I could smack him with this, he thought, though the action in reality wouldn't give him anything but an arrest.
He trudged on.
As he approached the door, the man knocked on the door heavily, breaking into a cold sweat as he did so.
What the hell am I doing? This is useless. But I already knocked. I could just—
"Hello?" A deep voice broke through Patrick's thoughts, and he found himself upon the presence of a short, blonde haired man.
He was in a black suit, and his brown eyes squinted at the teen warily.
"Uhm, excuse me," his eyes scanned the street, a slight blush creeping on his cheeks. His actions seemed as if he couldn't look at the boy.
Patrick couldn't think.
Suddenly, all the anger in his body was suppressed, and all he could look at was the man's face.
Damn.
God bloody damnit, the man was hot. Patrick could feel his heart beat stutter, face flushing as he struggled to keep his breathing pace.
"Do you... Need anything? Laddie?" The man asked in a hoarse verse, voice trembling in a polite melody. He glanced at the paper, a curled portrait of himself on the cover. He visibly flinched.
"Paper boy? What—" Peter but his tongue, swallowing. Patrick kept quiet.
"Um..." Patrick drank in a breath of the chilly air before continuing. "I'm-I'm sorry for bothering you, I should just—" he bent down quickly, placing the newspaper at the man's feet.
Whatthehellwereyouthinkingwhatthehellwereyouthinkingwhat—
"Okay..?" Pete gulped, picking up the paper. Patrick could barely move.
"I'm so sorry, I just—I don't know?" Patrick cursed under his breath, stammering as he kept his head down.
He shouldn't be merciful to Peter Wentz. This man's family took his wealth. Took his family's freedom.
Why did he feel this way?
Patrick didn't know he'd be attractive, in the flesh. Patrick could be caned for these feelings—indecency toward the same gender? In the 1950's?
"I'll just—I'll just l-l-leave." He shook his head, turning away.
Pete huffed in sharply, closing his eyes. What was happening?
But the short man was cute.
Though he shouldn't be feeling that.
The paperboy. The paperboy.
A boy.
What the bloody hell was this?
Patrick started to leave, trembling with each step. He couldn't tell if it was the cold or anxiety.
"Excuse me, lad," Pete croaked.
Patrick turned, on the verge of tears.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm—"
"It's okay," he said airily. It was an awkward conversation, with the distance and the circumstance. The paperboy stood around seven feet away from Pete, and Pete stayed in the doorway, tie undone.
"It's quite cold," Pete muttered hesitantly. "Care for... A drink?"
Patrick was stunned.
What was happening right now?
"I'm fine, really. I should just—"
"People like you never get recognition for this work. Classic classism," Pete continued, words spilling out effortlessly.
"Come in, and I'll tip you."
"Mr. Wentz?" Patrick stuttered, taken aback. "Are you asking me, a stranger, inside your house?"
Pete swallowed, going over his actions.
I suppose so, he would've said. But what would that look like on his Wall Street reputation?
"It's the least I can do. You're always out at the same time everyday—and I believe you're underpaid, right?"
Because of you, Patrick swallowed down the words.
Slowly, he approached the house, keeping his eyes down, adjusting his hat as if it would up his formality.
"Thank you, sir," he whispered as he entered.
Pete let himself smile vaguely. "My pleasure, paper boy," and the door shut closed behind them.
-
I hate this a lot tbh so I may rewrite it?? Ah it was so weIRd what
Anyway, this was inspired by an edit I made on my Instagram ((@/marchtobehindthesea)) and spouse ((bloodrxd )) wanted me to write it so yeah cc:
soRRY THIS SUCKED SO MUCH OKAY BYE
paperboy x gambler (PETERICK)
Start from the beginning
