Chapter Three

                                    

                                          
Sighing, Pete propped his bike against the fence, bracing himself for the inevitable chaos that would ensue once he opened the goddamn door. 
                          
He entered his house, immediately greeted by the harsh voices.
                          
"I know you've been seeing your secretary! Don't lie to me!". 
                          
"Stop being like this! I stayed late one fucking night!". 
                          
"Twice!".
                          
"Are you serious? This is why your son turned out to be such a-". 
                          
Pete quietly slipped down the hallway before he could hear the rest, partially grateful that no one had noticed him. 
                          
Do they ever?
                          
Closing his bedroom door, he slid down the wall. Pete pulled out his flip phone. 
                          
ONE MESSAGE FROM: MIKEY
                          
'The song I heard earlier was called Iris! It's really neat! I'll play it for you when you come around!'
                          
Laughing softly, Pete responded with a:
                          
'Okay! See you later!'
                          
He liked Mikey. 
                          
Michael Way. That nerdy kid with stupid glasses and an anxious stutter that could simultaneously be cute and the cause of insanity.   Just sitting alone, listening to his MP3 player while stressing over homework on the curb outside the school, just waiting for his brother to walk him home.
                          
'I like your shirt'. 
                          
'W-what? You l-like Bowie too?'.  
                          
'He's a pretty cool guy.  I'm Pete. Uh, Pete Wentz'.  
                          
'M-Mikey Way'.  
                          
'Cool'.  
                          
Why do I even like him so much?  
                          
Not like that, though. 
                          
Pete shrugged, his thoughts interrupted by the muffled argument going on down the hall.  "I hate this," he whispered into the  lonely darkness, wishing that Mikey could hear and just appear.  Mikey would listen to him and make him smile with his boyish awkwardness. He wouldn't call him a 'loser' or a 'punk'.  
                          
Mikey was his best and only friend, and he loved him. 
                          
Not like that. 
                          
Pete stared longingly at a Polaroid picture someone named Frank Iero had taken of him and Mikey. Pete had tried to pull off a cool smirk with his squinted, makeup-rimmed eyes while Mikey glared at the camera with a stone cold poker face that completely masked his geeky personality. 
                          
Not like that. 
                          
And then It was there, holding a fading Polaroid in the summertime darkness with his parents screaming in the background, that Pete realized. 
                          
Oh shit. Yes, like that!
                          


                          


                          
Author's Note: Hey guys! Sorry for the late update! Hopefully you like this chapter! You're all amazing! Have a wonderful day wherever you are! -Cat_with_Headphones