Just Once - A Peterick Fic

Chapter 8

        The 2nd of December we had another show, this one in Chicago. It had been about a week since I'd missed that meeting and Pete and I hadn't spent much time together in that week. He'd been distant and I was worried about what was going through his head.

        "Alright guys, you're free to go," our sound guy shouted from a ways away. We'd finally finished soundcheck which meant we had about 2 1/2 hours until show time. I turned and headed off stage, putting my guitar up and pulling Pete aside a moment later.

        "We need to talk," I told him in a low voice, letting him know we'd have to find someplace private, that right here wouldn't work for our chat.

        A worried look passed over his face, like he knew what I wanted to talk to him about, and he nodded, pulling me down a hall and into his dressing room.

        "So what's this about?" he asked me with raised eyebrows, plopping down into a chair.

        "What's going on, Pete? It feels like you've been avoiding me lately - scratch that. I know you've been avoiding me," I said, a concerned tone to my voice.

        "How do you 'know' this?" he questioned, making air quotes with his fingers and speaking as if what I was saying was ridiculous.

        I was taken aback by his tone, looking at him incredulously before responding. "You take hours to respond to my texts, decline when I invite you over, hardly answer your phone... You're sending a pretty clear message here."

        "I don't feel like we're... Right, Patrick," he spat out, waving a hand around almost as if to emphasize his point before bringing it to his head and running a hand through his hair, sighing.

        His words hit me like a ton of bricks and it took me a moment to gather my thoughts even well enough to form words. "W-what are you saying?" I asked him, already knowing the answer. I could feel tears burning, threatening to escape, and I did my best to hold them back. Do not cry in front of Pete. Don't let him see how much this is getting to you. I really should've seen this coming but I hadn't allowed myself to.

        "I'm saying maybe we should see other people," he spoke again, his voice soft and quiet this time, hard to hear for more reasons than his low tone.

        "Pete, we can fix this. Don't just throw us away," I said, trying not to sound like I was begging but I'm pretty sure I did. My voice cracked on the last word and I could see him flinch, like it hurt him to see me in pain.

        "This was a bad idea in the first place. I should've never crawled up into your bunk that night, let alone let a relationship form around it," he told me like he was begging me to agree. Maybe we were both begging at this point, I don't really know. All I know is that my heart hurt like it never had before.

        Instead of replying, I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, the tears falling as soon as I'd shut the door. I had to find some place quiet where I could be alone and it didn't take me long before I did, hiding in a closet that didn't look like it was being used. Alone, the tears came steadier, violent sobs wracking my body. We hadn't been together long but it scared me how quickly I'd given him this much power over me. With a few simple sentences, he'd reduced me to an absolute mess and I hated that. My fists clenched, I weakly hit a box sitting next to me more out of frustration than anything. I thought we'd felt perfect together; he obviously hadn't. Embarrassment hit me like a freight train. I'd been too blind to see this coming and this is what happened to me when I was blindly struck.

        I didn't know how much time had passed when a knock sounded on the door but I didn't feel like moving or even speaking to anyone so I didn't answer. My lack of a response didn't stop the door from opening, though, and Joe and Andy appeared on the other side. Andy squatted down so he was eye level with me but Joe remained standing. I stayed seated, my head in my hands and eyes glued to the floor.

        "Patrick, we know what happened," Andy started, his tone soft and pitying. The second part almost made me angry but I brushed it off, knowing that wouldn't help anything. "And we just want to help but it's almost show time."

        I sighed, nodding, and stood up, brushing myself off.

        "God, you look like shit," Joe said, smiling at me.

        "You're a dick," I told him, returning the smile and wiping my fingers under my eyes, taking a few deep breaths.

        "I know. C'mon, let's get you ready for the show," he told me, ushering me to where I needed to be like I were a child, Andy following behind. I didn't entirely mind being babied, though. I didn't want to have to do a single thing right now, let alone play a show.

        "I don't know if I can do this tonight," I told them as the three of us began preparing to go on stage, Pete nowhere in sight, thankfully.

        "Just put it all behind you, forget about it. This isn't the first time we've gotten in a fight before a show," Andy told me, clipping a battery pack onto the waistband of his shorts.

        "I don't want to even look at him right now, let alone high five him and forget about it," I countered, starting my stretches.

        That's when Pete walked up and I wondered how much of that conversation he'd heard. I was guessing most of it, considering the fact that he wouldn't even look at me as he readied himself for the show.

        "Hey man," Joe said in greeting to Pete, walking over to him.

        They talked for a while, until we heard someone shout "One minute!" and we all moved to our proper places, Pete right next to me, forcing him to finally look at me.

        Silently, he raised his hand to me, as if asking me to high five him like we always did after a fight and before a show.

        Instead of hitting my hand against his, I raised my middle finger and flipped him off right before we were queued to go out on stage. This would be a fun show.

A/N: I'm sorry don't hate me but it had to be done.