Patrick [On Hold]

The Night I Met Patrick

I got up today like usual. Ate breakfast. Went to work. Came home from work. And went to a bar with my buddies. Like usual.

"Hey, Pete!" Brendon called me over to the bar. "How's it been?"

I sighed. "Same."

He gave me a small look of pity. "So, nothing's changed?"

I knew what he meant. Apparently, I'm too fragile to hear the word depression. I just nodded and sat down next to him.

"Joe and Andy said they'll catch up with us in a few hours," he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Yeah?" I deadpanned.

"Dude, are you okay? Usually, you laugh at my gay jokes towards those two."

"I'm fine."

He went back to talking about our other friends. Brendon believes that Joe and Andy secretly have something for each other even though Joe has a girlfriend. After a few seconds, I drown him out of my head and just nod when he pauses.

Suddenly, he stopped and I only realized it after I got tired of nodding. I looked up at him.

"Dude.." He whined. "Have you taken your medication today?"

I bit my lip. Here it comes.

"Pete?" He nudged my shoulder.

"No."

"Why not? Dude, I hate seeing you like this."

I got up and left him there. He called after me but I kept walking. I didn't need to hear it from him. I've been hearing the same things from everyone. I went out to the alley behind the bar and took out my cigarettes.

I never used to smoke, but it calms down the numb feeling I always have.

"Those'll kill you someday."

At first, I thought I'd just thought it. But then I realized that there was someone actually talking to me.

"Good," I responded. "Maybe then I won't feel like shit."

The guy came out from his shadowy corner and gave a soft smile. "I know what you mean. Nicotine. Saves you from feeling but eventually stops it altogether."

I narrowed my eyes at him. He's pretty morbid. The guy was blonde, had glasses and was wearing a fedora. Seriously, who wears fedoras? Indiana Jones? He was also short.

"I'm Pete." I don't know why I told him, I just figured he might as well know my name.

"Patrick." He smiled.

"What you doing out here, Patrick?"

He shrugged, "I like to be in the audience but not a part of the crowd."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that I like to be alone in busy places. I get a little anxiety when I'm around people."

"I'm people."

"Somehow, you don't seem as threatening as everyone else."

"Eh, I get anxiety too. Usually just around strangers."

"I'm stranger." He paraphrased my reply.

"Yeah, you look strange." I laughed.

He blushed, "how so?"

"Well, for one, who wears fedoras?"

He adjusted his hat on his head. "I used to wear trucker caps but I decided to change my appearance. Fedoras look better than I Heart Bingo hats."

"Why wear a hat at all?"

"I don't like my hair." He giggled.

I shook my head at him. "I'm sure it looks fine."

He shrugged and took his phone out to see the time. "Oh, I should get going."

"Alright."

We both stayed where we were. After a few more seconds, we started to laugh.

"Can I have your number?" He asked.

"Sure."

He handed me his phone and I put my number into his contacts.

"I really should be going now. Bye Pete."

"Talk to you later, Patrick."

The door behind me opened and I turned to see a drunk Brendon walking towards me.

"What're you doing Pete?"

"Oh, I was just talking to.." I turned back to where Patrick was but he was gone. "No one..."

A/N
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