patrick.
Things like this never happened on the West Coast, at least he never saw anything like it. Patrick always loved singing, and his parents made sure to train him how to read music at a young age, but it was always underappreciated by that society. He could feel somewhat of a connection with the random crowds hustling past him, and even more so with the young man sitting next to him.
Patrick smiled as the stranger rolled into the last bars of the song, making the musicality of his instrument look all too easy. Their voices complimented each other well, and he couldn’t be more satisfied with their little impromptu performance. As the tune dissipated, and several people clapped, Patrick noticed that a few were recording on their phones. The clip was sure to end up on social media later. He shrugged it off, and turned to face this mystery man. “You, sir, are very talented. Excellent song choice.” He smiled charmingly and offered his hand. “Patrick Murray. Pleasure to sing with you.”
Blaine couldn’t stop himself from belting out the notes with a never ending smile as Patrick sang with him. The sheer joy of having a duet partner that wasn’t a bar full of drunk tourists and locals sloshing the words around–albeit so carefree and happy that their smiles just like the people around them today were contagious and their enjoyment was his life’s blood even if theirs had an alcohol level well over 1.0–made the singer bounce a little more joyfully on the bench. His slight frame jarred as he hit the keys like they were as easy as breathing. He plays this song on request almost nightly. Never once has it gotten old.
When they were done–Blaine offered their audience a shy, appreciative bow of his head that let him hide behind some curls that fell to dangle near his left eye and lifted his hand to twitch his fingers in a wave. Once they started milling away–those brightly shining eyes underneath long, thick lashes darted right towards Patrick. His face was flushed, his grin so big it pinched his eyelids together at their corners. “I–ah–,” his nose scrunched like he was in excited, happy bewilderment. Not only for the man suddenly joining him but for the compliments he dished out, “Thanks! You were pretty great yourself.”
Blaine returned Patrick’s smile and slid his hand into the other man’s giving it a light squeeze and gentle shake, “Blaine Anderson. And trust me? The pleasure was all mine. Your voice is amazing.” There was nothing but honesty in Blaine’s tone. None of it was a polite lip service type reply to a compliment someone might feel they had to giveback. Just honest truth.
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