The Interviewer Is a Jerk
Pete's A Sweetheart
“Guess you’re going back to the old days, uh? I mean, Patrick is fat again, if he grows the sideburns again it’ll be like the “Take This to Your Grave” days.”
Patrick looked at the interviewer, hurt evident on his face. Without a word, he turned around and went to the dressing room. The guys watched him go, too shocked to do anything.
Well, all except Pete.
He walked to the guy, pissed off. “What the fuck, man? Do you think that was funny?”
“Oh, come on! I was just provoking him a little, I wanted to see how would he react!”
“Oh, you wanted a reaction? Okay, I’ll give you one!” Pete took a step forward and punched the interviewer right in the face, certainly breaking his nose with the force.
The man fell on the ground, holding onto his face, blood coming out of his nose, and glared at the bassist, shocked. Pete turned to the cameraman, saying “I hope you recorded this”, before sprinting to the dressing room where he knew Patrick would be.
Slowly opening the door, Pete looked around the room. Patrick was in front of makeup stand, looking in the mirror. His eyes were puffy and red; it was obvious he had been crying.
The singer caught his friend entering the room, and sighed. “That guy is right, Pete. I’m fat again. I just can’t stay skinny for too long, can I?”
Pete looked at his friend, worried. He knew that Patrick had self-esteem issues, and he tried countless times to convince him of how beautiful he is, how wonderful his voice is. Hell, he even wrote ‘What A Catch, Donnie’ for him! But now, watching Patrick go down because of a stupid provocation… it was too much for him.
He walked to the singer, wrapping his arms around him like he did so many times. “That guy is not right, ‘Trick. You’re not fat, and even if you were, that wouldn’t change a thing. You still have an amazing voice, and you’re still beautiful.”
Patrick’s grayish blue eyes met Pete’s brown ones through the mirror. “How do you know that? How do you know that you’d still like me if I get fat?”
“I loved you in the ‘Take This to Your Grave’ days, didn’t I?” Pete asked, smiling. When he saw Patrick blushing, he turned him around. He needed Patrick so look at him while he’d say what he wanted to next.
“Tricky, you’re the best person I ever had the pleasure to meet. You saved me in more ways than you know, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead by now, we both know that. You’re my best friend, and I’ll love you for the rest of my life, and nothing, especially not your weight, is ever going to change that.”
The little singer looked at his friend, eyes tearing up again, but this time from happiness and relief. He hugged Pete, head resting on his friend’s chest. “Thank you, Pete. Thank you so much.”
The bassist rested his head on top of the singer’s, holding him tightly. “Don’t mention it.”
Notes:
Patrick looked at the interviewer, hurt evident on his face. Without a word, he turned around and went to the dressing room. The guys watched him go, too shocked to do anything.
Well, all except Pete.
He walked to the guy, pissed off. “What the fuck, man? Do you think that was funny?”
“Oh, come on! I was just provoking him a little, I wanted to see how would he react!”
“Oh, you wanted a reaction? Okay, I’ll give you one!” Pete took a step forward and punched the interviewer right in the face, certainly breaking his nose with the force.
The man fell on the ground, holding onto his face, blood coming out of his nose, and glared at the bassist, shocked. Pete turned to the cameraman, saying “I hope you recorded this”, before sprinting to the dressing room where he knew Patrick would be.
Slowly opening the door, Pete looked around the room. Patrick was in front of makeup stand, looking in the mirror. His eyes were puffy and red; it was obvious he had been crying.
The singer caught his friend entering the room, and sighed. “That guy is right, Pete. I’m fat again. I just can’t stay skinny for too long, can I?”
Pete looked at his friend, worried. He knew that Patrick had self-esteem issues, and he tried countless times to convince him of how beautiful he is, how wonderful his voice is. Hell, he even wrote ‘What A Catch, Donnie’ for him! But now, watching Patrick go down because of a stupid provocation… it was too much for him.
He walked to the singer, wrapping his arms around him like he did so many times. “That guy is not right, ‘Trick. You’re not fat, and even if you were, that wouldn’t change a thing. You still have an amazing voice, and you’re still beautiful.”
Patrick’s grayish blue eyes met Pete’s brown ones through the mirror. “How do you know that? How do you know that you’d still like me if I get fat?”
“I loved you in the ‘Take This to Your Grave’ days, didn’t I?” Pete asked, smiling. When he saw Patrick blushing, he turned him around. He needed Patrick so look at him while he’d say what he wanted to next.
“Tricky, you’re the best person I ever had the pleasure to meet. You saved me in more ways than you know, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead by now, we both know that. You’re my best friend, and I’ll love you for the rest of my life, and nothing, especially not your weight, is ever going to change that.”
The little singer looked at his friend, eyes tearing up again, but this time from happiness and relief. He hugged Pete, head resting on his friend’s chest. “Thank you, Pete. Thank you so much.”
The bassist rested his head on top of the singer’s, holding him tightly. “Don’t mention it.”
Notes: