Joe, Andy, and Patrick were probably the closest three friends could get. They did everything together. Including live together since Patrick was about sixteen.
It wasn't like he moved in all officially, Joe and Andy had a place together that they paid for with all their shitty part time jobs, and Patrick stayed over so often that they just got him his own bed.
In any case, they were all hanging out in the living room of their place, playing Mario Kart as per usual.
Joe spoke up, interrupting the strewn yelps of 'OH MY GOD!' and 'BABY PEACH I SWEAR TO CHRIST'.
"Hey guys?" he asked, waiting for them to answer. No one did, all focused on getting past the finish line, thrashing the controllers around in their hands.
"Have you ever wanted to like, start a band or something? Be a rock star and shit?" he continued, cussing loudly when hit with a blue shell, sending him hurdling into 7th place.
Patrick furrowed his brow, and Andy replied a simple "Yeah, sorta. Why?"
Joe shrugged. "I don't know I just- do you guys think Mario Kart is all there is to do with life?"
Patrick frowned even harder, pausing the game and looking over at Joe like he just started yodeling.
"What?"
"Well you know- like this is all we do. I work at a friggin' K-Mart."
Andy sighed, and turned to the afro-d man as well. "What?" he mimicked.
Joe shrugged again, harder, almost defensively. "Well like- I know this guy, he's been in a shit load of bands. And we can all play shit, right? Andy, you got your drumming shit, right? I can play guitar, Patrick can sing,"
"I can play, too Joe."
"Yeah, yeah. I just mean- we could do that, right?"
Andy and Patrick looked at each other questioning, and after a moment or two, they both shrugged, unsure but willing.
"That could be fun." Patrick admitted, nodding.
Joe smiled. "I'll call the bass dude. We can meet him and maybe make this a thing," he confirmed with a proud grin, getting up to call the 'new guy.'
By the way Joe described him, he sounded like an utter asshole. All moody and deep and shit? And what kind of name was 'Pete' anyways? What a tool.
But then again, Patrick had no place to judge. He had to keep reminding himself that, he sounds like his mom, Jesus.
The day rolled around to meet the bassist. Andy and Joe had moved out almost all the furniture and random shit from the garage, putting in Andy's shitty drum kit and some microphone stands and speakers Joe got off of eBay, but it somehow looked right, and Patrick was beginning to like the idea of being in a band with his best friends. He tried not to worry himself with the legistics of it yet.
Patrick assumed it was Pete banging on the door, and because no one was answering, Patrick did.
He opened the door to a tall, dark hair and eyed man. Clearly older than Patrick, a dark stubble covering his structured jaw, and dark eyeliner on his water line. His lips looked chapped, and his skin looked rough but clean. He wore only black, his bleached hair cut short and stuck up in the front. It was an understatement to say he was good looking, and Patrick soon found himself blushing.
And Pete was met with a sight just as good.
A young, small boy. Soft at the edges and gorgeous, straw berry blonde bangs covering his ghostly pale skin. Bright blue eyes looking up at him, wide and innocent, and his slightly agape mouth, bright pink, wet, soft looking lips with the color red practically seeping out of them from the inside. Pete eyed the rest of his body; inviting and warm looking, soft and huggable, a pastel blue sweater and black skinny jeans, his black fedora matching the get up. There were no other words to describe him other than perfect.
And they both stared for a long, long time.
