so then it feels like i swallowed my tongue.


(no subject)
shikkyakuha
Title: Overall title: Sophomore Slump 
Patrick POV: The World's Not Waiting
Pete POV: Sign Language
Author:
Shikkyakuha
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Eventual Pete/Patrick
POV: Switches between 3rd Pete and Patrick, the titles each chapter will tell
Summary:
Patrick
:Being a sophomore who seems to waste so much of his time, worrying about things that don't matter and distracting himself from the things that do, Patrick is stuck on repeat, wasting time. Slowly comming to the conclusion that he's being left behind, and the world's not waiting. Well this is the new year, and he's determined things will have to change...eventually.
Pete:"Why couldn't he read the signs, it was all over my face, it was all shiny and running down my neck and pooling in my armpits, the freaking effort I was putting into trying to explain why couldn't anyone read sign language these days"
Disclaimer: Not real, attempting to be realistic



Sign Language 3


"Hey! Over here!" Across the courtyard and there was Patrick waving frantically, like I'd forget about sitting next to him. His lunchbox and books were all open and set out, sandwich was already half eaten and he kept on waving with a smile all over his face just like the day before, and the day before that one, and the one before that –all week really.

I couldn't help but blush and wave back, only to stop his ruckus of course.
I tripped on the uneven (flat) pavement but Patrick didn't seem to notice, he was shifting all his things over to make room for me in our reserved patch of sun. It was already routine, I take a seat and he offers me the second cookie his mom must pack just for me, nibbling on the chocolate bits and sharing math notes, history papers, movie quotes.


We (he) just talks and talks. Flits from subject to subject, like he can't settle for just one topic to talk about, he can't get comfortable and he fiddles and bounces his legs up and down and bites his lip, his tongue racing his brain.

Really, I try to keep up, but usually I lose interest and just focus on the cookies and math. I like that he smiles though, like he knows that I'm not entirely listening, but I'm spending time with him, and I smile too because he knows that I'm not talking, but I'm still contributing, nods, shakes, yesterday he made me laugh.  

"And in the end, when Schoeffling –what a fucking weird name, how do you pronounce that shoe-filling? No no no. Are you smiling, ha! Pete, you're eyes are totally crinkled up! Well in the end when he's leaning in, and he's getting the fucking cake all over his pants –Why're you laughing? Well, how do you think you'd say it? Like, chauffer-ling? Shuffling? Lie that? Oh fuck off Pete.  My point is, um well. Oh yeah! Getting the cake all over his legs, just for that small stupid kiss it's like, what's the cake there for? A little less sixteen candles a little more touch me I think. Yeah! Are you gonna eat that seeing that you're so busy rolling on the floor Pete?"



--------------



"G-guitar" I mumbled, crossing out another sentence on his English paper, what is with this kid and overstating the obvious? Yes, the marker knows that a main theme and even if they hadn't they sure do now, extensively, your last two paragraphs were entirely dedicated to it.

"P-Patrick?" he leaned over me to see his paper, covered in my red ink scrawl,"Y-you're uh um, a-a bit um-"

"I'm a bit repetitive, aren't I?" I nodded "I'm pretty bad at English, I can never explain how the protagonist's relationship represents the main theme, hell, can't I just say 'he's a lonely fuck and needs to get the fuck over his issues'?  Why is everyone so focused on the protagonists flaws anyway? He doesn't hurt anyone, is that what the author's telling us? That wrongness isn't to be criticised, but supposed to test us and highlight how accepting we are as members of society?"I shook my head, and he said he wasn't good at English,

"Y-yeah, why d-d-didn't you um, write, th-that?"

He shrugged, "The teacher rathers this, and I didn't really think about the book that way until I started talking, thanks pete" he smiled and took a bite out of his sandwich, peanut butter it looked like today, I wonder if it got caught in his teeth like it usually does in mine.



"So you play the guitar Pete?" I nodded "I play guitar too, and drums, like my dad, and my dad's dad. What about your dad Pete?

What about my dad? He's nice I guess, supportive, he sometimes leaves notes for me on the fridge.

"Pete? Do you prefer silver plated nickel strings or-" I shook my head, "B-bass"

"Oh um, then uh, how about um, what about your mum Pete? What's she like?"

She's nice too I suppose, "N-nice" I answered, ripping the crusts off my sandwich. She leaves frozen meals in the back fridge for me, lets me know she's going to be out of town for a few days, sends postcards, gets me t-shirts from her business trips.  I never wear them.

"She's nice? Huh, do you guys not talk much?" I raised my eyebrow, talk? I don't talk much to anybody, this is the most I've spoken all week, and Patrick knows it, I know what he means too though.

"No, n-not much." Patrick nodded and offered me his cookie and launched into another one-sided conversation about copper bass strings, I nibbled on one of the huge chocolate chips and kept on crossing out sentences on his English essay. Unnecessary, unnecessary, unnecessary, he had terrible spelling too.  

"Pete? Cheese Pete? Don't you get sick of it after a while? You have it every day. Your parents work a lot huh, am I right? Can't you cook?" he was getting into a dangerous topic, I didn't want to talk about this, no I can't cook, yes they're out a lot, yes, I fucking hate cheese, no I haven't gone out grocery shopping in a while, can I please have another fucking cookie?

"Gosh pete, don't need to scowl so hard, I got it, sorry man, so, you play bass? Just bass, of course not just bass, acoustic too right?"

"Y-yeah." Okay, forgiven, forgotten too if I can have the last cookie, eyeing it off.

"-I play mostly covers and-oh hell Pete, just take the cookie. But they have so many bloody bar chords, hey man if you have your science questions here, I'll go over them for you" I handed him my book, "I love Jackson five but you can't tell anyone, my sister's still laughing, hey man, you got the seventh question wrong, do you have any brothers and sisters?"



You know in Alice and Wonderland, when the mad hatter takes the rabbit's clock and tried to fix it by shoving all the condiments inside, slapping on the butter and jamming in other ridiculous things (but not mustard, because 'that's just silly') the he finishes it off with a pile of sugar and slams it shut? That's how I kind of feel, I feel like the clock and Patricks cramming in as much sugar an fucked up shit into my head all at once, but if he stops and closes it, I'll spaz out.

Having three conversations at once without any time to answer, but it sort of feel like this way, we're sort of getting to know each other three times as faster, right? I still feel like Patricks piling sugar onto my brain and slathering of jam, not that he's trying o fix me, I'm just concerned he's not really focused, he's just jabbering on.

"-you got the twelfth question wrong too Pete, something wrong? You're usually good at chem., are you an only child Pete? You better study up, the test is next week. Do we have math next? I fixed the questions for you, um, Pete? Do you maybe want to, um, no never mind. "



We stood up and wiped the dread grass of out pants, trading books and pens over, I flipped through my science, shit, I really did need to study.

"L-later 'trick"

"Oh! Yeah, um, bye Pete! He tripped over the raised pavement and scurried off". I shook my head and chuckled, not my ideal friend but I couldn't really pick and choose right? I shoved my notes into my bag and headed towards the English block, save me.


--------------


The thing I'd expected about my literature appreciation class was that I thought it was going to be awesome. You know, with my whole dependency on (ab)using the written word, sounded pretty perfect. But the thing about the class is that its mainly discussion, which is a little frustrating for me, because I can't really talk like these kids can, the talk like Patrick the only difference being they have a basic grounds  to their rants, however the imagery is pretty similar.  

They just talk talk talk about characters and themes and all the insinuated subtle (there's nothing there lady) messages the author put in especially for you to observe and run with to the ends of the fucking earth.

It's not that I hate this subject, I don't like my class but that's irrelevant, I guess I had high expectations, new Year, new classes, new fucking me, I guess I don't like everything as much as I would, I thought everything was going to be different this year, well, it kind of is, I've got Patrick haven't I? But he's kind of weird –oh shit, focus Pete.

"Does the protagonist act this way because of his unpleasant nature, or was it a self taught disability? Is his handicap a result of society's' mistreating or simply the effect of his default negative thinking?"



Did she just say the same thing twice, or am I going loopy? Did she just repeat herself or has my little quirk developed into something much more significant? Fuck, where the hell is the bell?

Oh sweet chiming, please ring out before I have to hear another pretentious bookworm "Highlight the author's motive for (insert bullshit here)". I swear that they make the last lesson longer, not a lot, just a few more minutes than the rest of the periods, just to make me sweat. Ohthankgodthereitis.

I kind of stood up too fast and knocked my chair into the wall behind me, don't care, going to keep on going, ramming my books into my bag, clicking my headphones into my walkman whilst jogging towards the door,  it was expected that someone as going to get hurt.



"Aw man, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there." I looked up from the mess of my books spread across the floor to see a mop of curly hair bobbing to collect my pens that'd scattered when I'd dropped my bag. I shook my head but he didn't see, I joined him in quickly gathering all my books into a messy pile in the bustling hall as quickly as possible. I just wanted to get home and go ever crap of homework I had left and listen to the new album Patrick gave me.

"Hey man, I've seen you before man." Did he say man twice in one sentence, whatever, I reached for my law studies text book, "yeah man, I know you, you're buddies with the hat guy aren't you? I've seen you at lunch." Hat guy? Was he talking about Patrick –well obviously, he does wear a lot of hats?

"No, that's mine" I took the comic out of his hands, it was the new edition and I only took it out of the house to read it in the bus and, and did I just not stutter? Weird…

"Aha! He speaks, yet only to protect his precious comic book" he smirked, "I'm pretty jealous man, I mean, that's the latest edition right?  Good man, you've got a best friend who can wear hats, he patted the fuzz covering his head, and you loyally protect your comics from the evil clutches from a fellow Spiderman fan." Best friend? was he talking about Patrick? 'Hat guy'?

"Hmmm," he stroked his nonexistent beard, "what's your opinion of The Ramones?" I grinned "Aw man! Dude!" he gathered up the rest of my books and I crammed them into my bag. "Alright then, next question,"  we both stood up and started walking towards the school gates, "have you, in your possession, the next volume of The Punisher?" We fell into step together.

"Y-you know it" the guy with the 'fro punched the air and put his arms around my shoulder.

"Wellp Shorty, this is the beginning, of a beautiful relationship." ....I'm not that short.

Sophomore Slump: The World's not Waiting 2
shikkyakuha

Title: Overall title: Sophomore Slump
          Patrick POV: The World's Not Waiting
          Pete POV: Sign Language
Author: Shikkyakuha
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Eventual Pete/Patrick
POV: Switches between 3rd Pete and Patrick, the titles each chapter will tell
Summary:
Patrick:
Being a sophomore who seems to waste so much of his time, worrying about things that don't matter and distracting himself from the things that do, Patrick is stuck on repeat, wasting time. Slowly comming to the conclusion that he's being left behind, and the world's not waiting. Well this is the new year, and he's determined things will have to change...eventually.
Pete:
"
Why couldn’t he read the signs? it was all over my face, it was all shiny and running down my neck and pooling in my armpits, the freaking effort I was putting into trying to explain. Why can’t anyone read sign language these days?"
Disclaimer: Not real, attempting to be realistic


The World's Not Waiting 2

Patrick, say hello. Do it, do it now. It’s been four seconds already and you can’t just stand in front of another guy ten seconds gaping like a fish.
 Is that a fish sandwich? Ew, maybe I should sit somewhere else, but you decided to sit with this one Patrick, look at him, nice hair and you saw his notes, it has to be him. Say “Hello what are you eating?” no, no don’t say that say “hello, may I sit here?” no no not that either say, say -oh fucking hell Patrick just say anything.

  Just don’t wrinkle your nose if it does end up being a fish sandwich, even if his breathe smells bad because you’ll have to be grateful if he even lets you sit next to him. He probably will, he’s just as unpopular as you and its only two weeks into school. Fish sandwiches? Really? No wonder he hasn’t got any friends. Patrick! No wonder you haven’t got any friends either, you’re mean to all the possibly nice ones. Shit, how long has it been? Um, oh no. maybe I should try again tomorrow? No, no now, do it now Patrick, wait no, um go, go now. Yeah! No! Why tuna? Why not cheese –it’s a little simple but it doesn’t smell, at least the sandwich type.
Talk Patrick.
Cheese is a completely acceptable sandwich filling, how can you like tuna fish and not cheese, maybe I should choose to sit next to someone else. Who? It has to be him, so do it Patrick.

 “Why’d you have to choose a fish sandwich?” Oh Patrick, you didn’t. Stop Patrick no, sto-“Why couldn’t it be cheese? Do you like cheese, cheese in sandwiches? Wait no, um” I fell down on the grass next to him with a small thud that forced the air out of my lungs, whether I’d sat down because all the blood had left all extremities to flood my face or I simply didn’t believe I could do that in front of another person didn’t matter, the only thing I decided to focus on is that I’d done it, -sort of.

 Today was Wednesday that meant after math it was lunch and then Law studies and after that was economics and then a bus to the train and then homework and then dinner and bed and trying to get to sleep but my brain not fucking shutting up.

 Wait, wait, math, math classes and then lunch, lunch break and that means, means. It means that I for those periods he also has math and lunch, with me, we have them together. The same math class, so that’s, that’s about a hundred minutes on a Wednesday I spend with the guy in front of me and an added fifty minutes for lunch, that’s two hours and thirty minutes I spend with just once certain person and well, that’s a good enough incentive to try and get to know a guy, right?

 He also has nice hair and immaculate not taking (not that it matters) and we sit in the same lunch area, that’s why it had to be him. We already have so much in common; just wait till we start talking.

-

 We’ll start talking soon, as soon as he stops chewing

 And I think of a subject

 Not math…Um.

 He swallowed

Um.

 Shit

 Think Patrick.

 “Is that fish?” Again with the fish Patrick? You could have talked about anything like math, no, not math but maybe um, maybe fish, no you’re talking about fish now, gah, fish ew, why fish? You tell me Patrick you’re the one talking about it. Why not music? Well, its fish now, go Patrick, fish.    
”Are you eating? Well of course you’re eating, but is it fish? Its fish right? Tuna? Are you eating a tuna fish?”Just keep digging that hole Patrick
“A tuna sandwich? Is that what you’re eating? Um, not that there’s anything wrong with tuna fish” nice save there, you moron.

 You can restart this entire conversation Patrick, review your subject choice

 It could be anything.  

“Have you got your math notes here? I didn’t understand part two a.”

 I give up; I’m just going to stop talking

 He didn’t say anything either, but he didn’t take another bite of the (fish) sandwich, he just kind of stared at me a while. I probably overwhelmed him. Idiot. Oh! Me, not him, I’m the idiot; he couldn’t possibly be an idiot. Probably not, who am I to say if he is, he seems cool, he’s got a Green day t-shirt on and everything.

 He swallowed again. Hard

 “Ve-uh-vegetari-tarian.” He mumbled and showed me the inside of his sandwich and it was in fact cheese. Which is a perfectly acceptable form of sandwich.

 “I’m Patrick, we have math together and that’s a hundred minutes on a wed-” he took my hand and shook it a little, which was more of a flap and squeeze, but I got it. He smiled so much his eyes crinkled up into small slits.

 “P-pete.”

 This is so cool.

 

 


Sophomore Slump: Sign Language 1
shikkyakuha
Title: Overall title: Sophomore Slump
          Patrick POV: The World's Not Waiting
          Pete POV: Sign Language
Author: Shikkyakuha
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Eventual Pete/Patrick
POV: Switches between 3rd Pete and Patrick, the titles each chapter will tell
Summary: Being a sophomore who seems to waste so much of his time, worrying about things that don't matter and distracting himself from the things that do, Patrick is stuck on repeat, wasting time. Slowly comming to the conclusion that he's being left behind, and the world's not waiting. Well this is the new year, and he's determined things will have to change...eventually.
Why couldn’t he read the signs? it was all over my face, it was all shiny and running down my neck and pooling in my armpits, the freaking effort I was putting into trying to explain. Why can’t anyone read sign language these days?
Disclaimer: Not real, attempting to be realistic


Sign Language 1



Sometimes I like to think I'm pretty good with words, they come easily. When I write it seems like it's just my hand using the pen to make little scrawled markings on the pages as I watch. That's only sometimes, and that means it hardly ever happens and that it never really that good.

I didn't say I didn't like it anyway.

No, yeah, so I like this anyway. It's not easy, it's actually kind of awkward and a little a lot off the mar. And I know I put too much effort into explanations, I have a crippling dependency on my thesaurus and I under punctuate and my spelling is terrible.
But what options do I really have? Sign language? I already mentioned my inability to spell. And I've got things that I can't keep to myself, and paper is a really good listener. If a little blank. (Ha-Ha)

I think some things just have to be written, because some things are too hard to say. And I'm really not that flash at speaking. Who's surprised? Socially awkward teen had difficulty with public speaking? Or any sort of speaking at all. Not me, that's for sure, in fact, I'm actually painfully aware of it, thanks.

I've always admired spontaneous wit, the ability to snap out a line so dry that it shocks and pleases an eager crowd all at once, if I'm able to stumble out a full sentence at all, I just leave anyone listening with plain shock.
I don't think I'm going to grace my classmates with that amount of charm and eloquence today though.

---

"W-well..." fuck. "I um, well" get on with it Pete.
The teacher was standing in front of me after moving from his place at the front of the class because he couldn't hear my stupid voice from the back row, he was leaning on my desk with this stupid look on his face. His nose was all scrunched up like he was about to sneeze and his mouth was holding back a lot of badly hidden impatience.

"Peter, if you didn't do the homework, just say so and allow me to continue with the class."
So I blushed, not because everyone in the class was looking, just the people who mattered, the people I the desks that surrounded mine, the friend opportunities I could see slipping out from the cracks between my fingers and leaning away from my desk like I smelt of something horrible. That was the humiliating part, because I could feel my homework weighing heavily in my bag hanging from my chair, I knew it had all the right answers because I'd checked them a dozen times but I couldn't move, Mr. Dres-something was giving me that look, that look that I was incapable, I couldn't, move under his look and I was sweating, while they gave me that look, stop it, stop looking at me.

"I-I uh, sir, b-but, s-s-sir" but sir, I did your freaking math assignment! I wanted to say, I had to say it, it was ready to be said, on the tip of my tongue.

Why couldn't he read the signs, it was all over my face, it was all shiny and running down my neck and pooling in my armpits, the freaking effort I was putting into trying to explain why couldn't anyone read sign language these days.

But he sighed, audibly, well of course, because I heard it but it was one of the overly audible sighs, over done and dramatic.  And kind of immature and annoying.

"After class Mr. Wentz."
And great, freaking detention. I hope nobody else saw that, first week of senior year and I'm still the nerdy kid at the back of the class. Woe is me scrap of paper at back of math book, woe is me.

Sophomore Slump: The World's not Waiting 1
shikkyakuha
Title: Overall title: Sophomore Slump
          Patrick POV: The World's Not Waiting
         Pete POV: Sign Language
Author: Shikkyakuha
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Eventual Pete/Patrick
POV: Switches between 3rd Pete and Patrick, the titles each chapter will tell
Summary: Being a sophomore who seems to waste so much of his time, worrying about things that don't matter and distracting himself from the things that do, Patrick is stuck on repeat, wasting time. Slowly comming to the conclusion that he's being left behind, and the world's not waiting. Well this is the new year, and he's determined things will have to change...eventually.
Disclaimer: Not real, attempting to be realistic


The World's Not Waiting 1

Patrick wasn't quite sure what to do in this class. He'd been taking it since the start of the year and had chosen it willingly, however gazing at the board blankly; he was still not entirely sure what the practical use of advanced mathematical methods was.

He'd answer politely if his parents asked about it, and it was an okay subject, his math classes were dull but challenging but much like every other subject he was taking for his second last year at school, Patrick felt indifferent toward it.
Usually, the 6 hours a week he spent in Mr. Dresden's class flew by if Patrick kept his head down and focused on the tasks.
Most of the time he didn't have much trouble concentrating on the algebraic formulas scratched onto the board, but today Patrick's head felt slow and clouded and he couldn't seem to even focus his eyesight to see the questions of the board.

Patrick jittered, he was a fidgeter, and it was a common habit for a person such as Patrick, someone who was easily bored.
Constantly and consistently, he took care of the patterns of the small swirls and taps of his fingers, maybe it was his fondness for drumming that caused his restlessness, but he knew it was something more, something set in his brain that made him feel better with every twitch.
Spinning his pen in two full circles and a half with every finger tap with his left hand, with every cycle of his hands his right foot would first touchdown with the ball of his foot and then his heel, causing his knee to lift up and down with every finger tap, this sequence would repeat for each of the eight fifty minute periods every single day.

He fiddled with anything he could get his hands on in the attempt to entertain himself: pens, pencils, guitar strings and hair, anything to distract him from school work.
Patrick blamed his thinning hair on himself; constantly tugging at his bangs, he suspected, may have actually caused some of the blonde strands to simply, fall out.
It was an embarrassing feature on a sixteen year old boy such as himself, but usually hats covered his shame very easily and made his days a little less uncomfortable and minimised his awkwardness in public places.

Tap ball-tap heel, swirl. tap ball-tap heel, swirl. Tap, half swirl. Pause and repeat. Tap ball-tap heel, swirl, tap ball-tap heel, swirl, tap, half swirl.

------------------------------

Though I admit it, it's exhausting, my fingers cramp and I'm always only halfway to paying attention, worrying about timing and the patterns, it's always so close to falling apart.
But the consistent activity is usually comforting; it's something small that I can rely on. It's continuous and familiar and keeps everything together, like the taps keep my heart on time . He head thumps along with the beating too.
It's like, like it's a comforting distraction.

Tap ball-tap heel, swirl. tap ball-tap heel, swirl. Tap, half swirl. Pause and repeat. Tap ball-tap heel, swirl, tap ball-tap heel, swirl, tap, half swirl.

Pause. And repeat

Could I fast forward to the end of the class? Unlikely.
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