---Patrick---

God hates me.

I don't know what's happened. I feel... numb... I feel so numb. My legs and hands are numb, and my head is spinning. What's happening? Where am I? I can't remember a thing... I remember... The Christmas party and going with... Gerard to the bridge. I remember talking, and I remember him trying to tease me... I remember boots, but that's all. Boots crunching through the thick snow. Dark shoes on white water. What happened...? I can't... think straight...

I try to open my eyes, but it's like they're sewn shut... I can't... seem to... I'm so weak...

"Patrick?" Dr. Capaldi? "Are you awake?"

I muster out a whine. I'm so numb... Is it normal to feel this weak?

"Hey, I'm gonna give you some more sedative, sorry I thought I got you more. I'll wake you up in a bit..." I hear a squeaky knob turn, but it's so fuzzy, and I can barely focus on it...

And... I'm... drifting again...

***

"Patrick, we need you to wake up, can you wake up for me?" Dr. Capaldi says, his voice calm and I'm still numb, but I can tell it's starting to wear off little by little.

It hurts. Everything kind of hurts. My stomach hurts, my head is pounding, my fingers are barely moving, but I can flick them just softly. Just as soft as the peep of a mouse. I am a mouse, though, aren't I? I remember that thought. I remember thinking myself a mouse. I can't remember where, though. Or when. I can't remember why. I can't remember nearly anything. I just feel so out of place. Different. Weird.

"I need you to open your eyes, can you open your eyes for me?"

N-no... I muster out another whimper, it's so weak... I'm so weak. Dr. Capaldi is asking me to be strong, though. Asking me, "just try, come on I know you can do it..."

So I try. I try so hard to open my eyes. I feel so... disoriented, though. Like I'm not really in my own body. I feel so much weaker than I should. I've felt low and pathetic before, but this is different. This is like how I feel after purging and starving for a week straight, and I'm so dizzy and weak that I can barely pick up a pen. Those are the only days I allow myself to eat because I don't deserve to die, do I?

"Come on, Patrick, I know you can do it. You've done it before, and I know you don't feel so good right now. We just can't risk you falling asleep again... We need to talk to you..."

I can't... please...

***

I wake up again. Why do I keep falling asleep? Am I supposed to?

My eyes open this time, I'm feeling stronger. So much stronger. If it weren't for the goddamn restraints on the bed, I would have probably sat up, too. But I can't. I'm restrained. I'm trapped. This time, though, it isn't as bad. Has Gerard helped with that? Gerard. Gerard... where is he?

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to blink away the blurriness. The ceiling is white. Too white. I remember again that I'm in a hospital and I woke up a while ago. I don't know how long ago. Probably a year ago. Maybe just a few seconds ago.

"Patrick? Are you okay?" Dr. Capaldi asks. No, I'm not okay, I promise. Where the fuck is Gerard? I need to talk to him. I need to know what happened. I need to know if he's okay. I need to know so much... I can't... quite remember...

"I need Gerard. Where is he?" I ask, looking over at him. I'm feeling stronger, but at the same time, a little off, "And can you please take off these restraints? I need to talk to him, please."

He swallows, and a flash of nervousness immediately crosses his aged features, "Ah, yes... you see, he can't talk right now. He's... ehm... I suppose I'll have you find out on your own... it would be better. I need answers first and then, yes, you can see him..."

I shake my head, refusing every answer that doesn't include, "Yes, you can see Gerard," because that's all that matters to me. Gerard is all that matters. He's all that's ever mattered to me. All that's worth living for besides maybe Pete, "What happened to him?" I'm looking right into his eyes. There's silence. There's tension where there isn't noise. I see him purse his chapped lips and look away, "Dr. Capaldi?"

"He's... not very well, Patrick... There's been brain damage... Wasn't enough oxygen coming in and out of his brain... He's..."

"Dead." I finish, my eyes piercing his.

"No, no, no," He quickly protests. I don't know why I'm not sad. I guess I just... I don't know... I need to know what happened. That's all I can focus on. Taking care of Gerard and then getting to Dr. Capaldi's questions, "He's... in a coma, you see."

"A coma?" I repeat. I look back up to the ceiling and furrow my eyebrows, confused, "What's a coma?"

He sighs, "You should probably sleep a little longer, I don't think you can really think straight right now..." Dr. Capaldi says, "I'll be right here, and once you remember what a coma is, we can talk about this, alright?"

I nod and shut my eyes again, waiting for the sedative to take effect.

***

My eyes open once more.

A coma

Gerard's in a coma.

Just like a snap of my fingers, it clicks, and it begins to settle. Gerard's in a coma. Gerard Arthur Way is in a coma. A state where he's forced in a deep sleep. Where he can't wake up. Where he can't wake up until... Until he just wakes up... Or he doesn't...

"Is it medically induced?" I ask quietly. I know Dr. Capaldi is there. He has to be there. I can feel him there. Like ghost. A ghost that is always there. A constant reminder of where I am. Of who I am. Of all my problems.

"No, sadly... If it were, he'd be awake by now..." Dr. Capaldi replies, his voice is soft and gentle.

"Please take off these restraints," I whisper. I'm not crying. I guess the realization hasn't settled in yet.

He complies, taking them off, "Pete wants to see you, and if you want to, we can wait to ask questions." I nod, "Okay..."

He gets up and leaves, I just roll on my side and stare at the wall. It's a blank wall, there are shadows on the wall. I don't know what's causing the shadows, though. Probably me and my stupid problems.

Maybe it's Dad. Maybe it's Donald. Maybe he's come to take me to my Black Parade. Maybe this is a dream, and I'm not really in this hospital bed. The memories are beginning to return, the memories of what happened before I got here. Maybe I'm in the alley, maybe Megan is really there at the end of the lane. Maybe I'm still being held by Knife and Gerard is still screaming. Maybe I don't want to be here, and I'd rather be back in that alley. Maybe I don't want him to be in a coma, and I'd rather be in pain and fear than in this nightmare. This is worse than any coma that could separate Gerard and I. I feel so... numb. Not physically but emotionally, too. My head is still pounding. My stomach still feels horrible. I think they broke a rib or two. I believe they split my mind. I think I'm going insane but... crazy people don't feel that they're insane. They believe they're perfectly healthy, so no. I'm not really mad. It's just my imagination.

I shut my eyes again, I want the darkness to accompany me. I don't want Pete. I want Gerard. I want him to be here. I want him to tell me it'll be okay. I want him to tell me this will all work out. I want him to tell me not to worry about a thing. I want him to whisper sweet nothings in my ear, and I want him to hold me like he used to. I want his black hair to brush my ear, I want his soft teases and the way he'd gently caress my jaw when we kiss. I want his lips on mine again. I want them warm and thin like they always have been. I want his dark brown eyes to look straight back at mine, I want his voice in my ear, traced with a drop of his Jersey accent. I want him to rub circles into my stomach and call me beautiful. I want to believe I'm beautiful. I want him to make me believe I'm beautiful like he always does. I want to build another snowman with him and this time have his beanie and his gloves on it. I want to make love to him again like we always do. His gentle thrusts, his soft kisses, his warm touches that send sparks to my skin. The way he says he loves me. I want him to suck bruises into my neck and ask if this is okay every now and then. I want him to tell me how beautiful I am again. I want him to kiss my scars like the touch from an angel and press his lips to my forehead.

I want to see his drawings again, too. I wonder where the backpack went. I wonder if my phone is with it. His phone, too.

I wonder if he's thinking about me in his dark, endless sleep. I wonder if he knows I'm thinking about him. I wonder how long it'll be before he wakes up. I wonder if things will be the same when he wakes up. I wonder if he knows I want him awake.

But who am I kidding? He can't be asleep in the first place. He's probably faking it just so he can see me... right? It's gonna be okay. He might have a few scratches here and there, but nothing's happened to him. At the same time, though... my conscience knows he's asleep...

"Patrick?" Pete asks. His voice is soft. I don't want to move. I don't want to face him. It feels warm here, staring at the wall with all these blankets wrapped around me. I want him to leave. I don't want to talk. I don't want to speak again. I just want him to go away and never come back. I feel the bed sink behind me, "Patrick, are you okay?"

"No," I whisper, "Please just... go away... I... I don't feel like talking right now. I want to... I just want to sleep for a while..."

He swallows, I can hear it. It makes me want to kill him.

"I brought your phone... If... If you want to talk or see him... just give me a text, alright?"

I nod. He sets my phone on my table, "Also, if you want to talk to Brendon or Ryan or anyone else, just... text... they're outside waiting for you... Frank is in Gerard's room."

I nod again. I don't want to talk... I just want to sleep this away... I feel so... weak...

The bed rises, there are footsteps and then the shutting of a door.

"He doesn't want to talk to anyone right now... sorry..." I hear him say. His voice muffled through the hospital door. There's no reply. I just bury myself further into the bedsheets, surrounding myself with darkness. The shade makes me feel warmer inside. It makes me feel... better... I don't know. It sounds crazy, but I don't mind it... I just want to be kept in the darkness, and I want to forget about everything that's going on. I don't even think about Gerard, I just sleep. Sleep away the pain... Hoping I can wake up dead or wake up with Gerard.

Wake up dreaming.