Mr. Babydoll and the journals of his inner blizzard [peterick]

V

I took another look at the address.
It was pretty clear that this was the right house, but my anxiety didn't allow me to just go and press the doorbell.
Taking some deep breaths, I tried to calm myself down. Loud music was already throbbing from inside of the house, a little muffled because of the thick walls.

Micheal's brother didn't have such a bad taste in music to be honest. I made my way to the door, convinced that the music wouldn't be a problem. But assuming that other things would.

Someone opened right after the piercing sound of the bell had died out, much to my surprise because the music was really fucking loud.

The man standing in front of me had bright red hair, an opened leather jacket hanging loosely from his shoulders and ripped jeans, which were way too tight. He was leaning against the wall with a casual pose, chewing some chewing gum a bit too loudly. And this guy was supposed to be older than Micheal?
He looked like he had jumped right out of a Japanese comic book.

"Pete Wentz?" he asked, lifting his chin slightly. I nodded as a response, causing him to smile.
"Ah, You're the guy Mikey invited. Come in and make yourself a home, dude! I'm Gerard by the way."
He laughed at his last sentence.
"You know? Way. Because my last name... is Way. Ah, never mind." he chuckled awkwardly.
Gerard seemed like a nice person really. He had a strong New Jersey accent and a cute, heartwarming smile, which seemed to be a little crooked somehow.

The Way's mansion was pretty big and lots of people were dancing or just standing in the huge living room or outside on the balcony. Light purple strobe lights filled the scene and some people loudly sang along to the currently playing song. Their singing was kinda off probably because most of them were really damn drunk.
I'm gonna stick to non alcoholic drinks tonight. I'm not gonna deal with this.

"Wow, you actually came!" Micheal's voice came from behind. "I thought you'd just stay at home out of spite."

"For specific reasons, it's out of my interest to upset a costumer." I replied.
And he laughed again. He has a nice laugh, he always did. I caught myself missing the times when I had those thoughts without having to think twice. I shook my head. I wasn't looking around the room to see if Patrick was there.
I really wasn't.
God damnit.

"Patrick is here too." Micheal let me know. My heartbeat went faster, not knowing if it was out of nervousness or because of... something else.

God, I hated this.

I was going to pick up my cup of punch that I laid down somewhere on the table, but I left it when I saw something strange swimming inside it.
Not leaving your drinks alone at parties under any circumstances should've been saved in my head as "important rules for parties 101"
But of course it wasn't.

Suddenly, the volume of the music was turned down almost to the bottom and the rather unattractive sound of someone tapping against a microphone was echoing trough the house, catching everyone's attention.

"Hey you beautiful people! How are y'all doing on this fine nite?" Gerard exclaimed into the mic and everyone cheered.
"That's the spirit! We'll babies, it's time to finally give this party the final kick it deserves!"

More cheering was heard and two guys hurried on stage and reached for their instruments. Gerard spoke something into their direction and they nodded back in agreement. "Alright babies, here's me and my animal band. Give a great fucking roar for Ray and Frank. They bust their pretty asses across the country to play for just you!"
Again people were screaming and cheering and the two men on stage looked like proud school boys after a play.
"Anyway, here's Wonderwall."
People were cheering a fourth time and started singing along at the top of their lungs. I lurked around in the back of the giant room, finally deciding to take a stroll trough the garden. The giant glass door was slit open.

The moon viewed his face in the blue mirror of the big pool outside like narcissus. Maybe he would eventually fall into it as well and I would be in charge of fishing him out. I sat down on a slim garden chair.

I wasn't alone for long. Someone walked outside and lingered at the door for a while, watching the moon before they noticed me.
"Oh god, I'm sorry." Patrick let out. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to disturb."

"Disturb what?" I asked, smiling. "My overwhelming enjoyment? No worries, I've never felt more not-disturbed in my life."
Patrick took another chair and placed it next to me. He sighed as he sat down and I noticed a bottle of beer in his hand. "I've always hated this, I did since middle school." he admitted. "I'm just here because I promised Mikey to show up. He's the type of person you just can't reject."

"Yes, I'm aware of that fact." I said, gazing at the calm pool water. "I've known him since early school days. Image was really of great importance to him." Patrick gave me a weird look. "Really? I never got the impression that he was a particularly superficial."

"Oh he is." I assured him, burying my hands into the pockets of my jeans because I was getting cold. "But don't listen to me. Get your own impression. Lern to know him differently than I did. I wasn't that strong enough of a person."
Patrick nodded slowly as if he had to process this for a while and continued to drink from his beer.
When he was done, he pointed at the bottle and then into the direction of the mansion. I shook my head.
"I don't drink."

"Never?"

"Nope."

Patrick leaned back and nodded in approval. "Keep that habit." he said. "You don't know how many times I tried to quit."
I was surprised at that comment. He didn't strike me as the person to be an alcoholic. But what do "actual" alcoholics even look like? Perhaps he was exaggerating. He was perfect, I just knew it.
"I wouldn't be able to handle alcohol. I already have a screw loose." I mentioned.
Patrick laughed at that. "Oh Pete." he softly brushed my cheek with his index finger. "Don't always talk so ugly about yourself."

My blood vessels froze at the unexpected touch. I turned my head to look back at him and right into his starry night eyes.
Starry night. That's the name of the painting. I remembered. His pinkish lips were still forming a friendly smile and I swallowed down the urge to kiss them.
"Do you want to go home?" I asked him, lowering my voice as if the people inside even stood the chance to hear me trough that loud ass music.
Patrick's face lit up. "More than anything. I miss my fireplace already. But Mikey drove me here, I'll have to wait."

"I can drop you off at your house, if you like." I offered a little too eager. Patrick looked back at me. "You really don't have to do that...Besides, Mikey would be upset if he knew I left."

"I could tell him you were really drunk. He would believe me for sure."

Patrick gave me another smile, almost too small for my eyes to notice, but it's warmth reached my heart instantly. I knew it was a promise. I didn't know for what, but it was something.

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