Bullied [Peterick]

5

~Patrick's POV~

Mr. Wentz owned a small house a few miles away from the school. Its exterior was light grey. The heavy oak door swayed open easily without a squeak from the hinges.

"Come on in!" Mr. Wentz motioned to the front door with extended arms the way that they did in the movies.

"Thanks, Mr. Wentz," I said while taking in my surroundings.

Smiling, Mr. Wentz said, "Out of school, I'm Pete." I only nodded. There was something different about calling him Pete. I think it's a respect thing.

As soon as I stepped through the door, a friendly, light-hearted aroma welcomed me. A leather, chocolate-colored couch faced a medium-sized tv resting on a coffee table. A guitar amp rested next to the coffee table with the cord haphazardly tossed to the side.

"Okay, Pete," I smirked. For some reason, the way he said it was amusing to me. "So where is this whole music thing going to take place?" I was genuinely curious.

Pete grinned knowingly. "Let me just go grab some stuff from the basement. I'll be right back!"

With Pete gone, I had a full range of the living room. I looked around for a bit before my eyes landed on a stack of CDs. I decided to look through them. There was Metallica, Bon Jovi, AC/DC, The Misfits, Guns 'n' Roses, and even Michael Jackson. Once he came back into the room and saw me digging through the albums, I only smiled and said, "I'm impressed. You have a halfway decent music taste!"

He shrugged with a small chortle. "I try." I fixed up the CD collection and sat back down on the sofa with the help of a small jump to get me there. I giggled at my own childishness.

Pete pulled out his black and red bass. I marveled at the bass while he hooked it up to the amp pulled out from under the coffee table. He leaned it against the wall gently and disappeared for a moment. He came back with an acoustic guitar and handed it to me.

Pete also gave me a notebook. "So I have some lyrics in there that I worked on a little after you played me your song. It's the loose paper in the front," he explained

I pulled out a sheet of paper with Grand Theft Autumn sloppily written on the top. I read it out loud. "Where is your boy tonight? I hope he is a gentleman." I paused and looked up at Pete with a smile. I continued. "Maybe he won't find out what I know. You were the last good thing about this part of town."

Pete cut me off. "So after that part, I figured you could start with the guitars and then keep going with the rest of the music. Make sense?" I nodded and began to strum a few chords on the acoustic in my lap.

I sang the beginning to myself before playing the start of the song. I followed the lyrics on the page and made some altercations as my eyes scanned down the sheet. Pete eventually joined in with his bass once I played through the song enough for him to figure out where it was going.

You need him
I could be him
I could be an accident but I'm still tryin'
And that's more than I can say for him

I caught him watching me a couple of times, but anytime I would make eye contact, Pete would duck his head and blush a little. I had to admit, it was pretty cute. I know I shouldn't feel the way I do, trust me I've tried my best to avoid my feelings and to push them away, but it's nearly impossible.

That night, we ended up finishing the song. The final title ended up being Grand Theft Autumn/Where Is Your Boy. It's a pretty long title but it didn't bother me because Patrick and I collaborated on it.

"I want to show you something," Pete said. He led me to the basement by the hand. He excitedly opened a door at the bottom of the stairs and waited for my reaction. My jaw dropped. It was a small recording studio decked out with a few guitars hanging on the walls and a microphone behind a glass panel. A drum kit was set up in the corner behind the glass with a microphone bent over it.

"Woah," I marveled, looking around. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you have this in your basement?"

Pete only laughed. "If you must know, I was in a band in high school and throughout college. It was called Arma Angelus and the bassist thought we could make it big if we recorded an album or an EP. Obviously, it didn't work out but I kept the studio because I've always been interested in music. You're welcome to use it whenever you want to." I noticed a bass guitar hanging on the wall just like the red one he left upstairs. The only difference between the one he played and the one on the wall was the color. The one on the wall was purple.

"You weren't the bassist?" I asked.

"Uh, I was actually the vocalist," Pete smirked. "It was a metal band and I was destroying my voice. I picked up the bass instead so I could keep playing music."

"Maybe I could come down here sometime and record the song for real? Make it an actual demo?" I looked up at him filled with hope. Music has been my passion for a super young age. I don't want to end up giving it up without even trying to make it in the music scene.

"Of course! Anytime you want to!"