Adore // Oneshots

Poetry Night (Peterick)

CATEGORY: Fluff
FEATURING: shy!Patrick and poetic!Pete
TRIGGER WARNINGS: None
PROMPT: With nothing else to do on a Friday night, Patrick goes to a poetry reading.
WORD COUNT: About 2,040

Music blared from the apartment on the second floor, accompanied by other typical sounds of a loud party--voices, laughter, feet stomping as people moved to the sound of the music. The apartment where the part was located seemed to be alive, full of color and sound and feeling.

Meanwhile, on the first floor, Patrick was trying to sleep.

It was only nine o'clock, but he'd had a long day of college classes, and he was tired. His friends in his literature class, Brendon and Dallon, had been talking eagerly about plans they had for the night, but Patrick hadn't joined in.

Truthfully, Patrick was kind of an introvert. He usually only left his apartment for classes, groceries, or maybe to see a friend. Other than that, though, he preferred to stay home. He'd only moved out of his parents' house a month ago, and the big, bad world was still intimidating to him.

Patrick put his pillow over his head with a sigh. The party on the floor above his had started to get loud and rowdy around eight, but he'd brushed his teeth and climbed into bed anyway. He'd been trying to sleep for almost an hour now, but with no luck. Even through the pillow, he could hear the booming music.

Clearly, he wasn't going to get any sleep if he stayed here.

The young man sat up and rubbed his eyes blearily, wishing he had neighbors that weren't so wild. He reached out onto his nightstand and fumbled around a moment until he found his glasses, putting them on his face and climbing out of bed.

He stumbled into his small kitchenette and poured water into the coffeepot, starting up the machine. Patrick figured if he was going to be up, he may as well be awake.

Briefly, he thought about calling or texting someone and asking if he could stay over at their place for the night. But who would he call, really? His parents were probably in bed by now. Brendon and Dallon weren't home.

Besides, maybe this was an opportunity to do something. On a typical Friday night, Patrick knew, most of the other kids in his college classes were not trying to sleep through a party.

He poured his coffee into a disposable cup and tightened the lid, taking a few sips to start with. He sat at his kitchen table for a moment, just drinking and listening to the sounds coming from the party above him.

Patrick imagined it was the kind of party where they'd always let you in, regardless of your age or social status. He imagined there'd be drinks, and cigarettes, maybe pot, too. He imagined drunken smiles on the faces of the patrons. He imagined a few people passed out on the couches. It sounded like the kind of party where people would pass out on the couch.

After the caffeine started to kick in, Patrick went into his room and dressed out of his pajamas. He didn't know what he should be dressing for, so he went casual--white shirt with blue flannel over it, jeans, and black converse, with his favorite black fedora atop his head. He liked hats.

Once he was dressed, he grabbed his coffee, phone, and wallet off the counter before leaving his apartment. The music was just as loud in the hallway, and he felt relieved as he finally escaped the building. It wasn't quiet out there, but certainly better.

He had his car keys in his pocket, but he didn't feel quite awake enough to drive yet. And so, he walked down the street, not knowing what or where he was heading towards.

It was dark out, of course, but the sidewalk was lit by the warm glow of the streetlamps above, and by the headlights of passing cars. It was actually kind of peaceful--no, serene--to be out at that time of night, where there were few other people about.