Things Change // Frerard + Petekey [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter 18

It didn't take Pete too long to find the house, but as he stood in front of it, he thought he might have gotten the wrong address.

It was big, two stories high, with a red slanted roof and walls made out of dark wood, which wasn't that uncommon, but Pete still felt as if this house didn't suit the Way brothers. Then again, they probably weren't the ones to pick it. The grass out in front of the house was lush, green and unkempt, but in a way that didn't look deserted, simply like the owner couldn't be bothered to cut it. The stones leading to the dark, wooden door were cracked and covered in moss, but again, it didn't feel deserted, but more of an aesthetic choice. What really gave it a menacing feeling, other than the fact that Pete had only heard bad things about the people who lived there, were the dark drapes on all the windows, completely closed away from the outside world. Another thing was the way the drape in the upper left side of the house swayed, as if someone was looking at him, before quickly turning away when they noticed him looking. He really hoped that person was Mikey, and not his psycho dad.

Pete took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, and walked up to the house. He looked around the door for a bit, searching for a bell he can ring, but after not finding it he resorted to simply knocking on the dark wood.

It didn't take long for someone to answer the door, but unfortunately that person just so happened to be who Pete assumed to be the Way brothers' dad. He wasn't too tall, but since Pete was quite short it seemed as if the older man was towering above him. He had a full head of light brown hair, growing out but not yet reaching his shoulders, in the way that would make all the women swoon, though he had some gray streaks growing in the sides. He had dark hazel eyes and was staring Pete down as if trying to imagine just how to murder the teenager standing outside his door.

"Yes?" He said, his voice not quite matching what Pete had in mind. It was slightly high pitched, feminine, like the voices of his sons, but it had a cold undertone that his sons did not share, and not Pete realized he had been staring and he should probably say something before the man butchers him.

"Uh, I'm Pete," he said, his voice higher than usual, and he cleared his throat. "I have an English assignment with Mikey, he asked me to come over."

The man sniffed and grunted, moving aside to let Pete in, and the younger slowly and cautiously moved passed him and into the house. The inside of the house was dimly lit, full of vintage looking, dark, wooden furniture, things he would have expected to see in a vampire's house more than a werewolf's.

"Michael!" The man called from behind Pete, startling him and making him jump. "Your classmate's here!"

Barely a second had passed before Mikey was rushing down the stairs, his awkward knees bending weirdly as he practically tripped down to stand in front of Pete.

"Hey," Mikey said quietly.

"Hey," Pete replied, even more quietly.

"Michael, show him to your room and then come back here," Mikey's father spoke up again. "I'd like to speak with you."

"Yes, father." Mikey nodded and turned, gesturing to Pete to follow him as he started walking back up the stairs, calmer and slower than how he came down them.

"Are you sure it's okay that I'm here?" Pete asked as they were nearing Mikey's room, hopefully out of ear range of Mikey's dad.

"Well, we have to do this English assignment, don't we?" Mikey replied, obviously not expecting an answer, and then opened the door to his room. "Wait here, and don't touch anything."

Mikey left, closing the door behind him, and Pete was left alone in the room, so he did the logical thing, and started snooping.

Mikey had a twin sized wooden bed with dark gray covers, which was pushed against the far right corner of the room. Next to it stood a bedside table of matching wood with three drawers. Next to that, shoved against the other corner of the room, right under the window, stood a simple desk, once again made of the same wood, with a set of drawers replacing its two left legs. On the desk rested a few notebooks and a laptop, and a simple black office chair was pushed in front of it.