Falling Again (For You)

Chapter 9

Pete's hands are shaking when he's tuning his bass. They have five minutes before they go on stage. He knows he shouldn't be worried, most of the people in the crowd didn't even know the name of the band and it's been plastered on posters all over the venue, but somehow that makes him even more anxious.

Patrick walks up besides him, sliding his hands over Pete's.

"Hey, it's ok."

"How are you so composed?"

"I'm not, honestly I feel like throwing up, but what can you do about it?"

Pete lets out a shaky laugh.

"Even if you fuck up the bass part, your lyrics are great, so really, you should be worried about me fucking up the lyrics."

"You're you, no matter how much you fuck up, it'll still be good."

"I can say the same to you."

Patrick kisses Pete on the cheek, sliding his hands in his hair in the progress.

"You'll be great, don't worry."

Pete's breathing levels out a little. These are the times when he doesn't know how he ever survived before he met this beautiful work of art that was Patrick.

Patrick was honestly dying on the inside but he knew that if he showed Pete this, it would only worry him more. He doesn't know what he's so worked up about, he's practiced so many times that it was probably physically impossible for him to mess up. He's always been shy though, why should he be surprised at the sudden nerves, it's not like this was their first major tour with a major band.

Soon, someone's waving at them to go on stage and none of them really have any more time to freak out about anything else.

Everything happens in a kind of blur. Patrick's singing his heart out, his voice cracks a few times (but no one really seemed to notice, or care), and Pete was jumping around like he always does. Joe's jumping up and down, head banging at the right moments, and Andy's just...Andy. He never misses a beat, and the entire show is just amazing.

Out of everyone in the room, they were probably the ones that were moving the most, but they were having fun. Pete runs into Patrick a few times, and they think they saw some kid leave with a broken nose. All in all, it was their best show ever. They're practically drowning in a pool of their own sweat by the time they get off stage. Sisky, the bass for The Academy Is, greets them when they get off stage.

"Hey, you guys were sick!", he says.

Patrick smiles, "Thanks."

"We're gonna have a hard time topping that."

Patrick tries to deny it, but he keeps insisting they were amazing, and soon, Patrick just shyly mutters a thanks before they go back to the changing room.

After they all showered, they join the crowd in dancing a long to Academy. They were standing in the back, next to some boys with vests and ripped jeans. Patrick's bobbing his head along to the music when one of the boys, who obviously didn't recognize him in the poorly lit venue, leans over and kinda shouts to him, "Did you see the set before this?"

Patrick decides to go along with it and nods.

"It was fucking insane, my friend broke his nose!"

"Did you like it?"

"Hell fucking yeah! Better than whatever this band is.", the guy says, pointing towards the stage where William Beckett was singing into the mic.

And although the other kid was wearing a The Academy Is... shirt, Patrick doesn't think he's ever been this happy. He's still bubbling with all kinds of excitement when he's packing up their things later that night. The van is parked in an alley way a few streets away from the venue. It's a little dark, the only street lamp there flickers on and off. Patrick can feel his heart rate begin to pick up a little, his breathing fumbling too. He's the only one there cause some idiot threw a beer bottle into the crowd and it hit him right in the head and he had to come back. The music was too much for his raging head ache, but now he's starting to regret it.