Narcotic (Peterick au) [completed]

ELEVEN.

OKAY GUYS. WE REACHED 1k????? THANK YOU! OH MY GOD. I didn't realize people enjoyed this that much Chapter 10 was a bit bad, but I'll try my best to make it better :D Thanks so much again guys <333

~Pete's POV~

I didn't realize Patrick could be so mad, I knew he was sad. But, mad? Patrick? Not likely, I mean, I've heard he was sort of an angry person at times. But I'd never seen it in action.

I think he blocked my number, or at least wasn't answering. I really missed him, I did.

I stared at my ceiling, my chest slowly rising then falling. I stuck my fingers in my hair, scratching my head.

My phone started to ring.. Patrick?

I picked it up, putting the fairly warm rectangular device to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey it's Ryan."

Ryan? "Uh, why are you calling me?"

"Is Brendon dating anyone?"

"Uh- he's sort of- my boyfriend?" it sounded more like a question, but it was true.

"Oh."

And the phone made a small click, he ended the call? Wait, so Ryan liked Brendon? Is it okay that I'm okay with this? Why am I?

  Because you like Patrick you dip sh*t. Do I? Or do I like Brendon?

Brendon is beautiful, he has beautiful lips, a beautiful smile, nice hair, a nice body, and he's a nice person too, my best friend even.

But Patrick, he's something else. He's chubby, and cute, and awkward. I can't even deny it anymore.

I do like Patrick, do I care about popularity? Not really, I just want to be with Patrick.

He'll never take me back, he's pissed.

I don't blame him, that was a pretty d*ck move I pulled. I should have never left, because I did like him. No denying it anymore, I have to tell him, tomorrow.

For the first time, ever, I was confident. I didn't take drugs, It felt good.

~~~~~~~~

I slank into my last period class taking a seat in the back of the room as usual.

I watched as Patrick shuffled through the door and looked at the ground, with a look of no particular emotion. While his friend, Ryan, was close behind him, with his face in a book.

  He gave me a quick glance, then looked back down at his feet once again. He turned around to talk to Ryan, but I couldn't hear him over the chatter of the teenagers behind me.

   He then, quickly scurried to a seat in the opposite corner of the room.

I sighed in frustration, could it be considered a sigh? More like a grunt.

The teacher walked in and started his boring lecture on adverbs- or adjectives. I'm not sure, I wasn't really paying attention. Something else was on my mind.

It was just- Patrick captivated my thoughts. These thoughts made everything else pretty uninteresting, especially since I learned this stuff in 7th grade.

The bell rang, and I gathered my stuff. I rushed over to the table where Patrick sat, still trying to gather his stuff into a small pile to carry down the hallway.

He stood up, and started for the door, but was met with my bulky chest. His books fell as he did so, and I bent to pick it up.

"Sorry, Sorry, Sorry,"he muttered quickly, he hadn't looked up yet, I don't know if he knew it was me.

I wish I could say it was like one of those romantic high school movies where the boy tries to help the girl pick up her stuff, and there hands end up touching. But it was more awkward than romantic. He tried to grab one thing, I tried to grab it and then I'd end up just awkwardly letting him grab it. 

"Thank y-" he said as he looked into my eyes.

They went wide, then into a frustrated glare.

"What do you want Pete?" He snarled.

"To talk."

"What's there to talk about?" he asked in that sarcastic bitchy tone my mother used to give me.

"Can we uh- talk about it in the bathroom? It's kind of personal," I said honestly, because everyone there were pretty much homophobic assholes.

He grunted, as he shuffled into the boys bathroom, while I walked in front of him at a fairly normal pace.

He placed his books down next to the sink. He looked at his reflection, and ran his fingers through his hair, until it looked like he hadn't been at school all day.

"What did you want to talk about Pete?" He said, while he turned around on his heels.

His tone didn't really have emotion, just bland. He didn't really care what I wanted to talk about, but I talked anyway.

"Patrick- uh- Do- you- uh wannamaybehangoutsometime?ifyoudontwanttoyoudonthavetobutitwouldbesupercool- uh- if you did."

We sat in complete silence as I shifted on my feet, whilst I looked at my shoes. Then he spoke.

"Pete," Patrick said, in a hushed town.

I kept my gaze at the ground, the thought of rejection whizzed around in my brain, making my heart heavy.

"Pete look at me," he whispered, then placed  his hand on my cheek and brought my eyes to meet his.

I know it seems fast, but I wanted to kiss him. Feel his soft beautiful lips on mine. Taste the Chapstick he never failed to put on. And most of all, I just wanted him. Not in a sexual way, just him. I wanted to know more than everything, every perfect imperfection, every emotion, and just- everything.

He leaned in, his supple lips, touched my own rough ones. It was a short kiss, but it was enough. He was enough. He makes me happy, not false happiness, real happiness.