Peterick//More Than You Bargained For

fifteen: pete's shitty ass suv

"Patrick? What's wrong?" Pete's alert voice rings through the other line.

"Travis- he- I- my nose-" I blubber.

"I'm coming."

Pete hangs up. I stuff my phone tin my pocket and move to the edge of my porch, waiting for Pete.

Within ten minutes, Pete's beat up SUV pulls up to my curb. He flies out of the car and runs over to me.

"Patrick, oh my god," he exclaims upon seeing he blood smeared on my face.

I don't say anything, only study the cracked pavement on which my feet are resting. Pete respects my silence and helps me up and into his car.

Once we begin driving, I tell him, "You didn't have to use your car. I don't want you to waste your money on gas for me."

Pete glances at me sideways. "Patrick, if you're gonna be on the phone with me crying and telling me to come to your house, I'm coming as soon as I can. You can't expect any less."

I don't respond. "Where are we going?"

"To Walgreens," he replies, "We need to clean up that nose of yours before going back to my house. My mom would freak if she saw you."

So here we are, fifteen minutes later, sitting in the back of Pete's SUV while he attempts to fix my face.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Pete asks me softly while gently cleaning the blood off my face.

"Travis is moving in," I say bitterly. "I tried to talk to my mom about it. I told her some- uh- some things, hoping that she'd realize that he's a douche."

"And then what happened?" The boy inspected my now cleared face to see the damage.

"Travis heard me accusing him from the other room. He came in, called me a liar. I stood him up, which he didn't like. He made my mom leave the room." I wince as Pete applies some rubbing alcohol to sterilize the cuts on my cheek and nose. "Then he hit me and threw me out."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." I look down, blinking away tears.

Pete clears his throat. "I'll apply a couple band-aids and then we can go to my house. Good?"

I nod.

The drive over the Pete's house gives me enough time to emotionally recover. I know that I'll have to talk to Pete's grandparents and mother, so I need to pick myself up, just for a little longer.

I take a deep breath as we enter the house.

"Patty! How are you?" Pete's mom, Dale, says to me as she pulls me into a tight hug. "Long time no see! Oh dear, what happened to your face?" She puts her hands delicately on my cheek.

I give a fake smile. "Hi, Dale. Good to see you too. And I'm okay, just a little clumsy. Always tripping and falling everywhere." I let out a light laugh.

Pete shoots a glance at me, probably surprised at how fluid the lies slip from my mouth.

I'm led into the living room where Pete's grandparents are sat on two beige couches. They stand up to greet me and introduce themselves as Scott and Grace. I smile and shake their hands.

I wonder why Pete's never mentioned them before they moved here. They're sweet people, why haven't I heard anything about them?

We sit down and talk with Scott and Grace until an early dinner is prepared. It's mostly boring, an my mind wanders in and out of the conversation, but I find out that the two live in California.

Oh. So that's why Pete never talks about them. They live across the country.

Within a few hours, Pete and I are back in his room, away from the adults.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Pete asks.

"It wasn't. You're grandparents are really nice," I tell him.

"They're great. Just sucks to live with them."

I nod in agreement.

Pete sits down on his bed across from me, a suddenly serious look on his face. "Patrick?"

"Yeah?"

"That's not the first time Travis has hit you, was it?"

I look down, not saying anything.

"When I asked about him, I knew there was something off. He wasn't just 'a dick' when your mom dated him last year. He abused you, didn't he?"

I nodded slowly, avoiding eye contact with Pete.

"Patrick, you need to tell somebody. Take pictures of the bruises he gives you. Turn them into the cops. He could go to jail, Patrick."

I shake my head. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because," I breathe, "he told me that if I tell anyone, he-he'll hurt my mom. Bad. I can't risk that."

"He won't be able to hurt her from jail," Pete tells me.

I shake my head again. "It's not enough. He won't go to jail for this. He'll figure out a way to get out of it. Then he'll come for me and my mom. I know him. I'm not going to put me and my mom in danger."

"But you can't let him hit you," Pete says softly.

"Yes I can."

Pete says nothing, just pulls me into a hug. I feel tears moving down my face.

"I won't let him hurt you again, Patrick. Even if it's the last thing I do."

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Awww poor Patrick it made me so sad to write this djjdncjfi

And everything is only gonna get worse, btw ;)

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Also I changed the cover bc 99.9% of all Peterick fics have a pic from this photo shoot as their cover DONT DENY IT