The Problem with Patrick || Fall Out Boy

woke up on the wrong side of reality

"Did one of the guys ask you?" Pete asked, growing slightly concerned.

"The bald man. I know him, I recognise his face, but I don't know where from..."

"That's Bob, he's our band manager and he works with our label." Pete explained slowly. "He's generally a pretty good guy."

"Right, okay..." Patrick mumbled. "Okay."

"Hey, is this too overwhelming?" Pete asked gently. "Because I can send them home if it is."

"But without dinner?" Patrick asked. "That's mean. They came for dinner and then I think one of them brought food too."

Pete chuckled. "Hey, how about we skip the band practice after and we just have dinner together?"

"Um..." Patrick paused. "What band practice?"

That took Pete by surprise, but he did a good job of hiding it. "Nothing, it's all good. C'mon, let's go have dinner."

"Okay..."

Pete helped him to a chair in the dining room and went to get plates for everyone. Patrick started a conversation with Bob about how long he had to have his cast for.

"Three months." He blurted out.

"Sorry?"

"Three months. I need the cast for three months." He explained, forcing a smile at the end.

"Oh, wow... that's a long time."

"Is it?" Patrick asked. "I don't know."

"When I broke my leg I was only in a cast for six weeks." Joe added, placing a can of soda in front of Patrick. "But you needed surgery so it's probably a lot longer."

"Surgery? Did I have surgery?"

He could tell everyone was staring at him, and he quickly looked down at his lap, filled with embarrassment. He stayed quiet until Pete came bringing food, and even then just tried to let his friend lead the conversation so he wouldn't make things worse.

"This looks amazing, Pete." Brendon complimented with a smile as everyone began to fill their plates. "These are the kind of dinners I'm really gonna miss on tour."

Joe nodded in agreement. "Even though hot sauce is an amazing meal on it's on, there's something special about home cooked food that everyone misses."

"Guys, you still don't seriously think we're leaving on that stupid tour, do you?" Pete asked in disbelief. "We're not going anywhere until Patrick has medical clearance."

"He already has medical clearance." Bob told him through a mouthful of roast potato. "The hospital faxed through the certificate earlier today."

"What?! Seriously?!" Pete asked in disbelief. "I hardly got medical clearance to bring him home! What kind of- who did you slip some cash for a fake clearance?!"

Patrick was quite disturbed by all the shouting, and was flinching away from the table. He didn't understand why Pete was so upset, or what they were even talking about at all.

"We didn't pay anyone. We talked to the hospital earlier." Andy explained. "Look, he's got clearance to travel around the country and play guitar. No singing and no putting weight on his leg, but he got medical clearance to come with us."

"Seriously?!" Pete threw his arms in the air. "Have you even talked to him?! He's recovering from a traumatic brain injury! Do you seriously think that shoving him in a bus and driving him around the country is going to help him at all?!"

"It might actually help bring back some touring memories." Andy suggested.

"No! No it will not!" Pete was getting really frustrated. "He's not going. Look at him. He clearly has absolutely no idea what's going on right now. He can hardly remember anything, and you guys just had to interrogate the absolute shit out of him earlier!"

"We were just trying to chat." Brendon defended. "Yeah, what did we talk about Patrick? You thought I was Joe."

"Exactly!" Pete exclaimed loudly, and Patrick flinched again. "You can't seriously expect him to tour when he doesn't remember one of his own band members! Seriously guys! You need to suspend it, or cancel it, or some other shit, because I'm not going, and Patrick's not either."

"I don't think you fully understand your contractual obligations." Bob wiped his face with a napkin. "This is the latest we can push the tour without losing our deposits on venues."

"Fuck the venues!" Pete was heading to some uncontrollable rage at this point. "I cannot believe you're putting some dollars over Patrick's safety!"

"There's a reason he's not singing anymore. If he can't play guitar, then we'll look at other options, but I know how important having the four of you there is, so I'm just trying to work stuff out for all of you."

Brendon was the one to try and bring piece, and stood up. "Alright, c'mon, stop shouting. No more tour talk tonight, everyone's stressed and all the facts aren't known. And you're making Patrick cry."

Everyone turned their attention to the end of the table, where Patrick was indeed crying, despite trying to hide it. Pete felt his chest get heavy and he sighed. "I'm sorry, 'Trick. I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen."

Patrick didn't respond. Everyone finished their dinner in silence, and after helping with the dishes, Pete ushered them all out. Patrick was still sitting at the kitchen table, and Pete nervously sat back down next to him.

"Hey, 'Trick... I'm sorry I got mad at everyone."

"The shouting was too loud." He whispered. "But I just, I couldn't, I don't know what everyone was saying."

"Yeah, that's okay." Pete gently rubbed his shoulder. "Was it that you didn't understand what they were saying, or could you not keep up with the conversation?"

"U-Um, I, I could hear everyone getting angry but I, I didn't know who's voices belonged to who and I didn't understand why they were talking about a tour or something. I don't know what that is. A-And, then you pointed to me at one point and said I didn't understand... and that sucked because I didn't."

"God, I'm sorry." Pete apologised again. "That was awful. I'm really sorry. I was just getting angry because they want us to go on a tour. Um... they want us to travel the country and play music for a long time. And I was getting mad because you're not really recovered enough to go, and they want you to go anyway, and that's a bit scary because it means that you might get a lot more hurt."

"Oh." Was Patrick's only response.

"So yeah, I'm sorry I yelled, but that's what's going on."

"I might just, I wanna go to bed now." Patrick admitted.

"Yeah, that's alright buddy. Sleep well, yeah?"

"You too. Night Pete."

"Night 'Trick."

------

It was about midnight when Pete's bedroom door opened and he heard the familiar sound of the crutches enter. Patrick flopped down beside him, and laid on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Everything okay?" Pete asked sleepily.

"I just remember doing this." Patrick responded, clearly wide awake. "Coming in here when I couldn't sleep."

"Oh, well, that's good." Pete yawned. "You can stay if you want. I don't mind. G'night."

"Night Pete."