Ship: Pete/Patrick
Words: 704

Trigger Warnings: Suicide Attempt/Thoughts, Self-harm. I felt this way before writing this.

"Joke me something awful just like kisses on the necks of 'best friends.'
We are the kids who feel like dead ends
And I want to be known for my hits not just my misses

"I took a shot and didn't even come close
At trust and love and hope..."

The music is blasting through my ears as tears fall from my wide, red eyes and the blade rests on my wrist, about to cut another deep, red line.

"And the poets are just kids who didn't make it
And never had it at all."

I feel so worthless. So pathetic. I'm ready to end it all. Im ready to leave and never come back. I don't care what it does to anyone else I just want to die. Is that too much to ask.

"And the record won't stop skipping and the lies just won't stop slipping
And besides my reputation's on the line..."

"Please, please, please." I whisper to myself, more tears falling to my cheeks. I can't take it. I can't take feeling so trapped in my own body. I can't take the constant tensions that rests in my veins. I can't take it.

"We can fake it for the airwaves
Force our smiles, Baby, half dead
From the comparing myself to everyone else around me..."

"Pete? Are you okay?"

I hear Patrick opening the door to the bus and I scramble to hide the blade, trying my best to hold back my sobs.

"Please put the doctor on the phone cause I'm not making any sense
Blame everyone but me for this mess..."

"Pete?"

"N-not now." I say, my voice cracking.

Goddamnit, Pete, can't you do anything right? You're such a waste of space.

The bathroom's door knob turns and I'm still in fear as it opens.

"And my back has been breaking from this heavy heart
We never seemed so far..."

"No!" I yell as it opens and Patrick comes in, eyes wide.

He stills for a moment, watching me cry and bleed and hate on the bathroom floor with my earbuds stained red and a bottle of pills on the counter.

"I'm hopelessly hopeful, you're just hopeless enough
But we never had it at all..."

"No, no, no." I whisper as he nears me. He plucks the blade from my hand, wiping it off with a towel silently, "No! Stop! Please! Just let it end!"

I scream when he pulls me up and push him away when he hugs me close.

"And the record won't stop skipping and the lies just won't stop slipping
And besides my reputation's on the line."

He gives me a soft look, tears now littering his eyes and I snap.

"QUIT IT WILL YOU?" I scream, pointing right at him with blood dripping to the floor, "DON'T YOU SEE HOW MUCH I WANT TO FUCKING LEAVE? TWO TIMES, PATRICK! TWICE! I'M DONE. I JUST WANT TO END IT!"

Patrick shakes his head, speechless. This is now the third time he's walked in on me like this. The guilt is clawing at me like a tiger but it doesn't even begin to challenge the self-loathing I feel.

"Please, Patrick." I whisper, sobbing harder, "Please,  just... kill me. I'm ready to go. Please I can't go another day you have no idea how much it hurts–"

"We can fake it for the airwaves
Force our smiles, Baby, half dead.
From the comparing myself to everyone else around me..."

"I know exactly how much it hurts. I can fucking feel it. And I know you hate yourself. But I'd hate myself just as much if I lost you." Patrick whispers.

I stare at him.

"From the comparing myself to everyone else around me..."

"You wouldn't—"

"Everyone else around me..."

"I would, very much, Pete. I would probably go the exact same route as you would and I can't. I... fuck..." Patrick nears me, pulling me closer, "Don't you fucking dare give up on me."

I sob harder and after a moment, find myself collapsing in his arms.

"Let's clean you up now, hmm?"

"O-Okay..."