you might be crazy. you eyes show it. wide and untrained, but alert in a way that would tell although you aren't quite thinking what everyone else is, you are thinking. you hands hold onto his zippo. something he rarely even lets out of his pocket. he's not sure how or why he gave it to you, but he doesn't regret it.

it just you both. and this shit ton of wood. the midday would normally scare of any other teens from doing the act you are about to, but not you two. it excites him, makes his blood run and warm with fear at the thought of being caught. you're about to light up a whole wood pile. which is normal, of course. but not the gasoline that leads from the pile to a few clothes you had stolen from clothes lines, and then the few cars bits. all leading to the main surprise.

a few big fireworks patrick had somehow came up with from his garage. gasoline dousing them.

"hurry it up, then." he urges, casting a glare that has no malice. you stand by the pile of wood, fiddling with the zippo ― attempting to turn it on. patrick can only roll his eyes, far too impatient to wait for you to figure the shit out.

with a bit of argument, patrick has managed to move your hands and fingers to correctly to it on. and now, you both hold the same, perhaps insane grin on your face. you glance back at him, and patrick can only scoff.

"well don't wait for me, do it!" he mutters, pointing at it with a 'hurry up" expression.