---Patrick---

Ten seconds feels like hours. Donna follows us outside, I'm still screaming despite the fact that I'm basically being dragged out of the hospital and Pete is begging me to be quiet. All I can focus on is the fact that I need to see Gerard, his brown eyes open, alive and awake. He... he can't really be under. He can't do this to me. I told him. I fucking told him to stay with me. He promised me he would stay with me. He promised me three times over he'd be there for me.

I fucking love him, and he loves me. How could he do this to me? How could I do this to him? How could we do this to each other? How could they do this to us? How could this happen? I just... I need... I can't... If only...

"Patrick! Snap out of it," Pete yells. He's not making sense, though. I'm screaming still and begging to go back, I need to find Gerard, and I need to know he'll be okay.

I feel a sharp sensation on my cheek, and it takes me a moment to realize he just slapped me. I blink, my screaming over and now I'm just staring at him, dumbfound.

"Calm down, it's okay, okay? He's not gone. He's not going to leave. You gotta listen to me. He has a good chance of waking up. He's going to be okay... I promise. It's going to turn out fine..." He pulls me into a hug, I can't help but hug back, my hands shaky against his back. His hair tickles my nose, but it's not Gerard's hair. This is just Pete Wentz. Just my best friend, not my lover. He's useless to me right now. I want Gerard...

Donna holds her hands to her mouth, I can see the pain across her face. The pain of her heart shattering into a million pieces and falling like blades but it disappears as soon as it comes. I know that feeling. It hurts. It kills you inside to a point where you feel like someone filled you up with Novocaine and you're just... numb to everything.

"Do you want to go home for a bit?" He asks softly, "We can go and talk for a bit. If you want you can stay with me, or I could stay with you. Whatever you want. I'll show you more lyrics and... and... whatever you want to..."

He's close to tears, I can see it. How could he help me when he's struggling with his own pain. Gerard's near dead, and he's trying to be selfless in helping me. Why...? It's useless. It really is hopeless... Nobody could cheer me up, and he needs to worry about himself first. His health should mean a lot more than mine...

Despite my internal wishes, I nod softly with tears still lacing my green eyes, "Okay..."

"We're gonna go ahead, do you need us to do anything?" Pete asks turning to Donna. She shakes her head before walking forward and hugging me tightly, "Good luck, Darling. Get sleep, eat I'll be home tonight."

I nod, hugging back, "Love you, talk to you tonight... tell me if... anything happens to Gerard... I want to know-"

"Wait!" Someone yells to us. Donna and I break apart to see Mikey running towards us with my phone, "Here, you left it on your bedside table."

He presses it in the palm of my hand and hugs me. His embrace is warm and full of... not sympathy but... empathy... he goes to Pete.

"You just did that to say goodbye to me, didn't you?" Pete asks softly with a hint of a joke in his voice, but he isn't smiling.

"Maybe," Mikey replies. They slide their lips together. It makes me feel a weird emptiness in the pit of my stomach, so I walk away. I don't want to see it. It just makes me feel more empty than I already do without Gerard. Jealousy? I guess...

I continue down to the bus stop, phone in hand and my eyes down, joined soon after by Pete who has to run to catch up to me. As soon as he does, we walk in silence for a while. Our feet in sync and the sound of sirens leaving the hospital sounding in the distance. How many more tragedies could the world have? Gerard is enough to ruin eleven lives, but with a number of people, a hospital can get in a day... if could ruin hundreds more. Gerard is just one in a million.

But he's my one in a million.

Pete's the first one to break the silence. I wish he wouldn't. I wish he would just stay quiet. But I only want what I can't have, "Do you know what happened? I mean... if you don't want to you don't have to tell me but... I... I want to know what happened... If you can tell me... It would mean a lot..."

I sigh and take his hand, nodding softly, "When we get home..."

"Okay."

We stop just before the bus sign, checking the time quickly and plugging in my earbuds, I scroll through my songs. As soon as Good Riddance starts playing, I immediately remember the day after I'd met Gerard... It feels like forever ago, but it makes me smile softly. I remember wanting to have my old friends back: Ryan, Frank, Pete, Brendon, and Joe... I remember how hard it was for me to even think about Pete because it broke my heart having to leave him but... I'm back with him now, and it makes me happier.

Gerard is gone, though.

My smile disappears. I swallow and hug Pete, "What are his chances? Do you know?"

He rubs circles into my back, "Sixty percent..."

Sixty percent? Sixty percent chance that he'll wake up? Sixty percent chance that he's going to be okay? Everything will turn out just fine? My boyfriend's life depends on a fucking percentage now?

"When will they take him off of life support?" I whisper, my breathing hitched.

"Five percent." He replies, "It's okay. Everything will turn out fine. It'll be alright. I know it's... hard to comprehend but he'll wake up... I promise."

How strong are your promises?

"Don't make promises you can't keep," I whisper, "He's not coming back... You know he isn't... We both do. Sixty percent? Sixty? I-is there really all that m-much of a f-fucking chance?"

I'm crying again. I'm sick of crying. I'm tired of being weak. I just want to end it all. I just want to scream about how unfair the world is. I want to yell and scream and cry. But I stay in my shell. I hug, and I weep, and I sniffle, and I regret, and I keep feeling so goddamn sorry for myself.

I'm sick of it.

"I just want it to all end. I want to stop going through tragedy after tragedy. Mom then Kevin then Bob and now Gerard. I hate this all. I just want a different life, one where I could actually be happy," I pause, "Sorry. I... probably sound fucking insane."

"I understand." Pete replies, "I've felt the same way... After... after you left and after I'd attempted suicide, I'd just... hated the world, so I screamed for about five hours in my room with a pillow over my face... I mean... I'd also kind of had my wrists slit but... y'know. We could go a bit safer."

I laugh slightly, though, it's empty. Pete doesn't seem to notice, just smiles and kisses my forehead softly as the bus stops in front of us, "Let's get outta here."

We get on the bus, and we're driven away, home to my house...

***

I wrote a goodbye note in lipstick on your arm
When you passed out
I couldn't bring myself to call
Except to call it quits

Best friends
Ex-friends till the end
Better off as lovers
And not the other way around
Racing through the city
Windows down
In the back of yellow checkered cars

You're wrong
Are we all wrong?

This city says

Come hell or high water
Well I'm feeling hot and wet
I can't commit to a thing
Be it heart or hospital

The tombstones were waiting
They were half-engraved
They knew it was over
Just didn't know the date

And I cast a spell over the west to make you think of me
The same way I think of you
This is a love song in my own way
Happily ever after below the waist

Best friends
Ex-friends to the end
Better off as lovers
And not the other way around
Racing through the city
Windows down
In the backs of yellow checkered cars

You're wrong
Are we all wrong?

You're wrong
Are we all wrong?

I can tell this one is a little more personal. He wrote it neater, and it has a lot of marks and edits across the words.

"It's about you. I wrote it around the time you always came to the bar..." He says, "Mikey said it was cute... I dunno..."

I hug him tightly, my hands gripping his shirt, "God, why did I ever leave you?"

"Because you have Gerard." He laughs.

My smile disappears at the mention of the name. I don't know why he's upsetting me so much he just... is... I wish he'd wake up and I wouldn't be in this goddamn nightmare. I would be living my life with him, and we could be happy but...

No...

He's going to stay under that stubborn asshole...

"Show me another one..." I whisper.

"Tell me what happened in that alley," Pete replies, flipping through the pages, I'm surprised they're so full. It makes me happy that he's writing so much, but at the same time, I wish I could see them all...

"Here, GINASFS." He says handing over the book, "But after this one, you have to tell me."

"Ginasfsfs?" I splutter out confused, "And okay."

He chuckles, "G.I.N.A.S.F.S, Gay Is Not A Synonym For Shitty."

I smile and look down at the page.

I've loved everything about you that hurts,
So let me see your moves
Let me see your moves,
Lips pressed close to mine
True Blue, but the prince of any failing empire knows that
Everybody wants
Everybody wants to drive on through the night,
If it's the drive back home

Things aren't the same anymore,
Some nights it gets so bad that I almost pick up the phone
Trade Baby Blues, for Wide-Eyed Browns
I sleep with your old shirts
And walk through this house in your shoes
I know it's strange
It's a strange way of saying that I know I'm supposed to love you
I'm supposed to love you

I've already given up on myself twice
But the third time is the charm,
Third time is the charm
Threw caution to the wind,
But I've got a lousy arm,
And I've traced your shadows on the wall
Now I kiss them whenever I'm down,
Whenever I'm down
Just kind of figured on
Not figuring myself out

Things aren't the same anymore
Some nights it gets so bad that I almost pick up the phone
Trade Baby Blues, for Wide-Eyed Browns
I sleep with your old shirts
And walk through this house in your shoes
I know it's strange
It's a strange way of saying that I know I'm supposed to love you
I'm supposed to love you

I grip his hand, "What's this one about?"

"You." He replies, "Mostly about... us being friends and shit... after... that week that you stayed at my house and about how I'm moving on to Mikey. I'm sorry I write so many songs about you."

I smile and pull him close, "I don't mind it..."

"Can you tell me about the alley now?" Pete asks as he slips from the hug, "I mean if you're comfortable with it..."

I bite my lip, look away, and nod, "Okay,

"It was just after the Christmas party, Gerard and I were sitting on the bridge. I was in his lap, we were talking, four people came up to us... two guys and-and girl I didn't know and... and B-Bob..."

There are tears in my eyes now. I can barely hold them back because just thinking about how he hit me softens me up inside and turns me to beaten mush. It hurts, "They c-called us faggots and G-Gerard tried to fight b-back, but one of them had a knife..." each drop that falls from my cheek just brings five more with it and then more with those. Pete pulls me close, so I'm in his lap crying into his shoulder, "Th-they beat me f-first... B-Bob kept calling me a f-faggot a-and I k-kept s-seeing D-Dad and Kevin-n because of the P-PTSD.

"Gerard was screaming for me, Pete. I was trying to get away, but it hurt s-so much..." I cry, "T-they d-did G-Gerard next and th-that was when I p-passed out... I saw M-Megan and I-I w-was out... A-and I just hate this s-so much..."

Pete shushes me gently, rocking me back and forth and I can hear the tears as he replies gently, "You're the strongest boy I know, Patrick... You've taken more of this shit than any other person I know... You're the kind of guy Billie Joe Armstrong would invite onstage, y'know."

"Y'know."

"Y'know."

I laugh slightly, trying my tears and pulling out of Pete's lap, "I... I think I want some time alone... if that's okay..." I say, my smile dying off. He swallows and nods, "O-of course... I'm gonna go home... So... uh... see you in a bit?"

"Sure. Bye."