, toothy grin spread across his face. That look alone activated Andy’s fight or flight.
“I know what you are,” Joe smirked. Andy almost choked on his own spit as a million thoughts raced through his head, and he could tell Joe noticed this. Andy stared at him like a deer in headlights.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”
“Oh come on. I know a fucking witch’s lair when I see one.”
“How do you…” Andy was cut off by Joe answering his question for him.
“My dad used to know a lot of witches. I knew a few growing up.”
Suddenly, something clicked in Andy’s brain. The puzzle pieces began to fit. “I knew there was something off with you! Your dad is Paul Trohman!”
Now it was Joe’s turn to get nervous. His eyes went wide, and his mouth moved without making any words come out so he looked like a fish. He eventually snapped out of his shock and put on a mask of confidence. “So?”
“So! Your dad is one of the most notorious hunters to ever live! They said he single-handedly took down 10 entire covens!”
“Well, then maybe he should have been good enough to not get my mom killed,” Joe scoffed. Andy realized he had struck the nerve he’d been wondering about all week, and he felt like a total asshole. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes and looked anywhere but at each other, the tension in the room threatening to suffocate both of them.
“Sorry,” Andy finally said.
Joe sighed. “Not your fault.” More silence. Joe rubbed the back of his neck nervously, obviously trying to choose his next words carefully. “Dad never forgave himself for getting her killed, so he started training me to hunt when I was like, 10 years old. It was kinda shitty, and I kinda hate talking vamp stuff.” Andy gave him a knowing look.
“Hey, man. It’s okay. I get it. My mom kinda did the same thing but with witch stuff.”
Joe looked up at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone about this stuff. Not even Pete. ‘Cause like, who wouldn’t think I was batshit insane?” he laughed nervously.
Andy smiled at this. “Trust me. I get it. Do you know what it’s like to see auras that no one else can see? It drives me crazy!”
Joe smiled. “I bet Pete’s aura is fucking nasty.” He laughed but stopped smiling when he saw Andy turn pale. “What? Is it?”
Andy snapped himself out of it and twiddled his thumbs nervously. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad.”
Joe laughed. “I knew it!” he paused. “Always knew there was something cursing that guy for the amount of shit I’ve had to pull him out of. But don’t tell me what mine’s like! I don’t want to know,” he waved his hand.
The two continued to talk for hours about a world they couldn’t talk about anywhere else, laughing at the absurdity of it. There was catharsis in their conversation. For once, they both felt seen, like their very real problems actually mattered. While vampires, witches, and magic were topics that would normally get them institutionalized, here they were as real as both of them knew they were, and so were the scars they carried because of it. However, all good things must come to an end eventually.
“Dude, you should totally come hunting with me tonight! I could definitely use your help with this one coven I’ve been tracking,” Andy said.
Joe’s lighthearted attitude suddenly dissipated. In its place was a scowl and a furrowed brow. He wrinkled his nose, “I told you I don’t do that shit.”
Andy knew he was pushing boundaries now, but he figured he’d already gone this far. “But the city needs you, man. This new group, they’re called the Dandies, and they-“
Joe cut him off. “I. Don’t. Do. That. Shit!” he reiterated. Andy knew he couldn’t win this one, so he put his hands up in defeat.
“Okay, man. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed. But, if you change your mind or ever want to talk again, you know where to find me,” Andy smiled.
Joe’s face softened, and a small smile appeared on his face as the tension dissipated. “Thanks,” he said as he left Andy’s bedroom.
—-
Joe didn’t know a lot, but one thing he knew a lot about was Pete Wentz. Joe met Pete when he was 15, and Pete, despite being five years older, was Joe’s only friend in high school. Joe was there to get an earful when he picked Pete up from work after his license got suspended. Joe was there to tour with Pete’s bands whenever someone couldn’t go. Joe was there to pick Pete up from shady situations whenever he got himself into them. Joe never complained, either. He felt indebted to Pete in a way that may have been odd to some but felt earned to him.
Their friendship was far from one-sided, however, When Joe graduated from high school, it was Pete who had found their shitty little apartment and covered the first few months of rent on his own while Joe found a job. It was Pete who swallowed his complaints about Patrick moving in when Joe said he wanted his neat freak co-worker to live with them. But most importantly, it was Pete who never abandoned Joe after four years. Pete was weird, impulsive, and sometimes selfish, but Joe loved him for it just the same. He was Pete, and Joe wouldn’t change him for the world.
After another week of Andy living with them, Joe decided that some form of divine intervention had brought him to the apartment. While Andy was different from the other three with the whole “straight-edge” thing and the vegan thing, he quickly became one of Joe’s closest friends. Joe even started to feel guilty about the mess he and Pete left around the apartment, so he started actually cleaning. Patrick noticed instantly.
“Someone call the police. Joe Trohman’s been kidnapped and replaced by someone with a sense of smell,” Patrick deadpanned one day when he walked into Joe spraying Fabreeze in their shared bedroom.
“You wish you could get rid of me that easy, Tricky,” Joe laughed. Patrick sat on the edge of his bed.
“Okay, but seriously, what’s up with you? I’ve never seen you clean anything in the year I’ve lived with you. I honestly didn’t even know you knew what air freshener was.”
Joe shrugged. “I was in the mood.” There was a pause in the room as Patrick raised an eyebrow at him and studied his face.
“Did you get a girlfriend or something?”
Joe snorted and sat down on the bed next to his friend. “No, Trick. I’m still on the prowl,” he put his hands up to make mock claws. Patrick laughed at this. “Besides,” Joe continued, “I already have a girlfriend,” he said before placing a disgustingly slobbery kiss on Patrick’s cheek. Patrick recoiled immediately.
“There’s something wrong with you, man,” he lamented as he wiped the slime off his face, wincing.
Joe shrugged. “News to me.”
While daily life for Joe was becoming objectively better, he noticed a familiar shift in Pete. He was avoiding going out with Joe, Patrick, and Andy to shows, was writing in his notebook constantly, and was wearing that stupid red hoodie again. It could only mean one thing…
“So who do you have it bad for this time?” Joe asked him one night while making Kraft Mac-and-Cheese. Pete rolled his eyes and scoffed from the couch.
“You’re so nosy, Trohman.”
“Well, it’s not my fault when you practically put a sign on your forehead that says ‘lovesick dog.’”
“Whatever, man,” Pete crossed his arms. Joe decided to drop it. Whatever person Pete planned on devouring, Joe figured he’d have to fish Pete out of it sooner or later when his head went below water.
Another week later, Joe figured out who it was when he overheard Pete invite Patrick (and only Patrick) to a show in Lincoln Park. Joe couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was dumbfounded. Then the shock turned into a pit in his stomach, and he felt sick. He knew Pete’s cycle with guys, and it was never pretty. While Pete had accepted the fact he liked guys, it was clear he never truly felt comfortable admitting it. The men Pete went after, Joe noticed, were always just as insecure about their sexuality as Pete was, if not worse. And when it inevitably blew up, Pete discarded his masculine lovers like candy wrappers. Joe asked him about it once, but all Pete said on the matter was that “We both got what we were looking for,” and he was right. Pete specifically went after guys who undeniably only wanted his body. But now he had set his sights on Patrick, who was not only their roommate but their friend, too.
Joe went to the only person he could think of asking for help. He knocked on Andy’s door and looked at him with panicked eyes when he opened it. Andy gave him a look. “What’s up with you?”
“Pete,” Joe deadpanned.
Andy sighed. “Come in.”
Joe flopped dramatically onto Andy’s bed as soon as he was let in. Joe stared at the ceiling as he said, “Pete is gonna ruin Patrick.”
Andy sighed again. “Just stay out of it.”
“How can I stay out of it! It’s going to ruin everything!”
“If you put yourself in between it, you’ll make it worse. Just leave it alone.” Joe was not fond of this advice.
On the night that Pete planned on going out, Joe cornered him in the bathroom where he was applying an absurd amount of eyeliner. “Where are you going?” Joe asked, already knowing the answer.
“Out,” Pete replied courtly, not looking away from the mirror. Joe crossed his arms.
“Out where?”
“Show.”
“What show?”
“Why do you care?”
“Why are you dodging the question?” Pete stopped putting his eyeliner on and turned around.
“Do you have a problem, Trohman?” Joe decided to lay his cards down.
“Are you trying to get with Patrick?” Pete’s face distorted. Joe knew he struck the nerve he was looking for, and Pete’s silence spoke volumes. “Why Patrick? Last time I checked, you barely tolerated him?” Pete’s eyes looked everywhere except Joe’s face. “C’mon, man. What gives?”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly, like a child being scolded. Guilt flooded Joe’s chest.
“C’mon, man. I’m not mad or anything. I’m just confused,” he lied.
Pete sighed. “He’s actually nice to me. I think that’s probably what it is.”
“He gave you a black eye last week after you licked his french fries,” Joe raised an eyebrow when Pete didn’t have a response. “Pete, is he even gay?” Pete winced.
“I don’t know.”
Joe wanted to punch a wall. At this point, he couldn’t even count the number of boys that Pete had been infatuated with who broke his heart by being straight. And he really didn’t feel like picking up the pieces again. “Why do you do this to yourself, man?”
“I don’t know.” Pete let out an exasperated laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “He just…we click, y’know?”
Joe’s heart sank at that. They click? Joe felt a spark of what was certainly jealousy in his chest, but he couldn’t pinpoint why he felt that way. Maybe it was the fact that when Pete usually brought guys home, they were nobodies. They were fresh meat for Pete to devour and would be gone the next day, but Joe would always still be around. But when Pete talked about Patrick, something felt different. It looked real. Too real. He imagined looking at Patrick after Pete sank his claws into him and shuddered.
“I thought your type was tall guys. That’s all,” Joe replied nonchalantly. Pete saw through it.
“What’s up, man? Why are you so bothered by this? You’ve never cared when I’ve brought dudes home before. Why is Patrick different?”
“I’m not ‘bothered,’” Joe added air quotes. “I’m just tired of having to find new roommates every couple months, dude, and you don’t exactly keep your boyfriends around very long.”
“Ugh, don’t call them that.”
“Give me a break, man.”
Pete’s eyes narrowed at him before a wide grin spread over his face. “Are you jealous, Trohman?”
Joe snorted at that. “Of who?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.” Joe wanted to wipe the smug smirk off of his face so badly.
“Hm, do I want to sleep with my dreamy coworker or my slut of a best friend?” Joe asked sarcastically.
“Don’t deny it, Trohman. You’re totally obsessed with me,” Pete batted his eyelashes, moving way too close for Joe’s comfort. “Also, the s-word hurts my feelings,” Pete said as he sarcastically held a hand over his heart. Joe pushed him away.
“Don’t change the subject. If you fuck up the best roommate situation we’ve ever had, I’ll rip your balls off, Wentz.”
“You think about touching my balls often?” Pete asked with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face that he could muster.
“You’re such a perv,” Joe rolled his eyes.
“But you still love me.”
“Despite your best efforts.”
Pete walked passed Joe out of the tiny bathroom. He grabbed his wallet and keys before turning around to face Joe. His friend gave him a look that Joe couldn’t quite place before saying, “Trohman, you won’t have to clean this one up. I promise. But I appreciate you worrying about me.” With that, Pete left the apartment.
About ten minutes later, Andy Hurley walked into Joe sitting on the couch alone staring at the wall. “Hey, Joe,” he greeted as he set two paper grocery bags on the counter. When the younger man didn’t reply, Andy walked over and snapped his fingers in Joe’s ears. “Earth to Trohman.”
“Sorry, man. I zoned out.”
“No shit. Are you good?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Andy knew that was a lie but decided not to press him on it. Instead, he opted to change the subject. “So, I need to ask a favor for tonight.”
“Andy, I’m not hunting.”
“Joe, this isn’t a joke anymore. I have intel that the coven I’ve been tracking is planning a big attack on Lincoln Park tonight. People are going to die…” Andy looked uncharacteristically stressed.
“Wait, Lincoln Park?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit,” Joe said as he ran into his and Patrick’s bedroom. He dug around in his closet until he found what he was looking for. While it looked like a normal handgun, the weapon in Joe’s hand was loaded with holy water capsules. While it couldn’t kill a vamp (only a stake through the heart could do that), it could easily stun one long enough to escape, which was a part of the plan Joe was making up on the fly.
Andy soon appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”
“Fucking Pete and Patrick are headed to Lincoln Park tonight! Catch,” Joe said as he threw what looked like a crossbow at Andy.
“What the hell is this thing?”
“Stake launcher.”
“You’ve had a stake launcher this whole time, and I’m just now finding out about it?”
“Ugh, can we talk about this later, Hurley?”
With that, the two bolted out of the apartment.
——-
Pete was bad at dates, which is why he preferred to just stick his tongue down people’s throats instead. Sadly, he couldn’t just do that with Patrick, so he had to impress him on their “date.” Do both people need to know it’s a date for it to be considered a date? Pete had decided that he didn’t care. What he did care about was the sound of Patrick’s voice as he explained the mechanics of Ska to Pete. He watched Patrick’s pillow-y lips move and slowly began to fall into a kind of trance. Was he fully listening to what Patrick was saying? It didn’t matter. Pete just loved the sound of him talking. Was this infatuation? Probably, but that had never stopped Pete before. The thought of him putting his mouth all over Patrick’s body crossed his mind and he shivered. He wanted Patrick so bad that it hurt at this point, so when Patrick stopped talking and gave him a suspicious look, he panicked.
“Are you even listening to me, man?” Patrick asked, looking slightly annoyed.
“Of course. Um, why wouldn’t I be?” Pete responded, looking like a liar. Patrick’s eyes narrowed.
“What’s with you tonight, dude? You keep zoning out. Are you not sleeping again?” Pete squirmed. He swore Patrick and Joe had x-ray vision that let them look right into Pete’s soul, and it especially was a pain in the ass right now.
“Haha, no, Trick. I’m good,” Pete lied through his teeth. Patrick was very obviously not convinced, and he didn’t look like he was too tired to back down this time.
“You’ve been weird around me for a week now. I’m not stupid, Pete.” However, the conversation was cut short by the pair getting to the front doors of the shitty dive bar. For being in a relatively affluent part of Chicago, this place looked like it had bodies buried in its basement. “Is this really the place?” Patrick asked nervously.
“It’s rough around the edges, but it’s a good time. Trust me, Lunchbox,” Pete said as he casually threw an arm around Patrick’s shoulders. The contact alone was enough to make Pete’s heart do a few summersaults.
“Why the fuck do you and Joe call me that?” Patrick groaned.
“Because it pisses you off,” Pete turned to flash Patrick one of his signature shit-eating grins, but when he fully realized their faces were just an inch apart, his entire face turned red. He quickly pulled himself out of the weird side hug thing he had Patrick in. “Smooth, Wentz,” he thought to himself. If this was any other guy, Pete would’ve found his way into his pants by now. But Patrick kept him on edge in a way he had never experienced in his life. He felt like a teenage girl at prom when he was around him, and it scared the shit out of him in all honesty.
Once they both got inside, the idea of sticking his hand into Patrick’s back pocket crossed Pete’s mind. He figured that the worst-case scenario would be that Patrick would think it was a fucked up joke. That was something Pete was okay with, all things considered. He went for it and to his shock, only got a semi-annoyed side eye from Patrick but no complaints. He considered this to be the best way this could have gone. The two found a free section of the wall to lean against in the back of the bar. They had a decent view of the band while also being in a shadow-y enough spot that no one from the pit could see what they were doing. Pete thought about how many guys and girls he’d brought to this exact spot, and something soured in his mind when he thought about Patrick being in the same position as the rest of them. He felt a bit guilty. Patrick gave him a look like he was waiting to see what Pete did next. His big blue eyes could’ve burned a hole through Pete’s chest, and Pete choked. He pulled his hand out of Patrick’s back pocket, crossing his arms and facing the band instead of Patrick. If Patrick noticed something was wrong, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just faced the band, as well.
When Pete decided that he was going to feel weird and guilty until he was honest with Patrick, he decided to break the awkward silence between them.
“Hey, Trick.”
Patrick turned to him like he’d been expecting this. “Yeah, Pete?”
“I haven’t been totally honest with you tonight.”
“What do you mean?” Pete squirmed. Joe’s words from earlier began to ring in his head. What if Patrick got weirded out by what he was about to say? What if he moved out because shit just gets really awkward? Was he taking advantage of Patrick? Was he treating Patrick like the various hookups he usually disposes of? Was he using Patrick? Pete hesitated. He’d never choked like this and felt like his world was spinning. “Pete?” Patrick asked without a response. Patrick put his hands on Pete’s shoulders, which was definitely not helping the spinning. “Talk to me. Are you okay?” Pete zeroed in on Patrick’s big doe eyes that swelled with concern. He wanted to swim in Patrick’s baby blues until he drowned. He decided that he didn’t care if he regretted what he was about to do. He bit the apple.
To Pete, Patrick tasted like honey. His lips were smooth and went down like cherry cough syrup. It was only when his tongue made its way into Patrick’s mouth that Pete realized that Patrick’s hands were snaking through his hair. There was so much passion in it. It felt like Pete was a man dying of thirst who was drinking a cold glass of water. He couldn’t think in that moment. All of his thoughts just became Patrick, Patrick, Patrick. He gripped Patrick’s hips, hanging on for dear life. The bliss from kissing Patrick was purer than the bliss from any drug and more potent. Suddenly, Pete knew how Eve felt when she doomed humanity.
Pete pulled away, and Patrick stared directly into his eyes with an unreadable expression and a light blush dusting his porcelain cheeks. Pete panicked, and between fight or flight, flight seemed the most reasonable. Pete ran outside, only catching a “Pete, wait!” From Patrick. Once he was outside, he curled into a ball in the alley next to a dumpster. He felt himself hyperventilating. Thoughts swirled through his head. Sex to Pete always felt like pollution, and Pete was keen to not dump waste where he slept. But now he had done exactly that, and to none other than Patrick, whom he cared so deeply for. If he was Patrick, he’d never forgive him. His heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest, and everything began to spin.
When Pete felt his eyes start to become heavy, a pair of arms lifted him up like a rag doll. Where he expected to see Patrick, he instead saw a tall, thin man wearing a white suit and fur. When the man pinned him to the brick exterior of the bar, Pete’s fuzzy head mistook his attacker for some kind of angel, but when he caught a glimpse of the man’s bright red eyes and pearly fangs, he sobered up fairly quickly. Pete tried to squirm out of the man’s grasp, but his grip was too firm. For being a skinny guy, he was strong. Pete instead began to cry.
“Please, just leave me alone,” Pete cried.
The man ignored him and leaned into Pete’s exposed neck and breathed in a long breath. He hummed to himself. “Perfect,” was all he said before Pete felt him bite into the sensitive part of his neck. Pete screamed as he felt his blood being drained from his body. As the black spots in his vision began to take over, he heard someone yelling and felt his limp body hit the concrete. Before he lost consciousness, he saw Joe and Andy looking over him.
——-
“Pete, wait!” Patrick yelled as Pete ran out the side door of the bar. Patrick bit his thumb, his favorite nervous habit. He thought about running after Pete but decided he probably needed his space right now. Instead, Patrick locked himself in the bar’s disgusting bathroom and stared at himself in the grime-coated mirror. He tried to make sense of what had just happened. He was slightly caught off guard by it. While he usually could read Pete fairly easily, this one came out of left field for him. In all honesty, he thought Pete was acting weird because he watched another one of those dumb horror movies again. Last time, Pete didn’t sleep for days and probably would’ve kept going had Joe not threatened to tie him down and force-feed him sleeping pills.
But now that he knew Pete had a thing for him, everything started to make sense. The avoiding him, the hand in his back pocket…blah, blah, blah. However, what still didn’t add up was Pete running away after kissing him. Patrick mulled it over. Maybe he was a bad kisser and Pete was so disgusted by him that he ran for it. While Patrick’s self-esteem wasn’t great, he knew better than to accept that as the reason. No. With Pete Wentz, there was no telling.
In all honesty, Patrick kinda felt honored to be one of the potential notches in Pete’s heavily marked bedpost. As far as kissing guys went, he’d never been opposed to the idea. He had just never really thought about it before. Now that he was thinking about it, Pete was quite an attractive guy even if he made Patrick want to rip his hair out on a daily basis. He was also a pretty good kisser, Patrick decided.
“Well, he’s had practice,” the weird voice that’s always in Patrick’s head said.
“Can I not have anything?” Patrick asked it. When the voice didn’t reply Patrick went back to staring in the mirror. Now that he knew that Pete “Make Out King” Wentz had a thing for him, he was kinda feeling himself.
His self-love session was interrupted by a scream that was distinctly Pete’s. Patrick immediately ran out of the bathroom and into the alley where Pete ran. He was met with a man in a white suit holding Pete against the wall while he looked like he was chewing on his neck. Before Patrick could truly process what he was seeing, Joe and Andy showed up. Joe shot the man in the shoulder with a handgun, causing the man to hiss and drop Pete. Andy then pulled out what looked like a crossbow, aimed it at the man’s head, and pulled the trigger. However, the crossbow jammed and the man gave them one last hiss before disappearing in a cloud of black smoke.
Without hesitation, Patrick ran to Pete’s body which was dropped on the concrete. Patrick wasn’t a doctor or anything, but he did know that when someone is unresponsive, you need to check their pulse. Patrick felt at his wrists, neck, and chest but couldn’t hear anything. He could feel himself growing pale. Suddenly, he felt Joe move him out of the way as Andy threw Pete over his shoulder. “We gotta get out of here, Trick,” Joe said as he pulled Patrick out of the alley by his wrist. As the four of them moved through the street, the sound of screams filled the air of Lincoln Park.
“Joe, what’s going on?” he asked.
“Run now. Talk later,” was the only response he got. Patrick did as he was told and kept running behind Joe and Andy. When they got to the van, Patrick, Andy, and Pete’s unconscious body crammed into the back seat as Joe jammed the key into the ignition and floored it. Andy put Pete’s head in his lap and placed a hand on his forehead. Patrick heard him whispering to himself. He looked at Joe.
“Joe, what the fuck is happening?”
“Um, so don’t freak out.”
“It’s a bit fucking late for that!”
“Okay, true. But right now, Lincoln Park is being taken over by a gang of vampires, and one of them just drank Pete’s blood.”
Patrick looked at him dumbly. “What?” He looked back at Pete’s face in Andy’s lap and noticed the smear of blood on his neck that was staining his way-too-tight t-shirt. Patrick cringed at the sight. “So what is Andy doing right now?”
“Trying to stop him from turning.” Joe spun the wheel harshly, which made the back seat occupants get thrown around.
“Easy, Trohman,” Andy complained, opening one eye before closing it and going back to whispering.
“Sorry,” Joe replied tensely.
“Turning into what?” Patrick said, staring at the back of Joe’s seat, trying not to look back at Pete.
“A vampire? Are you not listening? Keep up, Patrick.”
“And how is Andy able to stop that?”
“Uh, he’s a witch, obviously,” Joe said as if it was a normal thing people said.
Patrick decided that he was done asking questions. Instead, he looked back at Pete. The blood made his black hair cling to his neck, and Patrick couldn’t help but feel the ghost of it between his fingers. He felt like he might throw up at that. He hugged himself and quietly began to cry because it felt like the only thing he was able to do. Joe watched him in the rearview mirror.
“Trick, it’s gonna be okay. Please don’t cry.” To Patrick, Joe didn’t sound convinced of that statement either. Patrick hugged himself tighter.
“This is all my fault.”
“Trick, I can guarantee that’s not true,” Joe said as he turned another sharp corner.
“No, it is! He kissed me and then freaked out and ran away! If I’d gone after him, this wouldn’t have happened!”
“No, Patrick. You both would’ve gotten bitten then. Vamps attack in the streets because they have to be invited into all buildings.”
“What kind of stupid fucking rule is that?”
“I don’t know. I’m not God, dude.”
When the van pulled into the street parking spot outside their apartment building, Andy stopped whispering and took Pete inside. Inside the apartment, Pete’s lifeless corpse was thrown onto Andy’s bed as Andy pulled out a small bottle of water and a dropper from his dresser. “Corpse…” Patrick thought to himself, and his previous nausea came back in full. Andy placed a few drops of the water on Pete’s wrist, and the water began to sizzle as though it had been placed in a hot skillet.
“It’s too late,” Andy hung his head. Pete’s face began to twitch, and it was clear that he was waking up. “Shit,” Andy said before looking up at Joe. “Trohman, grab his ankles.”
Joe nodded and did as he was told while Andy secured Pete’s wrists to the bedpost with zip ties. Patrick watched the scene in horror as Pete woke up and began to thrash against his restraints.
“Hey, buddy. It’s okay. It’s me, Joe,” Joe tried to reason with him. Pete looked like he snarled at him but stopped thrashing regardless. “Psst, Patrick. Go into the fridge and pull out that mason jar that I marked as ‘ketchup.’” When Patrick gave him a confused look, Joe added, “Like, do it right now”
Patrick did as he was asked, and handed the jar to Andy. Andy looked at Pete. “Hey, man. We’re gonna feed you okay. Just trust us. We’re not gonna hurt you.” Andy raised the jar to Pete’s lips, and the vampire drank it like a wild animal, finishing it in under a minute. Patrick’s stomach churned, and he looked at Joe, who was still holding Pete’s ankles down.
“Was that…?”
“Yeah, it was,” Joe cut him off.
After that, Patrick ran to the bathroom and spilled his guts.