Damn Different- Peterick

" God damnit…" I muttered as I saw the sheik black sports car with the heart-bat painted on the front roll up my driveway. I ran to go lock the door, chain it shut, anything to keep him   out. But, unfortunately, stairs plus running, plus Patrick don't really mix very well. As I attempted to get down the stairs as quickly as my legs could, I stumbled, fell, and ended up face first right in front of my front door.
Pete smirked as he clicked the lock open and swung the door wide. He looked down at me and raised a eyebrow in a fashion that made me want to shoot him where he stood. " You really don't have to bow for me Tricky! That's not necessary!"
I grumbled as I pulled myself up. Pete smiled, arms crossed, all this body weight on one leg, this hoodie hanging limply over shoulders not given enough appreciation by a unloving wife. "Patrick, you look…great! But I see no matter how mush weight you loose, you don't lose the clumsy-ness!" He laughed at his own joke. I didn't.
"Pete…leave", I sneered though gritted teeth.
Pete's stupid, taunting smirk stayed cemented in place. "No-can-do Trickster!"
I repeated, "I mean it Peter…Leave."
"I quit Fall Out Boy, I didn't quit you!" Pete shot back.
I glared at Pete, making sure I looked mighty intimidating and then hissed, "No Pete, you quit me May 17 2008." With that I turned my back on Pete and walked up the stairs to my music room.
I could tell Pete was somewhat shocked because he didn't shot a comeback right away. After a second or two he was behind me again stuttering, "Come on Trick! You know she forced me into it! You know how those Simpson girls are, ask Tony Romo!"
I rolled my eyes and kept on walking, trying my best to ignore him.
"Patrick! Don't ignore me!" Pete cried as I finally came to my music room. I walked in and turned before I closed the door.
"You know what gets me through my days? " I asked him calmly with a smile.
He looked at me slightly worried, slightly confused. "Um…what?"
"I pretend you're dead. It makes it easier for me." I then slammed the door on his face.
I heard him gasp, then laugh ever so lightly, most liking amused with my pain…that sick bastard…
"Oh, Tricky you are so full of good comeback today!!" Pete cooed through the door.
I put on my headphones and turned the sound up all the way, drowning out his low voice. After a few minutes, I forgot he was even there. Unfortunately, nothing golden can stay. The door swung open and Pete strutted in with one of those million dollar smiles that he gives away like the Pitt family gives away charity money.
"HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET IN HERE?!" I  yelled as Pete walked over to me.
Pete shrugged and said, "Easily, you still have wire hangers in your closet. By the way, I noticed you have just invest in a nice pair of DKNY skinny jeans, I am thinking of taking them…"
Without a thought, I swung my fist into his face, sending him to the ground.
"Wow…Wii boxing does build muscle…" Pete laughed, this nose bleeding on my brown tile floor.
Even if I hit him, he seemed like normal, joking, stupid Pete. I wanted to kill him, but his smile…it made me feel…whole again.
Pete brought himself to his feet and wiped the blood from his nose onto his sleeve. "Nothing to say to that one Patrick?"
"Shut the hell up."
"Little uncreative…but it'll work I guess."
"I mean it Pete…shut up."
"Come on Tricky. Don't try to push me out-"
That when I kind of…exploded.
"ME? Now I'm the one who quit the band, stopped talking to his best friend, only cared about this stupid, over priced clothes brand?! Did you really just come to my house and tell me I'm pushing you out?! Damn it Pete, you disconnected yourself for me, I didn't disconnect from you! I worked hard to keep the band together, but I guess I can't keep everyone happy forever! At least, not you, I could only keep you happy when I was skinny, teenage Patrick! Once I put on a little weight, you dropped me like you did your math homework and when to go fuck up someone else! And you caught a SIMPSON! What a freaking catch! You caught a ditzy, little slut! Don't point at me, you left the band…you left me…you pushed yourself out."
Pete's smile was gone. In its place was a look of pure horror and shock. We stood there staring at each other until Pete finally moved closer to me, and kissed me hard on the lips. Arms wrapped around bodies, bodies were pushed up against walls. Everything went by in a blurry mess. Pete…Me… everything was in the past now. Two friends… two guys… two messed up head… One composer that was, and still is, never composed…and one over doused who was just a boy with a thorn in his side.

I woke up to the sound of a sidekick buzzing on my side table, a headache piercing my brain. I saw a tattooed arm reach over and pluck it off the table and flip it open with ease.
"Yello?" A deep, groggy voice answered. The convocation when kind of like this, "Yeah…yeah…I know Gabe…I was at Patrick's…WHY DO YOU NEED TO KNOW?!…Yes, I know I was supposed to be at your party…Ryan did what?!? …You know he doesn't do well with liquor! … Okay Gabe… God, I know!…. I'll be there in like, a hour, I promise… No!…. Because truthfully, I don't trust you with a hamster! … Okay, bye."
I laughed and snuggled into the darker mans chest. "So…I guess we're friends again…"
He laughed too and kissed my forehead, "Well, usually people who hate each other don't sleep with each other…"
"Well, usually friends don't sleep with each other either…"
"But we are damn different from most people Stump."
I settled down in Pete's chest and laughed back, "You got that right Wentz…you got that right…"