The Church Boys ➸ Peterick/Brentrick

18: Pete Wentz Sacks Up

Patrick enjoyed the silence of being alone in his house.

Well, silent save for him. 

With his parents out of town for the weekend, his brother and sister out with their friends, Patrick was left alone and it was really nice. He could sing, actually, without worrying about who could hear him. 

Which also entailed he could actually also sing whatever the fuck he wanted. 

Also entailed he could be a massive fucking gaylord, and that was great too. Ironically, he could actually sort of dance, albeit slightly sexually, but hey! Who was really complaining? Checking his phone when the song switched to something less suggestive, he found the time to respond to the texts.

pete: yo whats up

pdiddly: not much tbh. hbu

pete: same. wanna hang out? i need to get out of this house.

pdiddly: i'm at home and tbh i don't feel like going anywhere. parents are out of town tho, wanna come here? 

pete: do you have siblings i'll have to talk to?

pdiddly: lol they're gone too

pete: send me ur address i'll be right over

Patrick did so, heading to the bathroom to at least brush his teeth before he cleaned up his room as much as possible in five minutes. There wasn't much to clean up, he just threw some stuff in his laundry basket and made his bed, put his records away and got the homework off the floor and that was that. It's not like Pete's room was any cleaner.

The doorbell rang as Patrick was halfway into getting his jeans on to at least look like he was trying to look like he didn't just roll out of bed. He answered, giving Pete a smile as he let him inside.

"Dude, I didn't know you had a house like this. It's really nice," Pete observed as he walked in. 

Patrick shrugged. "My dad's a surgeon and my mom's a psychiatrist," he explained as he shut the door. "We're not rich, but we're definitely upper middle class."

"Yeah," he mused, looking around as he walked in with his bag. "Thanks for letting me come over, I was sort of...done...at the moment with the stuff going on at home."

"Don't worry about it," he said. Patrick shot him a small smile, not questioning whatever was going on at home. It wasn't his business. "My room's upstairs. You can put your stuff in there." 

Pete followed, still in an odd sort of trance. He'd been pleasantly surprised, what could he say? While he wanted to go investigate the rest of the house, common courtesy kicked in and he elected not to. He dropped his stuff off in Patrick's room, observing it for a long moment. It felt human, a lot more so than his usually was. Cozy; probably from the dark walls and the numerous blankets on the bed, along with the posters that littered the walls and made the room feel smaller.

The blinds were shut, but Patrick opened them instead of turning on a light. He only had an acoustic guitar in his room, which was surprising to Pete, but before he could question it, Patrick had noted the stare at the guitar and answered.

"I don't usually do music stuff in here. It'd be too cramped," he said with a small laugh. The light that came through the blinds flickered for a moment. "C'mon."

He led Pete down to the basement, which he couldn't figure out why they had a basement as most California houses didn't, but it wasn't the biggest question he had. Upon getting down there, part of him was blown away at the sight.