Bandom Oneshots

spare time - peterick

Patrick's POV

I never really like going to bars. Cause with bars and open spaces like that, comes fans. Also, if it's just you, the only thing these fans look for is a one night stand. Another thing is that the only thing they like you for is your money, and the fact your famouse. I'm not that stupid. When they say they like you, they're lying. I've been me long enough to know someone doesn't actually like me unless theres something in it for them. So if I'm at a bar, theres usually a damn good reason. In my case, it was an album I worked my ass out of pretty much getting hate. Like, alot of hate. Thus, causing the pause in my fall out boy career. What better way to get rid of some shitty memories by going to a shitty bar with shitty white chicks and shitty food and drinks. And that is my terrible excuse for being in the place where I am. Luckily, no fans in sight, theres no 'can I take a picture?' Or 'where's Pete wentz?' Questions that I can hear. The downside of not having fans on a lonely (and slightly horny night) is that you only have people who see me for who I really am, a sad, fat man in his twenties getting shit faced drunk. Now here's for the best part of this all, I'm a really happy go lucky drunk, so I was all over the place. The bar was pretty packed, music loud, the smell rancid. I was slurring my words and in the action of finding my date for the night. Definitely something I would never do sober. So within the chaos of the dancing bodies I found myself tapping a random blond haired beauties shoulder. If I could've gotten picture of her face when she saw me, ha, that could've been a tattoo or some shit. The girl whipped around, at first smiling before her face turned to a large frown. I opened my mouth, sweat still dripping down my face, "Wanna go out or, um, yah.." I was slurring my words by then. The girl scrunched her face up, plastic surgery and all. "I have a fucking boyfriend douche bag. Plus, why the hell would I go out with a fat basement dwelling fuck like yourself!" By then I was confused, too drunk to realize her turn down. So I just pressed on, not realizing her surfer boyfriend standing within a close radius. "C'mon, I uh, sing for that band, Fall out boyyy!" I was kinda yelling at her face, very unattractive. She was stepping back a bit, "Go get a life fat-ass!" Her boyfriend was walking over by now, I was still oblivious to what was happening. Before I knew it, a large, tanned fist was colliding into my face. That sent me to the floor. Now I was knocked to my senses, I felt my anxiety kick in, sending me nearly running out of the bar and onto the street. I stumbled out of the bar, then onto the street. The parking lot was poorly lit by buzzing street lamps. Ahead of that, the highway and miles of fields. I was pretty far from home then. I fumbled around for my phone, flipping it open, then drunkenly dialing the first number I saw, Pete's. I was pretty lucky he responded at that hour, it's not like he wanted his drunk best friend calling him at 2 am anyway. Yet, I still got an answer from him. "'Trick?" Pete grumbled sleepily over the phone. I was quick to respond, "Heeey Pete, um, I need a bit of help. Um I'm um. I need a drive. I'm kinda drunk, and uh, bleeding..." I heard the way Pete's breath hitched, "God Patrick, are you alright!?" I laughed ,"Yah yah, just, please get here." Pete agreed to, I tried my best to describe where I was, then he hung up and set on his way to find my drunk ass. The longer I sat on the curb waiting for him, the more my mind came back to reality. The more i took in the insults and just everything. And before I knew it, I was a sobbing mess. A small, red headed man fucking sobbing on the side of the road with a black eye and bloody nose. What a sight to see. Pete probably arrived an hour later. I was too busy wallowing in my own self pity to realize he had even arrived. He ran towards me, crouching down infront of me. "Shit Patrick, what the hell happened?" He cupped his hands around my face, wiping my tears with his thumbs. I just shook my head, forcing a fake smile onto my face, he sighed and led me to his car. We sat there in silence for a bit, me still letting out little sniffles. "Your gonna have to tell me what the hell happened eventually. This isnt like you 'Trick," Pete said breaking the silence. I sighed, "I dont know. I thought maybe getting a little drunk would make things feel a little better. Loosen me up a bit." Pete nodded me to go on, "It was fine at first, I guess. I was... am, pretty drunk so I went a little too far..." Pete nodded again, I went on. "I saw this girl and um, you know, asked if she wanted to hook up. She said no, I didnt really get the hint,then her boyfriend punched me." Pete nodded, biting his lip as he did so. "That cant be all. A punch to the face and a little rejection isnt enough to get you having a sob fest in the parking lot."
I could feel Pete's questioning glare boring into me by now, "Your right. What gets someone to get so shit faced drunk is when they feel like they're life is going to shit. What gets someone to ball their eyes out is when the only reason people actually enjoy you is because your rich and famous, Pete. You have no fucking idea what it's like to be insulted for no fucking reason. To get called fat,ugly, overweight, untalented, and other insults by complete fucking strangers! You know what, it sucks! You can just go up and seduce a girl with a flick of your hand, I cant do shit! I'll never find anyone cause I'm just 'that fat kid from fall out boy' who now isnt even in a band. That's what gets someone to get drunk, get in a fight, that I lost by the way, and then cry." I looked over at Pete's face, he was in awe . He seemed hurt, I didnt really understand why, he did nothing wrong. Then he cried, not a big cry, just a few tears. "Patrick, now you fucking listen to me. If I ever need to pick you up again for this reason, I'm gonna fucking go off. If you ever feel like this, you fucking come to me. You dont go out to a bar and drink yourself shitless, it doesn't help, I should know. Lastly, you dont ever fucking listen to what people say about you, cause it's all lies. Its jelous people who cant even hit a note taking their pitiful jealousy out on you. You, Patrick Martin Stump, are amazing and talented and beautiful, and no one should tell you otherwise. So you fucking pick yourself up, come home with me, clean up, and get back on that damn music grind, cause I'm not standing for this shit." I didnt even have time to react to what happened next, I remember Pete's lips crashing into mine,but sweetly, like he wanted me to know how much he cared. He pulled off, finishing it up with a hug. "Let's go home now." I just nodded, smiling to myself, wondering why I never went to him in the first place. Crazy what a little bit of spare time can lead to.