The Church Boys ➸ Peterick/Brentrick

7: Throwing Stones at a Glass Moon

There was a strange air in the band room the next day when Patrick and Brendon entered. While they didn't physically touch, they still threw glances at each other from time to time that read as something having occurred that the rest of the room was unaware of. Nobody asked, mostly because it didn't cross anyone's mind that there would be two gay-ass band nerds that were practically dating (they had already arranged for a second date, something less first-date esque). 

Of all people, it was Pete that was analyzing their movements and was the only one to come to the conclusion that something romantic had happened between them. How far it had gone, he didn't know, but something definitely happened. Because while it may have just flown under the radar for everyone else, it was the way that Brendon casually sang and played guitar for Patrick that managed to crawl under Pete's skin and unsettle him in the oddest of ways. 

It was still low-key, but there were more important things to worry about. Pete went off during band to go write in a corner, letting Dallon do as he pleased seeing as they were just screwing around for the period. It was a mess, but it was an entertaining mess to listen to. Still, Pete enjoyed the corner he had to himself, scribbling in scrambled attempts at poetry that was legible, and may have made sense to anyone else even if Pete wasn't a fan of it.

Still, it was when they decided to spend the rest of the free period doing homework that Patrick wandered over and sat himself down next to Pete. "Whatcha doin' over here?" he asked, still smiling as he looked over.

God bless the poor kid. "Just writing. Not much else to do."

"Don't have homework?"

"I try to finish in class. Practice lengths can be kind of unpredictable." Pete shrugged it off, not realizing Patrick was reading over his shoulder.

It was quiet for a moment or two before he made a remark about it. "Are you from Chicago?"

"Huh? Yeah, why?"

"It sounds more like a lyric than a poem," he remarked, then read, "'but there's a light on in Chicago and I know that I should be home'. I like it." It finally clicked that Patrick was reading it, but at this point it was a little late to stop him. "Dude, I really like this." He adjusted his position again before actually singing, "until your breathing stops forever, forever." 

Pete looked over, smiling gently. "I liked that pacing and the pitch you chose," he remarked. "Try this part, will you?" 

After reading over the gestured part, Patrick hummed for a minute to find a rhythm that went with what he'd been singing before. "But there's a light on in Chicago, and I know I should be home. And the colors on the street signs, they remind me of the pick-up truck out in front of your neighbor's house."

The slightly taller boy had a faint grin when he finished. "Wow, that's really good."

"You think?" he asked, looking back up at Pete. 

"Yeah." Pete nodded. "I'm not much of a vocalist myself."

Patrick smiled softly, and shrugged. "You were good on bass though," he remarked, "I dunno. I took vocal lessons for awhile before I started teaching myself how to play instruments. Music's sorta my dream... I don't know where else I'd take my life."

"It's a good dream," Pete said simply. "I would love to do something like that too, but it's not what my parents want."

"And you need to do what your parents want you to do?" Patrick inquired, turning to look at Pete now as they talked. "I mean, my parents want me to literally do anything else, but I can have different dreams."

"I wish I could be that confident," Pete mused to himself, shaking his head.

"It's not confidence," the smaller boy corrected, "it's just having a differing opinion. Trust me, I'm the least confident person I know."