2. The Boat
It had been almost a year since Patrick had last seen the rest of the band. Of course, it had been difficult to cut ties with them, especially Pete, but it had to be done-everyone was progressively feeling the strain of keeping their mentality together. It was only Pete who'd fallen too far, too deep, and had the balls to face up to it-all of them respected him greatly for that.
Patrick paused to zipped up his jacket before putting his hands in his pockets and continuing on his journey to meet someone for lunch. It'd been getting colder and colder as it neared winter, colder than Patrick remembered it ever being. Spending more and more time away from the band had made him realise just how long he had spent with Pete, Andy and Joe creating music, talking and messing around-he had a lot more time on his hands nowadays.
Quickly sending a text to the guy he was meeting to say he was going to be there shortly, Patrick took a deep breath in and crossed the surprisingly calm street to the same cafe that him and Pete had met so many months beforehand. His thoughts crossed over from the band, to his soon to be completed solo project and then finally to the man he was meeting for lunch. Nervous didn't begin to describe what he felt; Patrick felt sick, excited, miserable. The cocktail of emotions were difficult to deal with all at once.
The Bluebird Cafe. Same place, same familiar sinking feeling, just a different time and person. Patrick paused as he placed a hand on the glass door. Without knowing what the next part of his life would entail, the only option he felt he could keep under control was to buy a boat. Live a part of his life on the open sea, having nothing to do with anyone, keeping to himself and writing songs for his solo project. Finally working up the courage to push open the door and glancing round to find the man he had spoken to, Patrick's eyes landed on the corner table of the cafe-it took him a moment to realise that someone was sitting at it and they were staring right back at him. Those eyes were a piercing blue, much different to the last pair of eyes that had stared at Patrick when he last visited the Bluebird.
Reluctantly walking over and sitting opposite the owner of Busy Boating, Patrick firmly shook his hand.
"Now, Mr Stump, I understand you wish to buy a boat of mine?"