Teach Me Mr. Wentz | >> Peterick AU <<

Home Alone

[Patrick's POV]
Okay, maybe I shouldn't have used the blender. He told me not to mess around with things, how was I supposed to know he meant everything! I just wanted a frickin' smoothie! How much is that to ask?! Anyways, here I was now, standing in Pete's kitchen covered in strawberries, blueberries, and yogurt.

It was all over his floor, wall, and counter. I needed to clean. I sighed an walked to the closet in Pete's kitchen. When I opened it, a mop fell out hitting me directly in the forehead. "Ow!" I cried out, next time I should probably be more careful opening closets.

I picked the mop up and looked for a bucket. There was one in the back of the dust, dark closet. I reached for it and grabbed it. There was a stiff crumpled up washcloth at the bottom of the metal pale.

I walked over to the sink, bucket in hand, and turned it on. I filled it with water and added some soap. I then set the bucket onto the ground and dipped the mop inside of it.

I began cleaning the kitchen, it wasn't too hard, just kinda boring. Once I'd finished, I sighed out all the stress that had built up inside me. Now what? I could explore the house.

I walked upstairs and into the hallways area. I walked over to a door that said not to go in, completely disobeying it, I walked in. Inside it held dusty old instruments. There were old records and CDs, along with recording equipment. It all looked as if it hadn't been used in a while.

There was a recording booth with a microphone hanging from the ceiling. The booth was complete glass, but it said it was soundproof.

I walked over to a stool that was next to an acoustic guitar in the booth, I brushed the coat of dust off the stool and picked up the guitar. I grabbed a guitar pick and began to strum. I pressed record and decided to play a song that I'd written a while back.

"Mr. Sandman," I began. "Showing his beam, when he walks into a room," I played for hours, until I heard someone mess with the front door downstairs. I quickly put everything away, pressed the stop button on the recording equipment, and ran into my/the guest room. I pretended to be asleep.

I heard Pete open the door then close it.

I wonder why he had all those instruments in there? I mean, I know he's obsessed with music, but it looked like he barely played them! I should ask him.

I will ask him, I'll ask him at dinner.

I smiled to myself as I thought of being able to play my song on the guitar in Pete's old dusty recording studio. I would be able to have a copy of my song on a CD! It was so cool!

I smiled once more, because you can never smile too much, maybe I could have Pete listen? I hope he'd like it.

I really hope he would.