I Seem Like I'm Doing Alright (Peterick)

Part One

(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 Patrick-

Tears flood down my cheeks, as I sit on the bathroom floor of the venue we're in for tonights show. My jeans don't fit. My favorite jeans will not fucking button. I look down at my useless stomach. I'm just a pile of annoying fat. No one will like me if I'm fat. I can still feel the hotdog in the back of my throat from earlier. It's disgusting. I'm disgusting. I can't keep going on like this. I get on my knees and lean over the toilet and stick my fingers deep into my throat, triggering my gag reflex. Disgusting. I know this is wrong. It feels so wrong, but I just want to feel good about myself for once. After I finish emptying my stomach of that garbage, I grab a piece of gum out of my over night bag to soothe my throat and to rid my mouth of the taste and smell of vomit. I rinse my face with cold water and unlock the door, ready to go to hair and makeup.

-Time skip-

The show was extremely exciting. Every time I preform, I still get nervous and I am still astounded at the amount of people that come to hear us, a bunch of middle age men from Chicago. I forget about all of that when Pete approaches me. He's not my best friend, he is so much more than that. I feel like were soul mates, but with out the mates part. Don't get me wrong, I like pete, I came to terms with that a long time ago, but pete doesn't like me. I mean he's not gay or bi so he couldn't possibly like me, and besides, who would? Anyway, here comes pete.
"Hey 'Trick! Great job tonight. You always amaze me with your fucking voice. Hey uh, some of the guys are going to the bar down the road to 'get something to eat', and I was wondering if you wanted to come with?"
"Yeah sure thing, just let me shower, and I'll catch up with you guys later."
"Hey, alright man! See ya" he patted my shoulder and left to go get drunk.
But, he didn't know that I am not going to go to that bar because 1.) alcohol is water weight 2.) hangovers on tours suck 3.) I don't want to damage my throat even more and 4.) I hate going out with Pete and "the guys" because they all get extremely drunk and then expect me to be the designated driver, so no I will not go to a bar. I gather my things and walk to the showers.

-POV Pete-

It's been fifteen minutes since I talked to Patrick, and I've already had three shots. I am going to feel this in the morning.
"Alright, ready, one two three!" The bartender shouted as I tipped my head back, in sync with the others, gulping down another shot.
Good thing tomorrow is an open day set for traveling because we aren't going to be able to do shit. The door opens, and I look over expecting to see a tiny blond man in a fedora heading over to me, but it's just some old guy. I frown and turn to the glass of water the bartender set in front of me. When did this get here? The droplets of water snake their way down to the bottom as I partially participate in the groups conversation. Maybe I should go back to the bus. I'm already gonna be so sick tomorrow. I say my goodbyes to the guys and head out. The bar is only a block from the bus so it can't possibly be that bad I just need to go left, then right, and cut across th- not its right then left. Shit. I stumble and fall. This is how it ends for me I guess. Oh wait I own a cellular device, that could come in handy. I dial Patrick's number. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
" Pete hey what's up?"
"I don't Rememmmbberr howwww to get hommme."
"Can you name a place around you and I'll come find you?"
"Hmmm. Um there's a Foodland store thingy."
"Perfect. Stay put and I'll be there in five."

-POV Patrick-

Now I feel horrible for not going. I put on my sweat pants and shoes and head over to the "Foodland thingy". Luckily it's two A.M. and all of the fans have gone home so I don't have to worry about that, but I do have to worry about the idiot I have chosen as a friend. I turn the corner to reveal a sign that says Foodland, and straight across from it is Pete, laying on the side walk. I hurry over and help him up.
"Oh hey is you!"
"Shhhhhh! Pete its two A.M. keep your voice down!"
"It's sokay cause I'm famoussss! I'm Pete Wentz!"
"Yes and you'll be dead if you don't shut up!"
"Please don't kill me Pattycakes, cause some day we're gonna get married and be famous together forever! I love you sssoooooo much!"
"Pete please be quiet were going to get arrested."
"Sokay. I'll be quiet."
Finally I got him to shut up. I dragged him all the way back to the bus and helped him get into his pajamas. He still had a firm grip on me when he flung himself down into the mattress, taking me with him.
"Patty, stay with me. I don't feel good."
"Probably because you're drunk as hell and you're probably going to puke any minute. So how about you sleep with a trash can?" (what's the difference right?)
"Sure beans bud. I don't want to puke on my future wife."
I roll my eyes and grab the trash can from the kitchen and set it by his bunk, along with aspirin and a bottle of water because he is going to be in so much pain tomorrow.
"Goodnight Pattycakes. Love you."
"Night Pete."
Sometimes I swear when he's drunk, he acts like he's two years old.