I Want to Hate You Half as Much as I Hate Myself

Patrick sat on his bed, trying to focus on his textbook. The words went through one ear, out the other. His mind was racing, but it was not involving the paragraphs he was reading about the Baroque-era.

On his little bed side table, the one that was from his bedroom as a child, was the small scrap of paper. The one that burned a hole in his pocket all day. The one Ryan told him to burn; yes, he told him to burn those digits. It was like Ryan thought the numbers were evil, they were satanistic, they were actually Pete.

Patrick knew, however, that Ryan just had the grudge that any good friend would have over the guy who took his virginity.

Patrick, a bit over dramaticly, stared at those numbers. He contemplated the idea in his head. Pete, he thought. He is probably out with someone else. He reminded himself bitterly.

But we all knew what would happen. How Patrick would pull out his cell phone, dial his number, find out Pete wasn't with anyone, and invite him over. We all knew that from the start. Because really, Patrick would do what he wanted to do and not what Ryan wanted to.

Patrick changed out of the clothes he was wearing and into something a little more flattering. His best outfit clad his body, and he went into his small kitchen to find some beer he had back from New Years. He was only a drinker when he wanted to be, and he knew he would not want to remember what happens in the morning. What he really wanted was to be able to connect the dots, and just come up with some story about what happened.

Halfway through his first beer, Pete knocked on the door. Patrick nervously set down the bottle, checked himself in the mirror, and then opened the door.

Pete smirked before entering, knowing the causes of the sweat that laced Patrick's face and why he stuttered. "Hey," Pete greeted. "So how are you?" He asked, which shocked even Pete. He never small talked, he always went straight to the bedroom if the occasion happened that he sleeps with someone twice.

"O-okay, I guess." Patrick stuttered. He had become more at ease with his nervousness around Pete, so he didn't even correct himself. "How are you?"

"Pretty good," he chuckled. "Just had a few drinks with Brendon, but he bailed on me because he had to go help his boyfriend with something." He sauntered over to the kitchen counter and leaned against it, grabbing a beer.

Patrick knew what Brendon was helping his boyfriend with. Ryan had been talking about it today, that is, after he went batshit and told Patrick to stay away from 'the school whore.'

With that, Patrick began to feel a sense of defiance, rebellion even, by just inviting Pete over. Ryan would have probably punched Pete by now, he hated him that much. Ryan was afraid of Pete, but not in the sense that Pete would beat up anyone, more because he slept with anyone and everyone. It was emotional, not physical, the idea of him hurting Brendon or Patrick. by sleeping with them.

Ryan was just that guardian angel, while Patrick was just the guy who would fuck the person he was never supposed to.

"So," Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick's waist after Patrick stood in front of him. "What will we do tonight, exactly?"

"Whatever you want," He replied with a smile. One of those 'fuck-you-Ryan-Ross' smiles.

~~~~~

Patrick woke up the next morning, feeling abut as bad as the one before that. He winced when he rolled over and felt sharp pains all over. The pillow next to him had a note on top of it, See you in class was written on it in quick and sloppy writting.

And all Patrick did was smile.

~~~~~

"Hey Bren," Pete spoke into his phone. "Can you pick me up?"

Pete actually walked from the bar this time, he was not drunk which was amazing. He didn't get a ride from someone, he walked from he bar which was where his car and his keys were in his pocket this time. That was how much he liked Patick, he actually fucking walked two blocks to meet up with him instead of flirting with someone and possibly giving head to someone for a ride.

"Shit, man." Brendon chuckled from the other side of the line. "You get laid way too much. I won't be surprised when you get some kind of disease."

Pete rolled his eyes and stomped on his cigarette. "You just wish you got laid as much as me. Now can you pick me up? I'm on Seventeenth and Euclid."

"Whatever," Brendon muttered as always. Pete thought he heard someone saying something on the other line, and it sounded like Ryan.

Pete laughed lightly, knowing Brendon would be there in a matter of minutes even if it was with the boyfriend that hated Pete.

So he did what he always did until that old car arrived; smoke and think about hips.

"Patrick," he mumbled. He didn't know what was going on between them, but he liked it. He smiled to himself. It was not just that he liked Patrick in bed, it was more his nervous persona; the way he was always stuttering around him. Call him sadistic, but he loved watching the way he made Patrick squirm.

Brendon drove up the the curb Pete sat at, stepping on his cigarette before getting into the car with Brendon and Ryan inside.

Ryan had a look of pure concentration for a split second as he looked up from the book in his lap, and immediately bolted. "Son of a bitch," he muttered as he jumped out of the car. "I've gotta do something Bren, see you later." He yelled as he continued up the stairs of the apartment complex.

Brendon was confused, but drove off while making small talk with Pete.

Ryan found the door he was looking for, and knocked and knocked and knocked until someone answered.

"Ryan?" Patrick asked, in wonder and shock. "What are you doing here?"

"You idiot!" Ryan yelled, not caring who heard. "Are you brain dead or something? You slept with Pete again?"

"Ry, calm down!" Patrick said. "Pete just wanted some notes for class."

Ryan almost believed him. He knew how Pete loved letting his mind wander during class instead of writting anything down. But, Pete was a slut. "Liar. You guys fucked again, were you drunk?"

Patrick rolled his eyes, "I refuse to answer that question."

But Ryan knew the question. Patrick did not show any signs of a hang over, he was not muttering or rubbing his temples or leaning against anything. "You little idiot," He muttered. "This is even worse. Now you are sleeping with Pete while you are sober."

Patrick had to bite his tongue. He couldn't let what was going through his mind slip, otherwise he would be forced ot move in with Brendon and Ryan due to Ryan over reacting to almost everything. Yes, he would actually force Patrick to move in with him and his boyfriend.

"Ryan, you cannot blame me. I had no fucking idea about Pete because you are always so busy with Brendon or refusing to talk about anything other Brendon. With you, it is just Brendon Brendon Brendon!"

Ryan narrowed his eyes, "Patrick." He gritted his teeth. "Firstly, I do not only talk about Brendon. Secondly, I do not talk about Pete because he is the anti-Christ sent from hell to create hell on Earth by sleeping around. Thirdly, you need to stay away from him. I don't wnat you getting some kind of STD from him your first time and being scarred for life. Fourthly, you cannot blame me for you having sex with Pete last night. That was all you."

"Ryan, do not worry. I get it, Pete is using me. This will not happen again." He lied to both Ryan and himself.