Refugee (a Petekey story)

Chapter three

A/N wow first authors note in this book right here. Can this even be called an authors note if I don't feel like an author? I don't even know anymore.

So yeah. First real story, and I understand the fact that I am a horrible author. But there seemed to be an insane lack of Petekey stories on the intern, so yeah. Chapter three everybody.

That night, Pete was awoken by loud yelling in the living room. This was extremely problematic, seeing that Pete hated yelling. The shouts he had gotten two mornings before? Yeah, not such a good time. Fitting too, it seemed, as the result of these exclamations was him losing the right to call the place he grew up home.

But this was different. This wasn't him getting kicked out of his house, this was someone elses family falling apart. And he at least had to try and help.

"What do you mean you got a job?" The fury in Mikey's voice was so fierce you could practically feel your soul burning with the heat. He was angry, there was no doubt that.

"I mean that I got a job at the smoothie hut down the street from school." Brendon's voice was sharp and lethal, rivaling the strength in Mikey's tone. He knew what he was doing, what he was fighting for.

How Pete wished he could have that kind of confidence.

"You don't know what you're getting into." Mikey was still angry, still filled with fury. "You'll waste your life away, working for people that only care about money and don't appreciate the real work that people put into their businesses. And you'll be stuck there."

And that's when Mikey's anger seemed to become justified. He was upset that Brendon was already fourteen and having to work to support his family. He was qngry that such a young kid had to go out of his way to make sure the the younger ones in this family were alright, that they weren't suffering and weren't in trouble at the time. Mikey was furious that he couldn't do everything, that he was one hundred percent mortal. He was mad that he could not take care of the people he promised to.

"Mikey, it's alright." The fire in Brendon's voice dampened a bit, seeing through the masked anger to the distress in Mikey's eyes. The pain he had been trying so hard to disguise.

"I'll be fine. Besides," Brendon smirked tiredly, trying to portray as much confidence as he could. "No one's going to take advantage of me. I'll be working in an environment that is completely safe and away from harm."

"What about Patrick, though?" Mikey questioned. At the sound of his name, Patrick jerked awake from his spot at the kitchen table. Brendon and Mikey were arguing by the only couch in the small room, while the younger boy struggled not to fall asleep. Pete thought it to be unbearable cute that the two boys waited hours until Mikey got home to go to bed. How they waited hours to make sure he was safe.

"I can just stay with Bren." Until now, Pete had not heard this non-official nickname for the fiery boy. But it suited him, a short name for an extensive personality.

Mikey frowned, and it was clear why he was upset. Yes, Brendon was safe working in an environment full of families and other children friendly workers. But that was inside the shop, at the heart of the workplace. Who knew what could happen to a young person waiting there for entire afternoons at a time.

"My work ends at three. If Patrick is willing to wait, I can walk him home." Until this point, Pete had been hidden in the shadows. But, if there ever was a time to speak up, now would be a good one. Brendon was in danger of losing the job he had barely gotten to have, and Mikey seemed stressed enough without the idea of one of his "brothers" being in danger.

"You got a job?" If Mikey was surprised that Pete was still there, he didn't show it. He just looked at him with a stern look and a sharp scowl, threatening the truth out of every fiber of his being. It was obvious that both Patrick and Brendon had expected him to be gone by now, kicked out of their haven by their ruling master. But he was still there, waiting to help.

"Yeah. It's at the cafe two blocks from here." The small cafe right off the main street. They were desperate for someone to work during their morning rush on work/school days, and Pete really needed the job. It wasn't ideal, the place being greasy and messy and tiring, but it would work for some quick money. It would work to take his mind off the empty pit in his stomach and in his heart.

"It's alright with me." Patrick, once again acting as the mediator. He was alright with waiting with Brendon, he was alright with walking home with Pete. Although Brendon was pressing his lips together in obvious distaste, Patrick was a sensible thirteen year old. An absolute must for someone that has to do all the things Pete had seen him do earlier that day.

Or yesterday. One look at the clock, and it was easy to see that it was around the time Pete had been "welcomed" into the house the day before. 2 AM. The time, Pete assumed, that Mikey came back from work.

"So Pete can get a job but I can't?" The question wasn't really a question, it was more like an accusation. The younger boy was accusing Mikey of being lenient towards the stranger that they had just met and it was not going down well for either of them.

"He can." Looking at Brendon's incredulous face, Mikey elaborated with a tone that seemed harsher than the one he used before. "Pete isn't in school anymore. Pete isn't a freshman just starting high school."

The last comment stung, and Pete could see why. Here was a home in which age didn't matter; there were young teens dating each other and there was a fifteen year old running the household. But Mikey had the audacity to claim that Brendon was too young. He had the guts to say that Brendon was unable to handle the stress of a working life because he was too young.

But one look at the accuser's face brought everything back. It brought back the memory that Mikey was trying so desperately hard to protect Brendon from the real things in this world, and that he wanted nothing more than to make him a child for as long as he could.

"I just don't want you doing things all by yourself. You're barely fifteen yourself too, you know. You shouldn't have to try to save the world on your own." And that's when Pete felt like an intruder. These people had been living together for who knows how long, and by now they were no doubt acquainted with how the other person worked. What they liked to do. What they ate (both Brendon and Patrick were vegetarian- who would've known). The things that made them the way they were. These three people plus Lindsey knew what it meant to be the other person and Pete was just here living in their space and it felt wrong. Like he didn't belong.

Out. He needed to get out. He saw the door, he saw his stuff, he even had his shoes. He knew how to get out, he had a job now. He could survive.

But he turned to look at Patrick, and everything changed. He had made a promise towards the youngest boy, and, even though Brendon at this moment hated him more than anything else on earth, Pete knew he would stay.

If not for anyone, then for his own sanity. Stay to make sure he didn't come running back to them, back to her. The ones who screwed him over again and again.

A bit selfish, yes, but isn't that the only way to survive in this awful, cruel world?