Rain

•14•

Patrick may have lied to Pete a little...but not technically. He didn't write more of the song Pete added to...

But he wrote more of a song.

Right after Pete left, Patrick pulled out his notebook and finished the song he'd written about Pete.

Well it was kinda for Pete...

Okay fine.

It was for Pete.

He titled top of the paper, Last of the Real Ones.

Now it's midnight, he's singing outside his window. Patrick is unsure if Pete is even there. He just watches Pete's window from his own. He's sitting on the floor, chin resting on the window sill. Pete's window opens suddenly. Patrick's voice falters and he continues.

"I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you but not as much as I do.
As much as I do.
'Cause you're the last of a dying breed.
Write our names in the wet concrete.
I wonder if your therapist knows, everything about me.
I'm here in search of your glory, there's been a million before me.
That ultra kind of love you never walk away from.
You're just the last of the real ones."

Patrick inhales slightly, the shadow in Pete's window not moving. It's frozen still. He continues on, hoping he doesn't wake up his parents or others on the street.

"I am a collapsing star, with tunnel vision.
But only for you,
But only for you.
My head is stripped just like a screw that's been tightened too many times, When I think of you
When I think of you.
I will shield you from the waves, if they find you.
I will protect you,
I will protect you."

The shadow sinks to the floor. Patrick's voice begins to fall out of tune slightly.

"Just tell me, tell me, tell me, I, I am the only one."

He isn't even singing now.

"Even if it's not true."

His voice is barely a whisper.

"Even if it's not true."

Pete still hears it though. It's the dead of night, of course he does. He waits for more but Patrick doesn't want to sing anymore. He grabs his notebook and stands. He doesn't close his window, the breeze feels nice.

"'Cause you're the last of a dying breed."

Patrick freezes.

Pete racks his brain for the lyrics he had heard earlier. Damn his memory.

"Write our names in the concrete."

Patrick doesn't care that he messed up the lyrics, Patrick sits back down by the window.

"I wonder if your therapist knows about me." Pete is completely off tune. There's a damn good reason why he's not a singer.

"I'm here in search of your glory." Patrick starts to sing again, Pete trying his hardest to keep up.

"There's been a million before me, that ultra kind of love you never walk away from."

Patrick stops. He wants to hear Pete sing the last part himself.

"You're just the last of the real ones."

~~~

Pete taps his pencil on the desk in the same tune from last night. While Patrick didn't have any musical instruments, he had a small beat in his voice that Pete could hear. Before Pete came for detention, he tuned his guitar to start playing the tune. It is nailed into his head. He can't get it out.