Pastel Patrick // Peterick

Chapter One; Feminine

QUICK A/N;
I realize I have friends on here who read my stories who realize I write gay stuff, but if any of you shame me for writing a fic where a boy wears skirts and heels not in a sense of drag or gender, then fuck off. Its fabric and plastic and it has no gender.
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Patrick had just awoken with the most awful sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't unknown, he knew the exact condition he had:

School.

The first day back from summer vacation, to be exact, and he wasn't ready for it.

He wasn't about to fall to the floor in a shaky, crying, panicky mess. He wasn't about to go back to bed, because he would just have to go tomorrow.

He was gonna go alright, and although he knew that he would get shit for it, he was gonna give zero fucks.

I wish, he thought.

Every word that they called him silently broke him even worse, but he would just murmur words to people in attempts to be clever. Nobody ever listened.

Nobody took Patrick quite seriously, because he was a feminine boy. According to the laws of the entire planet, boys aren't allowed to do the following things:

•Have emotions
•Like pink
•Wear skirts/dresses/heels/etc
•Have any interests other than football and boobs
•Be submissive
•Like other boys
•Enjoy makeup/nail painting

And those were the standards that every male he knew lived by.

But he liked to wear pink skirts and pastel purple heels. He liked to drape pearls around his neck. He liked to put on mascara and think about boys.

And in his eyes, he was still a boy.
And nobody got to determine otherwise.

But that stopped no one. He tediously slipped on a pastel pink skirt and a flowy white sweater that hugged his curves. He looked in the mirror.

It'll do.

He grabbed his fuzzy pink backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He slipped on his white flats and walked out the door, to the bus stop.

Another day..

~

Breakfast was okay, because Patrick sat with Brendon like he normally did. Brendon was the gay fuckboy of the school, but nobody fucked with him. When he was around Patrick, Patrick was safe.

Patrick sat next to Brendon and smiled; Brendon reciprocated.

Brendon Boyd Urie was a total asshat, but when he was with Patrick, he was protective and loving. If anyone fucked with Patrick, Brendon would fuck them up. But they still did it.

"So, Beebo," Patrick swung his feet around under the table. "How are you and Dallon?"

Brendon bit his muffin and chuckled.

"He's cute, he's bi, he has a big dick... Yeah."

Patrick grunted.

"Why do you care so much about dicks, huh?"

Brendon put his muffin down and turned to Patrick, laughing.

"Sweetie, I'm gay as shit. Besides, you should too. Dicks are great things."

"I've not really found anyone who I th-" Patrick was caught off guard by a boy who stumbled down the steps of the cafeteria, dropping his bag and spilling the contents all over the floor. A few people laughed as he scrambled to pick everything up. Most just nodded him off.

"Patrick," Brendon snapped his fingers in front of Patrick's face, but he stood and walked over to the boy who was struggling. His face was quite red as he tried to messily cram his things into the bag. Patrick got down on his knees and began to pick up a few binders. He looked at Patrick with a puzzled look.

"Who are you?" the boy looked rather nervous. Patrick smiled.

"I'm Patrick, A.K.A 'That Fag Who Wears Skirts'"

The boy looked at Patrick with sad, brown eyes as he put his last few books in his bag. Patrick stood and helped the boy up.

"Who are you?" Patrick beamed. The boy cracked a small smile.

"Pete. And I don't think you're a fag," he frowned. Patrick blushed.

"O-Oh.. Th-Thank you. I know that there's five minutes left of breakfast but, you can come sit with me and my friend Brendon. He's kind of a dick, but he's cool."

Pete nodded and smiled.

"Y-Yeah. Okay, sure." He followed Patrick to the table, taking a seat next to him.

"Patrick, who is this?" Brendon snarled. Pete looked down.

"Bren, be nice. This is Pete."

Pete smiled.

"I-I'm new here."

Brendon smiled.

"Oh, okay," He nodded. "I'm Brendon."

The bell rang for everyone to go to their classes, so Pete and Patrick got up.

Brendon was a rebel; he kept eating.

"Bye, Brendon." Patrick hugged Brendon who just smiled.

He skipped off and began to talk to Pete.

"So.. Pete.. What's your first class?" Patrick asked. Pete chuckled.

"Art. You?"

"Same thing!" Patrick squealed. Pete kept giggling.

He's adorable. Pete thought to himself. It was true, too - Patrick Stump was such a happy, bubbly person. He didn't deserve all the hatred and negativity that he got.

"Okay, so, the art teacher's name is Mrs. Packen, she's super nice. You could totally sit next to me, we could be like, art partners or so-" But Patrick just stopped. He looked down.

"I-I'm sorry if I'm bothering you. Y-You don't have to sit with me."

Pete frowned.

"No, it's fine. I will."

Patrick nodded and led Pete to the classroom.