Kinda shit but y'know how the story goes. (Hopefully)
Sneaking his way through a crowded food court was definitely not on Patrick's agenda today. The shit he does for his friends. Honestly he's a little angel...Y'know sometimes. He's lacking in stealth. But thankfully his baggy sweatshirt and shades makes that irrelevant. However it's beginning to get uncomfortably warm for the poor celebrity in the too big hoodie.
"I'm beginning to worry whether or not you're gonna get a heat stroke," Pete tells him, prodding a finger at his chest. Patrick snorts, pushing the hand away.
"If I faint you'll know." Pete scowls at him. "But then again I don't want you to have to drag me to the nearest hospital."
"I think you're forgetting about the tree," Pete mumbles, mouth wrapped loosely around a fry. Patrick shrugs, and then arches a brow at Gabe checking out strangers from across the area. Scouting for the next victim, Patrick sees. He shakes his head, sighing. poor soul.
"Hey tree, where's the fire?" Patrick asks, raising an eyebrow when Gabe ignores him. Yup, poor soul.
"Wouldn't that be awkward if someone was actually on fire," Pete comments quietly, tilting his head to get a look. Patrick gives a imitation of a grimace. "Guess I'd be telling fortunes from then on."
Pete scrambles quickly to lean over the table and seize Patrick's hands before pulling him forward resulting in a grunt from the other. "Tell me," he says in a hushed tone and Patrick narrows his eyes, beginning to get suspicious. "Will I ever get hot?"
A boisterous laugh leaves Patrick's mouth before he can put a stop to it and when he tries it only ensues to worsen. "Babe don't change a thing...You're the actual fire," Patrick exhales in a breathy falsetto, waving a hand at himself to emphasize the fact...then again he's already risking a heat stroke.
"Pete you're not helping my situation, god," Patrick grumbles, rolling his eyes and a wide grin falls upon Pete's face. "How tragic...My hotness is causing strokes." Patrick nods his agreement.
"Tragic indeed, no wonder there's no significant other," Pete shoots him a look, feigning offence. "Must have killed them all," Patrick mutters under his breath, but keeps it a high enough volume for Pete to decipher.
"Now you know my secret," Pete smirks and Patrick nods again. "I guess you know what happened to Jason then," Patrick mumbles with a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. He loses the battle when Pete blanches. "How the fuck do you know about that--oh my god, Joe told you."
Patrick's aware Gabe's in his own little world so he slides out of his chair. Curls his hand around a somewhat panicked Pete's arm, pulls and they're off. Plan set in motion.
What's the plan again?
Who knows?
Who cares?
Not Patrick.
YOU ARE READING
The Silence in my head is deafening (Peterick)
RandomPete's eyes scan over the article, from the image of the man himself, holding a guitar on stage, Pete's assuming he's a musician, seems his name is Patrick Stump, and he's twenty years old, young, Pete muses, before shaking his head. He's not even...
