The Problem with Patrick || Fall Out Boy

a loose bolt of a complete machine

Despite everything that had happened, Patrick was looking forward to band practice. It was a sense of normalcy, sitting in Pete's basement and belting out a couple of lyrics with his best friends. Besides, they were starting to work on some pretty cool new songs as well, and it was almost at the stage where they could get into a studio and really get some of it produced.

"You seem happy today." Pete noted as Patrick flipped some pancakes for their breakfast.

Patrick just gave him a small smile. "Well, it's band practice day, and I haven't seen the guys for like 2 weeks, and yeah, I'm in the zone for writing and stuff and I think'll be pretty good."

"That's awesome." Pete smiled in reply, getting the maple syrup from the cupboard.

He nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I'm feeling really good about finally playing again. I haven't really had a good practice, since like, that one."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"No, it's not your fault." Patrick felt the dismay returning, and quickly tried to shake it off. This practice was going to show the guys he still had it, he was still going to be an amazing singer and he could still do stuff. He didn't need to be thinking about the past couple of shows or the practices he missed because he was too drunk.

This one was gonna be the best damn Fall Out Boy practice session the band had ever had.

But first, pancakes, and Patrick finished flipping them before presenting them on two plates with a drizzle of maple syrup and a small square of butter. He didn't normally make pancakes, but damn, these looked really good. Hopefully a sign of a good band practice to come.

"So," Pete started with a mouthful of food. "What are you gonna tell the guys about where you're staying?"

Patrick went quiet. "Um...."

"Well, I mean, I'm cool with either way, and I'll back you up, but you gotta let me know what you're gonna say so we don't contradict."

"What do you think I should say?" Patrick asked, his cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment.

"I can't tell you that, that's your choice. But look, they're understanding guys, they won't judge you or anything. If you wanna tell them, they'll understand. If you don't, then, I don't know, it might give you privacy or something but look, it's your choice."

"What if it just doesn't come up in conversation?"

"Well, that's an option too, but we probably need a plan in case it does."

"Look," Patrick ran a hand through his hair stressfully. "I-If it comes up, then just, yeah we can tell them, but just don't say anything about the alcohol or my place or anything like that. Just say like, I was, like, lonely?" He winced at the end of his statement. "And just like, this was more for like emotional support or some shit like that."

"Fair enough, sounds good." Pete nodded. "Anyway, these pancakes are really good."

The pancakes didn't taste quite as sweet as before after that conversation, but Patrick did try to pretend that they did. He quickly finished the dishes before showing and putting on some really nice clothes for band practice. Well, it was jeans and a t-shirt with a jacket and a hat, but compared to his now-regular uniform of sweatpants and a hoodie, it was a significant upgrade.

There was always something about a good outfit that gave Patrick confidence. He shaved and washed his hair and even cleaned his glasses with the proper spray stuff. He didn't think it very often, but damn, Patrick looked acceptable today.

Pete seemed to notice, when Patrick came down to the basement to check how Pete was going with his warmup, he could have sworn that Pete's eyes widened a little and there was that little spark in there that gave him this confidence boost that he didn't experience very often.

Pete didn't know what to say. He didn't want to tell his friend the truth, that he looked absolutely amazing, because that would probably be a little bit weird, and there was the chance that Patrick could take that the wrong way, especially since he hadn't really been putting a lot of effort into his appearance recently. Part of Pete wanted to tell Patrick he looked absolutely amazing every day, but the fact was that it wasn't feasible to come out and make a whole thing when he wasn't the one who needed the attention right now.

He just shook the thoughts from his mind and smiled at his friend, who was walking down the stairs to the basement. "Hey, 'Trick. Everything seems to be in order down here."

"Awesome." Patrick walked over to the hanging guitar rack and pulled his down, before walking over to the amp in the other corner and plugging it in. He hadn't played in a month, yet when his finger found the pick and his other hand found the fretboard, it was like he had never left in the first place.

Patrick didn't find himself getting attached to a whole lot of inanimate objects, but his guitar was certainly one of them. And as he pulled the strap over his shoulders and began to play, he felt right at home, once again. There's a certain sense of homeliness that you can only find from music. It might be because you can portray the feelings you can't explain with words, or maybe because when everything in your world appears to be going wrong, music is always something you can do right. For Patrick, in that moment, it was a piece of both of those reasons and he never wanted to leave the feeling he got in that moment.

That was probably why he was so relieved when Andy and Joe came down the stairs he had come down only a few minutes earlier. He was able to share that feeling with them in a really, really, damn good session. It started with some practice of some of the songs that they'd finished and were happy with, before moving on to examining some of the new lyrics that Pete had written. Patrick worked with them and created a melody and Andy worked on a beat and damn, this was productive.

After playing a runthrough of 'Pretty in Punk' with the new changes, Patrick grinned at his friend and rested his guitar on the stand for a moment while he ducked over to the fridge to grab some drinks for the sweaty band members who had been doing hard at it for a fair few hours. "Who wants a beer?"

Pete immediately glanced at Patrick with a hesitant look that read are you sure that's the best idea, right now?

Patrick glared back with another one that read I'm fine and all of you are here and I want a beer so I'm going to have one to reward myself for this damn good band practice and I'm not letting your judgemental looks, stop me.

Then Pete looked away and all Patrick could read from that was I'm sorry I was trying to look after you but I just want to make sure you're safe and happy.

That just made him feel bad. He grabbed the three beers from the fridge, and frowned a little bit. The fridge had been completely stocked, full to the brim, when he'd moved in temporarily. Now there were three left.

He popped all the lids off and distributed them. One to Pete, one to Andy, and one to Joe, before grabbing a glass of water and consuming it in one long gulp.

"Not having one?" Joe asked, who had been kept in the dark about the situation descending around his friend.

"None left." Patrick mumbled.

"What?" Pete asked. "No, no, I stocked the fridge with 2 cartons a couple of weeks ago. There should be plently." He leapt over the counter of the bar and stared at the empty shelves of the fridge, while Patrick felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. "Hmmm..."

"C-Can we talk about this later?" Patrick whispered, just loud enough for Pete to hear but not loud enough for the rest of them to listen in to. "Please don't make a fuss of this right now. We're doing well." He paused a moment, squeezing his fingers. "Please don't be mad. I-I'll pay for it, I promise."

Pete did as his friend asked. He mumbled something along the lines of 'must've forgot about taking them to that party' and went back to practice. Patrick tried to play along as normal for the rest of it, but could only really focus on the guilt sitting heavy in his stomach.