The Problem with Patrick || Fall Out Boy

i don't blame you for being you

Before the break, Fall Out Boy's time in the dressing rooms was one of laughter and good times, where they'd make jokes and get all warmed up and ready, while snacking on whatever their manager had brought them. Today Joe was trying to keep the atmosphere fairly hyped as he ran around shoving Doritos in his mouth, but there was an obvious elephant in the room in the shape of Patrick Stump.

Patrick knew he should be taking to his bandmates about the show that they were about to play, but he found himself becoming withdrawn and unattached. It didn't feel real, he didn't feel like himself. He just felt like his body was vacant, nobody was home inside Patrick's head. It just felt.... Numb.

He spent a while pacing back and forth around the dressing room, and then pacing between the dressing room and the bathroom, and then pacing back and forth between his mirror and the snacks table. Their manager had actually left some beers for them, but Pete was right there and Patrick wasn't exactly sure how he was going to get his hands on one without him noticing.

He probably needed one anyone, just to loosen him up so he wasn't this robotic ball of nerves that was humming David Bowie songs under his breath in a lame attempt to convince everyone he was warming up. After another 3 laps of the dressing room, he built up the courage, stormed over a little more powerfully than was necessary, grabbed a can and popped the top and took a sip, all before Pete could get a word in.

Joe took it as an opportunity to have a laugh and did the same, before handing a can to Pete. "To the best damn tour Fall Out Boy has ever done!"

Pete was watching Patrick with a slightly concerned expression, but forced a smile and held his can up. "Cheers!"

Patrick held his can up and the three all tapped their cans together, Andy tapping a plastic cup of water against the cans to be included as well. Then they drank. Pete took a sip, Joe took a sip, Andy drank a mouthful, and Patrick poured the entire contents of the can down his throat.

"Woah!" Pete forced a laugh, and took the can off him. "Easy, buddy! You gotta save that for the after party, after we play that kickass set, right?"

Patrick blinked a couple of times, and furrowed his brows before backing down. "Yeah, right. I'm gonna, I'm gonna go warm up in the bathroom."

"The bathroom?" Joe asked.

"Good acoustics." He responded, quickly leaving the room.

The three remaining bandmates looked at eachother, before Pete leapt up and chased him. He found his friend staring at his reflection, just taking deep breaths, before glancing at Pete's reflection as it appeared beside his own.

"Fuck, Pete." He whispered, near silent. "There's just so much fucking pressure."

Pete frowned, but patted his shoulder compassionately. "There's no pressure. We just want you to do what you can. If shit hits the fan, then it is what it is. But you know that the guys and I don't judge you on this. You're the best fucking singer we know, whether you can play songs or not. You're a great guy, Patrick, and honestly, fuck the label, fuck the show, fuck everything that's putting pressure on you. We don't mind. I'd take a happy, healthy Patrick Stump over a tour any fucking day."

Patrick smiled weakly, before groaning and rubbing his eyes. "This is just everything I've ever wanted, and I'm just here and I just can't grab it because my hands are shaking too much."

"Well, let me be your hand." Pete handed him a bottle of water. "Let's sing some stupid show tunes to warm up, and get ready to do this awesome thing."

"Yeah, okay." Patrick took another deep breath.

"Can, can I try something?" Pete asked, feeling he just had a sudden breakthrough.