Saturday // Peterick Oneshots

20. The Right Lines

So apparently this book has reached 2k. Thanks guys! Bookstore au, based on a prompt. FAD era.

He'd been coming in twice a week since February. Patrick didn't know him, not by name, but at this point he could've recognized the fringe and the eyeliner from a mile away. He usually came in on Tuesday and Friday afternoons, browsed for a while, picked up a book, and read it for as long as he could get away with. It annoyed his manager to high hell, but Patrick found it interesting. He tried to pay attention to the titles of the books anytime he was sent to tell the guy to buy something or leave.

So far, he's seen the guy reading short stories by Kurt Vonnegut, Edgar Allen Poe, and Roald Dahl. Patrick recognized the names from high school English, so those works were semi-familiar, but the books on philosophy and psychology the guy occasionally read were foreign land.

Patrick happened to be working again the next time the guy came in. He had just started his shift when he noticed the guy wearing eyeliner in the short story section, and his manager noticed soon after. "You mind telling that idiot to leave? This is a business, not a charity," he said. Patrick rolled his eyes as soon as he wasn't watching, then when over to where guyliner was staring.

The guy didn't notice him walk up, so Patrick made a point to clear his throat before speaking. "Sorry to bother you, but you come in a lot and never buy anything, and that's kind of not allowed."

The guy looked up then, revealing bright brown eyes Patrick hadn't been given the chance to notice before. "Oh, sorry. After no one kicked me out the first time I just assumed it was fine." He flashed Patrick a smile.

Patrick shrugged. "What the boss says, goes. Sorry again."

He was about to turn and go back to where he had been standing in the biography section when the guy spoke again. "I'm Pete, by the way."

Patrick looked back over his shoulder. "Um, Patrick."

"Nice to meet you, Patrick," he said, turning towards the door. "See you around."

The next week, he showed up again, this time smiling at Patrick as he walked by. Pete wound up in the short story section again. Patrick decided to take it upon himself to talk to him instead of waiting for his manager.

He leaned against the bookshelf next to Pete, trying to look casual as he watched him browse. When he finally spoke up, it was to comment on the book Pete had decided to pick up. "I've heard good things about that one."

Pete looked up, smiling slightly. "Yeah? What have you heard?"

Patrick looked back at the cover and tried to remember the specifics of what that customer had told him. "That Kelly Link is a good writer, and that the stories are really good for late nights when you're having an existential crisis."

"That's right up my alley," Pete said with a laugh. "I'll take it."

A few days later, when a collection by an author who was "as gothic as Poe" according to the quotes on the back, he bookmarked it in his mind to recommend to Pete.

One book turned into three, and three into ten. Patrick wasn't sure if it would seem weird to hand a person he barely knew a list of books to read, but he was always the person Pete would check out with, so maybe it wouldn't be a big deal. All he had to do was wait for Pete to come in again. So he wrote down the books and waited.

He hadn't accounted for nerves.

Pete came in the next Friday. He said hi to Patrick as he walked past the register, and Patrick took it as a good sign, but his hands shook when he thought about giving Pete the list.

Fuck it.

He walked up and cleared his throat. "Hey," he began eloquently, "I put together a list of books that came in that you might like."

Pete looked up at him, then down at the list, then beamed. "Seriously?"

Patrick nodded, holding out the sheet of paper.

Pete took it from him and looked at it for a minute. When he finished reading, he asked, "What are you doing after this? I'd love to buy you a drink as thanks."