Dying to Tell

I walked up to the door and knocked. A ginger woman answered the door. "Hello. May I help you?"

"Yes. Is Patrick here?" I asked. She smiled brightly.

"He's up in his room. Second door on the left. Probably asleep but you can wake him if it's important." She stepped aside to let me in. Closing the door, she pointed to her left. "The stairs are just around the corner."

I nodded and thanked her before going up. I got to the door and knocked. After awhile, I turned the knob quietly and opened the door. The first thing I noticed were the walls. under all the posters, you could see faint hints of red. The next things were all the clothes scattered in every single nook and cranny, the small bed which held a sleeping Patrick, and Patrick of course. I was making my way over to him when I tripped on something. What I thought was a shirt turned out to be a notebook labeled Lyrics. I know I shouldn't have but I opened it up and looked. Some pages were blank, others were dated and written on. I got to a certain one in the the middle that was dated today. Only a few lines were there.

I just wanna sing a song with you
I just want to take it off of you
Cause blue eyes
You are all that I need

It was cute and corny. Something I didn't expect Patrick to write. I put the notebook back on the floor and got up. Patrick stirred but he was still asleep. I smiled at how innocent he looked. "Patrick," I cooed as I shook him. "Come on, get up."

He groaned and turned towards me. When he caught a glimpse of me, he jumped. "Joe? What are you doing here?"

"I don't know what I'm doing here. Give me something to do here, Patrick." Suddenly, my mind was filled with thoughts of things I wanted to do there. I just pushed them away and did as Patrick said.

&&

"My dad said he would do this with me over the weekends. That was about six or seven months ago, though. I haven't been able to find anyone willing to help. That was kind of obvious in the beginning. I'm basically the only one who will benefit from it. Thanks man." We were both standing on ladders on either side of his window, smashing into the wall under neath. We're going to make him a balcony/ladder to his roof.

"No problem. But just so you know, you owe me."

He laughed. "I've been thinking about that this whole time. Could you get me some wood, nails, the sand paper, and a hammer?" I nodded and headed back down to get it. "So," he yelled from his stooped position. "Tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know? I'm Jewish, I love broccoli, and I just moved here two months ago," I told him while handing him the sand paper.

"Favorite food?" he asked before smoothing away the rough edges we'd smashed in.

"Old fashioned cheeseburger."

"Where'd you live before? A nail, please."

"Upstate New York, then Wisconsin."

"Thanks. Are you straight?" My eyes widen and I almost dropped everything. I was like a fish out of water. He saw my expression and thought it best to explain. "I need to know these things. You came into my room unattended while I was sleeping. You could have done things."

I hope he doesn't think I... whoa. "Yeah, I am. And yourself?"

He laughed as he grabbed a piece of wood. "I'm straight."

I don't know why, but I felt disappointed. Again, I pushed those thoughts away and did what Patrick said.