The attic demos part one (Between Jersey and Chicago)

[alles_luege]

Title: Between Jersey and Chicago
Author:
alles_luege
Pairing: Patrick/Mikey, Patrick/Pete
Rating: PG
Summary: So, this is a story about how Pete makes Patrick drive 13 hours to see MCR play a show, and how Patrick meets Mikey Way for the first time.
Warning(s): Angst
Author’s Notes: Part of a three-part-series. The series title is of course stolen. Also, plays pre fame and screaming fangirls. POV changes between Patrick and Mikey.
Word Count: 2.372
Beta: tygermine
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, not real.

I. Between Jersey and Chicago

~1~
And it’s not that he never goes out! Because he does. Go out, that is.
But Jersey? Seemed a bit far for just a show. Besides, it was Jersey! The kind of place that bred more serial killers per square mile than any other part of the States. And, okay, Chicago isn’t that safe either…but his mom will have a fit if he asks her to go. He knows she will. He’s seventeen, but that doesn’t count as much in a mother’s eyes. It’s a problem every teenager has.
Or maybe he’s trying too hard to talk himself out of it.
And then there’s Pete.
Pete, who tells him it will be so goddamned awesome and he needs to come, because it wouldn’t be the same without him and besides Joe is coming too. And well, Patrick thinks if Joe is going he will too…but his mom will say something around the lines of ‘when Joe jumps from a bridge will you follow?’ while rolling her eyes and waving the large chef’s knife in her hand at him. The sad truth is, he totally would…well, maybe…he thinks he would if it was Pete. He shakes his head and runs his hands nervously over his thighs. It won’t kill him to just ask her. God, Patrick, he thinks, get a grip! It’s just his mom after all. Just his mom, destroyer of dreams…
Okay, where did that came from?! Pete has obviously rubbed off on him.
He takes a deep breath and steps into the kitchen.

“Mom?”

“Yeah?” she doesn’t look up from where she’s slicing and dicing pumpkins. Hmmm, pumpkin pie for dessert.

“I was wondering, Pete and I…I mean, there is this show we want to go see. In Jersey.” He winces and looks at the ground.

“Jersey?”

“This Saturday.” He tells her, as if to distract her from the Jersey issue.

“Jersey?” It obviously doesn’t work at all.

“Yeah…Pete is driving? And Joe is coming too…” He trails of; it’s the best he can do.

“I will talk to your dad this evening.” She answers, but she turns to smile at him. He releases a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“Okay. Cool. Thanks.”

“So, how did it go?” Pete wants to know, it’s two in the morning and Patrick has school tomorrow. He sighs, turns his head into the pillow and considers just hanging up on him. He doesn’t. It’s Pete.

“I don’t know…she said she would talk to my dad …maybe they will tell me at breakfast.”

“You did tell them that I’m driving?”

“Yeah…”

”Good. You’re mom loves me.”

“Yeah…”

“Patrick?”

“Yeah…” he yawns into the phone.

“You should sleep more.”

“Good night asshole.” Patrick says.

“Yeah, I love you too.” Pete answers, laughing. Patrick hangs up, smiling.

He can’t quite believe his dad said yes. Patrick always has the feeling his dad finds Pete suspicious. Pete is suspicious. But that’s beside the point.
Joe has hot boxed the back of the car and Pete is playing Prince (for Patrick’s sake) and talking about his latest weird ass dream. And they’ve only just left the state. Patrick settles in for a very long trip. He considers asking Joe for a toke of his joint.

“It will be awesome! You will love the guys. I swear…” Pete rambles on. Patrick believes him; he doesn’t know why he believes Pete or why he believes IN Pete. He just does.

“If you say so.”

“Have a little more faith, dear Patrick!” Pete answers with his goofy smile. Patrick rolls his eyes at him. Joe mumbles something about a killer nacho craving before passing out. It’s nice.

~2~

He just can’t get over it. And he knows, he should, but he just can’t. It’s a good thing he isn’t alone in this. He would never do this thing alone. Never.
So, maybe…just maybe a beer would do the trick? It sure as hell seems to help Gerard.
Goddamned stage fright!
“You okay?” Ray asks. He nods. He isn’t. He never is okay. He needs to hide…behind the drum kit; that is an amazing hiding place. Of course he can’t, because Matt would kill him. Kill him dead.

Gerard is drunk. He nearly always is these days. Someone needs to get him home in one piece, so that someone can’t drink. That someone always turns out to be him. Always him. Mikey feels like sulking. His life has suddenly become epically unfair.

“It will be okay,” his brother says patting him on the shoulder. He’s not slurring, yet. Thank God for small favours, Mikey thinks. That of course doesn’t mean that he will not be dead drunk by the end of the night. Mikey’s willing to bet all his savings on it.

“You always say that.”

“Cos it’s true,” Gerard replies smiling widely.

“Yeah…how drunk are you?”

“Not that much.” Gerard shrugs, reaching for his beer.

“Still…” Mikey wants to fold in on himself. Disappear.

“It will be okay,” Gerard says again. It’s so strange, Mikey thinks, that he always believes Gerard. He shouldn’t, because Gerard is a liar. As an artist he has to be, all artists are liars. Even if the art is honest.

“I know.”

It’s not a big club they’re playing in, which suits Mikey just fine. He can’t face big crowds; not now…maybe never. The stage is small enough that he can justify, to himself at least, just standing in the shadows and playing his bass while Gerard captivates the audience, was totally okay. Besides, with Gerard as the lead singer, who wanted to bother paying any attention to the scrawny bassist anyway?

~3~
“So?” Patrick asks uneasy. These people? Don’t look like him at all. He feels so out of place here.

“It will be great!” Pete says.

“Of course it will,” Joe is smoking another joint, leaning against the wall. They’re standing on the right side of the stage and Patrick can see that Pete wants to be closer, wants to be in the front where he can smell the sweat of the singer. Maybe even soak up the drops flying off him. Pete would find it poetic. Patrick finds it disgusting.

“Go ahead!” he says.

“What?”

“I know you want to be up at the front. Just go. I’ll be fine…” Patrick trails off. Pete seems torn for a moment, so Patrick nudges him and Pete smiles.

“Okay! Just stay out of trouble.”
Patrick nods.
As if he would attract any trouble! As if he would attract anything or anyone at all. The words sound bitter in his head and he shakes it in an attempt to toss them out. It doesn’t work. So he concentrates on the band instead. They are too loud and not melodic enough for his taste, but it’s not the band Pete wants him to see anyway, so he waits for the MCR dudes, as Pete calls them, because Pete is fond of abbreviations. He waits to see what it is Pete brought him here for in the first place.

MCR aren’t that bad. He kinda likes them. Even if there is a lot more screaming involved than actually singing. The melodies are nice he thinks. Catchy. For a lack of a better word. He nods his head to the rhythm without really noticing. He waves at Pete, as he turns around to look at Patrick, Pete winks and waves back before focusing on the lead singer, who looks quite… Tormented? Maybe.
Could be a reason why Pete likes their music, why he likes the singer. Patrick doesn’t know Pete long, but he knows that Pete has some serious issues. And that sometimes Patrick’s temper just can’t cope with that.
And he thinks that he will never really understand what is going on in Pete’s head. Maybe he doesn’t want to.

~4~
Great, Mikey thinks. Just another pretty kid. Kinda bouncy like Frank. Lots of tattoos and what’s with this green hoodie?

“Gerard,” His brother says and takes the kid’s hand. Mikey rolls his eyes. He wants a cigarette. Badly, and some beer, maybe. Even if he has to drive.

“Pete,” the kid says, “and that is Joe and Patrick…Patrick?” he looks around. “Patrick!” he shouts; it sounds a little bit panicked.

“Jesus! Pete…I’m right here,” Patrick says, he holds up a glass of something orange, to demonstrate where he was. That doesn’t explain Pete’s freak out.

“Don’t disappear on me like that!” Pete says, looping his arm around Patrick’s waist. Patrick rolls his eyes. Mikey can relate. Really.

“That is my brother, Mikey,” Gerard says with a smile. Pete beams. Here we go again, Mikey thinks. He sighs.

“I’m going for a smoke…” he says, Gerard nods, but he’s too absorbed in Pete’s words about the lyrics and the meaning and stuff to really be interested.

~+~
Patrick doesn’t listen. He nudges Pete, mumbles something about needing air and leaves the club after Mikey.
“So, you play bass?” Patrick asks when he finds Mikey outside, he wants immediately to smack his head against the nearest wall. He doesn’t, because it would hurt, and because it would make him look stupid. More stupid, that is.
Mikey nods. “And…” Patrick begins; he has no clue how to continue from here. No clue whatsoever.

“Want one?” Mikey asks. Patrick shakes his head, he doesn’t smoke.

“It’s cold.” He says instead of something witty or deep.

“Wanna grab some coffee? There’s a Starbucks on the corner.”

“Yeah…I just should tell Pete…” Mikey looks at him, and Patrick feels stupid. “Right. Coffee, around the corner.”
Mikey nods.

Starbucks is a great place, Patrick thinks, as he gets coffee and a muffin, and it’s warm, and there are people. He sits across from Mikey and nurses his coffee, picking at his muffin.

“Your band is good.” Patrick offers after a while.

“Thanks,” Mikey answers, almost smiling. Patrick wonders why Mikey asked him out for coffee if he doesn’t want to talk. He isn’t familiar with that much silence. Pete, after all, is always talking. “Do you play?” Mikey asks after an eternity of silence.

“Yeah…drums and guitar.”

“In a band?”

“Yeah…I…uh… I sing?” That shouldn’t be a question! Why did it come out a question?

“So you’re the front man of a band?” There is no judgment in Mikey’s voice, just mild curiosity.

“I’m just the singer…I’m kinda afraid to stand out…” he winces. God, he is so stupid. Mikey smiles.

“Yeah…I know that feeling,” he says. He looks at his watch. ‘Shit!’ and stands up.

“We need to go back… I need to drag my brother’s drunken ass home.” He’s grabbing his coat and then Patrick’s wrist.

“Yeah…” Patrick answers, following Mikey out of the coffee shop.

“THE HELL? Patrick!” Pete says as he stumbles into them in the parking lot.

“I was with Mikey!” he explains. Wait. Why is he explaining himself?

Because of the guilt. He disappeared without a word.

“Yeah, great and now that you rejoined us, we should be on our way, back home.” They are staying at a friend’s house. Well, a friend of Pete…Patrick doesn’t know that dude at all.

“You could stay at our place!” Gerard says. Mikey looks torn. So does Patrick. “It’s not far from here…Mikey, tell them it’s not far from here…and you can have my-Mikey’s room…” he adds. Mikey doesn’t look that happy at the idea.

“I don’t know…” Patrick says.

“Yeah, sure!” Pete answers. Patrick looks for help from Joe, which is a lost cause. He sighs.

~5~
They spend the first half of the Sunday in bed, having seen the sun rise earlier. When Patrick opens his eyes he can smell coffee. He rolls around and nudges the body beside him, which grunts. Patrick doesn’t particularly care; he just gets up and follows the smell. It’s delicious; you can’t deny yourself coffee in the morning. Pete is up already, along with Gerard. Patrick wonders if Pete slept at all. Gerard looks like he’s still a little drunk. Did they stay up the whole night together? They are sitting on the kitchen floor, Patrick doesn’t question why; he just pours himself a mug and sits down on a chair, because that’s what they are for.

“Is Mikey up?” Gerard asks.

“Don’t think so…” Patrick answers.

“Wait till he smells the coffee. It’s better than an alarm clock.” Gerard smiles and nudges Pete.

“Okay,” Patrick says, because he has no clue what else he should say. Maybe he should ask where Joe is, but…whatever. They will find Joe…not that they lost him or something… “We didn’t lose Joe? Did we?” he says.

“What?” Pete asks with a grin.

“Joe?”

“Couch…” Gerard answers with a lazy wave of his hand.

“Okay.” Patrick isn’t at his best in the mornings.

A few minutes later Mikey stumbles into the kitchen, Gerard gets up from the floor and pours coffee for him.

“Thanks,” Mikey mumbles. He doesn’t wear much, just his boxers and an old t-shirt. Patrick shouldn’t find that uncomfortable, but he does. Mikey leans against the counter, sipping his coffee with a sigh. Patrick blushes a bit. Pete sees it and grins, but doesn’t comment on it.
Thank God for small favours, Patrick thinks.

As they are getting ready to go back to Chicago, no one really looking forward to the 13 odd hour drive, Mikey presses a piece of paper with his phone number into Patrick’s hand. He just shrugs as Patrick raises an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe…you could, you know…like… call?” He says quietly, almost hopeful. Patrick smiles, wants to say something but Pete shouts at him to hurry the fuck up and that he will not listen to Prince anymore and, jesus, will someone please direct Joe to the car before they lose him somewhere in Jersey and where the fuck are his sunglasses?

“I will,” Patrick whispers as he hugs Mikey goodbye.

“Okay.”

“Patrick! I’m leaving you here!”

“And how will you explain that to my mom?” Patrick answers.

“She won’t notice with me around.” Pete grins, Patrick rolls his eyes.

He doesn’t wave to Mikey, he just stares into the rear mirror and watches Mikey disappear.
His fingers playing with the piece of paper Mikey gave him.

~end~

next part