Young Volcanoes

~Chapter Four~

*Saturday Night: Patrick's P.O.V*
Pete was coming to collect me in a half hour.
Andy and Joe were walking there together.
And Pete was picking me up in a half hour.

I'd been ready for about an hour now, and paced my room about ten times. I've tried to sit down and watch a couple of episodes of "Friends" to calm myself down, but that wasn't working. Instead, i finally decided to play my guitar. I sat perched on the end of my bed, quietly strumming and singing softly for what felt like hours. Before i knew it, Pete was ringing the door bell. I tried to hide my guitar away the best i could, but there was no disguising the piano that sat in the corner of my bedroom. I checked my hair in the mirror then ran downstairs. before i opened the door, i grinned ear to ear, and tried to calm down.
When i opened the door, Pete was standing on the porch, grinning. "Hey," I said. "Hey," Pete replied. he was wearing black skinny jeans, and a black band t-shirt, which happened to be a band i like called Green Day. He suited it, and it looked good on him. "Would you like to come in?" i asked him. He nodded and followed me up the stairs, looking at the paintings on the wall. "Did you paint these?" Pete asked, looking awed. "Oh, uh, yeah, i painted those last fall." There was one in particular he was staring at, and it was one i had painted of a camera lens zooming in on a mountain side of orange, red, and brown leaves. I was proud of it, and i smiled at the memory of how excited i was when i had finally finished it. "Patrick... this is..   amazing." Pete said, his mouth falling into a slight "o". i laughed. "Thanks. Maybe i'll show you where i got the inspiration from one day." I said, smiling. "Sounds like a plan," Pete said. We kept walking up the staircase until we reached my room, which was painted Gray and had lots of band posters on the walls and shots from my analog camera, along with flags of countries i'd visited. I'd also forgotten to hide away my teddy bear that was sitting on my bed. Pete picked it up and smiled. "Aw, i've got one of these too! It was my Grandpa's when he was little. I keep it on my shelf back home. i apparently christened it 'Mr. Sprinkles.'" Pete laughed. I laughed in relief. "Yeah, mine's is called 'Rainbow'. That isn't much better." i laughed.

*Pete's P.O.V*
"Make yourself at home, and i'll be back in a few minutes." Patrick announced. He gave me one last smile and left the room. I took this time to look around his room. His whole ceiling was covered with flags, the walls were covered in band posters, all of which are bands i recognise and actually listen to, and the floor was clear. There was a digital Cannon camera hanging from the end of his bed frame, but from what i could tell from the rather impressive shots he'd hung up on the wall, he proffered analog. He had a good eye. Richard Avedon-esque. He had a wardrobe that stood to a wall of in the far corner that didn't have any doors, so you could see right into it. He had a cute style of clothing: Gray sweatshirts, skinny jeans, black furry winter boots, leather jackets, fedora's.... that's when i noticed a piano in the other corner of the room. I stepped away from the wardrobe, and walked over to it. on top of the closed piano lid lay a thick black notebook that was open.

As soon as my eyes met the page, my mouth fell open in surprise. inside were pages and pages of lyrics, all of which were beautiful. I looked more and more, my eyes skimming over the pages, until they stopped. I could hear the door handle turning. Patrick opened the door and shouted "Hey, those are mine!" Patrick ran over, snatching the book out of my hands. He avoided my eyes, looking at the floor. "Oh, I'm Sorry... Patrick, why didn't you tell me you were so good at Music?" i asked, putting my hand on his shoulder. "I didn't want to show you in case you thought they were no good..." He said, sheepishly. "But Pat, they're amazing! Do you think... maybe you could sing one for me?" I asked.  Patrick looked startled. "What, no! I'm not a good singer, i can't!" He said, panicking. "You said that you weren't any good at Music, too. Let me hear your voice."
Patrick sighed and grabbed a electric guitar from behind his wardrobe, brought out an amp from under his bed, and plugged it in. "What do you want to hear?" He asked, handing me the book. i studied one that looked particularly interesting called "Dance, Dance." He played the opening rift and started singing. My mouth fell open in shock. He has one of the best voices I've honestly ever heard. i continued gaping at him, my mouth open like a goldfish, until he finished the song. "Pat... Whoa. That. was. fucking. incredible. " I said, separating each word for more affect. Patrick smiled. "Aw... Thank you, Pete. That means a lot. We honestly better get going now though, before my Mother comes home and decides to show you an extremely embarrassing baby album she's been saving." Patrick said, giggling slightly. i laughed too, and followed him.
Pat had decided to go with his usual black fedora, a grey shirt, black boots, black skinny jeans with holes in the knee's and his big hipster glasses. We were both dressed casual, but somehow he managed to make his outfit look even cuter than usual.