#rosescut

    His breath pools in the air as he stops his car across the street from her house, lifting a hand to push back his hair, peer out the window, see if her parents are home. Well- of COURSE THEY ARE, but he knows that they don’t pay a ton of attention to her, so he figures that maybe the night will hide him WELL ENOUGH. Stepping out, he glances around one more time before jogging across the lawn & vaulting himself ( as quietly as possible ) up onto the roof of her garage, below her room. He leans up towards the window & knocks. It’s open slightly, so he calls inside in a whisper-yell.

        “ LIZ. PSST. HEY, LIZ. YOU OWE ME A HUG. ”

         a  shutter  snaps !  it  catches  his  attention,  makes  him  think  the  camera  by  his  side  has  somehow  gone  off  by  itself .  he  wonders  if  he’s  wasted  a little  bit  of  film  and  he’d  curse  under  his  breath  if  actually  did  so ...  but  before  he  can ,  he notices  another  in  the  distance ,  resembling  his  existence  with  a  camera  of  her  own .  of  course ,  he  wouldn’t  say  anything  if  he  wasn’t  curious ,  and  terribly  insecure .   ❝ hey ...  ❞  a  tentative  call ,  almost  softer  than  the  leaves  brushing  up  against  each  other  in  the  breeze .   ❝  did  you  just  take  a  picture  of  me ?  ❞

he’s lingering behind derry high school as if it isn’t any different than san clemente high school. as a general rule, no one’s around out here during lunch. he’s found somewhere to sit out of the way, where he won’t be disturbed. he rests his head against the wall behind him  and shuts his eyes, listening to nothing in particular for a moment. sometime, every so often, for a moment, some of this gets to him. the move. the fact that he genuinely can’t stand derry as a town, and that most of the people who live there seem to have the same opinion.

it’s quiet enough where footsteps are obvious, soft and then getting louder.

A stack of books are held firmly in his hands---his plan to just check them in and return home. . .but at the counter, he sees a familiar face, one that stops him dead in his tracks, his sea foam hues just staring at the female. Quickly his eyes shift to the floor as he walks a bit closer, setting the books down in front of Elizabeth. A library card is pulled from a handmade duct tape wallet before being placed on the stack. Patrick hopes she doesn’t TRULY notice him, he knew word would be getting around that he was back in town after a trip to the Asylum out of town. Henry was missing, his other FRIENDS dead---Patrick being LOST had been an understatement to say in the least.