It'd only been two weeks since Patrick's family packed up and moved them out into the middle of nowhere. His mother had insisted they move nearer to his grandmother, who was dying and while that upset him, he wasn't entirely sure why they don't move the woman to them, instead of joining her nearly a hundred miles away from any hospitals or civilization. Every time he asked this question, his mother told him to drop the attitude, and went on and on about her mother not leaving the house she worked so hard to own herself until she passed on. So Patrick dropped the attitude and spent two weeks holed up in his unpacked bedroom with only his guitar out
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Out in the woods, off the trail and deep in the trees was a small campsite. Sitting in front of a makeshift fire pit was a dirty, scratched up Pete Wentz. His already big teeth were a little pointier, specifically the canines, and his eyes could be described as kind of glowy. It was Pete, but different. Across from him sat his friend Gabe, who had similar oddities in his facial features and they were chatting mindlessly about something. Gabe eventually interrupted the topic Pete was on
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Gabe sat on top of Pete, just off the dirt path. The boy in the red hoodie was gone, but Pete could still smell him and the muffins. But most importantly, him. Gabe was tall and lanky and but he was still heavy and crushing Pete's stomach. He did not care though
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