I wasn’t sure why he’d invited me over. I hadn’t given it too much thought, actually. I was always making new friends at shows and hanging out with them so there’s really no reason why I would have. The only thing different about this was that Pan was different. He was much more introverted than the people I was normally around and I had a hunch that he didn’t open up to many people. I seemed to see a side of him that most people didn’t.
I guess that was probably because I was more similar to him than I was to my other friends. I didn’t really like being around so many people like Bobby did, but he was always encouraging me to join him with all of his friends. Of course, I wanted to be around Bobby, so I figured I had no choice. I’d never been much of a partier or anything like that; I just liked going to shows. But that was because I like music, not because I like socializing.
That wasn’t what really made Pan different anyway. It was the way he thought. He seemed to have a completely different way of looking at things than anyone I’d ever met. He hardly talked, but what he did say seemed to come from a completely different place from anyone else. He seemed to be living mentally in a parallel universe, only coming down to this one when he absolutely had to. But even then, he didn’t try to make much sense of himself.
And beyond that, he was the singer and guitarist for possibly my favorite band. His music seemed to encapsulate the entirety of his mood as a person, and somehow, mine as well. I’d never heard melodies so infectious, or words that I’d related to so much. It was almost unbelievable to me that I corresponded at all with one of the people behind the band’s brilliance. But I tried not to let that make our friendship weird.
Before, we’d only spoken at a couple of shows and through letters. My friend had given him my address after he realized that Pan and I both were looking for new pen pals. We talked about all sorts of things, but mostly dreams that we’d had and what we thought they meant. His dreams were endlessly complex and fascinating, which had in turn somehow made my own dreams become much more interesting. I reminded myself to thank him for that.
We lived fairly close to one another but I’d always been too afraid to ask him over. I knew that he and Bobby would probably be a clash of characters, and besides, I didn’t really think he even liked me enough to want to spend any time with me. But then that Thursday afternoon he gave me a call and asked if I’d like to come over for a while. I immediately accepted.
I’d driven from my house the few miles to his part of town. I’d never been down that particular street before and was surprised to find that the houses looked almost ancient, like nothing I’d ever seen before. They of course just added to Pan’s ever increasing mysteriousness, and I was quite excited to see what the insides of one of these things looked like.
When I went to the door of the address he’d given me, he answered the door. His figure towered over me, hunched and yet still much taller than my own. Bobby was a few inches taller than me, but he was skinnier than I was and the farthest thing from intimidating. That’s what Pan was – intimidatingly big. He was quite thin as well, but his shoulders and entire body were broad. I’d never realized the extent of his size until that day.
“Hello,” he said in his gentle tone.
I’d never heard someone scream as abrasively as he did in his songs, yet when he spoke he was completely soft spoken and his voice almost high pitched, which also contrasted completely with his size.
