the boy on manic street

Twenty

Pete's POV

At practice, we don't have the best time. Everyone's arguing, and I really don't know what happened. I just remember Joe being sarcastic as always, Andy getting really edgy, and Patrick coming close to an anxiety attack, which threw me off as well.

I sit in the living room on the main level of the house, listening to Joe and Andy argue downstairs while I rub Patrick's back as he leans against me, "Life sucks."

"Nah," I respond, tracing shapes on his shoulders, "Just pretty damn hard to get through."

He sighs. We both sit there, looking out the windows on each side of the TV against the far wall. It's already early August. I'm not ready for the summer to end, though I am excited for the cold weather. There's just something about not having to wear a big puffy coat everytime you go outside that makes me love summer more than winter. But then again, I do love snow. And Christmas. Definitely Christmas.

"I've been coming up with more song ideas," Patrick says after a while of silence.

I hum a response, and he keeps talking, "I think we should make at least two or three songs before our first 'performance'."

"It's a good idea. Can I see your notebook?"

He hands me the worn down spiralbound that was originally resting on the coffee table beside us. I flip past Dead on Arrival, coming across a couple others. One is called Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy, another by the name of Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes.

"They're just ideas for the future," Patrick says, sitting up beside me.

"I like the bass to I Don't Care," I say, flipping past the songs one at a time, "Chicago is So Two Years Ago? Interesting."

He takes his notebook back after I get a glimpse of that song, which confuses me but I let it slide, "What about you? Can I see yours?" Patrick smiles a bit.

"I'll admit, I have been working on quite a few," I smile, reaching for my notebook as well and handing it to him.

He flips through the scribbled pages, "I would expect you to be more organized than me, but dang this is a mess." Patrick smiles, "I'll pick out stuff I think would go well, alright? You have a pencil or something?"

I nod, handing him the pen I had shoved in my pocket. I watch as Patrick looks over each page, circling words while humming to himself. Eventually, he's written down a verse on a new page in his own notebook. It reads:

Have you ever wanted to disappear?
And join a monastery?
Go out and preach on manic street?

"I'll never understand how you can do that," I laugh.

Patrick smiles, still continuing the pattern until he's started a new chorus on a different page:

Don't pretend you'll ever forget about me
We don't fight fair

I end up not saying anything, just watching him circle and write. Circle and write. After probably an hour and a half he has three new songs scribbled out. They're rough drafts, obviously, but they're something. One is called Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today, another called 20 Dollar Nose Bleed, and the other is The Take Over, The Breaks Over. I suggest we focus on Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy, figuring that could be a part of the first album and that the others need more work. Patrick agrees and we both stand up, stretching. He wraps his arms around my torso, looking at me intently, "I can trust you, right?"

I furrow my eyebrows, "Of course."

Patrick smiles a bit and nods, kissing me slowly. I'm confused as to why he asked such a question, but eventually I forget about it as Andy and Joe come upstairs. I don't notice them right away but I do once Joe clears his throat. We both turn around, faces red, "Oh, hey guys."

"I-uh- we wanted to apologize for arguing earlier," Andy scratches the back of his head.

"You don't have to apologize, but it's okay, I think we're all just tired. What time is it?" Patrick says, his arms still looped around me as he leans against my side.

"Around 10:45 or something," Joe shrugs, stifling a yawn, "Why am I yawning? The night is still young." He tries to joke and we all laugh a bit.

"I think we're going to head back, actually," I say, stretching my arms behind my head.

"Okay. We'll see you tomorrow then. How about we practice on Saturday around noon? We can have lunch?" Andy suggests.

"Sounds good," I smile, nodding.

-

Patrick and I end up at the park again under the cork tree, looking through the branches at the stars. We can't see much 'cause of the lights from Chicago, but it's enough for us.

I smile, leaning over to kiss his cheek, "Are you okay?"

Patrick sighs, turning on his side to look at me, "I'm just still stressed about . . . everything."

"I'm here for you, even if you feel like you need some time by yourself, I can help when you want it," I say, turning serious.

"Life is pretty damn tough, isn't it?" Patrick says, watching me.

"Sure is," I say, pulling him close.

-
im trying to go along with how they came up with each song irl, but not exactly nonfiction, if you know what i mean?