Cabin Fever

After making his way back to his families assigned Cabin, Pete hadn’t felt up to going back out exploring. His face was still red from the earlier embarrassment of falling in front of the Resorts staff; which confused Pete greatly. He was the type of guy that didn’t give a shit about what people thought of him, he’d just stick up his middle finger and be on his way without a second thought. But he found himself lingering on these teenagers (he’s assumed most of them were around his age, except for that Gerard Way guy), and since he’d probably be seeing them around the Resort, he didn’t want to see their smirks, or hear their snickers. He wanted them to look at them with interest, even if it was only a small amount.

Pete shook his head, getting up from his position on the bed and walking over to the window. Sliding it open, he grasped something in his pants pocket and pulled it out. He’d managed to snag one of his Dad’s cigarette packs before they’d left; it had been so busy in his household what with them getting everything together, and trying to get Pete’s youngest siblings rounded up, it had been quite easy to obtain. Pete wasn’t usually a smoker, but he found that in stressful or even confusing situations like the one now, nicotine calmed his nerves and made it easier to think.

Pete knew one thing; he only ever acted like this when it involved someone he liked. He’d been dumped more than a couple times because of his clingy nature, and he’d been labeled “freaky” because of some of the drastic measures he’d taken to get to know someone.

And Pete wasn’t going to deny that almost all of those boys had been high on Pete’s “Attractive” scale. The Hat Boy (as Pete had decided he’d call him, since he didn’t know his name) had caught his eye more than any of them, and he figured that this was one of the reasons he was mentally freaking out.

Pulling a green lighter from the other pocket, and holding the cigarette to his pink lips, he lit it. Smoke filled his lungs the instant he inhaled, and his frazzled mind felt more relaxed. He absentmindedly tapped the lighter against the fine wood of the cabin, and decided that the only way to get to know Hat Boy, or even any of the others, was to take action. This made Pete smile, and he brought the cigarette up to his lips to take another puff; Pete Wentz was always up for a good challenge, and getting to know the Resort staff seemed like the best one of all.

--

Pete slumped in his seat, looking around the noisy Dining Hall. His eyes skipped from table to table, taking in the appearances of the people sitting near, and far, away from him and the glamorous decorations on the ceiling and walls of the spacious room. The room seemed too bright in his opinion; the giant chandler in the middle of the ceiling was shining brightly, making everything seem to sparkle.

“Pete, sit up,” his mother said, looking over her menu at him, “at least attempt to act like you want to be here.”

Pete grumbled, but relented, and sat up in his seat. His elbows rested on the table, his chin resting on his hands. He’d already looked at the menu and decided that half of it was in alien and the other half was alien. Pete wasn’t going to eat something he couldn’t pronounce, and he wasn’t going to eat something he’d never heard of. Ew, no.

Pete would just ask for fries. You could never go wrong with fries.

The bored teen sighed, fidgeting in his seat. His father was engrossed in the menu, and his mother was trying to get his brother and sister to settle down. Pete looked at them enviously; at least they had found entertainment in throwing sugar packets at people.

Pete heard a small crash come from his right, and his head turned curiously. There was a stage at the far end of the hall, standing high above the floor and tables, so it was easy for Pete to see what was going on. A boy in a fancy uniform, with short choppy light brown hair, was looking sheepishly at someone who must have been off stage. He bent down, picking up the mic stand he’d run into, and making sure everything was in place again before moving, much more careful this time, to sit behind the drum set.
Pete saw another Resort employee walk out, this time holding what Pete already knew to be either a Bass or Guitar (Pete couldn’t tell from where he was sitting). The man took position on stage, turning to say something Pete couldn’t hear to the guy on the drums.

The suddenly not-so-bored teen sat up straighter in his chair, the boy he’d seen earlier, the one with the amazing eye makeup, walked onstage with an instrument too. His face looked clean, and rid of all the makeup he previously had on. He was still handsome, attractiveness wasn’t just scrubbed away that easily, but Pete couldn’t help but think that with the makeup gone his face looked incomplete; like the very last piece was missing from a beautiful puzzle.

Their heads bobbed a couple times, and Pete could hear the distant sound of two drum sticks being struck together, before beautiful music hit his ears. It wasn’t too fast, but it wasn’t the usual sad, slow music he’d seen portrayed in way to many movies. It made his limps tingle, wanting to get up and move, but he couldn’t. They still hadn’t ordered their food yet, and he knew his mother would have a fit if he darted off into the already forming crowd in the center of the dance floor.

“Hello, sorry to keep you waiting, we had a little hold up with our waiters. I’m Patrick, and I’ll be your server tonight,” Pete’s head snapped to his right so fast he heard it crack. His eyes met black, and they slowly rose up, taking in a perfectly pressed winkle free vest, before zoning on a perfect, straight white smile.

Pete tried to contain himself. Hat boy, Patrick, had just materialized out of no where, and was standing directly in front of him. Even more perfect up close than from a far. Pete struggled to keep the small squeal of joy down in his throat.

Pete didn’t even hear his family order, he was too busy watching Patrick’s (The name fits him perfectly, Pete decided) expressions. The smile never left his face, and his tongue would ever so often dart out when he was bending his head to write down an order.

Pete’s fantasy about that tongue was disrupted by his mother’s stern tone of voice, “Pete.”

His head turned, and he shot her an annoyed look. What did she want now?

“I’m sure the boy can’t read your mind, Son. Tell him your order,” his father’s deep voice sounded annoyed, and slightly amused. Pete resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him, but that wouldn’t look very impressive in front of Patrick, now would it?

Pete smirked; he’d been waiting for an opportunity like this, hadn’t he? Now was the perfect chance…

“I’ll have the,” Pete looked back up at Patrick, letting the smirk linger on his lips, “Shrimp Cocktail.”

With that Pete handed his menu to the already blushing Patrick, and his family followed this action. The poor waiter scurried away before anyone could ask why his face looked brighter, and his pants a little tighter.

Pete smiled in triumph. He’d obviously gotten to the boy, he hadn’t even bothered to ask Pete what sauce he wanted with his course and he knew for a fact there was a variety to choose from.

“Pete…” his mother’s voice cracked through his victorious train of thought, “You don’t even like shrimp.”

He could hardly contain his laughter.

--

Their food had come shortly after they’d ordered, and Pete would have commented on the fast service had it not been for the fact that his mood had dropped drastically. Their food had been served by a different server, a man with a huge ass fro, and Pete had found the switch in servers making him loose his appetite (or maybe it was the smell of the disgusting shrimp, his mother hadn’t been wrong in pointing out that he hated it). Perhaps he’d been too forward? Maybe the guy wasn’t even into guys.

Not like that’d ever stopped him before, but it was different with Patrick. He looked tough on the outside, but the way he’d scurried off, blushing, made Pete think his insides were made entirely out of fluff. Pete found that cute; a guy who could be both tough and sweet. Patrick looked like that type.

The thought of you’re jumping into this way too fast ran through Pete’s mind, but he pushed it aside. It was the summer; he was at a Vacation Resort with no friends, just his family. He needed something to do. Of course Pete would turn to the next best thing; Boys.

It’s just something to occupy my time until we leave, he thought, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of that fact, rather than just point it out.

He moved his food around, and took frequent sips of his water. His eyes once again darted around the room, this time watching people eat, or get up to dance to the hypnotic music. The boys were still at it, even forty minutes later, and he could tell they all loved what they did; they were all smiles, and their beats never faltered as they played. Pete should have brought his bass, wishing more than anything he could get up there and play with them.

His eyes suddenly caught the sight of red hair near the stage, and on impulse he pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Peter, where do you think your going?” his mother looked startled by the sudden move; and he mumbled an apology.

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom,” he wondered if they even heard his quiet reply, but didn’t think too much of it as his legs moved him towards the stage, moving past dancing bodies and round dinner tables. He didn’t know what he was doing, or what he planned to do, but he just found himself wanting to see Patrick’s smile again. Hear his angelic voice.

Angelic? Even his inner thoughts seemed to mock the way Pete seemed to be turning into a giant pile of mushy emotion.

He was drawling closer to the stage, and he bumped into a tall man dancing with a woman dressed in an elegant gown. This time he didn’t bother with apologies; he was too transfixed on the people in front of him. His neck craned up at an awkward angle as he watched the three boys play. Their faces looked relaxed and their foreheads shined from the sweat that was collecting there from being under the hot gaze of spot lights.

Pete continued to watch them for a few moments, before following the outline of the stage until he got to the side of it. It was darker back behind it, but he’d seen several workers pass through the small passage, and decided it was most likely the way Patrick had taken.

As he continued to walk, he guessed this would take him behind the large stage (he was a bit anxious to see what would be behind it, but also hoped he wouldn’t get caught) and therefore closer to Patrick. His steps quickened, and he rounded a corner; his body collided with another’s. Foreheads smacked together, limps tangled and from both boys’ mouths obscenities tumbled.

Pete groaned in pain, and looked down at the boy he was on top of.

A billion thoughts flashed through his mind at the speed of lightening, but only one stood out amongst them all;

I’m lying on Patrick.

That happy thought was quickly forgotten as the boy under him groaned in pain, and mumbled an angry;

“Get off me.”