Vance Medici disappeared like he was part of a magician's trick. He vanished straight from Pete's life. He usually waited at his locker after classes, applying some more pomade to his pompadour as he waited for his boyfriend to put away his books.

Except, for a whole week, he hadn't shown up. Pete would wait before he got frustrated and headed off to dinner or lunch. He had planned to chastise him for his absence but he wasn't in the dorms, the auto-shop, the tenements or in the main building. The first time he was gone, Pete had figured it was nothing, he could be busy.

Besides, it was healthy to have time to himself. On the sixth day, he concluded that he was missing. He could've been kidnapped. Pete was determined to find the copper haired greaser, Vance wasn't the type to appear on the side of a milk carton underneath the word 'MISSING'.

On Friday, he skipped his math class. He felt worried to death about Vance, Mr Hattrick's pointless rants would pass through one ear and through the other as he thought about where the hell Vance could be.

He sat on his bed, a geography textbook beside him but he was writing something that had no correlation to homework. In a notebook, he wrote in the blank margin 'Where Vance Could Be'. He had found it difficult as he paused, taking breaks before tapping his mechanical pencil on the sheet.

Jimmy knocked at the door, entering before Pete could object. He wore a metal band muscle shirt, sweating at his face as it gleamed. "Hey, do you have a fan I could borrow?' He asked, without any introduction. He was busy and he was dying.

He peered at the book on Pete's lap which he was hiding with his arm. Unfortunately, he was as transparent as glass. "What's wrong, Pete?" He inquired with a sigh before sitting at the end of his bed.

Pete pursed his lips, pulling his arms away from the sheet. No use lying to Jimmy, last time he tried--he got a noogie. It was playful, of course, though it still hurt. "I just-" He began, overwhelmed as he thought about the potential places Vance could be that he hadn't thought up yet.

He rubbed the back of his neck, breathing in. "Vance is missing, I haven't found him anywhere." His voice cracked helplessly, revealing how nervous he truly was. He wouldn't admit it, he always wanted to appear a little more 'macho' to his friends.

"Where have you looked?" Jimmy asked, unfazed with the news. Greasers were typically like stray dogs, roaming where they pleased. They didn't have anywhere specific but had their turf. Pete let out a pathetic heavy sigh before handing the notebook.

Jimmy's eyes glanced at the areas he had looked. His eyes lit up, his pug face showing some enthusiasm. "Hey! Have you checked the island?" He set the notebook aside, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

Ignoring his question, Pete lunged out from his reclined position to snatch the pack from his hands. He looked the box over before his eyebrows knit together. "You can't smoke these in here! The smell will set and my window doesn't open." He explained in a jittery manner.

Jimmy's eyes cast to his pack before to a nervous Pete, "are you sure it's not your asthma?" He asked in a snarky tone. He grabbed the cigarette pack before pushing it back into his khaki shorts pocket. Pete frowned at his remark but offered a dramatic eyeroll.

"Real funny, since when did you smoke anyway?" He relaxed, lying back against his pillows. He crossed his arms and stared at Jimmy.

"Leon's my bootlegger." He grinned proudly before he looked down, his face scrunched up in concentration, "or was it Duncan..?" He shook the thought away before asking again, "did you check the island?"

Jimmy was referring to the secret island that Vance Medici confided in for his oddness. He used to wear the cheap pirate costume that he wore on Halloween and lounge around on the island. His childish behavior was witnessed by Jimmy once and he never did it again.

It made Pete smile whenever he thought about Vance doing something so weird and kiddish. It made him feel slightly better about his own behavior, whether it be fruity, awkward or offish. It also saddened him that Vance felt so humiliated about the incident that he quit doing what he liked.

"I have." Pete answered, recalling having to row a boat over to check. He shook his head, "I think I've checked everywhere."

"What if he's kidnapped?" A familiar voice spoke from the doorway. They turned and looked at Gary, leaning his leg against the jamb. Pete shot a venomous glare at him, which he returned with a sneer.

"He's not kidnapped, dickhead." Jimmy spoke for Pete, which was a relief. Pete wouldn't be able to snap back with such attitude. "He's probably visiting relatives or sick, really busy or something." He mumbled and glowered at the taller boy.

Gary walked in and sat on Pete's bed. There wasn't much room on it. Pete nodded in agreement, "yeah, Jimmy's right." He gestured at Jimmy who nodded firmly. Gary theatrically sighed, "so what's your next move, little Petey?"

He shrugged, "I don't really.. know.." He admitted, his voice rigid with embarrassment.

"You guys are retarded, how about asking the Greasers for help?" He waved in front of Pete's face in a 'Earth-To-Pete' way. Their faces lit up in unison, they looked at each other. Pete opened his mouth to say something but shut it. He considered his idea before nodding.

"I'll do it during my afternoon class." He informed, the plan moved along perfectly. By the way that Jimmy listened without interrupting and Gary didn't scoff, his plan sounded satisfactory. He just wanted to find Vance, hit him for scaring him and hug him.

"Alright, good luck Pete." Jimmy hauled himself off the bed, he reached a hand out and ruffled Pete's buzz cut. He left the room before hesitantly turning to look at Gary. He grabbed the notebook and skimmed through the bullet points. He heaved a sigh, he glowered up at Pete.

"He wasn't at these areas?" He inquired, tossing it aside as it hit the wooden floor with soft 'thunk'. Pete shook his head quickly, pressing his face into a frown. "I don't know if I should tell you but he's probably kidnapped." Pete scrutinized his tone before realized he was being sarcastic in a very subtle way. It angered him, he inhaled sharply.

"You're an asshole, what if something bad happened to him?" He hopped off his bed, noticing that it was probably the end of the lunch period. He spun on his heels and shot daggers at Gary. "Classes are starting, Gary." He informed, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to one leg.

Gary's eyebrows knit together before he got up and went to leave. "Good luck, femme-boy, hope you find your greaser in distress." He punched him playfully in the arm before leaving. Pete grabbed it and ran his thumb over the already bruising arm. Knowing Gary, it was the kindest thing he would say to him. And that was good enough for him.

He sat in Ms. Phillips' photography class, ignoring everything his teacher was saying. Soon enough, the class would go out to scare up some decent photos, he'd rush it and spend the rest of his time searching for the greasers.

Unnerving thoughts made presence in his mind. He stared at the classroom wall as he considered what could've happened to Vance. A) He was visiting relatives and eating with his cousins while he worried about him, B) He was actually kidnapped, maybe the preps were behind it?, or.. the worst one, C) He was dead, his mangled corpse was hidden and the cops would inform him in a few days. The last thought almost made him keel over, his body involuntarily dry heaved.

Suddenly, eyes were on him. His classmates were curious as to why the head boy had almost hurled in class. Ms. Phillips ogled at him before clearing her throat, "Peter, do you need to go see the nurse?" The class was so quiet, he could hear his own pulse. He shook his head, forcing a grimace.

"No, m'aam," he chuckled nervously, evoking a few snickers from some upperclassmen. She nodded.

"Oh, alright, well enough of that, let's go take some pictures." She clasped her hands together as students grabbed their cameras and headed outside. As the group shuffled through the halls, he realized he didn't even know what their assignment was. He scuttled over to Trevor Moore.

He quietly cleared his throat, achieving his attention. He glanced over at him. "Hey, uh, do you know what our assignment was, I was really focused.." He admitted with a sheepish grin.

Luckily, Trevor Moore wasn't a complete dillweed. "Yeah, we're supposed to take pictures in New Coventry of some graffiti." He answered, his lips curled into a hint of a smile, "were you trying not to think about vomiting in class?" He clenched his jaw but only offered a pathetic eyeroll.

"Whatever, loser.." He sighed, embarrassed before skulking away. 

In New Coventry, he quickly took his pictures of some graffiti. He took pictures of Jimmy's infamous graffiti of 'Jimmy Wuz Here' beneath the bridge near the entrance, three directed towards Greasers and two were targeted at the Preps. He leaned against a wall as he reviewed his pictures on his digital camera. He huffed, satisfied enough with what he took.

He checked his watch, his heart race picked up as he noticed he didn't have as much time as he anticipated. He began jogging to the Tenements, passing greasers, townsfolk and the occasional townie. When he reached his destination, he fell to his knees and grabbed the wall.

His asthma burnt as his throat felt like it was closing. He fingered his pocket and pulled out his inhaler, pushing the mouthpiece into his mouth before hitting the canister. He leaned against the wall, feeling completely lightheaded. He laid his head back while his trembling hand pushed the inhaler back into his pocket.

Back at home, if his mother had witnessed his asthma attack, she'd accuse him of being out of shape before offering to buy gym passes. He rolled his eyes at the thought, at least his father didn't nag at him for being out of shape. Except, his dad was kind of a wimpy librarian so it was to be expected. He quickly chastised himself for thinking so badly of his parents before focusing on the matter at hand. Vance. Tenements. Johnny. Help.

Before he got up, he heard a voice, Peanut's. "What're you doin' here, Pete?" His nasally voice asked with genuine curiosity. Pete's eyes fluttered open before he glanced up at him. Peanut stood tall, blocking the sun from Pete's view. He had a cigarette hanging from his lips, before he pulled out a comb and brushed the slick sides of his pomp back.

Pete would've felt threatened if they were strangers. Greasers hated nerds in their turf, he was the exception. Because he was Jimmy's friend, he was tolerated. Because he was dating Vance, he was liked. He grabbed the brick wall behind him and pushed himself back onto his weak legs.

"Have you seen Vance, Larry?" He asked, his voice brittle from recovering from his attack. Larry's lips curled into a summer soft smile, appreciating being called 'Larry' rather than Peanut. But his smile fell, like a tide. His brown eyes cast down onto the concrete.

"I don't know where he is, Johnny's freaking out." He informed before 'tsk-ing'. He looked up, "we've looked almost everywhere where he'd hang out." Pete shoved his hands into his pocket, sighing heavily.

"So did I, I want to talk to Johnny." He ordered, his voice pleading to let him see him. Peanut's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized him. He nodded, ushering him into the Tenements. They walked into the alley, the heavy dank smell clouded his nostrils.

Peanut tried pushing the window up, it wouldn't budge. He cursed under his breath before he quickly turned to Pete-who stood nervously, bouncing his leg. "Damn fuckin' window, give me a minute, alright?" He tried another time, to no avail. He gave up and rapped his knuckles onto the glass.

After a few seconds, they could see Ricky through the dirty window. He opened the window for them, waving them in. "Hey Peanut, Pete lookin' for Vance?" He asked, Peanut rolled his eyes dramatically and crawled through the window. Pete swung a leg over and pushed himself into the building.

It smelled heavily like cigarettes, beer and cheap cologne. He looked around the empty room before Peanut grabbed his forearm, "c'mon." Ricky and Peanut walked through halls and rooms until they reached one with a poker table. Johnny sat, a bottle of Smirnoff beside him as Lola watched.

"Johnny." Peanut said, standing in the doorway before he crossed his arms. Johnny heaved a sigh before looking. His eyes lit up and his mouth dropped slightly, he waved Pete in. Hesitantly, Pete walked over. The floorboards creaked and he was almost afraid that he'd fall through.

"Hey kid." He greeted, swivelling in his chair, away from the poker game with Norton, Lefty and Hal. "You wonderin' where Vance is, huh?" He let his eyes fall, almost like he was slowly giving up. Pete grabbed the back of his own neck and rubbed it-a nervous tic. "So, why're you here?" He asked, reaching one arm to hook around Lola's waist. They looked so gloomy and lifeless.

"I have an idea." Pete began but paused, that didn't sound right, he tried again, "I have a lead." He finished, evoking some interested looks from the greasers. Johnny didn't look so fascinated, he reached with his free hand for the bottle of vodka. He took a swig and winced with a loud exhale.

"You have a lead?" Norton asked, sitting up in his cheap seat. He wasn't wearing his jacket, it was draped on the back of the chair. It seemed like when Vance wasn't around, they had all resigned their greaser-ness.

Pete nodded eagerly, letting his hands fly as he spoke. It was a bad habit that he had, being too expressive when he spoke. "Yeah! Have you guys considered that he could be kidnapped?" They all looked at each other, confused. "Maybe the preps did it." He offered an explanation.

Lola's eyebrows knit together as she moved away from Johnny's hold. She shook her head, "why would they do that?" She tapped her chin, searching her mind for a valuable reason as to why they would do such a thing.

"Well.." Pete began, rocking on his on the balls of his feet slightly, "they maybe want to hold him for ransom." It made sense, except the small problem-greasers didn't have money.

Hal glanced from Johnny, who stared blankly at the poker chips on the table. He looked at Pete, "we don't have money, why would they do that?" Pete began to force the gears in his brain to turn, he sighed and closed his eyes to think.

He finally answered, "to spite you, they know you don't have the money, to prove a point that they're richer than you." If it was true, than the preps were awful and cruel. He couldn't imagine anybody with morals doing that but it was their best lead. It convinced them, as their faces lit up before fading and morphing into an enraged facial expression.

"That would make sense, yeah.." Johnny set the bottle down, his eyes were glassy and flickered to Larry momentarily when he set a hand on his shoulder. "We're gonna team up with you, okay?" He pointed his alcohol affected finger at Pete. He nodded, why would he say no? He wanted to find Vance.

He stood up, using the table for balance, he walked beside Pete. He stood tall, like a natural leader, determination beamed on his face. "We're going to those trust fund fairies tonight." He announced, his loud voice echoed off the bare room's walls. Everyone watched with respect. Johnny was back. "We're going to find our friend Vance and we're going to find Pete's boyfriend." He rested his hand on Pete's shoulder.

He stood up more than he had when Johnny pressed his hand on his shoulder, almost as if he was supposed to gain his trust. He felt nervous, why tonight? He had English homework and he didn't want Bif to beat the snot out of him. He gulped and pressed a smile. Maybe they wouldn't know he was so nervous..

Later on, he was sitting in the cafeteria. Edna had been sick and refused to cook dinner so leftover breakfast was served. He sat beside Jimmy and Zoe, looking into his bowl of grits. They were speaking in gossip-y hushed tones before Jimmy turned to him.

"Is it true?" He asked, glancing back over to his girlfriend who grinned in return. Pete blinked, scrunching his nose up with confusion. "You and the greaseballs are going to see the preps?"
He narrowed his eyes and looked over his head, Christy was chatting away-as usual.

"Yeah, I guess." He replied without enthusiasm, he was desperately trying to hide the fact that he was pretty scared. He swallowed, his straight face wavered before breaking into a frown. "What am I gonna do, Jimmy?" His voice squeaked, a nervous tic that usually occurred when he neared mental breakdowns.

"I'll tell you what you'll do." Gary spoke, sitting beside him before eating his hard boiled eggs. He began peeling the shell off, he smirked. "You'll find your gay boyfriend and whisk him away off his feet." He teased.

Pete inhaled, rubbing one of his eyes in frustration. "Gary, quit being such a jerk." He muttered.

"Hey! I'm trying to help you out, lil 'Petey." He set his egg down before playfully punching Pete's quivering shoulder. "Don't be such a girl, you've got the big bad greasers to help you out."

Johnny Vincent would be there. If worse came to worse, Derby and Johnny would fight. It would be like watching Rocky and The Karate Kid fighting. He missed Vance so much, he almost didn't care who got hurt.

"I just miss him, you guys." He shook his head and took a bite of his food. Jimmy nodded sympathetically. Suddenly he heard Zoe scoff.

She pointed to the greaser's table, "hey, Pete, I think they're trying to tell you something." He looked up and peeked over, to their table. Johnny was waving him over enthusiastically, and like honey drawing flies, it peaked everyone's attention. Pete sighed heavily, burying his face into his cupped hands.

"Go on." Jimmy encouraged, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it. He looked at them, Zoe and Jimmy were genuinely curious while Gary looked malicious. He got up, walking over to their table as some eyes wandered to him.

He didn't sit but stared at the empty spot. Vance's spot. He didn't dare sit there, he ogled at it before clearing his throat. "So umm.. what's up?" He asked softly, trying to ease himself into a conversation. They blinked before Johnny grinned, "can I ask you for a favour?"

His breath hitched as he waited for some embarrassing request. There was pregnant pause but Pete snapped from his spaced out state and nodded quickly, "Uh, sure."

The greasers looked at each other with the familiar shit eating grins they all had. Johnny returned his gaze to Pete, "you the head boy?" He asked, although it was clear. He was wearing a baggy blazer over his vest.

"Yeah." He scratched the side of his head, resisting the urge to crack a sarcastic remark to his question. Lola was filing her nails, her eyes drifted over to Pete's table. He didn't know if she looking at Jimmy or not.

Johnny didn't pay any attention, he sighed. "Can you convince the prefects to go have coffee or somethin' so we can sneak into the Harrington house?" Pete paused, pushing his palm to his temple. It actually didn't sound like an awful idea, it was pretty practical. But how would he gain their attention?

"Alright, I'll do it." He stood up taller, gaining confidence. He could do it. The greasers all briefly glanced at each other before looking at Pete. He stood, cracking his knuckles nervously as awaited for Johnny to say something.

"Good, kid, see you tonight." He nodded before turning back and falling into a conversation about Shop Class. Taking his cue to leave, Pete lumbered back to his table.

"What did he say?" Zoe asked, eyeing the group's table, a thin eyebrows arched with confusion. Pete licked his lips anxiously.

"They asked me to distract the prefects." He mumbled, finishing his meal-despite his stomach protesting against it.

"Yeah, the prefects are usually more concentrated near the rich kids." Jimmy remarked, kissing Zoe's cheek tenderly.

Pete sat in front of the desk in his dorm room. Chemistry homework laid on the oak desk, begging to be done. He usually didn't like skipping homework but he really needed to know if Vance was alright. The suspense was almost frustrating him to madness.

He grazed his sight over the textbook before sucking on his bottom teeth. He got up, pulling on his blazer and leaving the dorm. The sun was setting, a spectacular red disk slowly setting beneath the horizon. It jutted out loud orange/yellow near its source as the remaining higher altitude remained pink.

Standing there, caught with such a mundane sunset, he jumped in surprise when someone tugged his sleeve. A taller boy, with such a frown etched onto his face-he knew it Norton. "Hey, Petey." He greeted briefly, glancing up towards the sunset. His stone like features softened at the sight, revealing his poetic side momentarily.

"I know, I know.." Pete shot, his voice edgy with nervousness and worry. "I'll go do it, hide out near the Auto-shop, I'll come get you guys." He needed to do this alone. Norton nodded, sighing and punching his own fist.

"Johnny's real worried about Vance." He claimed, Pete nodded reluctantly, he did too. "I can't imagine how you feel right now." He murmured the last part, his dark bushy brows knit together. Pete felt awful. He wanted to do nothing and everything at the same time. But he couldn't.

"I miss him too." He answered, too anxious to try to cover up his sensitive side. Norton nodded and started, jogging away from his view. He gulped, treading near the main entrance of the school. His heart was beating quickly, making it feel like his chest would cave in. God, he needed his inhaler.

Max and Seth were walking alongside, Pete blinked. He knew Max was the least bad, Seth was the worst. He automatically knew Seth was chastising Max. He waved his hands at them, both of them-a little too dramatically.

It had the desired effect because they both stopped. Pete cleared his throat and a silly chuckle fell from his lips. "Hey.." He began, slouching out of habit.

Seth, searching for reasons to bark at him, snarled at Pete, "stand tall, head boy." Pete obeyed, standing like a statue-a sweaty nervous statue.

"Crabblesnitch.." He began, which made them both narrow their eyes in understandable suspicion. "He wanted to congratulate you for your efforts from last year-the end of the year. Because he knew it was hard, so he holding a meeting in the staff room to applaud your services." As he spoke, his voice loosened and he was able to finish.

They stared at him before each other, Seth pursed his lips. "It is after curfew.." He mumbled, admitting to the likeliness that there would be trouble.

Max blinked before his eyes lit up, "can you do rounds until we get out?" He asked, before adding, "I'll pay you twenty."

"Deal." Pete nodded, not refusing his proposal. He shook his hand, hoping it didn't seem too sweaty and giving him out as a liar.

"I'll go tell Edward and Karl." Seth raced off, his shoes hitting the concrete bounced off the building and into the silent atmosphere.

"Will there be coffee served?" Max asked, a little dubiously. Pete swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Yeah, totally." He chirped, chuckling nervously-God, he was worse than Angie.

"Okay." He looked down at Pete and returned his gaze to the main building. It looked even more eerie at night.. Pete could imagine Jimmy sneaking in, after curfew and hiding in lockers to avoid being caught by prefects.

Seth returned with the bespectacled prefect and the moody looking one. "We'll see you." He waved to Pete before slipping into the building and disappearing.

The door closed and Pete stood in shock. Adrenaline ran through his veins, exciting his very being. He looked around frantically before racing off to the auto shop.

He cut through the parking lot, earning some stares. Tom scoffed, "where you headin?" He didn't reply and ran all the way until he reached the garage.

Immediately, he stopped before his asthma got bad. He fell against the wall and gasped in air, even when it felt like it was enough.

He opened his eyes to see Norton, Johnny, Peanut and Hal staring at him, blank faced. He pushed himself off the wall, forcing his weight back onto his wobbly legs.

They shook before Peanut caught his arm. "Easy, hero." He helped him stabilize. Johnny didn't have patience, he was a go-getter.

"Are they gone?" He asked, Pete looked at him and nodded quickly. He broke into a grin-perfect, they could do this. Pete's head started to throb behind his left eye, signaling the promise of a migraine. He ignored this until Hal stood up taller.

"Pete." He spoke, his voice wavering. Pete felt something liquid like running from his nostril, he let his trembling fingers go to graze it. He brought his hand in front his sore eyes, crimson painted on his fingers. 

He felt Peanut's grip on his shoulder, he tensed up. "Are you sure you're up for this?" Johnny asked, staring as though he was wearing clown shoes. He hated feeling so useless. Like a kid, like everything was going wrong. He had nothing. 

Vance was gone, away and probably harmed, Jimmy and Gary couldn't care less, the greasers thought he was an anklebiter. He felt damaged, worn, like the sole of a mistreated shoe. Everything was going wrong, he was going to cry. He felt a dreadful lump form in his throat but quickly swallowed it. 

Relieved that the auto-shop was dark, he quickly wiped tears from his eyes. "No, I can do this." He tried his best to avoid sounding brittle and fragile. He walked past them, all the way to the four way fountain. He aimed straight, keeping up with the other greasers. 

The air was thick with tension, no words were spoken. They didn't have to speak, they were all afraid out of their mind. At least, Pete hoped so. He didn't want to be the only frightful one. 

They opened the door and Bif stood, guarding the rest of the house. His eyes bulged when he saw them, instantly-a hostile mask covered his surprise. "What do you want, greaseballs...and their little girl?" He looked at Pete. 

He hated that insult, no matter who used it. He clenched his jaw, answering before any of the other greasers did. "Shut up Bif." He snapped, on edge. Bif only sneered at his comment, reminding his non-verbally that he was stronger, could kick his ass and he should be grateful he didn't do it yet. 

"Where's Vance?" Johnny asked, leaning his weight on leg. He glared at Bif, his chin jutted forward-almost as though he would spit at him. Bif's brows furrowed with obvious confusion. If it was a ruse, they couldn't tell. 

"Who's Vance?" He asked, biting the inside of his jaw. Johnny tapped his fingers on his jeans impatiently, frowning with frustration. 

Hal, the most level headed of their group thrusted his arm forward to stop Johnny from lunging at the redhead. Pete sighed, looking up at the tall prep. "Please, man, we're scared for him, let us talk to Derby." 

Gord and Justin, both who were intrigued by the commotion near the entrance walked over. They looked between Johnny and Bif, excited to see some drama. Bif sighed, "Johnny Vincent, why did you bring this little lapdog with you?" 

Three of the preppies laughed, in an obnoxious and sophisticated manner. Pete felt blood rush to his cheeks, making him squirm uncomfortably at their remark. "Seriously, we need to see him, we need to know if Vance's okay." He was starting to beg, which was mortifying to hear coming from his own mouth. 

"He's not here." Gord cut in, shaking his head. "I've kept my eye around for him, he's not someone who slips into the shadows." He replied, crossing his arms. Pete felt jealousy swirling inside his stomach, he bit the inside of his cheek. What was Gord going, observing his boyfriend?

Norton, noticing Pete's behaviour change, decided to explain why he was searching for them. "We're lookin' for a fellow greaser and Pete's lookin' for his boyfriend, are you sure you haven't seen him?" He asked, in a surprisingly calm tone. 

Bif rolled his eyes before heaving a sigh. "Listen, pauper," he began, stepping up and poking a finger at Johnny's chest, despite Norton being the who asking the question, "I haven't seen your poor friend, got it?" His chest was rising and falling at the end of his sentence, his eyes seemed a little too crazy. It didn't sit well with Pete. 

Johnny quickly swatted his hand away before turning away and beckoning his fellow greasers to follow him out the house. It was darker than before, night time. Pale stars were flickering in the night sky, it should've been a beautiful night-if not for the vile confrontation. 

They silently skulked to the auto-shop. Everyone except Pete pulled out packs of cigarettes. He watched as they angrily lit them and took their first drags. Pete smelled the nicotine, clenching and unclenching his jaw. It was a bust, they hadn't been able to find Vance. The greasers were quiet, like summer nights. 

He swallowed his stringy spit, glowering at them in the darkness of the auto-shop. He doubt that they could see the fire in his eyes or the tears rolling down his cheeks. He breathed in, shakily. He felt like there was a balloon in his chest, ready to burst and pop. They took their drags, not even offering small talk. 

He felt upset, angry and impatient. Then, just as he feared- he snapped. "This is fuckin' bullshit!" He yelled out, flushing out the suffocating silence in the room. He felt his body teeter, grabbing the wall for support. Screaming worsened his headache, pain throbbed at his temples. 

He could hear stunned silence before someone reached for the light. With a click, the light turned on, a bare bulb revealing how broken Pete had become. Their eyes were wide, their faces were pale. He swallowed, unwillingly, he sniffled and hiccuped. "How can you guys just..stand there?" He asked, surprised at how emotional he had become. 

"They don't have Vance." Johnny responded in a monotone, his eyes cast down shamefully to his shoes. Everyone had become interested in the wall, ground or ceiling. 

"They're lying!" Pete almost shouted, his voice cracked-which would've embarrassed him if he wasn't so upset. He brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes, sighing loudly. "You guys are going to give up?" 

Johnny sighed, "cops don't listen to us, we're just punks.. Vance'll show up." He looked up at Pete, speaking softly-like he was speaking to a child. It embarrassed him. He pursed his lips, turning away and leaning his head on the wall. He breathed in and out, focusing on the pain in his head. 

He needed sleep. He wanted to find Vance. He felt someone ruffle his buzzcut. "Don't worry, Vance is strong, you know that?" He reassured, tugging on his blazer's sleeve. He turned around and looked at the sullen looking boys. He nodded, believing that Vance was strong. But he wasn't. 

That night, he dreamed about Vance. He had expected a bad dream where Vance was somewhere far away and he couldn't get to him. Instead, he dreamed that they were at Pete's grandmother's house. Which was odd, because his grandmother had died from a stroke-years ago. He thought he could remember what he house looked like. 

But, in the countryside, they sat on his grandmother's porch. The day was hazy and grey but the sun still peaked from behind clouds. As it was setting, the sun was a bright red circle. Bright and big-like Rudolph's nose. 

His hand rested beneath Vance's. So vividly, in his dream, he felt his fingers twitch slightly over his. "It looks like the world's gonna end, with that sun." He commented, despite his morbid comment, his tone was playful and soft. 

"It does." Pete replied, observing it before fishing his free hand into his pocket. He brought out his small camera, the one his mother had bought him for his twelve birthday. He pulled his hand from Vance's hold and kneeled on the porch. He brought the camera in front of his face, squinting his eye and taking a picture. 

He sat closer to Vance before the greaser wrapped an arm around his shoulder. It felt so heavy. He showed the picture he took to Vance, disappointed by how the camera couldn't capture the size or the colour of the sun.

"Shame that cameras never capture the thing." Vance chirped, pecking a timid kiss to his cheek. Pete grimaced at the kiss but smiled wider than he ever had. 

"I like taking pictures of something beautiful, even if it's ten times more nicer in real life." Pete said, before he brought the camera to his view and snapped a picture of Vance. He knew that the camera couldn't capture his freckles, how the strand of hair that fell on his forehead looked especially red or how helplessly impish his smile was. 

Vance grinned, rolling his eyes before giving Pete the finger. The gesture didn't insult Pete because the way his pale face turned red gave away that he loved Pete anyway. 

Pete awoke from his dream. No longer was he at his grandma's, he was in his dorm. It was no longer just cold enough to wear a sweater, he was sweating so badly that his shirt stuck to his back. No red sun was in sight either, neither was Vance. 

Even if his dream was wonderful and joyful, his breath hitched in his throat before he dropped his head into his hands. He looked around the dark room, his heart dropped so low that he thought it was breaking. 

He laid back and closed his eyes, begging for another dream with Vance in it. For the rest of the night, he was tossing and turning-unable to sleep. 

The next day, he had no classes, which was a relief. He felt exhausted. He sat in the cafeteria for breakfast. He had juice and toast in front of him but he couldn't bother picking up his fork. Jimmy stared at him, his head resting against the table as he rested his eyes. 

"You asleep, pal?" Gary asked, slightly concerned by how dead Pete appeared. Pete didn't bother opening his eyes, he shook his head to reply to his question. "Okay, so did you find Vance?" He pressed on, raising a brow and stealing his juice box stealthily. 

"What does it look like?" Pete snapped irritably, opening his eyes finally. He was angry, he was frustrated and tired. He almost felt tempted to snatch his juice box back if it weren't for the fact that Gary could easily get him in a headlock. 

Zoe and Jimmy stared at each other, in the way that reminded Pete of his parents. It reminded Pete of when he told his parents he was bisexual then whenever he commented about how handsome James Dean looked like-they looked at each other with shaken looks. 

It irritated Pete, but it gave him an idea. He never told his parents about Vance, he had to. Especially because he was missing, it would help him get some weight of his chest. His dad was the most levelheaded librarian he knew, he could calm him down. 

"No, seriously, are you okay?" Jimmy inquired, frowning as Pete bit into his grape jam covered toast. They all looked over to the greaser's table, they were all quiet as they avoided Pete's gaze. 

Pete shrugged and got out of his seat before running to his dorm. He found his nokia in his hoodie pocket before he threw himself onto the bed. He dialed the number of library where his dad worked at. He listened to the dial tone, impatiently sitting up. 

He heard somebody pick up the phone from its cradle before a familiar voice asked 'hello?'. "Dad?" He croaked, checking to see if the door was closed. People loved teasing him for having an outdated nokia from 1999 instead of a 2oo6 Blackberry. 

"Pete, jesus, is that you?" His dad's nasally voice asked, "your voice is deeper!" It hadn't really changed but parents always noticed the most subtle things. Pete took the compliment with a smile. 

"Thanks, uh, can I talk to you?" He said, hugging a knee to his chest. He heard a hesitant pause from his father's end of the line before a 'sure' came through. "Okay, please don't tell mom but I met a guy." He sighed out, rushing the words out. 

"Oh?" His dad sounded obviously disappointed, "err.. what's his name?" He asked, pretending he was interested in the gay boyfriend his son had. 

"Vance Medici." He replied, less cheerful than before and definitely less confident. He heard a loud sigh and winced, flinching as though it was physically painful to hear.

"Oh, uh, Medici, most of his relatives are incarcerated." He stated, neutrally but Pete knew he disapproved. Now he knew how the preps with poor lovers felt like. He could imagine his father taking off his reading glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"He's really nice, he's gre-" he began, trying to convince his father that Vance was more than a trouble kid with a leather jacket. 

"Listen, son," whenever his dad said 'son', he usually would say something awful. He sat up, on edge as he waited for his dad's following comment. "Your mom and I have been talking about going on vacation, to the Bahamas." 

His stomach churned and his heart dropped for what seemed like millionth time the past few days. Often, they went on vacation to make Pete happy. It worked shortly but he always returned to same pessimistic Pete afterwards. 

They always encouraged him to start lifting weights during their vacations. They nagged about how skinny and nonathletic he was and how he'd attract girls and friends by going to the gym more. He felt his blood boiling. 

"Quit it. I hate the vacations, you guys are always happy then and-and then you guys return to hating me after the trips." His voice crackled with anger, seeped in with sadness. His father stayed quiet. 

"That's not true, we love you, we just want the best for you." His father contended. 

"I'm sick of 'wanting the best for me', why can't I be me?" He hung up shortly, he thought he would vomit if her heard another word from his dad. He curled up and hugged himself, wishing himself away onto another planet-with Vance by his side. 

He stared at his hand lying limply beside his head, he closed his eyes. If only he could find Vance and ask him to lie and say everything would be alright. He wasn't there though, he was gone. Dead, disappeared, in the Harrington House storage closet. He yearned just to hold him, wanting to forget about his parents and the shitty universe. 

The next few days were hell. He was in his room, the cheap radio on his desk played Soft Cell's 'Where Did Our Love Go?'. He was focusing on how to write down an essay on why Stephen King was his favourite writer. Vance, as expected, wasn't in class. 

He wondered what writer he would choose but he usually was too busy thinking about how empty his seat looked in class instead. He chewed on his bottom lip just as someone knocked at the door. 

"Who is it?" He called out, sighing and looking at his essay. He scribbled down some notes before turning to see Jimmy walk in. His face was stony-as usual. 

"I know you're upset." He said, sitting on the end of his bed. 

"I've been upset for the past week." He replied, no hint of anger in his voice. He shook his head and scoffed at how catty he sounded.

"Uh-huh, I was doing some errands for some people from the retirement home." He explained. Pete knew he would offer some cash, just to please him. To temporarily take his mind off of a certain missing boy. 

He then broke out into a massive grin. It alarmed Pete, he usually didn't smile. He sat up, looking at him. He heard somebody walk into the room. His heart skipped a beat and his stomach was in knots. 

Vance walked in, shaking Pete's world. He sheepishly smiled and walked in. He wore green scrubs, such as what orderlies wore... Pete stared in shock before getting out of his chair, while knocking it to the ground. 

He pulled him into his arms, suffocating him into a tight hug. He pulled away to kiss him messily on the lips. Vance smiled, "jeez louise." 

Pete frowned and pulled away. "What the hell do you mean by 'jeez louise', I thought you died! You were missing." He snapped, glaring at him. Vance only sighed, looking down. 

"Listen, I was volunteering at the retirement home.." He began but stopped to briefly look at Jimmy. He apologized and left the room, closing the door. 

"I was scared of what Johnny would think, me wantin' to take care of old people instead of fixing up cars." He admitted, knowing Pete would understand. He did, his dad hated the thought of him kissing a boy instead of a girl. 

"But why did you avoid telling me?" Pete shot before Vance shushed him by kissing him. It felt nice to finally be able to hug Vance. 

"I stayed with my ma', she just moved here n' offered a place for me to stay." He sighed, smoothing out his pompadour. "I kind of had this.. epiphany, stupid, I know right?" He chuckled antsily along with Pete. "I realized I didn't want to live like my old man, I wanna make a difference, so I volunteered and enjoyed it, I want to do that as a living." He sighed shakily, smiling and avoiding Pete's stare. 

"I'm glad that you know what you want to be, I'm happy, I'm proud." He rambled, rolling his eyes at how cheesy he sounded. He decided to tone down the tense atmosphere by cracking a joke, "put that on a Hallmark card, jeez." He laughed. 

"I'm just angry that you didn't tell me, god, I was scared, you dickhead." He glared at Vance, who looked away guiltily. "But I'm just glad you're back, you should tell your friends." He advised, which made his boyfriend's eyes bulge. 

"That I'm back or what kind of job I want to have?" He asked, hesitant on both options. His lips pursed, casting his eyes to the carpet. 

"Vance, both." He spoke, resting his hand beside Vance's. "Jesus christ, they miss you, they're stressed to shit." He muttered, shaking his head. 

He sighed, letting his head fall back onto his shoulder. He nodded, "okay, I'll do it." Pete nodded, satisfied with his answer. He decided to admit his own secrets. 

"I told my dad about us." He muttered, Vance frowned-worried. Often, Pete expressed his parents distaste for his preferences. 

"Is-is it bad?" Vance whispered, noticing how Pete's eyes fluttered shut. He nodded, answering his question with an answer. The answer neither of them wanted, but it was what they got. He looked down, quiet, unable to comfort his boyfriend. 

"Life's shitty.." Pete murmured, eyeing Vance's scrubs-covered knees next to his. 

"It really is." Vance agreed, "but..you make it worthwhile." He added, which evoked a weak smile from the head boy. 

"Shut up." Pete replied, through a sleepy grin. Vance's hand found its way on Pete's. Where it belonged, like the only reason he had his hand was to hold Pete's. In a cocktail of disappointed parents, fear, different career choices and tears, they had each other's hand to hold. They were okay with that.