Would You Mind If I Sat Next To You and Watched You Smile?

The next day Pete made it to the lunch table first. He decided he wouldn’t even bother with buying cafeteria food. It was a waste of money. He’d much rather spend it on some new strings for his base, or hair dye. It was also a waste because he never had more than a couple bites, anyway.

Pete scanned the lunchroom, and he hated to admit he kept looking at the clock. It wasn’t that he was checking the time to see how much longer until lunch ended (well he always did that) but he was checking to see how much time had passed. To see how late Patrick was.

He didn’t understand why he was doing it; it was just something he had the instinct to do. Maybe today was the day that Pete would have to go walking the locker rooms and bathroom stalls to see which one Patrick got shoved in. Or maybe today was the day that Pete would admit he actually liked seeing Patrick everyday. He found the kid interesting; how Patrick bit his lip when working on a math equation or how his cheeks flushed when he noticed Pete staring. It was the highlight of Pete’s day, and Patrick never missed a day of school, let alone a meal.

Pete was antsy as the hand on the clock clicked to fifteen minutes after. Pete swore he’d give Patrick another five to get down there, until he went storming the school. He was tapping his thumb against the table, while James walked up.

“Where’s the loser?” James asked, shooting Pete a dirty a glance, one that looked like it killed him to even breathe the same air as Pete.

“Why should I know?” he snapped back, quickly glancing at the clock again.

James gave him a look. “You that oblivious dude? That kid’s your pet.”

“He’s not my pet,” Pete hissed, leaning back in his chair and trying to see past James to the door. Patrick still had yet to come in the lunchroom.

“Well,” James smiled evilly. “The whole school thinks he’s giving you head, so he has a table.”

Pete stopped looking at the door. He glared a James. “What Patrick and I do is none for your business, Carter.”

“So you’re not denying it?” James grinned, ready to use this newfound information against Wentz.

“Not denying, not confirming.” Pete made a fake grin.

James turned around to look at the door. “Where is that little shit?”

“What’s he to you?” Pete questioned, almost scared but slightly curious. No one ever talked to Patrick because no one ever cared.

James smirked, “What Patrick and I do is none for your business, Wentz.”

“Fuck. You,” Pete punctuated. James winked at him before heading back to his table.

Something about that conversation made Pete’s blood burn. What the hell did James want from Patrick? His Patrick. Pete’s Patrick. No…he wasn’t going to think that. Just because Patrick sat at Pete’s table doesn’t mean he had possession over him. Yet he was standing up and leaving the lunchroom to go look for the junior.

Pete was able to avoid the teachers in the halls. He quickly checked the bathrooms on the first floor, and then jumped up the stairs to look on the second floor. It was in the third stall where he found Patrick in the empty bathroom.

“Patrick?” Pete asked carefully. The name sounded slick on his tongue, too nice and natural.

The door slowly opened to show Patrick. His hair was messed up under his hat, eyes bloodshot and face red. “Pete?”

“I-you didn’t come down. I thought maybe they gave you a swirly. Or the toilet monster ate you.” Pete leaned back against the sink across the stall and threw his hands in his hoodie

“Oh,” Patrick said. Then his voice cracked and shook. “I’m not feeling too well, that’s all.”

“You don’t look so good,” Pete noted, before waiting a few odd moments and saying “Well…I should go-”

“Wait!” Patrick cried. He took a step forward and reached his hand out, grabbing Pete’s arm to stop him. He withdrew it quickly. “IforgottohavemymomsignmybiologylabpermissionslipandIhavetheclassnext.”

Pete blinked, taking a while to try and figure out what Patrick said, and to give the kid a second to catch his breath. “Your lab permission slip?”

“Yeah…” Patrick mumbled. “And Mr. Riley swore it would be counted as a quiz grade. A quiz grade on the second day! I can’t get a zero on that, it’s stupid! And it will give me a bad reputation with the teacher, I can’t start off the year like this!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Pete stopped him. “Hold up.” Patrick pulled the brim of his hat down, nodding. Pete looked at him, and felt his heart ache at Patrick’s helplessness.

“Give me the sheet. I’m a pro at faking that type of shit.”

“Really?” Patrick asked, his eyes brightening.

“Give me a pen too,” Pete added. “Is it curly, or sloppy?”

Patrick reached into his back pocket, pulling out the folded paper. “I don’t know…”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Pete asked, bewildered. “You want to fail or not Trick? It’s you’re science grade we’re talking about.”

“Trick? No, wait no,” Patrick dismissed. “I didn’t…mean for it to…I just don’t know because…why would you do that for me?”

Pete just smirked. He could get a lot out of Patrick from this, a lot. But he couldn’t think of what at the moment, so he just said. “Half your lunch for a month. I hate the cafeteria shit.”

“Curly,” Patrick said, handing over a pen and the paper, after a few seconds.

Pete uncapped the pen, and slid up the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He practiced the name, a few times before picking one and saying, “that good?”

“Uh-”

“Just if you ever need any other crap signed give it to me, so it all looks the same, okay?”

Patrick nodded, smiling a little. “Okay.”