imagines | p.s.

pretty in punk (1/2)

(slight mentions of abuse/violence.)

more van days/prehiatus ++ inspired by pretty in punk obviously

You stood off to the side of the stage, grinning as you watched the band on stage. This gig was at a larger venue than usual, with more people, obviously. It really wasn't that big of a deal; just a hundred or so more people. However, Patrick had been freaking out about it for the past two days- obsessing over everything that could put possibly go wrong, worrying about his hair and voice. He was near tears this morning, calling you at around ten in hysterics and begging you to come to the show so he'd have a familiar face in the crowd. Your boyfriend had been pissed and made you drag him along, but you didn't mind going to watch Patrick.

You gave Patrick a thumbs-up when he glanced over at you as they prepared for the last song. His body glistened with a layer of sweat and his hair was messy under the hat. He looked so cute that your stomach fluttered, but you tried to shake the feeling away. You had a boyfriend; you weren't supposed to look at anybody else.

Speak of the devil, your boyfriend came trudging over to you from the other side of the room. He wasn't pleased to come here with you in the first place, but now he looked so irritated that you took a step back.

"I wanna go," he snapped. "Now."

Your mouth curved into a frown. "It's the last song. Can't we stay for this one?"

You watched him grit his teeth. "No. I want to leave right now."

You rolled your eyes and turned back toward the stage. They looked ready to start the next song. "Fine. You go and wait for me, then," you said. "I'll be out after I talk to Patrick, okay?"

Your boyfriend grabbed your arm, his fingers digging into your skin. His nails hurt and almost made you yelp. "I said no, didn't I? Let's go."

You bit the inside of your lip. He scared you, to say the least, and you weren't sure why you were still with him. Probably because he would kill you if you tried. Literally or not, you weren't sure.

You kept your eyes on Patrick, avoiding your boyfriend's. "I don't care what you said." Your voice shook. "I'm staying."

"No, you're not," he barked. He grabbed your chin, yanking so that your head turned toward him. "Stop looking at him and listen to me!"

With one of his hands wrapped around your arm and the other gripping your face, you couldn't move; you were too afraid to. Tears stung your eyes. "You're hurting me," you said, your voice thick."

You were suddenly aware of most of the crowd looking in your direction. Patrick and the rest of the boys on stage didn't fail to notice what was going on, either, considering how close you were to them. Your boyfriend seemed to notice too, apparently.

"We're going," he said lowly. You shook your head.

"No."

Pete walked up to the front of the stage and grabbed a microphone, clearing his throat. He looked angry, but he kept his voice calm. "Hey, buddy, chill out."

"Yeah, leave her alone," somebody a couple of feet away yelled. Somebody grabbed your boyfriend's shoulder, trying to wrench him away.

He narrowed his eyes at you, sneering. He loosened his grip on you before roughly shoving you down. You couldn't regain your balance before you slammed against the floor, your elbows and tailbone taking the brunt of the impact. "This isn't done, hear me?" He snapped, turning away from you. A few people went to grab him and guide him out, but he managed to slip away from their grasp and head out of the venue.