Pete:
I didn't get nervous. Nervous wasn't a word in my vocabulary. No, I simply got...
Anxious.
Apprehensive.
Edgy.
But never nervous; nervous was something people who weren't in control of the situation got, and I was always in control... or I would make sure I was. I was definitely in control of the situation today - I had chosen everything: where we would meet, when we would meet and even how we would meet.
You see, I was meeting Them today, and it had to be perfect. They were pretty perfect to be honest. Even though I say They, I'm pretty sure They're of the female gender. Not only would almost no boys go for a book like Gray in the first place, but not many guys I know would describe people as "cute!!" or "pretty".
Well, except when describing Andy Biersack - then maybe I could tolerate it.
But yeah, I was finally meeting Them and this stupid class was not helping. Or maybe it was just the people I was stuck taking it with - Brendon, Gerard and I had somehow got it into our heads that music was going to be an easy A. We mainly just mucked about in one of the practice rooms: Gerard blasted out Beyoncé songs whilst Brendon did what he liked to call a 'sexy' dance and I sat in the corner messing around with a bass and thinking about committing genocide.
"How good does my butt look right now? Go on Pete, is it a ten? It's at least an 8.5, right? "
"Brendon. For the last time, I am not going to rate your ass on a scale of one to ten. It's just not a thing I do, sorry."
"Awe Pete, your such a killjoy sometimes. I'm sure Gee will be glad to rate my ass, right Ger-"
Gerard just stuck his middle finger up, which made Brendon go sulk in the corner. Thankfully the corner opposite to mine. I was not in the mood to put up with an attention-deprived Brendon Urie right now: that took just too much effort that I was not willing to give.
Of course, Brendon being Brendon, he was not going to be able to 'sulk' for more than two minutes at a time. "Hey, are you guys busy later? I was wondering if-"
"No."
Gerard and I shared that moment of holy-shit-we-just-did-that feeling when you say something in-sync before looking over at Brendon guiltily. As much as he was annoying, you couldn't but help to feel like you'd just told a kid Christmas was cancelled whenever you say no to Brendon Urie. Which was perhaps why he got so many girls to say yes to him - it certainly wasn't his benevolent attitude, that's for sure.
"Whyyyyyyyyyy?"
I waited for Gerard to speak first, but when he didn't I was left to think of an excuse, and quick.
"Um... my mum - she, she's got this... thing?"
"Thing?"
"Yes, thing. You know... the thing."
"Oooh. The thing."
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I decided to just go with it. Hopefully he didn't think the thing was too bad, but that's the kind of thing you never know with Brendon - he has a very over reactive imagination. By now I'm pretty sure he's high most of the time. If not, I would be seriously concerned for his mental health. In fact, I probably should be if he's on drugs most of the time... Eh.
"So what about you Gee-Bear?"
"First, don't call me that. It's fucking weird okay? Second, I have to teach this kid a lesson. Stupid shit with a weird-ass surname or something."
"Whatever you say, Gee-Bear."
Let's just say 'Gee-Bear' doesn't take shit, especially from Brendon Urie. The next half an hour or so consisted of 'Gee-Bear' threatening to shove a cymbal up Brendon's asshole, which was pretty amusing apart from the fact that having them sprint around a very small room trying to tear eachother apart was not the brightest idea.
Especially when Brendon ran into my chair, causing me to tip over with both the idiots landing on top of me. It was probably worse for Gerard though, because judging by Brendons sarcastic comments of "You can rate my butt perfectly from there!" I do not want to know where his face ended up.
--/-/-/--
As soon as the bell rang for the end of school, I bolted out of the practice room and practically ran back to my house.
Luckily my mum worked late on Friday's so I could get ready with no interruptions from her. It's not that I didn't love her, it's just that she can be a bit... overwhelming.
And I definitely did not want to be given any more reasons to be any more apprehensive. I quickly showered then styled my hair over in the typical fringe. After putting on the necessary amount of eyeliner (which was a lot), I started on what I was going to wear.
I pulled on insanely tight skinny jeans (which consisted mostly of swearing and wondering why I had jeans so tight they cut off my blood circulation). I just grabbed a random jumper out of my wardrobe because I was really running out of time now. I didn't want them to think I was always late, even if it's not far from the truth.
I had asked hem to meet me at this unknown little coffee shop, where not many people went. I really didn't want this to be ruined, it actually meant something to me for once. I grabbed my headphones and put them on, stuffed the keys in my pocket and practically ran out the door.
--/-/-/--
The coffee shop I had recommended was on the 8th floor of this multi-purpose building, which contained office sections as well as hang out places and a few small shops. The fact that that I couldn't feel my legs thank to these jeans (that may or may not be a rather vibrant shade of red) only added to my laziness and I walked over to the lift . What? I was not going to waste my time walking up eight flights of stairs.
When the lift finally arrived, I got in quickly and pressed the button for the eighth floor. Just as the mechanic doors started to slide together, a short body quickly pushed himself through the gap before looking up with wide eyes.
"That must be the most exercise I've ever seen you do, Stump. Surprised that you managed to fit in if I'm honest. "
He immediately started turning a bright shade of red (almost matching my jeans) and bit his lip. For once, I decided not to torment him too much - mainly due to anticipation - and tapped my foot impatiently as we eventually started moving up.
Patrick made a point not to look at me, but the whole masquerade ended when the lift came to a clanking stop. The machine jerked upwards, causing him to fall backwards into the wall and hit his head. He fell onto the ground, but grabbed his head and started muttering to himself which I took as a good sign - at least he wasn't dead.
The doors didn't open at first, and my tap of the button soon turned into a frantic repetitive attack on the 'open doors' symbol. A noise like static came through the little speaker located in the wall, and the next words practically turned my blood cold. "Due to engineering malfunctions, unfortunately this service will be held up for at least the next few hours. Please stay calm and use the call button for emergencies. Thank you."
I sunk to the ground opposite the groaning mess, and immediately started to concentrate on not letting anything get out of hand. I felt my chest tightening and breathing grow erratic, but I was determined not to let the panic overtake me. I clenched and unclenched my fists a few times, concentrating on the feeling of nails pushing into my skin rather than the overwhelming sense of dread.
"P-Pete, are you okay?"
My chest shook with a violent tremor as I attempted to calm down my breathing enough to be able to give coherent answer. Its just an elevator. It's not the end of the world.
"Pete?"
"What?" I didn't mean to get angry, it's just that my anxiety seemed to escape as a burst of energy. It was like a balloon, the agitation stretching it so thin that it eventually burst with a loud bang of irritation and an uncontrollable desire to lash out.
He backed up even more, his eyes growing wide as he realised he must of struck a nerve. I took a deep breath, then tried to explain myself.
"I'm sorry, it's-it's just that I'm not great with small spaces, okay? I'm really sorry I'm acting like this, I just can't handle them. It's the factor of being trapped among a spectrum of-"
"Its fine, I get it - you don't need to explain."
I buried my face into my knees, biting my lip so much I'm pretty sure I drew blood. A surge of momentum suddenly caused the lift to soar upwards, making my stomach flip and ensuring I had to bite back a sob. Before I knew it, I was silently sobbing into my knees, praying to a God I didn't believe in that it would be over soon. Where had the cool, contained version of me gone? I had no idea, but I needed him back.
I jumped slightly when a small hand landed on my shoulder, but when he tried to pull away after realising he had startled me, I grabbed on. I muttered a simple thank you into my jeans, and I'm not sure he understood me. But he didn't need to, it was a sort of silent and indefinite pact that neither of us needed to know too much - don't ask if you can't handle the answer after all.
--/-/-/--
I had eventually calmed down, though it had been at least an hour since we had first became jammed somewhere between the 6th and 7th floor. Patrick and I had started a somewhat civil conversation and that seemed like progress if anything. I didn't have the energy to think of ways to get to him - he actually wasn't that bad.
"So... does Ross have a weird obsession with milk or something? It's just that I never see him without it at lunch, it's slightly creepy."
Yeah, lack of conversation had led us to gossip that to put it simply, I really didn't care about. I barely talk to his friends, so why would I care?
"I don't know if I'm honest... its probably just his favourite or something, but who knows? It could be something like an insane fetish - you never know with Ryan."
I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, so I just gave out a nervous laugh and continued, "Hey, I need to call someone quickly. I just remembered them and they probably feel like I'm standing them up or something. Sorry." This was probably the politest I had ever been to him, let alone anyone recently. I was slipping.
I got out my phone, and went onto the familiar set of messages. The messages to Them. I would just text, but being over an hour late and apologising over text doesn't seem like the best first impression, does it? I steeled myself and pressed call. Who knew a voice could be both so scary and enlightening at the same time?
As soon as I pressed call, Thriller filled the small space. I slowly locked eyes with Patrick, then hung up. The song immediately ended, and all blush deserted his cheeks leaving him a scarily pale shade of white. Holding my breath, I pressed call again and sure enough Michael Jackson blasted into the tense silence.
"Oh my god."