Pete's POV

Darkness. All around me is darkness. But it's alive. It writhes around and bites into my flesh. No blood flows. Just skin flapping around. Bone shines under my pale skin. Screams are ripped from my throat and thrown carelessly into the void. However although all this maybe happening around me, I could not feel more alone, isolated and empty.

I can't wake up.

Mikey's POV

Three weeks. It's been three weeks since drinks at Pete's, three weeks since he was rushed into hospital again, three weeks since he went into a coma. I can't do this. Brendon comes in, taking up his usual space in the plastic chair in the corner. "They've identified the pills. A mixture of pretty much everything in the bathroom." I nod. When he came in they pumped his stomach and told us he was lucky to be alive. That's why he won't wake up. He can't. He's barely even alive.

The pain I put him through. The pain I couldn't see, because this time I was behind it. Brendon sits up and winces, massaging his back muscles. "You can't stay here forever."

Flashback

The bell rings and I'm the first one out of maths. I'm hoping that the halls are clear so I can go straight to the band room. Pete promised to meet me there. Pete. Even the sound of his name makes me smile uncontrollably and I'm Mikey Way. I don't smile!

Walking quickly down the corridor I hear sobbing from the bathroom. Carefully pushing open the door I see a huddled figure in the corner. The crying stops and his body convulses violently, flopping like a fish out if water. Bruises litter his body, blossoming like flowers on his pale yet shining red skin.

His black fringe covers his eyes but I would recognise him anywhere. "Pete baby! Can you hear me?" No response. I desperately look around for help and on the floor I saw an empty bottle of Prozep pills. Then it hits me. Hits me like a brick. But he wouldn't. Not Pete. We talked about this. He wouldn't...would he? But he has.

I pull out my phone and call an ambulance. Kissing his forehead I dart out the room and yell for help. Hating myself for leaving him for even a moment, I hurry straight back. People spill into the space. I can't stand to see his shaking body, lying there so helpless.

I mentally kick myself. The pain he must be going through. The pain I was oblivious to. Behind his mask of happiness is a hurt, lost boy...and I didn't see him. How can I call what we have love when I can't truly see him? I miss his smile. I miss his laugh. I miss his kiss. I miss the way he would curl into me and I would be like his protective shell.

We would just sit on the sofa and throw popcorn at each other. I remember the way his hair would flop over his face and I would have to swipe stray strands. I remember my Pete. Awake and not half-dead. I remember him the way he was. Maybe soon, all I'll have left is memories.

Flashback over

"You can't stay here forever." I shrug on my jacket and pause in front of the door before walking out and not looking back.

"I know."

Pete's POV

The darkness is more than alive. It's humming. Soon the emptiness is filled with an orchestra of noise. Noise and screams. Screams of pains and torture. Screams of the unknown, of the unseen, of the undead and the dying. Something crashes into me...or do I crash into it? Am I moving or is it? What is it? Whatever it is, it fucking hurts!

"Ouch." I whisper, rubbing my nose. We collide again, this time with more force. "What the fuck?" I yell. A light appears somewhere. I reach for it. It's solid. It moves. It's a handle.

Grabbing the glowing handle, I twist it and fall into a brighter, dark room. At least something can been seen in here. A large blank screen covers an area and the glow illuminates two chairs. Both empty. My legs are tired and abused so I sit in one. It's quite comfy and bouncy but made of leather, like an desk chair. It's nice. I recline and relax, looking up at the screen. Maybe it will tell me where the Hell I am.

Nope. Instead it shows me a man. A beautiful man. I man whose eyes are full of regret. A man who broke me. "I'm sorry." The words are quiet but clear. He's sorry? Really? Shuffling footsteps focus my attention on a second man. Brendon! Why the Hell are they here? What is this? "They identified the pills," Brendon starts "a mixture of pretty much everything in the bathroom." Mikey nods and I swear I can see every thought, every feeling.

Or maybe I am thinking it too. A memory. A memory that should never have been created from a moment that never should've happened. If it hadn't maybe he'd still be here. I'd be happy, I'd be fixed, I'd be less alone. I'd be loved. But no, I decided to down as much shit as I could to drive him away, then five years later when we meet again, do the same thing.

I've put him through this. He's feeling this because of me. How can I not see that I have no purpose here? But he left. He left again and this time he had a choice. He chose wrong. Anger bubbles in my chest and floods through my veins. I'm beyone pissed now. How can he not see the pain and torment he's put me through? How can he not see the scars that mark my skin are because of him? How can he not see, that very slowly, he's killing me?

"You can't stay here forever." Brendon says. "I know." And then he's gone. Again. For the third time, Mikey left me. The chair beside me dissapears and the screen goes black. I'm surrounded by a pressuring darkness and echoing around are three words that shake my core. Three words I never wanted to hear again. Three words that stab and twist my heart like a cotton candy stick.

"Please wake up."