The Bond of Brothers

Frustration was never a stranger to Patrick. It accompanied every aspect of the music business. Dealing with music executives whose only concern was the bottom dollar could cause not only frustration but outright rage. Holidays with family were the source of tension for most people. But none of this weighed on Patrick’s mind. He glared at the railings that were just eye level. Just like the day before and the day before that, he was supposed to pull himself to his feet and make it across the mat. It didn’t appear that far really. A healthy man could probably jump the distance in two leaps. But from Patrick’s position, it seemed like miles. Every muscle in his arms ached. The stiffness still remained in his stubborn legs. It was amazing how much damage could be caused by sleeping for a few months. The nurses had explained it to him. His muscles had atrophied slightly while he was in the coma.

Patrick could remember the conversation word for word. He knew the names of the flowers in his room. He didn’t have to be re-taught everything like others had feared. He knew how to feed himself, pick out his own clothes and function like a normal person. Well, for the most part. Right now he faced the daunting task of pulling himself to his shaky feet and force himself to walk. If he ever wanted to get out of this place, he had to do this. God he hated physical therapy.

Unfamiliar faces were always in view. People came to see him and tried to act as if everything was fine. He said little, since he didn’t know what to tell them. He didn’t remember who any of them were, no matter how hard he tried to unlock his memories in his damaged mind. Plus, he always said things wrong. He could tell by the shocked looks on their faces. They all expected so much from him.

“Hey, Trick!” A dark haired man shouted from across the gym. He waved and quickly crossed the distance that separated them. It took Patrick a moment to focus his eyes on the man, but instantly recalled the name. Pete.

“Hi.”

“They working you hard?” Pete smiled brightly at his friend, in spite of the chilly reception. “I got a surprise for you in your room.”

“Told you.” Pete pushed his apprehension away and tried to act easy around his “best friend”. “Don’t want to see strippers.”

“Oh, I know.” Pete shrugged. “Couldn’t get ‘em past the nurses anyway. So, when you get done here, I’ll show you.”

“You’re acting like a little kid on Christmas morning.” Patrick eased himself up onto his legs and slowly began his trek to the far end of the bars. Pete watched with his annoying grin planted on his face. Patrick had to keep reminding himself that this guy was supposed to be his best friend. “God, that’s it. I’m done.”

“You still have fifteen minutes.” His therapist said knowing full well it wouldn’t matter. Patrick could be a stubborn ass.

“You’ll get paid the full hour, Marcus.” Patrick chided. “Now, I’m going back to my room. Take a damn break for a change, man.”

“Dr. Patton isn’t going to like it.” Marcus added over his shoulder as he gathered up the various exercise equipment. “Tomorrow you’re doing the full hour.”

“Yea, yea. Whatever.” Patrick smirked. He pushed himself back in the wheelchair that was provided for him to go longer distances than he could manage on his feet. He hated using the thing and it always garnered him far more attention than he was comfortable with. Another thing that was not common for a supposed rock star. If he allowed himself to voice the truth, most of the crap that came along with being famous was a pain in the ass. But he supposed the money was nice. He just could have done without the prying eyes and well-meaning hordes that “cared” about him. How anyone could devote such adoration for someone they have never met was beyond him. He noticed the smiles and giggles as they made their way back to his room. All the females seemed to notice them and Pete was eating it up.

“Hello.” Pete nodded at a pretty blond temporarily forgetting about Patrick, who tried to maneuver the wheeled chair through a small group of people. A growl from him quickly brought Pete out of his lustful gaze. “Let me help you.” Pete reached for the back of the chair.

“I can do it myself!” Patrick snapped, finally pulling himself through the door. He shoved the door behind him hoping to slam it in Pete’s face, but the guy was too quick. “Why don’t you just stay out there and flirt. You appear to be damn good at it.”

Pete forced himself to hold his tongue and count to ten. This was not normal for Patrick. He needed more time to figure things out. He had been through a very traumatic event and they all needed to understand that. Still, the harshness of his tone hurt Pete. His smile was weak, but he tried his best to shrug off what Patrick had said and focus on helping him find his old self again. That meant bringing familiar things to remind him of the way he was before. So far they had all met with very limited success. But Pete refused to give up.

He waited until Patrick had managed to get himself up from the chair and cross the five steps to the bed. The muscles in his legs were getting stronger day by day, but Patrick still complained about intense pain in his hips. Elisa suspected it was just an excuse to not try as hard. It didn’t seem like Patrick was as eager as the rest of them to return home. Pete pulled the game controllers for the Playstation out and stretched them until they reached Patrick. The other man just stared at them as if he had no clue what they were for. “Playstation 4, Gold Edition. It just game out last month. The graphics are cool as shit. These are the controls...”

“I know what they are.” Patrick frowned as he looked at the controls. “I’m not stupid.”

“Sorry.” Pete managed. It was so hard to avoid pissing Patrick off in some way or another. Usually, all he had to do was open his mouth and he seemed to accomplish it. “I have a few games. You choose.”

Patrick scanned the colorful covers before picking a medieval one. A knight adorned the cover carrying a more modern version of a lance. It didn’t really appeal to him, but it was better than the other blood-and-guts games. He watched Pete in silence as he readied the game.

“Bet you can’t kick my ass.” Pete grinned with a mischievous gleam to his eyes. Patrick figured that this was the typical way he would act around him. Even with that knowledge, it did not make tolerating the older man any easier.

“Probably not.” He stated flatly and sighed softly. He would let Pete play a few rounds of this, beat him mercilessly and then kick him out. From his previous dealings with this one, he learned it was just best to suck it up for a little while. Let him enjoy his murder and mayhem for a while. Patrick idly thought how he felt towards the older man with the wild un-kept black hair. He should feel something towards him. After all, he was supposed to be his very best friend. They practically grew up together. It should also bother him a little that he couldn’t remember him. Patrick just didn’t give a rat’s ass right now. Something else that was wrong, as he was told. Everyone seemed to know what he was supposed to be thinking and feeling. God knows he didn’t have a clue. All he knew was the here and now. He didn’t know these damn people and wasn’t so sure he even wanted to. He glared at the screen as his player died a very violent death. Pete’s shit-eating grin made him frown even harder.

“Dude, did you not see that ogre?”

“Guess not.” He muttered. “What’s the point of this game? Kill before getting killed?” Patrick pressed another button selecting a more muscular knight.

“Here.” Pete reached for Patrick’s control, only to have the other man snatch it away in protest. “Use that button to raise his shield.”

“I know how it works.” Patrick’s voice lowered in a growl. “Am I supposed to kill you?”

“No, we’re on the same side.” Pete explained, pretending like Patrick actually gave a shit. “You and I are facing an army of ogres.”

“Two against a hundred. Yea, that’s fair.”

“We’re not just two. We’re knights. Big ass kicking knights!” He puffed up his chest as if he was one of the colorful characters. Patrick only shook his head, then grunted loudly when his knight found himself without a head. Pete chuckled. “Man, you suck.”

“Well, I didn’t want to play this fucking game anyway!” Patrick’s sudden outburst took Pete by surprise and shook him up visibly. Patrick tossed the controls on the hard floor. “Stupid fucking game.”

“Yo, bro. Calm down.” Pete flinched back as Patrick shot him a hateful glare. “It’s just a game.”

“I hate games.” Patrick managed to say it more calmly, but the iciness was still evident. Pete’s loud sigh pulled his attention away from the discarded controller to the man beside him. That look of disappointment and frustration was there.

“You used to love them.” Pete stared not just at him, but into him. Elisa had said several times since Patrick had come out of the coma that it seemed like someone else was in him. Another person looked through his eyes and tried to do an impression of Patrick Stump. But it was a piss-poor one. More like a robot that could not simulate human warmth and emotions. Pete had not wanted to believe such things. He wanted to cling to what hope he had left. Just below the surface, Patrick was in there. “We could play them for hours.”

Patrick returned Pete’s tortured look with one of dull interest. He only nodded as Pete continued his montage of their past fun.

“We would have on-line tournaments. You’d play from your study at home when we weren’t on tour. Sometimes, we’d play all night because you or I would always say ‘just one more’. Elisa threatened to bury your laptop in the woods several times.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” Pete smiled a little more easily.

“Tell me something, then, Pete.”

“Anything.”

“Was I always this stupid?” Patrick said harshly. “Or just when I hung out with you?”