𝐻𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑁 𝐺𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸 - 𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑘 ℎ𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟

03 ~ 𝑏𝑖𝑔𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛

𝐴/𝑁
𝑖 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑠  𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒 𝑢𝑝 𝑖𝑛  1987 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑛 89 𝑏𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡

carrie was never one to massively rebel against her parents. she had no reason too, it's not like they'd provide any sort of entertaining reaction and she never really had any friends to encourage her to sneak out or steal that bottle of vodka. so she just didn't.

however, tonight carrie was sneaking out. for the first time ever.

she felt a rush jump through her body at the thought and stared at herself in the mirror with a grin. slowly, she looked over her outfit, nodding her head in satisfaction. she'd taken quite a strong liking to the fishnets she donned on friday and was wearing them once again, this time with with a light blue summer dress speckled with black roses and layered over a mesh turtle neck. she felt badass. especially paired with her trusty black docs.

her hair was tied at the nape of her neck in a low ponytail and, already, green waves had begun to slip out. she knew the pony wouldn't last the night but she wasn't expecting it too. carrie was planning on dancing until she couldn't feel her feet because her favourite band was playing in a town not far from derry and she wouldn't miss it for the world.

she checked the clock on her bedside table and was satisfied that if she set off for the buss now she would make it just in time for the gig to start and wouldn't be out too long (even though she was sure her parents wouldn't even notice.) she finished tying her laces and stood up, still unable to wipe the excited smirk of her face. throwing her bag over her shoulder, she took one last look around the room before turning to the smiths poster on her wall. she winked at it.

"see you soon boys."

and with that, she plugged in her walkman, pressing play on 'the queen is dead' and set off for a bus to take her to the best night of her life.

meanwhile, patrick sat uncomfortably in the back of belch's trans AM, gangly legs pulled up almost to his chest; while henry, with an almost disgusting amount of detail, described kissing gretta keene to victor. patrick was very amused by the whole situation, especially since there's been multiple instances now where victor almost looked like he was going to throw up. he giggled to himself as the blonde boy went pale once again.

"oi belch!" patrick called foward, trying to stifle his laughter. "can you turn the music up or somet' victor's gonna spill his guts back here if he has to listen to henry any longer." he chuckles.

belch only nods in response and turns up the radio, the car being enveloped in the sound of the cure. henry scoffs and flips patrick off, but it's only met with an eye roll before patrick turns his attention to the window.

the gang sit in the car in silence for a while longer, the only sounds being the rumbling engine which can still be heard over the loud music and belch's occasional drumming on the steering wheel. patrick's mind wanders but never wanders far. he's not one to get distracted or daydream, he only focuses on the things he knows are real, so naturally, after he's bounced backwards and forwards between the usual, his mind wanders to carrie. he wonders where she is, what she's wearing. he wonders if she's made any progress yet, come any closer to discovering she's real. patrick concludes she probably hasn't, deciding she'll never be able to do it without his help.