Patrick didn't exactly do concerts. He'd sat in stages and gone to auditorium performances, sure. But not a true concert. One with real fans and a real active audience.

He hadn't wanted to go in the first place. But Bryce had the tickets. Said it was “New and everywhere on the radio,” said everyone was talking about it. Patrick didn’t care — not really. He had already taken a line off the back of his phone in the bathroom before they made it to the floor, shoving past a group of kids who looked like they hadn’t showered in days.

The strobe lights flashed in and out, making Patrick feel almost dazed. He could feel the music vibrating through his Oxfords. Although the bass was deafening and the lights were blinding, his eyes landed on the performer.

Only a silhouette at first. But soon the strobe lights allowed him to see more.

Before he could truly admire, the screaming came along with the voice. The music wasn't something he's normally enjoy, it was far from it. But he found himself lending an ear to it, an open mind. He felt almost focused on every movement. The strobe lights went unnoticed now.

But the coke and the chaos made everything sharper — and suddenly, nothing else in the room existed. Not Bryce, not the bodies pressing in on every side, not the ache in his temples or the itch in his jaw.

He leaned over to Van Patten, who was already three drinks and two pills deep, and said, “I’m going backstage.”

“Why?” Van Patten laughed. “You want an autograph?”

Patrick let out a scoff. "Don't be ridiculous. I just want to see if this is anything real. It's already almost over since Bryce got us here late." He waved him off, making his way over to security.

It only took about a couple hundred bucks and some talking to get him backstage. He made his way into the hallway, walking past the bustling stage workers. He made his way to the dressing room, hearing the last screams and shouts of the concert erupted from through the wall.

He made his way down the hall, straight to the dressing room door.