Pete looked up from his laptop to see Patrick standing in the door of their dressing room. Patrick looked a little nervous and was staring in the make up mirror in the back of the room. He didn’t even notice Pete looking at him until Pete let out a little cough.
When their eyes met, the two friends stared at each other for a moment, words unnecessary. Pete knew Patrick wanted to tell him something. Patrick knew that Pete knew what he wanted. Yet all he managed to say was: “I need to talk to you.”
Pete still didn’t say anything as Patrick closed the door and took a seat next to him. Various scenarios were going through his mind.
“Pete?”
“Yeah?”
“I hurt Bronx. He’s going to need stitches.”
“You what?”
“I’m sorry…”
“Pete?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“What?”
“I’m gay Pete… I’m sorry…”
“Pete?”
“Yeah?”
“I wrote some lyrics for a song.”
Various scenarios but oh so unexpected.
Pete blinked and stared at the paper Patrick was holding out to him. Shaking his head to get rid of the words that seemed to be stuck there, he grabbed the paper from Patrick’s hand.
As Pete’s eyes scanned the words on the paper, Patrick’s were staring at his shoes. A blush found its way to his cheeks when Pete started humming some unknown tune.
“So there’s a girl?”
“Isn’t there always?” Patrick mumbled without looking up, not the slightest bit surprised that his friend deciphered the meaning of his words so easily. Pete was an expert at hidden meanings and metaphors.
“So who is she? Do I know her? Does she know about this?” Pete rambled like an enthusiastic little school girl.
Patrick looked up with a smile. The conversation wasn’t going in the direction he expected, but he answered nonetheless. “Yes, you know her. Take a wild guess.” He teased. He knew all to well Pete couldn’t refuse a challenge like that.
And indeed, Pete smiled and looked at the paper again. Patrick could almost hear the gears in his head crush together.
Pete’s eyes flashed over the words on the paper and suddenly everything seemed to make sense in his head. His mind flashed back to the night they first met her.
They were playing a concert in Michigan when Pete got trouble breathing. He collapsed on the stage, bass still clamped in his hands, gasping for breath. He could still see Patrick and a boy from first aid hovering above him.
“We have to get him of the stage!” The boy yelled over the roar of the crowd.
“No!” Pete could still hear the word ring in his head. Seeing her run onto the stage with a syringe and a pair of scissors in her hand was the last thing he remembered before passing out. The others had to fill him in on the details later.
She was next to him in no time, scowling at the first aid boy. “Are you crazy? He has a collapsed lung! You can’t move him like that!”
Without wasting more words she pulled the plunger out of the syringe, cut his shirt open and pushed the syringe into his chest. It later turned out to be her very first time to do this, but Pete was still thankful nonetheless.
When Pete started breathing again, he got a sudden spasm. His arm hit the girl and she fell onto the scissors lying next to her.
Not even noticing her bleeding wrist, she yelled at the boy next to her to call 911 and without another word, she got up and stepped to the microphone. “Boys and girls, I’m very sorry to tell you this, but I’m afraid that the rest of this concert has been cancelled due to a collapsed lung. No worries though, Mr. Wentz will be just fine.” She announced before walking off the stage to check if the ambulance was coming.
When Pete woke up again, he was in a hospital bed and she was sleeping in the chair next to the bed, arm wrapped in a bandage. Patrick was standing in the door frame staring at her. When he noticed that Pete was awake, he walked into the room and sat down on the side of his bed.
“Glad to see you are back!” He smiled at Pete.
“Glad to be back. Where are the others?” Pete asked with a weak smile.
“They decided they were in need of coffee. They left 45 minutes ago, their mission was to find a cafeteria.” Patrick answered.
“Typical.” Pete grinned. “So… What happened?”
“Your lung collapsed. The guy from first aid tried to move you and she stopped him. The doctors told me she saved your life.” Patrick answered while turning his gaze to the sleeping girl again.
“I’ll definitely have to thank her for that later!” Pete laughed. “What’s with the bandage around her wrist? I don’t remember her having that when she ran onto the stage.”
Patrick chuckled slightly before answering. “She pushed the syringe into your chest and when you started breathing again you had a spasm. You hit her and she fell onto the scissors. Cut her arm open just beside her coronary artery. She got lucky, but she still needed stitches, so she drove with you to the hospital in the ambulance. When we arrived, she was sitting here already, sleeping. She looked so adorable, so we decided not to wake her up.”
“We decided or you decided?” Pete teased.
Patrick didn’t answer, but the silence that filled the room as he blushed and looked down at his hands, was all the confirmation Pete needed.
Pete smiled at the memories as he read the lyrics again. He remembered how she was very sorry for what happened. He didn’t get why she was sorry until she explained. It turned out that she felt bad for cancelling the concert. A lot of people were disappointed that night and she thought it was all her fault. It wasn’t off course. The only thing Pete could blame her for was saving his life. And he didn’t think of that as a bad thing.
The guys all felt safe when she was around. So she continued to stick around. She accompanied them to all of their shows, stood at the side line just in case something bad might happen. Or that’s what Pete thought. But apparently she had become much more than a safeguard to Patrick.
“I knew you were going to fall for her that very first night at the hospital.” Pete was still focusing on the lyrics when he spoke. “Victoria is going to love this.”
Patrick smiled at Pete’s reaction, but he didn’t miss that his friend’s face was unusually serious. “You figured it out. Then why the depressed face?” He asked.
Pete finally looked up to face Patrick. “Well, because I know her. I’m pretty sure she’s going to be pissed at you for keeping something like this from her. You are important to her you know. Why write lyrics about it instead of telling her how you feel…” Pete’s voice drifted off as he heard the door open.
Victoria entered the room and walked towards Patrick. She sat down on his lap and gave him a small kiss on the lips. Then she turned to Pete. “Who says he didn’t already tell me?” She asked with a huge smile on her face.
Pete looked from Patrick to Victoria and back. “I thought you didn’t tell her yet.” He said, still confused. “But if you did, then what’s this about?” He asked.
Patrick grinned. “Well, the lyrics… You’ve read them, you know who they are about…” He spoke as the nervousness resurfaced. “I know you normally write the lyrics, but… What do you think?”
Pete looked at the paper in his hands once more. He looked at Patrick and noticed how his arm was securely around Victoria’s waist. He looked at Victoria and noticed how she was leaning into Patrick’s chest. They both looked so happy, so in love.
“It’s perfect!” Pete said with a smile. And they all knew he wasn’t just talking about the words in his hand.
