Better Off As Lovers | Petekey AU

Disenchanted

"Mom would kill me," Mikey explained, looking up from a book. Gerard was leaning on Mikey's doorframe, his arms crossed against his chest.

"Mikey! C'mon, Pete will be there!" Gerard said, walking into the bedroom. Mikey rolled himself up even more in his bed sheets.

"I don't care," his voice was muffled now, "if Pete's there. I can't take any more booze for the moment. Go with Frank."

"Already coming!" a voice sounded from the doorway. Mikey groaned, burying his face in his pillows.

"Fuck off, Frank!" Mikey yelled into his pillows. He felt the bed sink beside him.

"Aw, c'mon, Mikey. Don't you want another blowjob?" Frank asked.

"Ugh, I'm not going!"

"Mikey, teenagers scare the shit out of me too, but c'mon, there's going to be fancy beer!" Gerard's voice cut in. Mikey wanted to punch both Gerard and Frank in the faces.

- - -

His 'fancy beer' was probably spiked.

The music was horrible EDM bass drops over and over.

Brendon and Ryan were already half naked on the makeshift living room dance floor. Hell, the whole house was a dance floor.

And Mikey was miserable.

He looked down into his Solo cup, sighing as he set it down on a countertop. He looked around, but all he saw were sweaty bodies and the same frightful scene of Joe drunkenly grinding on Andy (who was ignoring it and scrolling through his Twitter feed.)

And there was absolutely zero sign of Pete Wentz (the supposed life of the party.) Mikey checked the time on his phone again.

11:23 p.m.

"Who're you looking for?" a voice asked beside Mikey. Mikey looked up from his phone to see a tattooed boy with dark skin looking at him. He slid his phone back in his pocket and laughed.

"Uh, nobody."

"You're lying to me," they boy said, sipping from his cup. Mikey smiled at him.

"Yeah, I am," he admitted. "Ah, Pete Wentz."

"Wentz? Haven't seen him around, strangely. What an asshole," he laughed. "I'm Travie, by the way."

"Mikey."

"Let me guess, Mikey Way?" Travie asked.

"Uh, yeah, how'd you know?" Mikey asked. Travie raised his eyebrows.

"Pete likes to come around to my house sometimes and steal my food. And lay on my Mom's couch and talk about a - and I quote - 'very tall and very cute messy haired boy called Mikey Way'."

Mikey rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't really doubt him doing that. Um, nice tattooes, by the way."

Travie's eyes lit up. "Ah man, thanks! I'm really glad my parents don't care. The teachers are a different story, though."

"Cocaine!" the voice hit everyone's ears. The music stopped. The dance floor became still.

"Shit," Mikey heard Travie's voice beside him. "Pete! Where's Wentz!"

Travie started pushing through the crowd, Joe and Andy following behind him. Mikey started running after them, but people had already started to rush towards the voice that had yelled in the first place.

"Wait!" Mikey was pushed out of the way. "Why are you trying to find Pete!"

Then he saw. Teenagers were in one of the bedrooms, some were passed out on the bed, some giggling to themselves. The whole room smelled like weed and dirt. And Pete was in the fucking middle of it all, leaning on some guy's shoulder, laughing his ass off. Kids were already passing around pills, Mikey shook his head when some were offered to him.

Travie walked up to Pete and grabbed his shoulder. "The fuck are you doing Pete?"

"Fuck off, man! Lighten up, look!" Pete opened his hand, offering Travie some pills.

"Jesus, you can't do this again," Travie grumbled.

But Pete had already shoved him out of the way, knocking him against Mikey. Mikey didn't know what to do.

"What do you mean 'again'?" Mikey frantically asked as the music started up and drugs were being passed out like lollipops. Travie rubbed his forehead. "Travie!"

"Last hear, he um, he got hold of some shit at a party." Pete was already laughing again. "And he went downhill from there. He promised he'd never fucking do it again. Guess he was wrong."

Mikey stared as the car crash was right before his eyes.

"How the mighty fall," Travie said, walking off.

This wasn't a big deal for anyone. Pill bottles were being tossed from hand to hand, smoke poured from teenage mouths, pupils got to the size of the moon. This was normal for everyone else.

Mikey hated every part of this. All because it took him back to Freshman year, when Gerard was on his drunken rampage of rebellion. You couldn't keep the boy away from alcohol. Every time Mikey came home from school Gerard was passed out or crying on his bed. It scared Mikey. He didn't want to lose his brother, someone he loved. Who he cared about.

And it was all happening at once with Pete.

"Come with me," Mikey grabbed Pete's arm, ignoring Pete's slurred protests, yanking him away from the crowd of teenagers. Mikey finally found the backyard, where thankfully nobody else was.

"Hey, sweetheart," Pete smiled, trying to wrap his arms around Mikey's neck. Mikey avoided the touch.

"No!" he yelled. "You can't do this! To either of us! Tell me you fucking love me and then pop pills! There was fucking cocaine, Pete! Cocaine! What're you trying to do, overdose? That'd leave - leave - me! Just me, no you. And you can't fucking do that shit."

Mikey was crying at this point, staring into Pete's dilated eyes.

"It's fun, though," Pete giggled, trying to grab Mikey again. Mikey sniffed back tears.

"Fuck, Pete, you're a mess."

Pete stopped, his hands dropping to his side. He backed away a bit.

"I'm not a mess."

"Yeah. Yeah, you are."

"But I'm not!" Pete started yelling. Mikey bit the inside of his lip.

"Listen to yourself! You're definitely not sober, definitely not clean. Why're you even doing this? What do you wanna do? Die?"

"I - I dunno."

Mikey rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Great, great, and then what? What happens to Fall Out Boy? To Patrick or Andy or Joe?"

Mikey paused.

"What about us?"

Pete slumped to the ground, bringing his knees up to his chin. He was crying now.

"I don't know! That's the whole point! I don't know what I'm doing! I just - the pills were just there," Pete sobbed as Mikey sat next to him. "Sometimes I take chances and sometimes I take pills. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't think."

Mikey picked at the grass. "No, you fucking don't. You could die from overdose."

"I know, I just - "

"Do you, though? I fucking need you."

Pete was still crying, but his sobs had slowed down, the drugs finally getting to him. Mikey grabbed his head, resting it on his lap.

"Don't you ever, ever fucking do that again. Ever."

"I'm not okay, Mikey. I'm a mess, you're right. I - I don't know what I'm doing."

"You don't have to. Just stay alive, asshole."

"You think I'm worth staying alive?" Pete asked quietly, slowly going to sleep. Mikey looked at Pete's head in his lap.

"Yeah. I do."

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a/n : this isn't even the start of it. also, gerard said on his twitter on the subject of his preferred pronouns that his are "he/they" in case anyone had questions or concerns about the ones i'm using in this story.