Young Volcanoes

~Chapter Nineteen~

(MASSIVE A/N THING): I just wanted to say that Pete's Mom and Dad have no idea that any of this is happening. They only know that Patrick and Pete are dating. Patrick's Mom knows about the whole Ryan hating on Patrick/Pete thing for no apparent reason at all, but she does not however know that Patrick was sexually harassed etc by Ryan. There will be alot more of Patrick's Mom involved near the end of this fic. Also, i've never mentioned that i have three whole books planned for this fic, did i? Well, each book title sort of resembles the storyline... book two will be named Death Valley, that is, if i never get bored of this fic, and the third shall be called The Kids Aren't Alright. AmieMcCann is my sunshine, touch her and i kill you. (Joking... kinda.) Also shoutout to lily_is_a_little_emo
THIS CHAPTER WOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED WITHOUT THEM PROBABLY BECAUSE I WAS GETTING REALLY BORED OF THIS FIC BUT HERE WE GOOOOOO

I had no idea where i was going. And it didn't matter. It wasn't like i drove myself to the hospital a week ago. Brendon had been driving that night, and thank god that neither of us had been seriously injured. It was his Mercedes Benz that took majority the hit for us. Like Brendon had said earlier when he'd gotten a nurse to pass a note for me; "better the car than either one of us."
That comment made me laugh, sort of. To a certain degree, atleast.
I was beggining to get a little worried about Brendon, but when i recieved that note in his messy scrawl, i knew he was alright. He just said that he had a few cuts and a sprained wrist. That Dallon was really upset and blaming himself for everything. Just being Dallon, i guess. Like an overprotective Dad.
I found myself walking a lonely road, my hospital gowns catching the light and burning my back. I can't believe that they let me walk out in hospital gowns...but, then again, all my clothes that i had the crash in were covered in blood and puke. Eh. I prefer my hospital gowns.
I find myself subconciously walking my way towards a familiar location; sudden flashbacks fill my mind. Myself and Patrick's first, real, declared date, first proper kiss, the time we spent in Julie's restaraunt. Julie... i haven't talked to her in weeks. What will she say if i just stroll in, hospital gowns and all, white wristbands circling my forearm.
I'm sort of chuckling lowly to myself; Julie is so unpredictable sometimes. I guess i'll just have to find out for myself.
I push the heavy wooden doors open to the 70's style classic American Diner. An old Elvis Presley song is playing. Hmh. Blue Suede Shoes. Nice choice. I look around, at the guitars, the bikes, the framed pictures... I pat the old, decaying, fraying leather on the old motorcycle; the whole thing was looking as new and as shiny as ever. Just finished polishing, i assume. I could hear Julie humming the song under breath, but she was nowhere in sight. In the kitchen, most likely.
There were no costumers; it was sunny, but there was a nasty breeze. Not the right day to go to the beach. It was probably just about closing time, too. It had taken me atleast an hour to walk here.
I creep up behind her, and pounce on her back as to make her jump.
"Ahhhhh! Who the everloving fuck is that?" She screamed, dropping the bowl she was rinsing, and spinning around in her work heels. Her hair was a different length this time, and it was dyed red, fading into a nice redish-brown. It suited her; but everything suited Julie in one way or another.
"Pete!" She screeched. "You're bloody lucky you didn't get assasinated via kitchen knife! What the bloody hell are you playing at, boy? Why are you wearing hospital robes?"
I sighed, and shook my head. "Long story. I'll get round to telling you one day."
Julie scoffed. "Alright, then, Petey... there's some of your spare clothes in the back there, you can go and check if they still fit you." She said, waving me off.
I grinned and gave her a big hug. "Can i get a milkshake?" I whisper, cheekily.
"Of course, hun. Just not in your bare arse." What a fucking savage. "No more air fender's for you." I mumble, walking out of the room with a small smile on my face.
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"So, how are you doing, hun? How's Patrick?" Julie questions. I slurp away at my banana milkshake, my jeans a little tight, my shirt sleeves about an inch too short.
"I'm grand. Patrick's grand." I lie. She would never let me leave if she knew. And i can't stick around here all day, can i?
"That's nice, dear. Closing time's in 20 minutes, drink up whilst i clean. Feel free to put on some of your tunes." She said. "Er- Thanks, Julie. But i really better get going." I reply, handing her over the dirty glass.
"Oh, bye, dear. Straight home, mind you, it's getting late, i don't want you getting hurt. And, Pete? Visit more often, dear. I miss your company." I smile lightly, and hug her goodbye.
And, with that, leaving the joint with any dignity i have left, i walked away. Without looking back.
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I found myself, in the mud, in the rain, covered in grass. I didn't know where i was, let alone who i was.
And then i remembered. It all came flooding back to me. Like a tsunami of bad memories. Of good ones, too. I found myself indulged in them, engraved in them, like i could never escape them. And down i went, falling onto the wet floor, sobbing, in exactly the same place as i had a week prior, when i heard those noises coming from the music room.