who else to blame?

VI - baby blues for wide-eyed browns

This was it, huh.

Patrick stared at the vastness of Times Square and the stage, barricades circling the streets. It seemed even in the morning, New York had this magical aura that convinced you that you could be whatever you wanted to be and do whatever you wanted to do. Which, in Patrick's unfortunate case, was Pete.

Patrick sighed, picking up his guitar case and hesitantly walking to the metal steps, leading to the stage. Cords were in an orderly disarray with an ample amount of instruments on guitar racks. Patrick looked up to see Andy's familiar face, flashing him a reassuring smile.

"Hey Patrick, how are you? You'll be great today, don't worry." Andy said.

"Thanks man, yeah, I'm alright. I am pretty nervous." Patrick did his signature sheepish smile, the type he had been doing a lot more frequently these past two months.

Andy looked concerned, "Are you sure everything's all good? These last few practices you've been really distant, that's all." Patrick should've learnt to not under-estimate Andy's scary-attention-to-detail when it came to his band members. He always seemed to know if something was up.

"Yeah, I should be okay. If not, I'll come to you, thanks Andy." Andy came in for a hug, which Patrick graciously accepted. He needed to do this more often.

"Coming through," An all-too-familiar voice stated, the two broke out of their hug as he let Pete past. "Didn't mean to interrupt anything."

Andy looked at Patrick warmly, giving him a last goodbye and before Patrick knew it, he and Pete were alone. Fun.

"You'll do killer out there this morning, and this afternoon, and tonight." Pete stated, staring at Patrick with his warm brown eyes, Patrick had not long before decided on the exact colour. Not light enough to be milk chocolate, but not dark enough to be of the darker variety, perhaps a 60% dark chocolate? Something like that.

Patrick snapped out of it, meekly looking down at Pete's uncharacteristically hurried appearance.

Patrick meekly responded, "Uh thanks, you too." But just before Patrick started to leave to have a quick conversation with the mic guy, Pete grabbed his arm and said,

"Check your guitar case before you go on stage, I thought I heard something snap." And not even a second after Pete finished the sentence, he vanished. Patrick did a double take, suddenly worried about the state of his (expensive) guitar. Patrick bent down to pick up his case, fiddling with the latches to get it open.

Patrick saw at the bottom of his velvet-lined case after picking up his guitar and placing it down, a note, the hand-writing scrawled on haphazardly.

"i'm half doomed, and you're semi sweet. you'll find the next of me where we grew up, hopefully." Patrick gazed at the note in confusion, wondering what it meant. Did Pete put it there? It wouldn't have been possible. He was with Pete the entire time he could've had the chance to slip the note through. He was brought out of his spell of perplexion by Joe yelling at him to start getting ready.

He knew this feeling all too well, the sinking in his stomach and his heart beating incredibly deep and fast, it almost over-powered the sound of fans waiting for him to put on the best show he could, with no mistakes. He always seemed to go through a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts before he went on the stage. Patrick wondered if anyone was really considering him to be "The living antonym of what any lead singer should be", as that gossip site stated. His insides crawled around his abdomen, praying to whatever gods or goddesses out there to help him not make any noticeable mistakes. The last thing he needs is to fall on the debut of their biggest and most highly anticipated album yet.