I Don't Care (Peterick/side Trohley)

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American Beauty/American Psycho
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t w e l v e

What have I done? Pete hasn't spoken to me since that night.

We're on tour, and it's all, honestly, so awkward and stressful. The band blew up. Pete has like five hundred thousand followers, Andy and Joe (who just flirt on theirs, mostly) both have four and a half hundred thousand, and I haven't joined the twittersphere yet.

Everyone wonders why Pete doesn't give me a second glance on stage, while they catch me staring at him almost every concert.

There's some really creative hypothesises, actually. My favourite is one that goes like this:

'Patrick is an alien, and Pete doesn't want to accept that the guy he's in love with will suck his brains out.'

Yeah, the fans have a ship name for Pete and I and Andy and Joe, too. Ours is Peterick, and theirs is Trohley.

Elisa isn't happy about all of this. She says that I should be at home thinking about my college career and not out playing with Pete. I have to remind her constantly that Pete and I aren't the only ones in the band.

She never liked Joe because she said he was 'too nice.' And she doesn't like Andy because he's dating Joe and because he's straight edge. She says that no one is truthfully straight edge.

She's getting to be too much to handle, in all honesty. We've been dating like seven months, and it's like she wants me to fucking propose. Newsflash, we are still high schoolers.

We still have to do our work while we're on tour. We still spend nights up until three am writing essays, trying to figure out that last calculus answer, and doing projects.

Everyone thinks life on tour is easier. It really isn't. First of all, we're on a shitty bus with really uncomfortable bunks that are way too close together. Second, we have to have a bodyguard with us everywhere we go. (Including when one of us has to piss, which is really awkward.)

Everyone I used to go to school with sells some of the shit I touched on eBay. 'If he's touched it, we have it.'

When I googled my name one time, not only did some fanfics (?) pop up, but there was this picture of Pete and I in our boxers when I had blonde hair and his was still black.

While Pete's is blonde, my hair constantly changes. It's become a game with the fans. Each week, I dye my hair a different shade of a different color to see which looks best. Right now, my hair is an electric blue, which a lot of them like.

We recorded an album called 'Take This To Your Grave.' It's pretty bomb. I was kind of disappointed to hear that Sugar and Dance, Dance didn't make the first album, though. At least Where Is Your Boy made it.

Andy and Joe are as in love as I've ever seen. Even though Andy's supposed to leave to tour UCLA soon, everyone seems to be okay with the fact that not only is Joe losing his boyfriend and we're loosing one of our best friends, we're also loosing our drummer.

We have to audition to find a new one soon, and Andy's already decided that he wants to be there to help us pick.

But what he doesn't understand is that we won't be Fall Out Boy without him. He and Pete created the band pretty much. He kept promising that he'd find a way to play some shows with us. I doubt it'll happen, but I'm not one to burst his bubble.

"Patrick, we are on stage in thirty seconds. Come on, man," Joe grabs my hand, pulling me on the stage.

"Five, four, three, two," The curtains go up, making the crowd scream. I smile.

"Are you ready to have some fun, San Diego?!" I yell into the microphone. They all yell back. "Alright, let's do this,"

"We're gonna play a few covers tonight, too, just to switch it up," Pete says, playing a couple random chords on his bass.

"One, two, three," Andy counts us off. We all start playing Mr. Brightside by The Killers.

Most of the song was uneventful until I got to the 'It was only a kiss. It was only a kiss part.' Pete edged himself my way throughout the whole song, but I really wasn't paying attention.

As soon as I sing that part, Pete kisses the side of my mouth, making the fans go crazy. I blush and fumble with a few chords, making Joe have to scramble to fix them.

When I look at Pete after the song is over -- because if I messed up again, Joe would kill me -- he's smirking like there's no tomorrow.

Joe goes to the microphone behind me that only us four can hear. "What the hell was that, Pete?" Pete just shrugs and winks at me. I feel my cheeks heat up.

The rest of the concert goes by without any problems, and I'm a little scared for the meet and greet.

When we get there, only three chairs are sitting at the table. So Joe takes one, Andy takes one, and Pete takes one, pulling me down with him. Holy smokes.

As the fans start coming, I squirm to get comfortable, making Pete let out a gasp. "Okay, stop moving right now," He whispers in my ear.

I laugh at him, signing the CD that comes by. A fan asks us, "So are you two dating, too?" I choke.

"W-What?" Pete just smiles and puts his hand on mine, nodding.

"Yes! OTP!" I glare at Pete, who just smiles again.

I squirm on purpose as I sit in his lap, making him gasp every few seconds. "Seriously, Patrick,"

"Seriously, Pete," I say back, grinning really big. He puts his hands on my hips, gripping them hard.

"Patrick, if you don't stop moving, I'm going to come in my jeans," I smirk and keep moving. "Okay, that's it," Pete puts his hand down my jeans, and I gasp.

"Pete, what are you doing?" I hiss at him as he plays with the waistband of my boxers, signing a CD with his right hand.

"Two can play this game," He smiles at the fan that goes by. They have no clue about what's going on under this table.

"Okay, okay," I tell Pete as the last fan passes. He takes his hand out of my pants, making Joe raise his eyebrows. Andy bursts out laughing.

"You know what?" Andy asks. "I don't even wanna know," before getting up and pulling Joe with him.

I try to get off Pete's lap, but he doesn't let me go. I turn my head back to where I can see him. He looks around before leaning in and kissing me.

"Bye, Patrick," He picks me up, gets up, and then sets me back down on the chair, walking towards our dressing room.

What the hell just happened?