Saturday // Peterick Oneshots

55. Racing Heart, Racing Thoughts

I wrote this a while ago but I pushed back the publishing because I wanted to publish the sequel to "Life of the Party" and I wanted to get my Christmas one-shot up. That being said, this is very angsty. Trigger warning for anxiety. FUTCT era.

From the moment Pete woke up in his bunk that morning, his heart was pounding out of his chest. He'd had unsettling dreams all night, and he knows he woke up in the middle of the night at least twice.

Everything felt like a chore this week. He wasn't sure why, but getting out of bed felt way too laborious, and he could barely eat. Waves of nauseousness hit him every time he tried, and strong smells made his head spin. He would calm down as the day went on, enough that he could eat at dinner, but then he'd lay down for bed and overthink the anxiety he'd had earlier and the cycle would start all over.

So. He woke up and felt awful.

He pulled himself out of bed and made his way to the living room area of his and Patrick's bus. He sat down at the table in the kitchenette and put his head down. He couldn't decide if the rumble of the bus made him feel better or worse.

After what felt like hours, Pete heard footsteps coming closer. He didn't bother lifting his head.

"Morning," Patrick said, voice still rough with sleep. Normally Pete's chest would warm at the sound.

"Morning." Pete buried his head further into his arms.

Pete could feel when Patrick paused at his shoulder. "Rough night?" he asked quietly. Pete took the easy out and nodded. Patrick put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

Pete drifted off for a while. He could hear Patrick shuffling around a few feet away, but it was lost on him. He heard the sink run, then a few minutes later the coffee pot beeped.

Patrick put a mug down in front of him; Pete recoiled at the smell.

Patrick frowned. "Pete, you look like shit. Are you okay?"

Pete hesitated. Patrick sat down beside him and waited. Finally, Pete shook his head. Patrick took the cup of coffee and took a few sips out of it. Then he set it back down on the table and looked at Pete.

Pete didn't know what to say, so he moved closer to Patrick and laid his head on his shoulder. Patrick shifted to accommodate him and began carding his fingers through his hair. He didn't push Pete to talk, though.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Pete whispered, breaking the silence. "I feel so anxious, Trick. I'm not sleeping well and I can't eat and everything makes me feel sick." Pete shut his eyes, pressing closer to Patrick; it was easy to relax with him by his side.

Patrick leaned his head against Pete's. "It'll be okay," he whispered. "It'll pass. Just keep doing what you're doing." They sat in silence, then Patrick stood up. "Want a glass of water?"

Pete nodded, missing Patrick's warmth already.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He survived the day- barely. He struggled through soundcheck, then managed to scrape enough joyful energy together to put on a good show. Patrick sent him questioning glances, and Pete would give him a small nod to let him know he was managing. After the show he went straight to their dressing room and laid his head down. Patrick came to get him a few minutes later, nudging him awake. Patrick kept a grounding hand on his back the whole way back to the bus.

Patrick ushered him to bed, making sure he brushed his teeth. He even gave him a clean hoodie to curl up in before he tucked Pete in.

Pete tried to sleep. He really did. He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, trying to think of anything to calm his mind, but it didn't work. His heart was going to beat out of his chest and there was nothing he could do about it.

Pete stared at the ceiling of his bunk. He was too tired to move to get Patrick, but he couldn't relax enough to fall asleep.

The curtain to his bunk opened quietly. Pete jumped.

"I thought you might still be awake," Patrick said quietly. "Want me to come in?"

Pete nodded. "Why are you still up?"

"Working on demos. Plus, I had a feeling you'd need me at some point and I wanted to be awake when you did."

Patrick crawled into Pete's bunk, sitting beside him. Pete rolled onto his side and pressed his forehead to Patrick's thigh.

"Still anxiety?" Patrick asked. Pete nodded.

Patrick slid down until he was laying beside Pete, facing him. He guided Pete's head to his shoulder, and Pete had no problem nuzzling closer. Patrick put one hand on the small of his back, and the other went to the space between Pete's shoulder blades, gently working out the knots that had formed there over the past few days.

Pete grabbed onto the front of Patrick's shirt, gripping the fabric tight as he pressed their bodies together.

"It's okay, Pete," Patrick cooed. "I'm not going anywhere."

Pete let out a soft sigh, relaxing into Patrick's embrace. Tomorrow might not be better, but at that moment, everything was okay.