sunshine riptide (peterick)

melancholy

for as long as he could remember there was always a darker side to him, a counterpart to his mania.

it would sweep over him, planting thoughts in his head, taking over his mind. things would
go duller and darker, nothing seemed quite right. those were the days, the nights where he couldn't quite bring himself to spin around with his bass in hands or to jump into the crowd. he wasn't fully himself, it was as if something else had taken over his head.

he would shoot venomous comments at his friends, by now they understood it was only the poison in his head. his words would become darker, twisted versions of the metaphors he normally wrote appeared on napkins, arms, and anywhere pens could reach.

these were times he seemed most and least like himself. he was the asshole, he was more than they wanted, more than they bargained for. he always thought he'd be given up on by now, because what did people expect.

he just wanted everyone to go away, he wanted to drop dead. he wanted to see what his skin was made up, what was underneath honeyed flesh. would it be scarlet red or gleaming white? he wanted to find out.

he hated his sadness, his prolonged anger, as much as the next guy. but there was still a part of him that loved it. part of him lived in the feeling of dying.

so he lived despite of and because of his dark thoughts and grey days.

///

depression and deprecation swirled around in pete's brain as he jerked awake.

at first all he saw was white, blinding and harsh. he could smell the sterile cleanliness of a hospital and he gasped in the stale air of the room. he flinched and shut his eyes, slowly trying to get them to adjust to what he assumed was the bright white of a hospital.

wait, he was in a hospital, oh god what had happened. his mind raced and all he could conjure were broken images of a chaotic van and the feeling of plush lips against his own. that didn't make sense. he started breathing faster, to match the absolute mess in his mind, but then he heard a soothing voice through his panic.

"hey, pete it's okay, it's okay, calm down," he heard someone whisper.

he slowly forced his eyes open and turned toward the voice. he met blue-green eyes ringed with amber and finally took a relaxed breath. he turned his head and found two other sets of eyes, both blue and familiar. 

he cleared his throat, trying to form words for his bandmates.

"he-hey, uh, wha-what happened?" he managed to stutter out his question with a small cough.

"so you guys were all passed out and it started raining, the van couldn't quite handle it, and well, it flipped," joe sheepishly replied.

"oh," the small sound escaped pete's lips.

he turned to the the concerned, golden boy beside him and repeated his inquiry.

"'trick, what happened?" his voice was soft, with an undertone that was reminiscent of stolen kisses in the mist of crashed vans, and eyes were pleading.

patrick's eyes shone with tears, and his voice was full of an unrecognizable emotion, "um i don't know, we'll figure it out later, but for now," he sniffled, "i'm just so glad you're awake, they-they told us you might not wake up."

andy nodded, "patrick's right, you really scared us dude."

"oh," pete repeated in an even smaller voice. he suddenly realized his body was wrapped with bandages - and also how much everything hurt. it was as if someone had lit his bones on fire and his skin was blistering. he had a twisted moment of gratitude. he knew that he didn't deserve the band, he didn't deserve to be friends with such amazing people, especially patrick. this was life's payback, an eye for an eye. this was for all of his past wrong doings, everything he touched really got ruined.