Beauty

Pete Wentz knew he was a gorgeous man.

He knew he had a heart melting smile, and a beautiful pair of expressive, hazel eyes. He knew his hair fit his face perfectly; dark and thick, contrasting his lightly tanned skin. He knew he was muscled and fit, and he knew he had nothing to be ashamed of.

Pete Wentz knew beauty.

Ashlee, with her soft features, and long, soft, blonde hair. Jeanae, sharp looks, and her own personal unique touch. He also knew boys, William and his slender form, feminine looks, Ryan and Brendon, youthful and enthusiastic, Jon, and his masculine figure, handsome face. But. Patrick Stump.

More people needed to appreciate just how beautiful Patrick was.

Patrick, with his heartbreaking smile, his soft, full mouth curved upwards. A smile that Pete was seen one too many times, an anonymous glance at the press, or a small smile at Pete when he was either too feisty or too affectionate. Pull away, and smile.

Pete hated that smile.

Patrick, with his charming laugh, a grin breaking out onto his features. An extremely welcoming sound to Pete, the ringing still in his ears long after.

Pete’s proudest moments were when he was the one who caused that amazing sound.

Patrick, with his green/blue/gray eyes, ever changing, long, pale eyelashes framing crystal orbs. Sometimes Patrick would glance his way, and Pete would see something in those glassy eyes.

Pete always hoped it would be something more.

Patrick, with his strawberry blonde hair, soft red locks framing his round face. Pete often ran his fingers through his hair when Patrick was asleep, as the familiar scent of Herbal Essence wafted into his nose.

Pete longed to lean in and just smell, just to see if the scent was mixture of the shampoo or if there was a hint of Patrick.

Patrick, with his voice, liquidy and angelic. When he’s struck with insomnia, Pete would take his phone and make one simple phone call. He’d say the same thing every night.

“Patrick, can you sing something for me?”

Soon after the call, Pete would sleep like a baby.

Patrick, with his ever present hats, hiding his eyes while he sang on stage, as Pete bathed in his voice, letting it run through him like adrenaline.

Pete indulged in the energy Patrick gave him.

Patrick, with his undeniable pout, his full, bottom lip sticking out adorably whenever he asked Pete to do him a favour. Pete often longed to reach out and touch him, just to see if his mouth was as soft as it looked.

Pete could never say no to him.

Patrick, with his anger and exasperation. Pete did something again. Another accident, more troubles. He went out the door in under seconds.

Pete loved Patrick because he always came back.

The most beautiful thing about Patrick was that Pete would never be able to tell him any of this. He would never be able to feel Patrick’s soft stomach against his, feel his breath against his neck, feel his arms around him.

“What are you thinking about?” Pete looked up at the sound of Patrick’s voice.

“How beautiful people can be,” He managed a smile.

Patrick scoffed, “Of course, haven’t we talked about how gorgeous Ashlee is? I know you, Pete.”

Maybe not enough, Pete thought, “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me ‘Trick.”

Patrick shot him a smile, the heartbreaking kind, gentle and soft. Pete’s heart twisted.

Pete knew beauty.

As he walked away, Patrick’s back turned to him, Pete felt a strong urge to call him back, but stopped himself.

More people needed to appreciate just how beautiful Patrick was.

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