Dick Pics (Peterick) **REWRITTEN**

03

CH. 3 -- PETE

They say you can never escape your past. I'd say they -- whoever they might be -- are right if your past happens to be a blonde headed boy that stands at about four foot nine and has a bad temper.

My past happens to have changed his life, however. He's figured out who he is, and I can honestly say that this new.. man Patrick's become is someone I want to keep around.

Patrick's going to be great. He's going to change the world someday. Especially if he can come to terms with who he is at such a young age.

"Penny for 'em?" Joe asks, gesturing to my state as I tap my pen on my paper. I shake myself out of it.

"I'm just dreading fucking school, you know. Homework already, and I have practice in an hour." I say, and Joe believes me, nodding.

"Yeah, dude, I feel you. Fucking Grant gave me two hours of homework for art class! I picked art as my major because I like to draw and I'm semi good at it, not because I want to learn about a crazy ass dude that cut his ear off." Joe groans, and we both laugh. "But I have hockey tryouts that I have to watch over and help Coach pick the new players in an hour."

"You better get started on," I pause to lean over and look at what he has written on the page before sitting back down, "van Gogh, then."

"I think I'm gonna wing it. There's a really hot guy in my class that's doing van Gogh, too. Maybe I can wing it and get some." Joe says, winking at me. He closes his laptop and his notebook before putting both back into his backpack. He waves at me before heading back to his room.

"Joe, can I ask you something?" I say, and Joe stops in his tracks, turning around and looking at me. He smiles and nods his head. "What did your parents say when you told them you liked guys as well as girls?" Joe's eyebrows raise, and he leans in closer.

"Mom said it was a phase. Dad was pretty chill about it." He says, shrugging. "But I very much enjoy men, and I think my mom has accepted that there's a fifty/fifty chance she won't have grandchildren, considering it's been seven years. In the end, most parents only want what's best for their children." He explains, and I nod.

"Thanks, man, I really appreciate it." I tell him, and he nods, turning to walk off before turning back around.

"Is there something you need to tell me? Because I get dibs on your ass first if so." Joe says, but he laughs afterwards so I know he's joking. Or I think so at least. He stops and gets serious, licking his lips. "I'm for real, Wentz. You let me know if you want a piece of the masterpiece that is Joseph Trohman. I've had a thing for those baseball pants since I met you."

"You'll be one of the first to know if I suddenly go gay." I say, and he smiles before actually walking off and leaving me to my homework.

I don't get much done with my psychical science homework, which I forgot about in the midst of my thoughts, before I have to leave for practice. Today, we're going hard and full on practicing because it's Monday. Tomorrow will be easier.

I get a text from Andy, our first baseman, as I'm on the way. He asks me to swing by his room so we can walk together.

"What's up, my man?" I ask Andy as we bro hug. He simply shrugs and smiles at me before dropping his shades over his eyes.

Andy and I don't hang out a lot aside from baseball. He's straight-edge, vegan, and pansexual -- three things I will never know much about.

When we arrive, the only person on the field is Patrick, and he's running from foul pole to foul pole, back and forth. Andy lifts his sunglasses to get a better look. Patrick's fast, really fast, and I know from personal experience that he doesn't give up.

Patrick, if he plays his cards right, can take over this team easily. He has the heart, the determination, and the attitude for it.

He stops running when he sees Andy and I, jogging over to us. "Hey, I'm Patrick." He holds out his hand, and he's not even out of breath as he speaks. Andy shakes his hand and smiles.

"I'm Andy, I play first base. And you're the awesome new catcher. Nice wheels, man." And that's the most I've heard Andy speak at once in a while. I'm not saying Andy doesn't talk, I'm just saying he doesn't talk much around me.

"Thanks, dude." Patrick says. Andy waves and makes his way back to the dugout to put his cleats on. "Hey, buddy." He pats my back and walks to get a drink of water from the dugout.

"Hey, man, how was your day?" I say, and that's the first time I've asked that question and actually meant it in a while. Usually, I'm roped in to asking Ashlee that same question everytime we're together, and she goes on for hours.

Patrick smiles at me, eyes trying to pierce through my soul as he nods. "It was significantly better than usual. Thanks for asking. Yours?"

"Anytime. You know, class. I feel like I'm back in high school, just without the drama." I say, and we both laugh. I get my glove out of my bag, and he grabs his mitt and helmet.

"Care to warm up, Mr. Wentz?" Patrick asks, laughing as he stands beside me at the face I make.

"Lead the way, von Stump." I say, and Patrick almost doubles over from laughing at my shitty joke. It's nice, like we're two old friends that haven't been together in a while.

In reality, we hated each other two days ago. But I'm glad I'm taking the time to actually get to know this version of Patrick. He's great.