Title: Overall title: Sophomore Slump
Patrick POV: The World's Not Waiting
Pete POV: Sign Language
Pairing: Eventual Pete/Patrick
POV: Switches between 3rd Pete and Patrick, the titles each chapter will tell
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.
"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.
"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.