the boy on manic street

Fifteen

Patrick's POV

"Patrick! Patrick Stump, get up now!"

I groan, sitting up and rubbing my face, stretching my arms out, "Wha-?"

"We overslept! Your shift starts at 7:30, right?" I soon make out Pete anxiously pulling on his Metallica tank and a pair of black wax denim skinny jeans.

My eyes widen, "What time is it?" I scramble out of bed, quickly going to grab my work uniform from the closet, changing into the attire.

"Around 7:15," He yells from the bathroom. I can only assume he's messing with his hair, which takes at the most fifteen minutes. Pete's supposed to be at the shop around 7:45 and it takes him forever to get ready.

I curse under my breath and run into the bathroom while buttoning my shirt. I quickly brush my teeth and fix my hair, wishing that I could just slap a fedora on top and call it good, but that's against the work dress code. I don't bother tying my bowtie as it's now 7:23 and I still have to get to work. I'll probably just speed walk as it's down the street.

"I gotta go, bye," I lean over to kiss him quickly.

Pete wraps an arm around my waist, "I'll see you around 7:00?"

"For sure," I smile and kiss him one last time before bolting out of the apartment, walking as fast as I can to the café. It's impossible to run in these pants.

I arrive at exactly 7:30, out of breath. A couple people look at me and giggle a bit but I don't notice it too much as I still have to tie my bowtie. Once I'm done fumbling with it in the bathroom, I walk back out and compose myself, tying my apron around my waist and shoving a tray under my arm. I go to wait on a couple that just arrived.

"Hi, welcome to the Corner Café, are you ready to order?" I smile, hoping I don't look too rushed.

"Yes, I think we are," The guy smiles over at his girlfriend. She stifles a laugh and I brush it off, figuring it's about something that just happened earlier to them.

"I'll have a plain black coffee, please," She smiles up at me, her face flushed.

"And I'll have a decaf," He smiles, then leans up to whisper in my ear, "Did you forget your shoes?"

My face heats up and I look down and sure enough I only have on a pair of black dress socks, no dress shoes, "Oh. Thanks for telling me, I was just really rushed this morning, I'll go get you those coffees." I smile quickly and just as I turn around I feel my heart start to beat faster and my hands feel clammy and my vision goes a bit spotty and the next thing I know is I'm shaking in Pete's arms, being cradled in the middle of the café.

I can't breath.
I can't breath.
I can't breath.

I can't see anything- what's going on? Who's yelling? Why did the lights turn so bright?

And then I'm in the back room up against the same wall I sat against with Pete in the beginning, crying over my broken glasses. I grab the new glasses sitting on the bridge of my nose and tuck my head between my knees, Pete rubbing my back until it passes.

After who knows how long, I look up to find him sitting beside me. He smiles, "Feeling better?"

It takes me a moment to reply but I nod, swallowing, "I- I forgot my shoes."

"I know," Pete says, holding up the worn down dress shoes I've worn ever since I was hired here, "Let me help you." He slips my shoes on and ties each one while talking to me, trying to calm me down. Then, he pulls out the bottle of my anxiety medication and another of my depression medication, "You also forgot these."

I sigh, "What would I do without you?"

Pete shrugs, "You'd never be without me."

-

It's 7:03 when I leave the café, waving to Elizabeth from the cash register as she counts the money out.

I untie my bowtie, as it makes me feel restricted even though I do enjoy wearing them. The guitar shop is just down the road about a block away. It's still hot outside even if it's slightly dark. Once I arrive inside the shop around 7:15 I go to the back room to find Joe and Andy and Pete playing the game where you place an Oreo on your forehead and try to eat it without it falling.

"Hey guys," I smile, going to sit beside Pete on one of the leather couches.

"Hi," Andy smiles back, watching Joe try to get the Oreo inside of his mouth.

We all watch and clap when he's able to get it inside then eat it enjoyingly, "Aha! New record." Joe smiles through the Oreo.

We laugh, "Okay, but now that Patrick is here, let's get down to business. We need a place to set up shop. No need for any instruments, correct?"

We all shake our heads. I have an acoustic and an electric, so I'm okay. But then a thought hits me, "What about amps?"

Joe waves his hand, "I got a couple, we're okay in that area. But I don't have a microphone. We should get about five? One for each of us and an extra just in case."

"I can order some," Andy offers.

"Okay, cool," Joe nods, grinning, "I still can't believe we're doing this. But anyways- what about songs?"

Pete and I glance at each other, then he speaks up, "Patrick and I, uh, sort of made a song last night. It's really rough but we have an idea on how it should go." I scratch the back of my head awkwardly.

Joe's eyes light up, "Great! Okay, cool, so you'll have to show us it. Do you have a name?"

I nod, "It's called Dead on Arrival."

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