Forever('Cause You're Gone) (1/4)
Title: Forever('Cause You're Gone) (1/4)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Summary: Hug
Disclaimer:It's pretty accurate historically, but most definitley did not happen.
Author Notes: This is definatley not the greatest thing out there. Concrit is apprecieated.
1. Hug
When Joe walked into Pete’s garage carrying his guitar and dragging a boy who didn’t look much older that himself, Pete wasn’t the least bit surprised. Arma had been looking for a new drummer for a few weeks, and Joe told Pete that this kid had mad skills. Pete wanted to see.
The boy, whose name Pete was too distracted by his notebook to retain at the time, had short, almost buzz-cut blonde hair, was relatively thin with slender arms and a tight tee shirt (Pete thinks it was a guys gone wild one, but he couldn’t quite remember) tight jeans, armband, and a studded belt. He screamed Chicago scene, but Pete wasn’t so sure. After all he looked barely sixteen, which, though it was older that Joe, was pretty damn young compared to Pete’s twenty-one, and, well, he was kind of pretty. Not that Pete really noticed that about boys, especially young ones.
“Pete, this is Patrick, and he can play like a motherfucker.” Joe looked at him, a mix between excited and hopeful that this was probably the last drummer that they’d have to audition. Pete nodded.
“Can you, now.” It wasn’t really a question, so Pete didn’t bother with inflection. He set the notebook down and stood up.
“Yeah, yeah. You wanna like, play?” Patrick motioned to Pete.
“Sure. Patrick, right?” Patrick nodded and Joe rocked on his heels, humming in anticipation.
“Okay. Uh, what do you know?”
“We could do ‘Through Being Cool’. He played that for me.” Joe suggested.
They played through the Saves the Day song and Patrick was immediately their new drummer. Pete was ecstatic. By the end of the day Pete decided he wanted to be friends, good friends, with the boy.
The day after the last show Arma Angelus played was the day when Pete first heard Patrick sing. Patrick was playfully harassing him over his singing skills.
“Pete, you know, singing isn’t just screaming, it’s controlled screaming.” Patrick gave Pete a snarky look.
“Yeah, well.” Pete rolled his eyes. “Mine is, like, controlled.”
“No, you’re all like, ‘ROAR’,” Patrick made a bear-like motion, “But it’s supposed to be like,” And he hit an A-note, “Like that.”
“Do that again.” Pete looked at him.
“What?”
“That thing, with your lungs and your face, retard.” Pete rolled his eyes again.
“Oh. Fuck. I don’t sing.” Patrick was still uncomfortable around Pete.
“But you just did.”
“Anyone could do that.” Patrick huffed a little. “Even Joe.”
“According to you, I can’t. Now, please, Patrick.”
Patrick sighed, and for some reason, agreed.
“Do you remember the time when you and I were fine, hiding under the apple tree there was no one but you and me,” Patrick started, then stopped. Pete was giving him a look. “I told you, I don’t sing.”
“Oh yes, Patrick. You do now.” Pete dragged him by the arm closer to him and gave him the hardest, biggest hug he’d ever received.
“We’re going to be best friends.” Pete sounded a little bit awed.
“Okay.” Patrick hugged him back, albeit nervously.
That was The first of a more that a million times that Pete hugged Patrick. But he would remember it forever.