The Problem with Patrick || Fall Out Boy

i could be an accident but im still trying

Halfway through this dreadful month in the leadup to the release of the album, Patrick started growing desperate. He'd started seeing this psych lady almost daily now, begging for more sessions so he'd be prepared for tour.

He didn't feel prepared at all. He didn't feel like he'd even improved a teeny tiny bit. He was just same old Patrick, the singer who couldn't sing in front of crowds, and he was goddamn desperate to fix himself for the sake of his bandmates.

He knew they were genuine when they said they didn't want to replace him. They'd been playing together for almost 2 years now, and they were practically family. He knew that he would never be able to forgive himself if he let them down. So here he was, sitting in a karaoke bar at 2 in the morning after calling a cab to take him out after Pete fell asleep.

The idea was that it was easy to sing in front of drunk people at a karaoke bar, and this would be the first building block to being able to sing on the tour. Half these people looked like they were about to pass out anyway, and Patrick felt his fingers twitching with anxiety as his name on the list rose closer to the top. And even though he knew it was bad, and even though he knew he shouldn't be doing it, the only way to bring some relief was to walk up to the bar and order a drink.

Six later, he decided it was a good idea to call Pete and invite him down to watch the performance.

Pete Wentz wasn't exactly sure who was calling him at 2:37am on a Tuesday morning, and wasn't exactly please when the ringtone woke him from his slumber. He answered the call with an angry grunt, signifying his unhappiness with being woken up.

Patrick didn't seem to notice, and started the conversation with a little giggle and a drunken hiccup. "Petey! Petey I'm gonna sing in liiiiiikeee, maybe likeeeeeee, 13 minutes aaaaand 36 seconds? Wait, 34 seconds!"

"Patrick?" Pete asked, starting to come to his senses. "What? Where are you? What are you doing?" There was a moment of silence. "Are you drunk?"

"I just got neeeeeeervous." Patrick giggled, stumbling around the lounge with a beer in one hand and his phone in the other, occasionally sloshing some of the beverage on his sweater. "The crowd is gonna vote on the song and eeeeeverything! You should come waaaaaaaatch!"

By now, Pete had leapt out of bed and was pulling on the first pair of pants he could see. "Where are you, Patrick? I'm gonna come and get you, okay? What are you even doing out? You went to bed before I did."

"Silly Petey! Silly, silly!" Patrick fell back onto one of the lounge chairs, still giggling, finding the situation absolutely hilarious for no reason in particular. "I just wanted you to think I was sleeping! I'm still asleep! ShHhhhHHHHH! Don't wake me up Petey! I was tirreeeeeeeeeddddd!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Patrick."

"Bad words! Bad words! What would your Mom think?" Patrick asked with an attempted stern voice, before erupting into another explosion of giggles.

Pete sighed, knowing that this approach wasn't working to get a whole lot of information out of his drunk friend. "You said you wanted me to come and watch you sing? Where are you gonna sing tonight Patrick?"

"At the bar, silly!"

"The crowd was gonna vote, did you say?" Pete was hit with sudden realisation. "Are you at that karaoke bar on Smith street?"

Patrick burped loudly, before giggling again. "You know me too well Peteyyyyyyyyyy..."

"Mmmkay, I'm gonna come there now, okay? And then we'll come home because it's really late buddy. You shouldn't be out, and you shouldn't be drinking." Pete sighed to himself again, pulling his shoes on and listening to Patrick's breathing through their phone call. He doubted Patrick had even realised that he hadn't hung up yet.