I Seem Like I'm Doing Alright (Peterick)

Introduction

(A/N: Okay, this is my very first fanfic!! Woot!! So please bear with me on my writing abilities, my update schedule, and my typos. I'll attempt to update every 7-15 days, maybe more in between, if I am able to. I am hoping this will be 10-15 parts/chapters long, if I can stretch my story line out that far, or it could be longer than that, you never know. You can follow me on tumblr notsogreatnat.tumblr.com or you can subscribe to me on iFunny themightystumble. Anyway, enjoy :)

+++++++Warning: this fic will have mentions of self harm, suicide, and eating disorders, so if you aren't comfortable with that, please don't read this+++++++++++

-POV Pete-
The October air is refreshingly cold as it hits the back of my post concert throat. I have about fifteen minutes before the bus leaves and we head for North Carolina, and I just want to spend that time alone outside while the cold air eats me alive. I love it. I love this tour, this band, and these fans, but something seems off, and I just can not figure out. Its killing me. Not literally, but figuratively. Its not Joe or Andy, its Patrick. Maybe I should just tell the guys about it and they'll fix it magically or something, but probably not. The engine starts and I realize it's time board the giant toaster once again.
I'm on the couch across from Patrick, discussing the guitar malfunction from tonights show, when we hit a rather deep pot hole, sending me to the cold wood floor. Patrick didn't hesitate before he arose from his chair and lifted me off the floor. He may look like a twenty year old hotdog stand owner, but the kid is strong. I hardly have to put forth any effort when he helps me up. Once I'm back on the couch, Patrick announces that he is going to bed, which is unusual because he never goes to his bunk before midnight and it is only 10:15, but no one questions it and Patrick turns in for the night.

-Next Morning-
"Morning'" Joe greets me as I emerge from the bunks.
"Ditto" I reply with sleep thick in my voice.
"Where's Patrick? He's usually making coffee right now and telling Andy to fuck off."
"I don't know. I'll check his bunk I guess." I get up quickly and make my way to the bunks just in case...
I flip on the switch that lights up the bunk area and I say Patricks name loud and clear to warn him I am about to open his curtain. I pull back the beige curtain to reveal Patrick crying and sweating in his sleep.
"Patrick! Patrick!" I shake him into conscientious.
He opens his eyes and continues to cry. His face and body seem cold, so no fever, but whats wrong with him? I embrace him as he continues to cry.
"Patrick, are you alright man?" I say soothingly.
"I-I do-n-n't know. C-c-can't breathe. Inhaler." He stammered out.
A panic attack with a side of asthma. Again. Great wheres his inhaler? Oh wait, I still have the one I carry around for him in case of emergencies. I grab it and take it to him quickly. He takes off the cap, gives it a few weak shakes and takes a few swigs of it. I rub circles on his back, attempting to calm him down. I have a feeling he knows what caused this. Once his breathing is evened out, I quietly ask him to explain.
"I don't know what's happening, sorry I don't remember."
"Shhh. Its alright. Just take deep breaths, and when you're ready, come out into the living area. If you need me just call."
"What the hell took so long? And where is he?" Andy asked angrily.
"He had an asthma attack again. But he's okay now, he'll be out in a minute."
"Do you know what caused it this time. Thats the third time this week"
"He claims to not know, but something's up."
"Shit thats scary. I can't even imagine waking up and not being able to breathe."
Whats even more scary is not knowing whats wrong with your best friend.

(A/N: I'm sorry this was so short and confusing, but its the intro and the next part will be longer and will explain these events. Also, I have asthma, and I attempted to write that scene as best as I could. Maybe I'll get better at this writing thing.)