FicWad

Thanks for the Memories.
a/n: Um, the last chapter didn't work out as well as I hoped, just because it wasn't really where I was leaning to, but I decided screw it, I'll go on anyway. We are now at the time we left off in the very first part.
Chapter 4
Put Love on Hold


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Deep dark drops of rain fell on his head, where was his hat? Where were his clothes? Where was he? The land of drooping trees and dying leaves was all around him. This was his imagination at its best.
The minutes seemed like hours and the inches seemed like miles but yet his feet urged him to carry on. There was no stopping basically because there was no where to stop. Just road, trees and leaves. No sign of life, no sign of help.
Finally a large pedestal came into view. The bright light was a welcoming sign calling 'stay back with caution'. This didn't stop him from running.
On the long black pedestal was The Man with dark skin and dark eyes. This was all too familiar, but not hitting home. The Man reached his hand out and offered a seat by him. He couldn't refuse The Man, for he knew The Man was the only way home. Or, at least, out of this godforsaken place.
"Sing for me..." The Man ordered him.
Humming the only notes he could think of, he found himself incased in an air of unctuous alertness. As if he was sleeping within his sleep, he let the man to lay him down on the pedestal. They both sang the same tune; they both dreamed the same world. The Man ran his long finger down his back, and brought himself above him. The Man's skin was rough and dirty, as was his mind. Hurt...yes, it always did...
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Waking up in a cold sweat and a rapidly beating heart scared him the most. He never knew where he was at first. This time, though, he had Andy and Joe staring at him to tell him he was in a hotel room somewhere in California.
"Good morning, sunshine!" Andy shook Patrick's bed mess hair. "You know you sing when you sleep?"
"Yeah..."Joe pretended to sniffle, "It was so beautiful..."
"Shut up." Patrick threw a huge white pillow at him.
The hotel had the chlorine smell to it. It wasn't fancy, but whoever said he liked fancy? As long as the sheets were clean and they offered room service he was fine. He sighed and grabbed his jacket from the edge of the bed and shooed off Andy and Joe.
They were doing their first promotional performance today. He wasn't all that ready, but at least he wasn't puking his guts out. Pete was worried that he might pass out or something on stage, but they all knew he wasn't that ill. Combing his hair and putting on his hat, he searched the trashed room for a pair of pants. A pair of black ripped one was under the bed. For some reason, they looked a lot smaller than they used to.
For all he knew, they could have been anyone else pants. There could had been a major party in his room last night and some girl could have left her pants in his room after a series of fondles. But unfortunately for him, there was no party and there was no girl. These were his pants he was trying to hard to pull up.
"Need help?" Pete whispered in his ear.
Why did these moments always happen to him? Why did every embarrassing moment in his life have to revolve around an open bathroom door and him? Before he could make a rude comment back, Pete grabbed hold of the belt of the pants and pulled up. The sled up a lot easier, even though they were still tight, they stayed on.
"Thanks." Patrick held a steady eye contact.
"Anytime." Pete smiled.
It was then Patrick pictured something. A light came from behind Pete and he gave him that smile. The smile he gave a pretty girl walking down the street. That smile after a concert when the crowd was screaming. He put his rough hands on his burning cheeks. Do you love me...? Pete would say. Yes...he would respond. Then their lips would part ever so slight and meet. This is what he knew should happen, and this is what he would like to happen.
"Hurry up." Pete said instead. "Let's getting going. You overslept."
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The last notes hit a point in the crowd. Some girls let people carry them on their hands. A few people were trying to jump on stage. They all screamed for more. Pete, with all his glory and importance, screamed to Patrick to play their most popular hit, Sugar We're Going Down. But something was happening to Patrick. He had a confused look on his face and his guitar limply hung from his shoulder strap. He backed into Andy's drum stand, took a few steps forward, and then fell backwards. His head hit the box holding up Andy. A rush of dark blood came from his mouth. The crowd still screamed.
"Call for help!" Pete threw off his bass and sled on his knees to Patrick. "Joe!"
"Doing it!" Joe jumped off the stage and out of the side door so they could hear him.
Patrick kept trying to get the blood out of his mouth. Pete's first instinct was to left up his head to let the blood out. Instead this lead to a series of cough and fits. Andy was screaming at him to flip him on his stomach. That logic didn't make any sense. Why would you flip him on his stomach?
"Help me." Patrick choked out and grabbed Pete's hand.
"You'll be ok, Patrick" Pete clutched on tighter, just trying to clear his mind and help him. "I promise." In the course of his life, he had lied quite a lot. Now he only hoped he hadn't again. Patrick's face was covered in sweat. Just trying to cool him off, he took the beloved black original trucker hat and tossed it. The crowd still screamed. One man tried to get on top of the stage. One of the huge bodyguards pushed him off, but did nothing else to help them. It had been a little over a minute.
"What the hell are you guys doing?" Joe pushed Pete out of the way and handed him the phone. "You have to flip him over on his side so he doesn't choke to death!"
"Excuse me sir, but I can't hear you." The lady on the phone shouted. "You are going to have to step out side."
"I can't!" Pete screamed. "Hold on."
He handed the phone to Andy and told him to talk to the women outside. Why Joe had come back in was unknown to him then, but he soon learned that Joe had received his first aid license. Everyone was still there, their camera phones out and snapping every picture they could. Pete knew already this was going to lead to a wide variety of rumors in the morning. All he could do was do was what he did best...screaming.
"Get out of here!" Pete yelled. "If you cared at all you'd leave! This is serious guys, get out of here!" No one was leaving.
"Pete..."Joe screamed for him.
Everyone was screaming so loud. The lights were shining so bright. What was going on, what was he suppose to do. How was he supposed to help? He gave the crowd the finger and helped blocked the crowds view of Patrick. His friend was still awake but speaking nonsense.
"The dark man...he speaks..."Patrick kept a gaze at Pete. "What does he ask of me...I can only do so much."
"What are you talking about?" Joe ran his blood soaked hands through his bushy hair.
"I love him..."Patrick started to drift off. "I want to go to him..."
"Is he talking about God?" Joe eyes were saucer plates. "Is he talking about dying? No, he can't die!"
"Don't you dare!" Pete grabbed Patrick's hand and wiped off more blood. "You will be ok!"
Patrick laughed. No more blood came from his mouth, but still leaked from his open wound in the back of his head. Patrick shook his head and whispered to Pete there would be no dying today. Joe started on a word rampage about how Patrick had gone into insanity.
Finally, many of the people had left and the body guards were pushing out many more. A tall one with light blue eyes had got out a first aid kit. It didn't matter, though, because ambulance sounds and lights filled the Californian club. Patrick was going be ok. It had only been four minutes.

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"Hospitals scare me." Andy rubbed his hands against his arms.
"Me too." Pete mumbled through his hand, his head resting between them.
The three guys waited in the white waiting room. An older gentleman in the corner grunted and went back to sleep. Joe skimmed through a homes and garden magazine while Andy kept drinking cups of water. Pete could do nothing but keep his head down. A short man with a gray mustache came strolling into the room.
"Friends of Patrick Stumph?" The doctor asked.
"That us!" Joe jumped up and shook the man's hand.
"He's ready to see you."
The long halls of the huge building were filled with medical devices and dying patients. Pete couldn't help but go back to his past, go back to a time that there was nothing in his life besides empty walls and swollen glands. His family and friends no longer trusted him with pills and sharp objects. Never could he go a night without a call from his parents just to make sure that he was still breathing.
Patrick looked paler than normal, but he looked alright. He sat up in the bed flipping through a people magazine. A large white bandage covered his head and his orange hair was exceedingly shorter, with a large potion cut out in the back. When they enter his smile widen. Joe ran over and gave him a bear hug. Andy quickly joined. Pete, on the other hand, didn't feel it was his place to run and join the enjoyment.
"Are you going to be ok?" Joe asked.
"Yeah, I will be." Patrick's voice was hoarse.
"What did the doctor say?" Andy sat at the edge of the bed. "Did he say our lunchbox could still perform?"
"I don't know." Patrick said. "He still needs to run some more test."
"Hey, guys..."Pete asked. "Can I talk to him alone?"
Andy and Joe shrugged, wished Patrick the best, and left. There was a silent second between them, both unsure of what they should say. Pete cleared his throat, and pulled up a chair. They both broke out in tears and grabbed each other.
"I can't believe you're ok." Pete held onto him for dear life. "I didn't know what was happening and I...I've never been so scared in my life."
"I'm so sorry." Patrick rubbed Pete's back. "I shouldn't have ever even thought of doing that show. I just wanted to promote the cd."
"Forget the damn cd!" Pete cried. "The only important thing is that you are ok."
After a few more seconds of tears of joy and the embrace, they let go. Pete handed him a tissue and stared at his shoes. They hadn't acted that way towards each other in a long while. Pete smiled at him again and whispered.
"I just want you to know, no matter what anyone says, do what you feel like you can. I don't want this to happen again. Losing you would be...be..."
"You won't lose me." Patrick grasped Pete's shoulder. "I promise."