Pete P.O.V.
I can't deny that I'm angry at Patrick right now.
He could have talked to us, but no. He had to drag himself to a bar.
I don't want him to get addicted again. I remember that awful month back in 2007 where he wasn't sober for a whole month.
That was when that girl broke up with him. I can't imagine what he'll do now that his wife left him.
I remember when Ashlee left me. I wouldn't wish that pain on my worst enemy.
And I certainly wouldn't wish it on Patrick.
*****
It was the day after Patrick left.
I was alone in the room with a sleeping Patrick. I told everyone to go back to the hotel. I needed to have a word with Patrick when he woke up.
It was midday.
I heard a groan from Patrick's bed. I looked over and saw that his eye lids were flickering, but didn't open.
"I know you're awake, Patrick," I said, not hiding the anger in my voice.
He groaned again. He opened his eyes and slowly sat up, nervously glancing at me.
Every so often, he winced and had to stop moving for a bit.
Damn, he's in a lot of pain.
I almost don't want to be mad at him.
But he did something wrong. I have to talk to him.
His eyes suddenly got really wide. I handed him a bucket and he emptied his stomach of the many drinks from the day before.
He finished and looked at me with pity and regret.
I snatched the bucket from him and went to the bathroom to wash it out. Once I was finished, I brought it back to him and set it next to his bed.
He sat in the bed, twiddling his thumbs. The silence filling the room was awkward and brutal.
"Patrick, what the hell?" I finally exclaimed.
He sighed. "I would say I'm sorry, Pete, but I'm really not. I needed that-"
"No, you didn't!" I cut in. "Trick, you know I've been there. Why didn't you come talk to me?"
He looked down. "I don't know. I felt like I was worthless. My wife just up and left while I was dead. She took my only son, Pete. I lost the two most important people in my life, all because our fucking bus decided to catch fire."
He looked at me and I saw tears in his eyes. He sadly chuckled, "I needed to forget. I've got some bad thoughts swirling around. Alcohol dulls everything for a while.
"Then I wake up," he continued. "I wake up and I can't even remember what happened yesterday. I hate this addiction, Pete. I just... want to be better. I don't want my first thought when something bad happens to go to a bar and have whiskey take away everything. I want to forget."
I thought for a moment. I really feel bad for him right now. He's stuck behind these walls. Patrick loves music, that much is obvious. His favorite thing is playing shows and getting high off the crowd's energy. Being confined to this silence must be horrible. Patrick doesn't need people to be angry at him right now.
"Alright, 'Tricky," I smiled at him. "Please, please don't let this happen again. My biggest fear is that I'll find you dead in an alley surrounded by beer bottles..."
He grabbed my hand. "That won't happen, Pete. I promise next time I'll talk to you. Can you promise to be there for me?"
I quickly wrapped my arms around him. "Of course, 'Trick. I will always be there for you."
*lowkey this is short. i'll probably update tomorrow though*
