After The Dance (FOB FanFic ft. Panic! At The Disco)

~PART TWO~ [Chapter 24] Make Things Right (Patrick)

(Patrick's POV)

Knock knock. "Patrick."

I groaned.

Knock knock. "Patrick!"

"What?" I slowly opened my eyes, only to be blinded by the light that was shining brightly through the window. I hissed in pain and turned my head away, just as my door swung open to reveal my mother standing in the doorway sideways. My eyebrows furrowed together in confusion before I realized I was who was sideways, lying on the floor.

I sat up with much pain and scratched my head, just as my mom gasped, "Oh my god, Patrick, what happened last night!?!" My mother walked into the room and helped me to my feet. "And what are all these bottles doing on the floor?" She continued to interrogate, "And are those my pills!?!"

I remained silent, barely being able to keep my balance.

"Patrick," My mom gripped my chin tightly and tilted my head up so I was looking directly at her, "What happened last night?"

I looked her right in the eyes and laughed, "Why do you care?"

"Because I'm your mother and you're my son," She answered firmly, "Now tell me what happened, this instant!"

"I got stressed out!" I shouted at her, ripping myself out of her hold.

"Getting stressed out doesn't give you the right to raid my medicine cabinet or the fridge!"

"I don't give a shit, mom!" I screamed, anger boiling up inside of me even though she did nothing but ask a few questions, "I don't give a shit about anything anymore!"

"Not even that band of yours?"

"No! They all hate me! Because I've changed supposedly!"

She stared at me for a little longer before shaking her head and saying, "I agree with one thing."

"What? That my friends hate me?"

"No. They're your best friends, they can't hate you. What I agree with is that you've changed."

I scoffed. Great, my mom hates me too.

"I want my old son back, Patrick. The one who...who wasn't like this," She motioned to me before turning around and walking out of my room. But before she did, she said, "And if they hated you, they wouldn't be here asking for you."

"Wait, what?" I retorted, perplexed by this news.

"Joseph and Andrew are downstairs waiting for you," She elucidated, stepping out into the hallway and leaving.

I heaved a sigh and looked at the mess around me, scenes from last night flashing before me in a matter of seconds.

I ran my fingers through my hair and walked out of my room. I didn't even care to clean myself up before descending down the staircase and finding the drummer and the guitarist standing in the foyer of my house. They both looked over at me at the same time and by the looks on their faces, I probably looked like shit.

"Hi guys," I managed to greet, slipping my hands in my pockets and asking, "What are you doing here?"

"We just wanted to hang out," Andy replied.

"Yeah, you know, to talk," Joe added.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw my mother in the kitchen, washing the dishes. I returned my attention to my friends and retorted, "Okay. How about we go out and talk about it over some breakfast? I'm starving."

"Breakfast?" Andy repeated, as if I was speaking another language.

"Yeah."

"But it's noon," My other friend told me. I looked into the living room and on the little television receiver box, in green numbers, was the time 12:51.