//PATRICKS POV\\

I'm Patrick. Not a lot of people knew that. I'm not your typical freshman. I'm cursed with the burden of autism. I can't socialize very well. When I try to talk to anyone... It's hard. It's a miracle that I had the mustered the courage to make one friend in this hell hole that they call high school.

I adjust the strap on my shoulder bag that I call a backpack, It's black fabric covered in Nirvana and Green Day pins. I walked out of the cafeteria, hoping that I get to class before some random kid called me some lame nickname based off of my disorder like 'Autistrick' or some shit like that.

"Yo, Patrick!!" Ah, that, my friend would be the voice of my best friend, Brendon Boyd Urie. Not the most popular kid, but he sure was assertive. He can get almost anyone to tell him almost anything. Every time I ask how he does it, the answer is always the same, "Im loud and I annoy people." Which is total bullshit because he's only loud when he has to be. When he's defending me because I am an antisocial, autistic kid who can't his shit together.

I turn in the direction of his voice to be faced with none other than the familiar brown hair and sheepish that represented Brendon. "W-what?" UUUGGGGHHHH! He's my best friend and I still can't speak to him without stuttering. I'm such a disappointment.

"I heard we have a new student in Homeroom." Brendon beams. His eyes were hopeful, and I guessed what he was doing. Sneaky little bastard.

"You can't force me to make friends." I sigh in a small voice. For him, making friends was easy. For me, it's like climbing Mt. Everest in 2 days. Impossible. Still, I had a good feeling about today. Maybe, just maybe, I'll make another friend. "I'll try, though."

"Good!" Brendon smiles. He's looking out for me, I know that, but the idea of talking to someone new terrifies me.

"Well isn't it Brentrick?" A voice coos. I whip my head in the direction of Gerard Way. He was the loud and obnoxious one, which is why he got along with us. He balances the attitude.

"While I'd like to date this fine young lad," Brendon mocks an old Englishman, "I doubt he wants to date me."

"Gay, much?" Gerard laughs. I simply roll my eyes. he knows that both Bren and I are bisexual and it annoys me when he makes jokes like that. It makes me feel... different. More so than I already am. Gerard must have noticed this, too, because as soon as glance at him, he's shuffling uncomfortably and mumbling, "Sorry, guys."

"We're gonna be late!" Brendon sighs, chuckling. "Time for the torture of history!" He started jogging to first period, history with Ms. Griffs. She's probably the coolest teacher, but she taught the most boring subject. I roll my eyes and speed walked behind him, reaching the classroom in about five minutes. With some difficulty, I might add.

I took a seat at my desk just before the bell rang. This class is worthless. I'm so fucking distracted almost all the time and it was annoying as fuck. I began searching the pages in my textbook for the pages I need to find. Oh, whoppie! It's the holocaust.

"C-can I sit here?" A voice sends me flying out of my thoughts and glancing up... or across at the creature that created the sound. Across from me, sits a kid in a wheelchair, his hair raven black, (2005 image) and brown (I think) eyes that'd make your heart melt.

At this point, my disorder is getting the best of me. I'm freezing up and I can't produce a sound. My throat feels dry and I'm shaking. Fuck. I simply nod, implying the answer to his question was a yes.

"New kid, huh?" Brendon asks him from behind us, scaring the shit out of me. He glances at Brendon and shrugs. This behavior baffles me. I don't understand it.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" He mumbles, making Brendon step back. I just watch as his pencil glides across a piece of paper in a notebook that only reveals its secrets to people he shows it to.

"Nothing, sorry. Anyway, I'm Brendon," Bren sticks his hand out in an attempt to break the ice, which the kid reluctantly shakes. "That's Patrick. He doesn't talk much. He's cool though." Brendon continues, making me blush.

"Um.. hi?" I muster out. For some reason it didn't feel weird. The first time I talked to Brendon I got this feeling in my stomach. A feeling of terror. But, this kid just seems... cool.

"Well, hello Patrick and Brendon. The name's Pete. Pete Wentz."

Pete Wentz

-a/n--

THIS IS SO SHORT BUT IM STARTING A PETERICK AAAAYYYYOOO!

Pete's crippled D=

Ok srsly does anyone like me anymore?? I NEED FEEDBACK!

GUYS GUYS GUYS OMFG I HIT 200 FOLLOWERS AND IM SCREAMINGFF!

I love you my Carcrashovercastyoungbloods

-Emily aka foblvr