Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5167304.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Fall_Out_Boy, Bandom
  Relationship:
      Pete/Patrick, Patrick_Stump/Pete_Wentz, Pete_Wentz/Other(s)
  Character:
      Pete_Wentz, Patrick_Stump, Fall_Out_Boy(band)
  Additional Tags:
      soul_mates, Soul_Mate_AU, not_really_underage, Patrick_was_like_fourteen
      and_can_feel_when_Pete_had_sex, and_that's_like_all_of_the_sexual_content
  Series:
      Part 1 of You_Find_Yourself_At_The_Top_With_No_One_To_Share_It_With
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-11-08 Words: 2201
****** One, Two, And I Can't Take Three ******
by Regret_Me_(MythicObsessions)
Summary
     Pete and Patrick were soul mates. Pete wasn't emotionally stable,
     Patrick got the blunt of that. So he cut him off.
     Fall Out Boy's getting more popular and Patrick swears he does not
     have a soul mate anymore, but that's definitely not his feelings
     there.
Notes
     Errors on me
     Comments are nice.
     I might actually make this into a real story. I don't know yet.
     Love, your obsessions.
See the end of the work for more notes
Patrick woke suddenly, the sun was rising outside his window when he felt the
sudden buzz of his bond.
I'm doing it again,it said, I keep failing you, I'm so sorry.
Then the pity, the thoughts that rushed in after. And oh, oh that's, that's
strange. The way his body was awake, warm and buzzing and turned on.
Patrick cried out and hide his face in his pillow as it kept going, the
thoughts of his soul mate running through his own head.
No, no. Patrick thought to the bond.
“Please!” Patrick said aloud, sobbing. “Please, stop.”
- no more, please.
===============================================================================
 Pete was laughing, but then again, he always was. What he was laughing at,
Patrick seemed to have missed. It was about midnight now, maybe a little past,
and what had started as a party had slowly faded into just Pete, Andy, Joe and
Patrick.
Patrick happened to be a little too drunk to follow the conversation that
seemed to bounce from music to literature to gossip about who fucked who this
year in school. And Patrick didn't really care to hear that anyway, he was busy
dealing with a clingy Pete and trying to get his lukewarm beer to his mouth
without spilling it all over himself and Pete who was straddling his lap. It
was a trick to pull when he was sober so it was nearly impossible now that his
head was spinning and he had an ear full of Pete's happy laughter.
He almost wanted to push Pete off, down his drink and just go to bed, but then
again, he equally wanted to stay with Pete on him in a way that probably should
not be this suggestive in front of their friends.
Suggestive seating or not, he really didn't want to move yet. He was comfy and
had a nice warm buzz running up and down his limbs.
“That girl.” Pete started, talking about something or another. “Remember the
one with the hair?”
Pete made an over dramatic flail around his head to, apparently, describe this
girl's hair.
“Wait, wait. The one with the obsession for red eye shadow and blue hair dye?”
Joe piped up, smiling. “You mean like... with her?”
“With her, on her, whatever.” Pete said. “Dude, it was so weird.”
Patrick watched the conversation with mild interest.
“I'm surprised it wasn't with a guy.” Andy said deadpan. “I thought you were
into guys?”
“And chicks!” Pete said fast and excited. “Sometimes nothing is better then a
nice pair of tits”
Patrick made a face at this and he felt a hand on his cheek.
“No, no, Patrick” Pete said, smiling his big stupid smile. “Don't worry, you're
still my favorite.”
Patrick snorted at that and set his head against Pete's chest.
There was a click. Emotions that couldn't have been Patrick's. Excited, happy,
buzzed. A hint of something else too. Patrick blinked against Pete's chest.

A bond?
===============================================================================
Patrick clung to his mother on the way to the specialist. He was crying and he
couldn't stop. He didn't know why, probably something to do with his soul mate,
somewhere in the city doing something or other. Something Patrick didn't want
to know about. 
“He can't deal with this anymore.” His mother was telling the doctor, Jones or
James or something, Patrick didn't remember.
“His bond mate is a total fuck up, they're bringing him down too.”
The words stung Patrick more than he would have thought and he pushed off his
mom, averting his gaze.
“Shut up.” He mumbled. “Shut up, don't say that. They're not. Shut up.”
He was weak with emotion at this point, tired of the stress. Tired of
everything. He felt that silent buzz that meant his other half was too. Just so
tired of it all.
===============================================================================
Patrick pushed at Pete until he was flat against the ally wall of the venue.
There was a thick haze of smoke that might have been from cigarettes but
Patrick very much so doubted it. The lights from the little store next to the
club shone green and orange, colors that really, really shouldn't be mixed,
Patrick gathered, when you were so high you couldn't see straight without
something interesting right in front of you. 
Pete had a beer in his hand and a cigarette, unlit, held between his lips and,
of fucking course, no shirt. It was a funny view actually. The smile, the
smoke, the funky lighting and the left over stage sweat. Funny because god had
randomly decided to play an evil prank on Patrick, and the suddenness actually
shocked a laugh out of Patrick as he leaned over Pete and just breathed in the
gross, sweaty musk of him. So he was laughing in a position that, to a
stranger, someone who didn't know Pete and Patrick, could be kind of, no
really, really suggestive.
Maybe someone's nervous.
No, no, no, no, no, no.
Patrick laughed into the crook of Pete's neck for what felt like hours but
could have been less than a minute. Pete had a hand curled around his neck and
had, at some point, lit his cigarette, looking up at the hazy night sky.
Honestly, Patrick kind of wanted to die because of the thoughts that suddenly
raced through his head.
Pete on his knees.
Pete in his bed.
Pete begging.
Patrick, please stop torturing yourself.
Patrick hid his eyes against Pete's skin.
“You know.” Pete said suddenly. “You know how everyone has a soul mate.”
Patrick hummed his acknowledgment.
“We're all supposed to have that one person, right? That fits with us like a
puzzle piece. One half that missed it's partner since it's birth until one day
they had their other half.” Pete nodded to himself, smiling at this
explanation. “Patrick, you're my other half.”
Patrick laughed, not really surprised that it went there.
Pete was just like that.
Patrick! You're my soul mate!
You'll always get me better than anyone else.
You're my favorite person.
I'm yours.
A sweet buzz seemed to come with these words though, like they always do.
Patrick wouldn't deny that Pete was attractive but that wasn't the point. Pete
was his best friend, his band mate, his room mate. His best goddamned friend.
A list that ran through Patrick's mind every time he thought about Pete, Pete's
smile, Pete's lips.
“Pete.” Patrick whispered, his voice a little rough from the show. “Pete.”
“Patrick.” Pete looked at Patrick, smiling.
“You're right.” Patrick said softly. “You're really really right.”
He felt a soft humming in his chest. Emotions. So, so many emotions. Too many
for just Patrick to have came up with himself.

No. He didn't have a soul mate anymore.
===============================================================================
“Fucking hell!” Patrick yelled, pushing past the pack of high school bottom
feeders. 
He already missed the bell thanks to some jocks that decided Patrick was a
great alternative for a soccer ball and pushed him around for at least fifteen
minutes.
He didn't want to be anymore late than he already was.
He pushed and pushed until he seemed to break through the dam of students, not
expecting and almost fell face first into the floor.
Oh and the hot, tan emo boy who was crouched down there picking up books.
“Oh.” He said smartly and tugged his backpack that much higher.
The boy, all eyeliner and black hair, looked up to see Patrick and smiled
weakly.
“Oh?” He said as he continued to pick up paper and books.
Patrick sighed and dropped to his knees, helping the other boy with his stuff.
He could hear the loud “ohhhh” that went through the crowd as he started
handing the books to the boy. Well, he couldn't get into that much more
trouble. He was already a punching bag for more than half of the school.
He helped get up all the items and looked to the kid. Obviously he was new if
Patrick hadn't noticed him before.
“Pete.” Said Emo kid. “My name. It's Pete.”
“Patrick.” Patrick said, slowly. “Well, you're fucked, I'm fucked.”
“Let's be fucked together?” He replied and bounced up as Patrick slowly got up,
one knee at a time.
“You're a little a head of yourself there, Pete.” Patrick deadpanned.
 
Patrick woke up on Saturday to Pete, that new kid, throwing rocks up at his
window.
Now that he thought about it, he hadn't given Pete his address, like, ever. He
rolled out of bed and pulled open his window.
“what?!” He yelled down.
Pete shrugged. “Want to get breakfast with me?”
Patrick sighed loudly and decided.
“Fuck it, why not.” He said out loud, more to himself as he turned away to get
dressed. He could hear Pete's excited whooping and laughter.
Little adorable emo.
===============================================================================
 
Patrick huffed loudly, basically tossing his guitar at a techie and managing
not to scream bloody murder.
He could remember the words spoken pressed against his neck during the show.
Pete was stumbling after him, not talking at all.
An itchy click click hit the inside of his chest. No, he didn't have a bond.
They'd made sure of it.
The pills, the therapy. He was dead to his soul mate, and his soul mate was as
good as dead to him.
Pete was grabbing at him, but he pulled away.
Click, click.
Please.
No, he didn't have a goddamned bond.
Please, please.
Pete finally got a hold of Patrick's shirt sleeve half way through the venue.
He stepped right past Patrick and kept pulling him right were he had been
going. Out.
Fresh air would clear his head.
Pete pushed open the door and almost threw Patrick through it.
“You-you fucking left me.” Pete snapped. “You left.”
Patrick shook his head. “What? No. I'm right here.”
“No.” Pete said slowly. “You feel that right.”
And yeah, yeah he felt that.
A soft hum that was dancing through is veins. So many emotions and only a
handful of them could have been Patrick's. A handful. Which definitely meant
the other ones weren't his.
“I-” Patrick started and then there was Pete, too close.
Patrick's shoulders hit the wall with a thud and hissing sound as air left his
lungs. Pete's arms on either side of his head.
“You left.” Pete said again. “You left.”
Patrick was shaking, he knew it too.
He opened his mouth and closed it. There wasn't much he could say. He really
had left Pete.
“You didn't die.” Pete said slowly and then, just as slowly, leaned in and
kissed Patrick.
Patrick froze.
Wait, what? Pete should be pissed... But no, he was kissing Patrick. Slowly,
urging Patrick to just open up and Patrick obeyed, letting his mouth open for
Pete.
Patrick tugged at Pete's shirt, pulling him closer, suddenly all too aware of
how far they were from each other. He despised the inches between them.
Pete was first to pull out of the kiss, moving a hand up to Patrick's cheek and
just, staring. Patrick couldn't not push into the gentle touch.
“You didn't die.” Pete said again, “I thought you had died.”
Patrick blinked at Pete. What?
Oh the bond.
“I-” Pete moved his hand from Patrick's cheek to his mouth, covering it and
stopping that sentence.
“No warnings.” Pete said. “I felt you, upset, and then, nothing.”
===============================================================================
Pete woke up in a bed he didn't recognize but that really wasn't new to him. He
managed to stay standing as he pushed up, but it was a close call. He was
tugging on his pants when he felt it.
Shut up, A buzz and click, shut up, don't say that. They're not.
Pete froze, his hands stilling on his jeans button.
Then a flood of emotions.
Pissed. Oh.
Their pissed off.
Pete sighed and kept tugging on his clothes.
He had just gotten outside and into the sun when he felt it. Well, not felt it.
Complete radio silence. No white-noise that was a soul bond. That connection
that kept you aware.
He stopped in his tracks, and then presiding to fall to his knees and cry his
eyes out. He didn't know what had happened but whatever did, his soul mate
wasn't there anymore.
===============================================================================
Pete stared at Patrick now, so close. Alive too.
He could feel the white-noise again. Well, it wasn't really white-noise now. It
was a loud musical clashing really. But Patrick had always sounded like that,
from day one. Loud and actually but annoying. A comfort Pete had missed so
goddamned much that he had searched for a replacement. A replacement he never
actually found. Not really a replacement, no. No he had actually found the real
deal.
He couldn't stop it when he started crying, happy and full of sadness too.
Patrick looked shocked but didn't try talking again, he just blinked sadly at
Pete and breathed against the hand Pete left there.
“You just left.” He breathed. “You didn't die.”
Patrick didn't say anything.
“You didn't-”
Patrick pulled away from Pete's hand now.
“No. I didn't die.” He said and pulled Pete into a hug. “I'm so sorry.”
“Don't be.” Pete huffed out a sad laugh, still crying. He pushed his nose into
Patrick's neck. “You're alive.”
“Yeah, yeah I'm alive.”
 
End Notes
     There are literally a hundred reasons I could use to not post this
     but I have a little Jazz Cat that makes me want to post my writing.
     Thank him.
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