March 14, 1969

"Good evening, Sir," Pete smiles to the man making his way through the checkout with nothing more than a box of condoms, "Will this be it for you today?"

"Yeah," The guy mumbles, lowering his eyes and handing over a quick $2 with flushed cheeks and his hands tight in his pockets just like Pete tends to do. Either tugging at the hem of his shirt or crumpling the fabric of his pockets up between his slender fingers. This guy seems to be sending off that nervous energy, it's probably his first time buying condoms or something.

"Thank you, Sir, have a nice day," Pete smiles with a nod before turning to the next person, a woman with short, blond hair, the last in line for the day. She's wearing this bright pink lipstick, eyes deep in eyeliner and eyeshadow and a red dress that covers her body and makes Pete think of Hollywood and celebrities. It's something you could see from a mile away. He immediately starts packing up her groceries after a quick, "Good evening, Ma'am." Bananas, apples, milk, eggs, flour, the normal stuff.

"Good evenin', you almost done with your shift, Darling?" The woman asks with a hint of innocence to her expression and a bite to her lip. Pete immediately begins freaking out."Yes, Ma'am, I am," Pete replies, taking a deep breath as he rings up her total, "That'll be 14.93, Ma'am."

She searches through her purse and hands over 15 dollars. "If you come outside with me for a little while, I can show you a good time, we can get to know each other a little better." She drags a finger down Pete's neck to his chest, pulling down his shirt slightly. "Maybe you could... you could keep that change you've got there."

Pete clears his throat, pulling away awkwardly and grabbing $.07 in change, "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I have a wife at home and I rather enjoy her company."

The woman looks at him with disgust as she takes the change then leaves, grumbling something about. "Prude whores." Pete just takes a breath, heading to the back room to pull off his overshirt and instead tug on a coat, it's still the middle of March and it's cold as hell out there. He needs to pack warm. On his way out, he greets farewell to another cashier, Ray, and heads out of the store. with a hat on his head, that old baseball cap he brings with himself sometimes to face the cold of oncoming spring. He knows it probably doesn't help much but it's all that he's got. He opens his car door as soon as it's unlocked and heads inside, starting up the cold engine with a new fire. It's 6 in the evening and he knows Patrick's probably starting to head home as well, or he already is home. He's a school teacher at the local elementary school, or at least he says he is. Tyler still isn't sure whether or not he's ready to trust him. He really wishes he could but at the moment, things are hard. Andrew's letters are making it harder on top of that because he's starting to get paranoid as well.

Either way, Patrick's a nice person, but he's definitely hiding something under all that blond hair and those leather jackets.

Pete brings his car out of park, instead pulling it forward to begin driving down the street. He sees a couple walking down to the store, thank god Pete's off, and a couple kids running past them.

He takes a breath, letting it release as he continues down the cracked concrete street, following yellow dotted lines and white solids back home. Patrick told him this morning before he left for work that Frank won't be there afterward. That kind of relieved Pete. He's okay with Frank but at the same time, he's not 100% fond of him either. He seems like a nice guy, and like he said in his last letter to Andrew, things are getting easier to bear but still. He's kind of an asshole.

It takes about ten minutes to get home, plus twenty with the New York traffic, but when people have stopped honking at him for no apparent reason and people have decided he's not worth cutting off, he arrives home to that mahogany house. The oak tree is growing more and more buds each day, stuck together with sap and bugs and whatever else trees are made up of. Sunlight and water? Tyler doesn't know. Or really care for that fact. Only pulls out of his car, grabbing his bag that contained his lunch, and heading inside the house. Patrick's car is still there, shining a dark black with stains of dirt across the hood, so he's home. He hasn't left for that stupid place yet. He's been growing desperate to know where the hell Patrick always goes. He asked once but Patrick just said it's none of his business and left. He wants to ask again. He's dying of curiosity.

Pete unlocks the door, heading in to see Patrick there, putting on his shoes. Pete must have gotten there just in time because those shoes only see the floors of wherever Patrick's going at night. Pete never sees them on his feet anytime else.

"Hey, there," Patrick says quietly, lowering his head, "How was work?"

"Tiring. Some girl tried to get me to follow her after work," Pete scratches the back of his head awkwardly, "But I didn't do it."

"Why not? Wasn't she pretty?" Patrick questions.

"Well, I mean, of course, she was but... she just wasn't my type I guess. I don't like sleeping with people just to sleep with people. I'm not like a lot of men." Tyler shoves his hands in his pockets once again. In all honesty, he'd love to sleep with someone just to sleep with them. But he's not straight. Not in the fucking least.

"Ah, I get that. Well, I think you should get a girlfriend soon, y'know? I'm sure she'd be nice. I know lots of girls who would definitely be into you," Patrick replies with a grin as if Pete is the straightest man he knows and all he cares about is getting in bed with some girl he doesn't even know.

"I... I think I'm alright, thank you, though," Pete says. He clears his throat as he looks away, "I... I've been meaning to ask you about something, though. And I know you told me to leave it but I'm curious."

Patrick frowns, obviously confused at what Pete might want to ask him about. It isn't very often that he asks him anything, much less even talks to him. But this is a rare occasion, curiosity has gotten the best of Pete again. For the second time in the thirteen days, he's lived here.

"Where have you been going at night?" Pete finally says, "It's... I know you don't want to talk about it but I don't see the danger in it and... and if you're really hiding something that could risk my safety, I need to know. I don't want to be left out of something that might really need my attention. And-"

"It doesn't fucking need your attention," Patrick interrupts, "Quit worrying about it. It doesn't involve you. If you really fucking want to know, it could endanger me if you found out."

"Tell me, Patrick."

"No, it doesn't fucking involve you." The darker haired boy finishes off his combat boots, then stands and straightens out his coat, "And I swear to God, Wentz, if you even think about following me out, I will make sure you regret it."

Pete grips his hand in a fist as Patrick shoves past him and leaves and Pete can't help but punch the door as soon as it's shut growling in frustration. He lives here, too. He deserves to know. He hates being left out of things and most of the time, he'd be too anxious to do anything about it but this... this has lit a spark in him.

There's only one way to find out where the hell this asshole goes now.

Pete takes a deep breath, calming himself, before he looks out the window realizing, dumbfound, Patrick doesn't even take his damn car. Pete rubs his temples for a moment, then, pulling up his hood and throwing aside his hat, he opens the door, stepping outside into the cool, winter air. Patrick is pretty far ahead already. He has longer legs than Pete, though, and his pace is probably affected by the anger built up from his and Pete quick talk.

Either way, Pete has to walk faster so he doesn't lose track of the man. He keeps his hands warm in the blankets of his pockets as he moves on, eyes lowered but at the same time still nipping at Patrick's heels. He doesn't want to be too close behind but at the same time, he can't lose him. This whole thing would turn to shit. Patrick takes a left at the end of the block and continues on for several more blocks. They live just outside of the most lit up place in New York. The house is still in a residential neighborhood but not even ten blocks down is the beginnings of strip clubs, neon signs, and dark alleys. Patrick obviously doesn't seem bothered by it, just passes through the streets, ignoring all the homeless people asking for change and passing through the whores telling him he could give him a good time.

Patrick takes a sharp left in an alley, followed soon after by Pete who stays behind at the turn while he continues on. A set of stairs leads down to a basement of the building to their right sit right there, rusty and concrete. Pete watches as Patrick heads down them and disappears from sight. When he hears a little bit of mumbling, then silence, he goes on ahead as well, walking down the stairs, careful to make sure he has his ID on him and possibly some money. This seems like a bar, a place where not many people should go, but end up anyways. Pete isn't sure why Patrick would have to hide something like that from him, but he pushes the thought aside. Maybe he's just embarrassed or something. Maybe he gets a lot of sex. He has no idea.

He stops at the bottom of the stairs, though, confronting a man with long, curly hair who has a few inches on him. Tattoos line his arms and he's smoking a cigarette, wearing a dark leather vest and looking down at Pete like he's a piece of food. He's got these soft blue eyes, though, contrasting the dark, intimidating look. But overall, Pete can't help but take a small step back, flinching away from the stranger.

"ID?" He asks.

"U-uh," Pete pulls out his driver's license and hands it over. Joe looks at it, then nods, handing it back.

"That'll be three dollars," The bouncer mumbles, looking away. Pete immediately pulls it out with a shaky palm and hands it over. "You queer, kid?"

Pete blinks, "Does it matter?"

The stranger laughs, a deep, harsh chuckle and opens the door, "Go on in, Kid."

Pete wastes no time in shoving his wallet into his front pocket and heading inside, but as soon as he does, his eyes widen and he gasps in shock.

This is a gay club. He sees a few drag queens talking amongst each other about makeup, a twink kissing a bear which doesn't look like it'll end clean. He sees a man going around and giving lap dances to other men and a group of lesbians sitting at the bar. The lights are bright and at the far end of the club, he can see a drag queen on a catwalk, showing herself off. She has this dark brunette hair and a wide jaw that gives herself away. She has dark shades on, a dark velvet eyeshadow and purple lips wearing a black dress that covers a completely shaved body. She's beautiful, and everybody loves her with her honeyed skin and her thick lips and dark, weary eyes.

Before Pete can stare any longer, though, he's being tugged extremely roughly to the side and socked in the face. Pete immediately cries out and grips his nose with a pained groan and a,

"What the fuck, dude?"

"Shut up."

That's Patrick. Pete's eyes widen hard and he swallows to his dry throat, "Patrick, man."

Patrick slams him against the wall, gripping his shirt in both fists, "Shut the fuck up, I thought I told you not to follow me. What the fuck do you think you're doing here?"

"I needed to know and... and you're gay!"

"Yes, no shit, I'm fucking gay, and I swear to god if you tell anybody at all, I will make sure you absolutely fucking regret that. Am I understood?" Patrick growls.

"Y-Yes," Pete whispers.

"I SAID AM I UNDERSTOOD?" Patrick screams. The club goes silent and all eyes turn to Pete and Patrick.

Pete's eyes widen and he immediately nods, "Y-yes, you're understood."

Patrick huffs, shoving Pete away before walking past him and heading away to a group of other people who Pete hadn't seen. They're hanging around, talking and laughing amongst each other with drinks in their hands and grins across their cheeks but they've gone silent, eyes glued to Patrick. It isn't until Patrick's walked all the way over that Pete realizes Frank's there with them, his dark hair shading his eyes. He's gay, too?

"P-Patrick, wait up!" Pete calls, hurrying ahead to try to catch up with the blond. Before he can get far, though, Patrick turns and in a dark growl he says, "Get the fuck out of here before I call a security guard and force you out for being the only straight person here."

"I'm not even straight," Pete whimpers.

"I. Don't. Care."

And just like that, Patrick shoves Pete away and heads to the group. Pete doesn't know what to do but turn and leave.