---Patrick---

"Everybody shut up."

Knock, knock, knock.

The door feels smooth under my knuckles as I alert Brendon of where we are. Gerard and Pete behind me, Mikey had to leave to buy some presents because he completely forgot that he can't be a selfish bastard until Christmas Eve. Not to mention, all the stores will be sold out, and at best he could get a sketching book for Gerard, so I feel terrible for him. But on the bright side, I'll have some time with Pete to show him some of the songs I've been making. I've only made three so far, but I've found it as an outlet. It may not give me the high drugs do or the haze of sex or the rush of self-harm, but it's just about the only substitute I have. It's nice. It gives me something to do when Gerard isn't around. A place for my thoughts at three in the morning when I frankly don't want to sleep.

"Come in!" Ryan calls from inside, "It's unlocked!"

I open the door, holding it there as Pete and Gerard go ahead of me, and I trail in soon after, my presents in hand. My eyes dart over Gerard's ass for a split second, and then I'm following my friend and my lover inside, shutting the door.

We continue upstairs, and into Brendon's room where Frank, Ryan, Brendon, Andy, Joe, Dallon, and Ray are laying around, each has one or two people to talk to, and I blink as I hoist the bag further up my back, "Christmas presents?"

"The tree is in the living room," Brendon replies, "You can wrap some stuff up if you want in my parent's room."

I give him the best thumb's up I can with a bag in both hands as Pete, and I head to the tree, and Gerard stays behind to talk to Brendon.

As we walk, I can't help but act a little nervous.

What if Pete doesn't like my lyrics? What if they kind of suck? I know some of the stuff I write is a lot more obvious, but I'm hoping it'll be okay.

"You all right?" Pete asks as I kneel down and unzip my bag, pulling out the Christmas presents that Gerard and I wrapped.

"Yeah, uh, I wanna show you something I've been working on in a bit. If that's okay." I murmur, my pocket feeling ten times heavier from the paper.

Pete chuckles and nods, "Alright."

I swallow as I finish with the presents, admiring the tree (covered in ornaments and topped with a star) and the presents (At least fifty of them, ten or twenty of them are massive).

I pull away from the tree for a moment as Pete finishes placing his presents under the tree, then turns to me, "Wanna go to Bren's room or...?"

"Brendon's room is fine," I reply, then begin walking up the stairs, "Did you bring your notebook?"

"Of course I did," Pete replies, "I wrote one last night at like midnight."

"Yessss," I smile, excited to see the songs he's written. It's not very often that he lets me see one he wrote relatively recently, but it seems like I'm getting an exception.

We continue to Brendon's room and sit in the only free corner, Pete pulling out his notebook immediately and me pulling out my papers. Alone Together, From Now On We Are Enemies, Coast.

"You first," I say, blushing softly as he flips through his notebook and finds the last page he wrote in, a mess of scribbled words and such.

He hands it over, the title reading: What A Catch, Donnie.

"You gonna elaborate?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows.

"I promise not to attempt again. The song is about you, but it's my promise not to attempt."

My eyes flash up to meet his, a surprised expression on my features, "Really?"

He shrugs and nods sheepishly as if it doesn't matter much, but in reality, it's great. He's getting better. He's promising not to try to take his life again. No more rooftops, no more empty parking lots, no more pills. Just... life.

My gaze continues back down to the lyrics, and I begin reading.

I've got troubled thoughts
And the self-esteem to match
What a catch, what a catch

You'll never catch us
So just let me be
Said I'll be fine
Till the hospital or American Embassy
Miss Flack said I still want you back

They say the captain
Goes down with the ship
So when the world ends
Will God go down with it?

I will never end up like him
Behind my back I already am
Keep a calendar, this way you will always know

I've got troubled thoughts
And the self-esteem to match
What a catch, what a catch

I frown and blink, absolutely confused and I hear a soft laugh come from Pete beside me.

"Confused?"

"Uh... Yeah?"

Pete pulls me closer and points to the title, "What A Catch, Donnie. There was a man named Donny Hathaway. He had depression, and it's a lot like my bipolar," His finger lowers to the first stanza, "This is you," His finger continues to the second stanza, "Donny committed suicide just last year. This woman, Flack, made music with him. He misses her," Down to the third verse, "3 AM thoughts, wondering when this world will end. If it would really be worth it to kill myself."

The fourth stanza, "I will never end up like Donnie, behind my back, I already am, keep a calendar, this way you will always know I'll be here," Fifth stanza, "Closure. Despite all the depression and the suicide attempts, you make me realize just how worth it is to stay. Your self-esteem gets to you, I know, but you've done so many amazing things. You've saved me."

I frown for a moment longer, and then it disappears. The words sink into my skin, and that's when I find myself buried in Pete's chest, hugging him tightly. I squeeze impossibly tight because I never want to let go. I never want to leave. I may have saved him, but him and Gerard have done the same for me. They've made me feel at least a little beautiful. My thighs are still chubby, my face still distorted in the mirror, my stomach an absolute disaster, but I think that's kind of okay. Kind of.

"Okay, how about you, Trick?" Asks Pete, curiosity in his voice, "What did you want to show me?"

I pull away for a moment and blush, my fingers fumbling with the paper in my hands. I wanted to show Pete these since I wrote them but I'm starting to get a little worried. What if he doesn't like it? What if the lyrics aren't good enough? I'm afraid he won't like it but... Maybe he won't mind.

I unfold the papers and hand them over, a blush across my cheeks, "I wrote a few songs. I wanted to know if they're any good. I don't mean to copy or anything..."

Pete smiles and takes them, "You're not copying. It's not like I made the art of lyrics."

He reads over Alone Together first, his eyes flashing over each word. I wrote it for Gerard, about us. I'm just a troubled soul with nowhere to go. He saved me. He's shown me so much and... I've begun to believe I really am beautiful. Do you wanna feel beautiful?

He presses that paper to the bottom of the stack. Next is From Now On We Are Enemies.

I just want to be better than your
Your head's only medicine
A downward spiral just a pirouette
Getting worse until there's nothing left
What good comes of something when I'm
Just the ghost of nothing?

I'm just the man on the balcony singing:
"Nobody will ever remember me."
Rejoice, rejoice and fall to your knees
Lunatic of a god or a god of a lunatic?
Oh, their faces are dancing
They're dancing till
Till they can't stand it
A composer but never composed
Singing the symphonies of the overdosed
Singing, "I only want what I can't have"

I'm just the man on the balcony singing:
"Nobody will ever remember me."
Rejoice, rejoice, and fall to your knees.

It's mostly about me and how I wish I was enough for some people. How I wish I could be better than I really am. I want to make Gerard's worries go away. I've seen a few times when even the mention of his Dad makes him wince. I want to be remembered, too. I want someone to know I was alive. Something. So I won't just fade away into the past. But I only want what I can't have.

And last, he pulls out Coast. This is one I wrote when I was a little less depressed, and I really valued what I have. Gerard and I had made love earlier, and it might have been because I was just really giddy, too. But, it was more of the former.

Maybe I'm too young to be so hopeless
Maybe I'm too young to be so bitter
But I swallowed adolescence by the choke-full
And came away looking like a quitter

I'm singing,
I keep making mistakes
But it takes time to get everything right

'Cause it's gonna get better, it's gonna work out
Give it a minute, it's gonna turn around
'Cause it's gonna get better
It's gonna get better

It's funny how trivia nearly broke me
But tragedy seemed to put me back together

'Cause it's gonna get better, it's gonna work out
Give it a minute, it's gonna turn around
'Cause it's gonna get better
It's gonna get better

So just coast with me

Life's already been hard enough
Without you giving up on yourself
When you're down at the bottom
You know it only gets better

'Cause it's gonna get better, it's gonna work out
Give it a minute, it's gonna turn around
'Cause it's gonna get better
It's gonna get better

Pete smiles at the last one, the lyrics much more obvious than From Now On We Are Enemies. He pulls me close and hums, smiling into my neck.

"I'm so proud of you, y'know." He whispers.

"Thank you..."