Chapter Text
The guitar buzzed beneath his fingers, the room was all dark with bright spotlights focused on them, they were the centre of attention. He’d forgotten his pick this time, he knew that his fingertips would be as red as the guitar by the time he was done, an anxious thrum ran beneath his skin. He could barely see the crowd, his vision obscured by the blur of the blue knit cap on his head, but he could smell the room, he could taste the tang of the metal strings on the notes that he pulled and skimmed across. The mustiness of the basement room mixed badly with the pit of sweaty, screaming teenagers. He could feel the energy coursing through his veins like shots of adrenaline, people shouting back words that he wrote like he was their god and they were just prophets spreading his word.
“Patrick!”
The set was over, he knew now that it was all gone, the energy and the heat from performing, the warmth that it gave him and how it made him feel like he was on cloud 9, it was such a contrast to what he was left with after, the heavy and weighted ache that would fill his chest like water, Patrick would say it almost felt like drowning but he had no experience with that so he couldn’t really compare the two. Patrick looks over at the source of the sound, he knows who it is before he even has to look though, he’d know that voice anywhere.
“Set’s over, time to pack it up.”
It’s Joe, Joe with the wispy curls and the pretty face, Joe that made him join the band and made him be able to feel this , the rush of adrenaline when he performs, the way that it leaves him lightheaded after, like the whole experience was surreal, the way that his throat feels raw after singing songs that he doesn’t believe in but hopes others might find meaning in. Joe that-
“Hey man, are you alright?”
The bitter tang in Patrick’s chest bites at his heart at the question. Joe’s giving Patrick a concerned look now, he can’t believe that he got stuck in his own head again and he was thinking about Joe. The question was simple enough but Patrick doesn’t like the way that the lie falls off his tongue so easily, so effortlessly, like all he was made to do was lie and to tell fallacies just to put other peoples’ minds at ease.
“Yeah sorry, just had to take a moment, it’s the post-concert rush you know?”
Patrick hopes Joe believes him with the way he nods back in understanding. Patrick slings the guitar strap off his neck and carries it by the neck to stand next to Joe. They walk back to the van side by side as if they’re tied together by strings, strings that won’t let them leave each other’s sides, strings that compel them to stay, strings that aren’t like the metal ones on the guitar but they’re soft and stitching their way in.
“Thanks for lending me the guitar man, I really appreciate it.” Patrick speaks and shows his widest grin to Joe at that moment because he really means what he says this time, it makes his stomach fill up with butterflies, like the great monarch ones that he use to stare at from the small windows of his room back in Chicago, when he thinks about how Joe trusted him enough to let him borrow it.
The moons on the neck of the guitar glinted when the sun peeked through the sky, it was overcast and covered in an angry grey.
“No problem dude, you know I wouldn’t do it for just anyone though.”
Joe turns his lips up at the corners, his lip ring going up with it, it was something so small that you’d miss it if you weren’t paying attention, Patrick watched the way Joe’s eyes softened under the sky. Joe wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t do it for “just anyone”, Joe may be one of the most laid back people that Patrick knew but when it came to his guitars he was so protective of them that it became scary, you’re a dead man walking if you touch one of Joe’s guitars.
When the pair reach the van they load it up with haste as they feel the first small drops of rain sink into their skin. Patrick tumbles into the back of the van next to Pete and Joe hops into the driver seat. Pete hums softly next to him and he can feel his breath on the side of his neck from how close they are. Patrick can tell Pete is happy and that he knows something that Patrick doesn’t, Patrick chalks it up to how good the concert went, there were no stages collapsing under the weight of the overeager crowd or police showing up after their performance. Patrick lets a breath of soft air escape him as he begins to feel his eyelids drooping, he lays his head in Pete’s lap. He can feel Pete’s hands threading through the strands on his head as they start to play with his hair,
“Get some sleep, you need it.”
Patrick hums back in contentment, it was just what he was planning to do. He can feel the blanket of sleep begin to cover him, his mind drifting further into the darkness behind his eyes, he’s out before he can even think of counting sheep.
**********
Patrick wakes up the next morning with sleep clogging his eyes, he knows he’s tired and didn’t sleep long enough from the way his eyes feel wrong in his sockets. A warm presence wrapped around the back of him draws his attention, his eyes glazed over with a blur as if he’s looking through the unfocused lense of a camera. Patrick knows that it’s Pete because he’s cuddly like that, he thinks about waking him up to get him to move but it’s too early and he figures Pete needs the sleep more than he does. Patrick is not a morning person so when he hears Joe’s voice from the front of the van, loud and demanding his attention, mere seconds later he’s definitely not happy.
“Rise and shine, motherfuckers!”
Patrick had never wanted to punch anyone in the face more than Joe in that moment. The urge soon fades though, his mind too tired to withhold feelings of anger when all it really wants him to do is fall back into a slumber. Patrick, feeling groggy, wipes his hand across blurry eyes and proceeds to glare daggers at Joe.
“Hey, what the fuck was that Trohman, there’s people sleeping in here.” He groaned as he pulled himself up to lean into a sitting position, his back ached from not sleeping the right way.
“We’re at the diner, we’re going to get something to eat.” Andy was the one to answer Patrick’s question, he was always the most level headed one in the group, “wise beyond his years” you could say, but he would probably deny it.
Patrick and Pete piled out the back of the van (one more gracious than the other) and headed toward the doors of the diner. The early morning sun gleamed at him from just above the roof of the diner and Patrick raised an arm to cover his eyes. The boys reached the entrance before they knew it, the bell chiming as they walked in and took a seat at one of the corner tables. This time though, this time it’s different, usually it would be Pete and Patrick next to each other at one table, but on this occasion Pete squashes up next to Andy at the seat across from Patrick and he frowns at Pete like he’s trying to ask a question without words.
Despite the confusion he takes his seat, Joe comes in after him a bit too soon and their bodies crash together. Patrick pays it no mind though, his mind still too tired to form the proper response.
The waitress comes over quicker than Patrick thought she would, bleach blonde hair and shining teeth in tow.
“Welcome to Arby’s, what can I get for you guys today?”
Patrick looks over at Pete, he’s usually the one that has the initiative to order for the rest of the group. Pete smiles up at the waitress and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and mulls over his answer.
“We’ll just get three milkshakes, thanks hon.”
Patrick draws his eyebrows together as Pete finishes the order and the waitress makes her way to the back of the diner.
“Why’s there only three milkshakes?”
“Because you two,” Pete points at both Joe and Patrick, “are sharing one.”
It’s not that Patrick wants to share a milkshake with Joe or that he thinks he can’t argue with Pete, it's just that he’d rather save himself from it, Pete is not known to give up easily.
“Fine.” Patrick huffs out a breath and crosses his arms as he waits for the order to come.
What confused Patrick more than the fact that Pete wanted to make Joe and Patrick share a milkshake was that Joe didn’t even argue with Pete, not a word. And so while he’s thinking of a list of reasons as to why Joe Trohman would be okay with sharing a milkshake with him he doesn’t notice the waitress come back with a silver tray in hand until the tray reaches the table and he’s snapped out of thought.
“Here’s your order, have a good day.”
“You have a good day.” Pete says back to the waitress as she takes her leave, his smile reaching from ear to ear.
“God you’re so gross.” Patrick makes fake throwing up sounds to voice his disapproval and Joe joins in. Pete just keeps grinning as if he didn’t hear a thing they said.
The drink is chocolate and full to the brim, almost spilling over the lip of the glass. Patrick takes one more look at it before turning his gaze to Joe, Joe who he’s going to have to share this with soon and he’s not sure how that’s going to make him feel. Patrick grabs two straws from the nearest tray and tears at the wrappers before putting them in the glass. He sighs before leaning forward and taking the first sip from the glass and then pulling back. It tastes good, really good, and he tells Joe just that.
Joe looks at Patrick before taking his first sip and nodding in agreement after pulling back and smiling like he had before when they were loading up the van, except this time his smile is bigger and more obvious, harder to hide, and it pulls at his eyes. They look at each other one more time before both going in to take a sip, their noses bump together and they both blush as they stare at each other over the rim of the glass.
After they both retreat from the glass at the same time, Patrick can’t help the smile that he feels tugging at his face as he averts his eyes to look at his beat up converse as he scuffs them against each other under the table.
“Look at you two.” Patrick is reminded that there are other people there when he hears Pete’s voice.
“What do you mean?” Patrick sputters.
“You guys look good together.” Pete smirks at the two of them this time.
“Huh?!” Patrick is mad, beyond mad, he bets that this was all just a part of Pete’s scheme to embarrass him.
“Were you in on this too?” Patrick glares at Joe for the second time today, it’s only 8am but he’s fully awake now.
“What? No?” Joe looks back at him in shock. “Why would I want to share one with you?”
Patrick feels like a stake has been struck between his chest, right between his heart and his lungs and he can’t breathe, his lungs begin to burn and he can sense the familiar bitter feeling.
Patrick’s running to the bathroom before anyone can say anything, the door swinging open and closed in a matter of seconds before being locked.
Patrick heaves, his body shaking and his chest aching, as he reaches to grab for the porcelain lip of the sink. Patrick clenches it between his hands, his hands starting to hurt from his tight grip on the white edge of the sink, his knuckles start to turn the same colour as the sink. His palms are clammy and his breathing is stuttered as his mind races.
Patrick tries to slow his breathing down, he tries to use the same technique that the therapist he visited once taught him, 5-4-3-2-1. Five things he could see, four things he could touch, three things he could hear, two things he could smell, one thing he could taste. It worked well enough to bring him back to his senses.
With his breathing coming to a slow pace he stared up at his reflection, the mirror was smudged with memories of strangers, cracked with moments of the past. He stared into his own eyes, mentally preparing himself to go back out.
It was so stupid, Patrick knows that he overreacted, he knows that he shouldn’t have been offended by Joe’s remark, he knows that he should’ve laughed it off and said,
“Good one, Joe.”
But he couldn’t bring himself to. This time it was different for some reason. This time he cared about what Joe had to say and it scared him to death because he couldn’t figure out why he did.
With one last long and drawn out breath Patrick unlocked the door and stepped out of the bathroom. He headed towards the table, it had been renewed with conversation and from afar he could hear them debating over whether The Outsiders was a good movie or not.
“But the message is about friendship , Joe, it’s meant to be like that.”
“Well I think it’s stupid ,” Joe scoffs, “What’s the moral of the story anyway? Don’t be from a low socioeconomic area so that you don’t end up on the run from the police after your friend accidentally kills someone in self defense?”
Pete rolls his eyes back but doesn’t respond to Joe, Patrick thinks he made a fair point. As he makes his way back over to the table Patrick can feel their eyes on him as they all look up.
“Where’d you go off to so fast?” Joe raises an eyebrow to go with his question.
“Just to the bathroom, I thought I was gonna puke for a second there. It must’ve been all the Chinese food from yesterday.” Patrick smiles sheepishly at the group as he slides back in next to Joe.
“So… What were you guys talking about?” The conversation continues as the boys carry on with their discussion in a small diner in the middle of nowhere.