FicWad

Patrick lugged his suitcase and guitar into the lobby of the hotel, feeling incredibly stupid. He was 21 and homeless. He walked up to the front desk and pulled his hat low down as he waited for the person in front of him in the queue to leave.
"How can I help you, Sir?" The lady at the desk asked as Patrick stepped into his place. He pulled out his wallet from his pocket and opened it.
"I, uh, need a room." He replied.
"OK, how long will you be staying with us for?"
"I... don't know." Patrick said, honestly. The woman nodded and typed information into her computer.
"What's your name, Sir?"
"Patrick Stump." He said, quietly, watching her type in his name.
"Enjoy your stay with us, Mr Stump. I hope it's a pleasant one." The woman smiled after he had given her the information she needed, and she handed him back his credit card and a card key.
"Thanks." He said, smiling back. He turned around and stepped out of the line.
Grabbing his bag and hauling it over it shoulder, he hung onto his suitcase and guitar tightly as he made his way to the elevators. He'd only been in this hotel once, back last year, touring with the guys. Everything was familiar yet strange to him. He was lost, alone in a world that he'd thought he'd never have to face by himself. Looking at his card key, he pressed the button in the elevator for the 19th floor. He was surprised there was no one in the elevator, for such a busy hotel. He was completely unaware of the relaxing music playing through the speakers above him, his attention was just on his reflection on the mirrored walls. Being jolted out of his thoughts by the elevator doors opening to reveal the biggest corridor he'd ever seen, he put his problems to the back of his mind and stepped out of the elevator. He stood, lost, confused as to where he was to go. Should he turn right and go down that corridor? Or go left and walk down that one? Or should he keep going? He couldn't even make a simple decision. Glancing at his card key again, he decided to walk straight on.
"1992." Patrick whispered to himself, scanning the numbers of the doors and turning another corner. He tried to make a mental note in his head of how to get to his room, but it was impossible. He became irritated with the place, why didn't they have signs?
Signs.
He looked at the walls as he walked, his cheeks flushing a shade of crimson even though the corridor was deserted. He was so stupid, not even realizing there were signs on the walls. He was going the right way. For once.
Finally, he found his room, and unlocked it with difficulty. He fell into the room and stumbled as he switched the light on. The room was clean and comfortable, one less thing to worry about. At least he was getting what he paid for. He dragged his luggage into the room and let the door shut on its own. The snap of the lock closing startled him, and he quickly switched on the TV so there was something else to listen to. Something else to listen to than the sound of his thoughts, and the never ending silence that reverberated around the room. He sat on the bed and looked at the view out of his window. The city he'd grown up outside of seemed so different to him now. When he was a kid, he looked forward to weekends when he went to stay with his dad in his city apartment. He would stand for hours watching the city go by. It never seemed so stop and he loved the thought of that. Now, it was just like his life. It never seemed to stop. And now he resented it. He was fully aware of the fact that the business he was in moved fast, and he accepted it, but he couldn't stop himself feeling miserable about it. He thought of being a kid, standing by the window, in awe of the rush of cars, the chatter of people and the sounds of car horns and music. He wondered if he knew back then what his life would be now, whether he would be so in awe of it. The best thing about going to his dad's at the weekend, was being able to hear him playing guitar and singing. For some reason, it made him extremely proud, and extremely uncomfortable. As he would go on to say in an interview years later, it was "almost like watching him bone,". Music was the one thing that moved him, the only topic he would really open up about. Music was his passion, his love. That was what he loved about Chicago. No matter where he went, the music was never as pure in any city as it was in Chicago. It was the hometown of jazz, and people genuinely loved music here. There were no clubs, at least he thought there weren't, that faked the love of music. In cities like LA, there were so many places that placed music because it attracted people, but no one really listened to it. People wanted to drink and dance to it, and lose themselves in the subconscious of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Back here in Chicago, people came to have a good time and rewind, and clubs could be found packed with people who had a genuine interest in the music scene. He suddenly felt his cell phone vibrating somewhere inside his clothes, and he dug in his pockets until he found it.
1 new msg. The phone flashed. Patrick flipped it open and read;
Where are you?
Patrick dialed Pete's number, and it rang several times before it was answered.
"Hey, man, where are you hiding?" Pete's voice was loud in his ear and it startled him.
"I'm in a hotel." Patrick said, after clearing his throat.
"Why? Ahh, a saucy fantasy with Christina perhaps?"
"No," Patrick replied, "We broke up."
There was a stunned silence on the other end of the phone. Patrick didn't feel like breaking it.
"Oh," Pete's voice said, "Man, I'm really sorry."
"It's OK. These things happen."
Pete admired Patrick's bravery. He would have expected tears and a plead to be a shoulder to cry on.
"Yeah, I guess they do. Uh, listen what hotel are you in?"
"The Intercontinental."
"Right. Hey, what do you say I come meet you and we go for a drink and dinner?"
Patrick shrugged but remembered Pete couldn't see him.
"Sure. I'd like that."
"OK, go get ready and I'll meet you in the lobby."
"Right. Later." Patrick said, and hung up the call. He stared blankly at the TV for a few seconds, and came back out of his thoughts. Opening up his suitcase, he rummaged around for a clean shirt and pants, and took them into the bathroom. He quickly showered, after trying to figure out how to turn the shower on, and then threw his clothes on. Grabbing his hat, he pulled it over his head and grabbed his wallet, car keys and cell phone. Taking one last glance around the room to see if he had forgotten anything, he left.
"Right, left, left, straight ahead." Patrick muttered to himself, following his own directions. He found the elevator, surprised at finding it first time, and pressed the button. He walked into the elevator that opened, and was greeted with an old couple, and a young family. He averted his eyes as he pressed the button for the lobby, and silently bit his lip as he the elevator descended. He hated the atmosphere of being in such a small place with strangers. The people always whispered and tried to keep their conversations private, but there was a sense that someone was always listening to them, whether they wanted to or not. Sometimes people stopped talking altogether and just eyed the backs of the people standing in front of them, or stole glances at the people beside them. Else they talked louder, as if to pin point the fact they didn't care if anyone heard them. The older couple stayed quiet, but the young family didn't bother to keep their voices down.
"Rory! Don't even think about it." The father said, as his oldest son stretched out his arm past Patrick to press all the buttons. Patrick watched the buttons light up as each floor was descended upon. Gradually, the elevator emptied and he was the only one left as it opened into the lobby.
The change of noise upon entering the lobby was unmistakable. The relaxing, dream like music was replaced by the chattering of thousands of people, as they dined in the many restaurants throughout the ground floor, or went out for dinner in the city. The sounds of excited children overjoyed at being on vacation or dining out rang throughout Patrick's ears, and he watched as they ran around, to be chased back to their parent's side. Patrick leant against the wall, his head down, jamming his hat further down in his head. Standing with his hands in his pockets, he stared at his dusty shoes until someone tapped him on the rim of his hat.
"Hey, stranger." Pete said, grinning.
"Hey." Patrick said, managing a smile.
"You alright? Stupid question, I know, but I have to ask."
Patrick nodded.
"I'm fine. Well, I will be."
Pete also nodded, and clapped Patrick on the shoulder lightly.
"Come on, let's go get some dinner."
They walked around the ground floor of the hotel, pointing out places each of them fancied to eat, but both disagreed with each other until they stopped outside another.
"Sensi." Pete said, looking up at the sign above the door, "Sounds posh. What do you say?"
"Sure." Patrick shrugged, suddenly aware he was in casual clothing with an old denim jacket thrown on top. Pete was dressed in a hoodie and tight pants, so Patrick probably looked like the smarter one. They entered the restaurant and looked around at the water fountains trickling down the wall.
"Wow." Pete said, nodding appreciatively. He stood at the desk and tapped his fingers on it while waiting for someone to attend to him.
Soon, they were seated, at a booth right in the corner. Patrick sat facing everyone, so he could people watch and so Pete wouldn't be recognized. At least Patrick could hide his face with his hat.
"So, you wanna talk about it, or what?" Pete asked him.
"There's nothing to talk about," Patrick said quickly, as the waiter handed them menus and raised the pen to take their drinks order.
"Can I get a coke, please?" Pete asked the waiter, who nodded and jotted it down in his notebook. He looked inquiringly at Patrick.
"Uh, Dr Pepper, please." He said, and the waiter nodded again and went to get their drinks.
"Check us out, total sugar addicts." Pete chuckled, opening his menu. Patrick looked down at his, and couldn't see anything he wanted to eat. Food seemed such a stupid thing to decide over at that moment. He looked at Pete scanning his menu, and put his down on the table.
"Christina said there was another guy."
Pete stopped reading and looked up at him.
"What?" Pete asked, his eyes wide as he put his own menu down.
"Yeah," Patrick nodded and swallowed. "She said she wasn't cheating on me, but there was a guy she felt she had more of a future with."
"Wha-, she can't do that!" Pete said, defensively. Patrick wondered why he was so adamant.
"Well, she told me she couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't take how much it hurt when I left her to go on tour and stuff. I tried my best to make her change her mind, but..." Patrick broke off with a shrug, fiddling with his napkin.
Pete just watched him, waiting for him to say more.
"I really thought I would marry her." Patrick said, with a small, nervous laugh. "But shit happens, right?"
Pete nodded, a deep feeling of sympathy for Patrick filling his chest. He hated seeing Patrick upset. Well, anyone would. He was normally so calm, so reserved. Seeing him have to swallow hard to compose himself was heartbreaking for anyone.
"Right." He replied.
Throughout dinner Patrick didn't speak of Christina once, and Pete didn't plan on mentioning it and upsetting him again. Even if he wanted to, the moment had passed.
There was one thing about Pete that Patrick appreciated, and that was his ability to divert thoughts and feelings onto a different topic. If someone was upset, Pete would talk about things that would automatically allow them to forget their problems and have a good time and a normal conversation. Sometimes Pete would deliberately irritate people if they were in the best of moods. He would sit and sulk and grunt replies at their questions, his body language obvious he wasn't interested in his surroundings. He only did it for fun, but only people who knew his strange ways and jokes understood what he was doing, whereas others assumed Pete was just rude, selfish and arrogant.
The rest of their evening was filled with laughter and pleasant, grown up conversation. Patrick had forgotten any feelings of depression and isolation, and Pete felt responsible for making sure he stayed that way. Patrick felt normal for the first time in 24 hours until they left the restaurant and realized they were about to part.
"So..." Patrick said, nervously. The feeling of solarity returned, creeping up his stomach and causing his heart to beat faster in his chest. Pete watched him closely.
"Patrick, why don't you come stay with me?"
"Huh?"
"Well, if you go back to your room, face it, you're just gonna lie there thinking about everything." Pete explained. "Why don't you stay with me and we can have fun and take your mind off it?"
Patrick smiled at his concern, but Pete mistook it for an answer.
"Right? We can watch stupid movies and stuff." Pete grinned. Patrick was still smiling, but he shook his head and held steady eye contact with Pete as he spoke.
"Pete, I really appreciate the offer, really, I do. But even if we did stay up and watch stupid movies, I'd still end up alone in bed tonight, thinking about everything."
Pete nodded, and shrugged.
"Hey, if you ever need me." He said, with a smile.