Sleeping

Patrick opened the door. He was alone and hadn't felt so tired since the beginning of the tour when he wasn't quite used to the heavy schedules. But today was different.

'I've gotta lay down' he thought and quickly he closed the door and rushed to the bed where he lay for a couple of minutes before falling asleep, his cap lightly tilted revealing a prematured baldspot.

(( Yes yes, girls. He DOES have it, I've got two proof videos. It's beautiful ))

The street wobbled like water under Mike's feet, making his tumbles quite noticeable to all the casual passers. With a blurred vision and a constant dizziness nagging his head, he had more than a hard time walking straight ahead on whatever avenue he was on. His primary goal was not to fall off the sidewalk, as he didn't feel the need of having a car drive right over him.

Mike was drunk, and it probably showed more than he wanted it to. He had never had so much to drink before. He knew that it wouldn't help him forget what had happen, what he had done, but he was too stubborn not to try anyway.

Giving up the goal of reaching his tour bus before getting a broken leg, he tried to stop his trail and look around. He managed to identify a McDonald, a Starbuck, a gas station... and finally a hotel.

Mike was impressed at how well he could drag his clumsy body up to the building. The anxiousness of getting in bed and snoozing off into much deserved sleep was starting to get very appealing. He pushed open the heavy door (his state making him believe everything he usually did required much more strength than it should have) and stumbled inside, walking as normal as possible up to the counter.

After a rather long explanation, he received the key for a room which read "425".

The bassist headed for the elevator, activating the fourth floor. He almost puked instantly when the engine begun it's ascension. Gulping it back, he hurried out of the machine and blindly reached for his room door.

Believing he had found it, he pulled an ultimate effort in trying to stick the card key through the slot, missing his target at least three times. As he thought he had managed to put it in, he dropped the key on the floor. Quite desperate now, he banged heavily on the door with his fist, his frustration multiplying with the booze running through his system.


((I don't know if it's clear enough, but Mike mistaken his room for Patrick's. I know, I'm THAT bad.))

Patrick woke up. He had heard knocking, not exactly knowing what it was. But he was sure it came from the door. He sat upright on the bed that was still made but a little ruffled up.

'What do they want from me? I didn't do it' he thought. Then he wondered why he had just thought that.

So, a bit lazily, and slowly, he made way towards...the mirror. He looked at himself, straightening his hat on his head. Then he went to the door.

And some unconscious guy came plopping down to his feet.

(( Now. You can decide wether Mike stays unconscious when he gets brought in the room or if he wakes up. ))

Mike stayed there, eyes closed. He looked as if someone had struck a baseball bat in the back of his head right before Patrick had opened the door.

His breathing could be heard, which was probably a good sign of life.

Laying there in a contorted way, he didn't seem as if he would be walking up any time soon.

Patrick looked down at the man. He looked older than he. He also seemed dead. Patrick looked each sides of the corridor and bent down to take the man's pulse.

'Just in case' he thought.
Relived, he felt the man's pulse and his own blood circulation slowing down a bit.
'I think I should bring him in. Maybe he doesn't want to go anywhere for now, I don't know what happened.' he thought. So he brought him in.

Having layed the guy on his bed, he went to the bathroom and came back out with a wet and cold washcloth. He put it on the guy's forehead and felt subtle reactions. His face seemed already less stuffy and his breathing was better.

Patrick left the cloth there and sat next to the guy, turning on the TV and hoping he didn't make a mistake in bringing a stranger in his room.

A few moments later, the bassist felt that something cold on his forehead, his thoughts slowly drifting back to reality. He dared to open his eyes, his heavy lids peering up, and he spotted two bedposts ahead. It only took a few more seconds to reconsider this thought and realize there was only one.

Everything seemed tensed around him, and the bassist didn't move a bit, trying hard to remember what had happened, where he was, why he had a wonderful headache stabbed through his brain and also why the room smelled like peanut butter.

His vision cleared a bit, and he was almost too dizzy to try to explain why someone was sitting next to him on a bed, though the shock of it made his eyes pop wide open.

Patrick finished eating up his toast ((no? You said peanut butter. Oh well ))

Reprise:

Patrick turned around and saw that the man had awaken. He was amazed at how pale he suddenly looked.

"Hey... You didn't look too well, so I brought you here..." Patrick said in detached parts of sentences.
He felt a tiny surge of embarassement at himself. He had brought the guy in his room.
'I'm sorry but that's just plain weird...or sexy' he heard his friend Pete say in his mind.

"Ah, shut up" he said aloud then gasped and looked down.
"I didn't mean you! Sorry." He looked anywhere but where his company lay.

The bassist managed to rub his eyes, still drunk from earlier though the floor and walls seemed to have halted their rollercoaster rides.

He tried to focus on the guy, feeling he had seen him before. He mentally smiled to himself. Why the fuck am I always ending up with a random guy as company? He asked dumbly, his head doubling in in pain.

"Wha... Whass happened?" he slurred.

Patrick didn't quite get what the man had said, but instead said

"Uh, don't get the wrong idea. I'm not...gay or anything. You just looked really in bad shape...You feeling better?"

Patrick looked at the floor. And his hat almost fell off. But in a rush he catched it again and looked at the guy smiling with big eyes and too many teeth.

"So, uh, what's your name?" he asked in a kindergarden way.

"Hmph," Mike mumbled, swinging his body up into sitting on the mattress. He stabled himself from falling off, gripping on Patrick's shoulder.

"My name?" he asked with a sleepy smile. "I'm the new bastard in town, m'dear," he ended up with a hic up.

Patrick looked at the guy.

"If I'm not too direct...
what happened? You don't look in such great shape"

He stabled him by gripping his shoulders with boths hands and caught his falling cap again, replacing it.

"Well, I'm Patrick"

Patrick blushed a bit, almost unnoticeably.

Mike raised a finger high as if he was about to announce something important. "M'Mike," he blurted out. "M'name."

At this point, he got up on his feet, not knowing too well what his intentions were and fell backward on Patrick due to his state.

((From his weight, he might kill him! dundundun.))

(( Alas patrick is not weakhearted! He WILL survive! ))

Patrick caught the drunken Mike.

"Woah, woah, becareful... You must of drank a shitload of rubbing alcohol to still be loaded this way"
Patrick lead mike with his grip on each arm to the bed and sat him down.
He sat next to him.
"Seriously, it can't be that bad, could it?"

Patrick hadn't thought what he just said and almost regretted having said it.

Mike stayed silent at that, the stupid smile creeping up once again on his features. "Not that bad, heh?" he said tilting his head in Patricks dirrection, the closeness of his face to Patrick's considered exagerated without alcohol.

"You don't know a thing," he slurred to the other boy, patting his knee.

Patrick backed away a bit. the stench Mike breathed was horrible. It smelled like puke, which made Patrick sick.

'Let me guess. You slept with someone you weren't supposed to?' he thought. Instead he gave a semi-fake smile.

"No, I don't know a thing. But you are in my room and, I mean, considering the facts..." he mumbled away.

'I'd rather hush for now' he thought. Because he was able to talk when he wanted to. He wasn't irritated enough to do so yet.
"Are you too drunk to tell me or do you wanna keep little secrets?" he said in a semi-mocking voice, knowing it was risky but having nothing to lose.

Mike's smirk fell off a little, but still present, he casually went forward and pressed his lips on Patrick's. His movement only made it seem as if it was a pure normal thing to do, and that he had done that a lot in the past.

Patrick felt a wave of shaking in his whole body. He backed away his lips from Mike's and looked at him. He HAD returned the tinyest bit of the kiss.

"Are you gay?" he asked non-tactly.
He felt heat go up his cheeks and up to his head. A ton of questions were rambling inside Patrick's head.

'Is he drunk or is he fooling me? Why did he do that? Why, even with that aweful taste, did it feel so good?' he thought guitily. He didn't understand what was going on anymore.

Mike smirked back at him, the drunkness clouding his eyes more than he'd ever want to. "Y'said ya wanted to know what happened. This is what happened. Only not with you. And it appears in the end I wasn't good enough for the guy."

During a fraction of second, the sober Mike seemed to peer through his drunken mask and he let out a note of real sadness, only to brush it away and go back to his alcohol filled mind. "D'you enjoy it?" he asked with a touch of mischievousness.

Patrick startled away. He was awestruck.
"I...uh...what are you asking me for?" he said with a bit too much panic in his voice for his own good.

"So you did sleep...uh...well... bad one night thing, right? Uh, he left you?"
he said in parts that made his sentence a bit bizarre.

'He must've been down in love with that guy to wind up this way. But he's a musician, obviously. And musicians do tend to abuse of stuff like that' he thought, trying to gulf down the lump that had formed itself in his throat.

As he got nearer, once again, of Patrick's face to examine the other boy, Mike's eyes suddenly widen.

"Holy shit," he said startled, completely ignoring the smaller boy's questions as he would only have to agree with everything he had said. "You're that guy from... whatzit again... Fall Out Boy. Right. You're Stump, Patrick Stump."

The bassist bitterly smiled to himself, leaving somehow Patrick's personnal space. "And to say everyone I end up with are musicians, hmph."

Patrick felt a tiny surge of disappoinment that Mike had found out exactly who he was.
"Well, today you don't have to consider me as a musician" he said without thinking. He felt a strike in his insides.
'What's the idea in saying that?'he thought frustratingly.
'It's not like you're gay or anything'

He looked at Mike, not knowing what to say anymore.

"Not a musician, huh?" Mike replied with somewhat of a grin. He shuffled closer to the guitarist, not caring if he made the little guy uncomfortable at any rate, and looked at him straight in the eyes.

"An' whaddabout you, Patrick. You into guys?"

Patrick half-smiled. He felt good even if the question occasioned more cheek redness.
"Why are you asking me? Are you into guys?" he asked

It was a question to change the subject, but also out of interest. He wanted to know. His body untensed a bit.

"People tend to be when they ask you this kind of question," he whispered as he got closer for the third time, this time taking the smaller boy's lips on his as he closed his eyes.

Through the soft kiss, he wondered if this was going too far, deciding his rationnal side would only have the right to come back later on.

Patrick gave in to the kiss this time. He kissed back and knew it was nothing. The guy was obviously drunken out of his mind.
It was the bad part of the feeling he felt when he placed his hand at the bottom of Mike's neck.