Rain

•5•

Pete sits in his room. He's listening to A Fever You Can't Sweat Out, having the urge to listen after mentioning it to Patrick. His guitar is propped up in the corner of his room, it's practically his baby. He stands up from his bed but freezes. There's a weird humming noise. Pete whips his head around, looking for the source. As he sifts through the pile of clothes by his window, he notices Patrick walking down the street, back to his house. He has a coffee in his hand.

"I'm the new cancer, never looked better, you can't stand it." Patrick mouths, a small amount of noise coming out.

Pete leans his head out his window, listening. He's hoping to hear Patrick sing, he obviously lied about singing, he must like it...or at least do it.

"'Cause you say so under your breath your reading lips, when did he get all confident?"  Patrick is still mumbling.

Pete recognizes the song too, it was the second song played when he got back upstairs. Pete rushes to his guitar, quickly fumbling to tune it. He's practiced There's a good reason these tables are numbered but hasn't perfected it. He still wanted to play it, maybe to give Patrick more confidence to sing it.

The guy has shut himself out...why not get him out of his shell?

Even if he doesn't...it's worth a shot. There's nothing better for Pete to do anyways. As Patrick heads up his walkway, Pete gives up on perfecting the tuning and starts playing the chorus. He watches Patrick stop dead in his tracks. Slowly, Patrick turns. Pete is sitting up at his window, half focused on his guitar, half focused on Patrick.

"I heard you mumbling!! It's such a good song!" Pete yells over his guitar.

Patrick is embarrassed, he's not a fan of people hearing him sing, even mumbling. Patrick shoves his hands in his pockets, "You play?"

Pete stops. "Yeah."

Patrick nods, adjusting his fedora. "Cool."

"Do you? Or do you just sing?"

"Uhm...kinda." Patrick admits.

"We should play together!" Pete stands from the floor. "Get out your guitar and come over here!

Patrick shakes his head. "It's...it's okay..."

"No, come on!!" Pete smiles.

"I..I don't really want to right now."

Pete hides his disappointment. "Maybe another time?"

Patrick shrugs and walks inside his house.

Pete's not about to give up.

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"What do you want for dinner?" Patrick's mom pushes the cart around the produce section.

Patrick removes an earbud and shrugs. "I don't know. What does dad want?"

"He is still in his meeting. I was thinking...grilled chicken with asparagus."

Patrick can't help but wrinkle his nose at asparagus. He's not a fan of that.

"I don't like asparagus...what about corn or salad?"

"We had salad yesterday." She pauses and turns to him, smiling.

"You can never have too much salad." Patrick smiles.

She smiles. "We have carrots, cucumbers, and tomatoes but your dad used the rest of the lettuce." She nudges his shoulder. "Go get the iceberg."

Patrick obliges and walks over to the array of different bagged lettuces. Panic!'s Fuck a Silver Lining plays through his right earbud. The left one hangs down his chest, still not in his ear. He puts it back in his ear, smiling at the full music experience. Scanning the lettuce, he spots the iceberg. A lady on her phone blocks it. Presumably her child, stands at the base of the cart. She notices Patrick and does her best to move the cart out of the way. Patrick smiles at her and grabs a bag of lettuce. He turns and frowns, his mom is talking to a woman with dark brown hair. She looks familiar but not enough to actually know her. Patrick hesitantly walks over hoping not to interrupt. He drops the lettuce into the cart. A burning sensation is left in his hand. Red splotches the size of a grape are left in his left hand. He pulls out an earbud again, waiting for his mom to finish up her conversation. While he waits he examines the lettuce packaging, small water droplets sit on the top of the bag. How the hell is there water on prepackaged lettuce? Silently, he curses himself for not noticing.