The Problem with Patrick || Fall Out Boy

i don't blame you for being you

"Yeah, sure."

Pete leaned over, pulled Patrick's glasses off and put them in his pocket, before smiling. "There, how's that?"

"I don't know what you were trying to do there, but all you've done is made my vision blurry." Patrick blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the difference.

"Yeah, but, if you can't see the crowds, then you can't freak out over them, can you?"

"I could trip over the stage?"

"You can see the fluorescent tape on the floor though, right?"

"Uh... vaguely?" Patrick's vision had not been the grandest of things recently, and if Pete didn't have his dark hair then he honestly doubted he'd be able to distinguish his friend from the cream-coloured tiles that lined the bathroom.

"Cool." Pete smiled, patted his shoulder, and the two headed out.

They belted showtunes until they were about to go on stage, mostly to avoid letting fear take over Patrick's mind again. Then the time came, their manager came to get them, and they headed to stage left. The sound of the crowd screaming as the visuals were counting down the time until they went onstage. They were handed their instruments; Pete his bass, Andy his drumsticks and Joe and Patrick, their guitars. Finally, the earpieces went in, and they were officially ready.

Patrick pulled the strap over his head and felt the familiar weight of his instrument, before running his fingers over his pick. It was calming, for a split second, until Pete started with the first chords of Grand Theft Autumn, and the band ran onto the stage.

Patrick aimed for the micstand, but it sort-of blended in with the blurriness of the crowd. He did find it, and quickly grabbed it with his hand so he wouldn't misplace it again, before glancing up and starting the song "Where is your b-boy tonight, I hope h-he is a g-gentleman..."

"Patrick, you're too far forward, take a step back." Their manager's voice was unmistakable through the earpieces, but Patrick didn't seem to notice. He was too busy looking straight ahead, while his face was going a shade of white.

"Shit." Pete swore under his breath, quickly playing the intro chords again.

"A-And maybe he..." Patrick trailed off into silence, before trying to pick back up, except now he was out of time. "And maybe h-he won't f-find out..."

"Patrick, take a step back." The earpieces told him again. "Somebody, get him back! Pete, walk over, do your weird play-hug thing you do, just get him off the edge of that stage!"

Pete ran over, he grabbed the mic and held it out to the crowd, symbolising for them to sing the lyrics. Patrick had taken a few steps to the side, but much to the annoyance of their manager, he wasn't getting any further away from the edge of the stage. Pete was doing his best to distract the crowd to notice when Patrick's legs buckled, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell.

The only moment Pete realised that something was terribly, terribly wrong was when he heard the splat and the crack of his best friend landing on the floor after falling off the stage.

The fans at the front of the stage gasped. Joe and Andy stopped playing and ran to where he'd fallen. Patrick was lying face-down and a slow trickle of red was sneaking out from under him, illuminated by the stage lights. Pete jumped down, his chest tight and breathing fast, but the security guard grabbed him and pulled him away before he could roll him over.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" Pete screamed in protest.

"He landed on his neck." The security guard told him with a sad and serious expression. "Don't touch him. Wait for the ambulance. You'll make it worse."

Security stood in a crowd around Pete's best friend as the crowd was evacuated so the ambulance could get in. Pete wanted to cry. He didn't understand what was going on. He just wanted his best friend to be okay. All he wanted was Patrick to get up, dust himself off and say he was fine. But he was held back, and stood there, head spinning and eyes crying tears as more blood covered the floor. Every second felt like an hour, and he did try to get through the security a few times, but every time was pushed back.

When the ambulance arrived, they rolled him over. Everything was red – his clothes, his skin, his leg which seemed to be bent at several angles that it wasn't meant to be, and his face. Patrick had fallen over before, and fainted before, but he'd always landed relatively unscathed.

The sensation of Patrick's glasses in his front pocket taunted him. This was all his fault.

Wooo drama! Poor Patrick, honestly though, this chapter made me so sad to write. Hope you're enjoying this and excited for more!