13. Pete tells Gabe that he sounds too much like an overly positive motivational speaker.

The next day, I spent all morning delivering pizzas with Joe Trohman by my side. He still hadn't completely forgiven me for driving in circles when we were delivering that pizza to Patrick's house, but I had bigger problems to worry about. Brendon was still panicking over the iDKHOW breakup, I still hadn't told Patrick how I felt about him, and still, nobody had found a way to keep Gabe's visions from coming true. It didn't seem hard to keep his next vision from coming true though. Gabe just had to avoid saying or doing anything that would make him sound like an overly positive motivational speaker, and I, regardless of the circumstances, couldn't tell him that he sounded too much like one. It wasn't hard at all.

I returned home in the middle of the afternoon, but as soon as I got there, the phone rang. I rushed to pick it up. "Hello?" I said.

"Hey Pete," Gabe said.

"Hi Gabe," I said. "What's up?"

"I wrote a song!" Gabe exclaimed.

"That's nice," I said. "I thought you were supposed to be at work right now."

"I am at work," Gabe said. "I'm calling from the phone there. Anyways, do you want to come to my office and take a look at the song?"

"Sure," I said. "Why did you write a song anyways?"

"It's my purpose in life, remember?" Gabe said. "The cobra said so."

"Gabe, you don't have to listen to everything the cobra said," I said.

"It's been right so far," Gabe said.

He was right. Twelve of Gabe's visions had already come true, a worrying fact. What if we can't stop them? I thought. What if Gabe really will die? I couldn't bear to think about it. I pushed the thought out of my mind and said, "I'll be there soon. See you in a few minutes."

"See you soon, Pete," Gabe said.

I hung up, climbed into the DeLorean, and drove to Hot Mess Music Management. It was the firm that managed all of the best local bands, and Gabe also happened to work there. It was a little bit of a drive, but I eventually found the building and parked in front of it. I walked into the building and quickly found Gabe. "I still can't believe that someone actually hired you to be a band manager," I said, in awe of Gabe's workplace. Hot Mess Management was so different from Fall Out Bros.

Gabe shrugged and said, "Adults love me. They think that I'm the nice Jewish vegan next door." I laughed and Gabe nudged me. "You're going to blow my cover," he said. "Let's go. A few of my friends and I reserved an hour in the studio across the street."

We walked into the studio, and Gabe took a bass guitar and started playing the song that he had written. I listened carefully, and I wasn't particularly impressed. Then again, that wasn't a bad thing. It made it far less likely that Gabe's song would play in the background while the world ended like Gabe had seen in his vision. "What do you think?" Gabe asked.

I paused, trying to decide what to say. "It was better than anything I Don't Know How But They Found Me has ever written," I said.

Gabe laughed. "You can tell me that my song sucks if you want, Pete," he said. "I won't be offended."

I decided to be honest with him. "The tune is okay, but the lyrics need some work," I said.

"What's wrong with the lyrics?" Gabe asked.

That was when I realized that I couldn't tell him what was wrong with the lyrics without making his vision come true. "Uhh...well..." I stammered.

"Come on, Pete, you can tell me," Gabe said.

"The lyrics are fine," I said.

"You just said that they needed work," Gabe said. "Don't lie to me. I don't want a bad song playing during the apocalypse. That would be an awful way to die."

"The apocalypse won't happen," I said. "We'll find a way to stop these visions from coming true."

"I hope so, but I don't want to listen to a bad song while the world ends," Gabe said. "What's wrong with the lyrics?"

I adjusted my dark black jacket, wondering how I could tell him that he sounded like an overly positive motivational speaker. "You know how all of the greatest bands in the world have really depressing lyrics?" I said.

"You mean that all of the bands that you like have really depressing lyrics," Gabe said.

"Yes," I said. "A little bit more angst might work well for you."

"So you want my lyrics to be really depressing?" Gabe said. "I'm not sure how well that would work with the music."

"Not necessarily," I said. "I just think you need to be...less positive."

"You're saying that I sound too much like an overly positive motivational speaker," Gabe said.

"Yes, that's exactly it," I said. "You sound too much like an overly positive motivational speaker." I paused for a moment, and upon realizing what I had just said, I cursed at the top of my lungs.

All of a sudden, the door swung open, and four more people entered the studio. Gabe quickly introduced them to me, but I couldn't keep track of all of Gabe's coworkers. "Nate, Alex, Ryland, and Victoria, this is my best friend, Pete," he said to them.

"He's the one you talk about all the time, right?" one of Gabe's friends said. I thought that his name was Ryland, but I wasn't sure.

Gabe nodded and asked, "Would you four like to hear the song that I wrote?"

"Sure," Victoria said.

Gabe played the song, which I still thought sounded far too happy, one more time. His friends gave him a few suggestions, and before long, the song was sounding much better. It almost sounded like something that could be played on the radio or on MTV. Gabe and his friends then recorded the song, while I just sat back and watched them. I knew nothing about music, while they all worked for a music management company. I didn't need to help them, so I simply took a piece of paper and a pen and indulged in one of my favorite pastimes: writing angsty poetry. Occasionally, Gabe peeked over to see what I was doing, but he was usually focused on recording, and his friends acted as if I didn't exist.

I still couldn't believe that I had made the vision come true. I had to be more careful about what I said, or Gabe might actually die in the apocalypse like he had seen in his visions.

Once Gabe was finished recording, he went back to work, and I drove to Fall Out Bros. to pick up a pizza for dinner. When I got there, Joe was still working. "Hey Pete," he said.

"Hi Joe," I said. "Can I get a medium deep dish cheese pizza to go please?"

"Sure," Joe said. "I'll have that for you in a minute." I waited by the counter, ready to go home so I could let my favorite music get me out of my mind. I stared blankly at the walls, which were plastered with posters of Billie's favorite punk bands and Fall Out Bros. Pizza's faithful employees making deep dish pizza. The tantalizing smell of freshly baked pizza wafted into the restaurant, and my stomach growled. I just couldn't wait until my pizza was done.

All of a sudden, I saw Patrick sitting by himself, eating pizza. He looked up from his meal, noticed me, and waved. "Pete!" he exclaimed.

I rushed over and sat across from him. "Hey Trick," I said. "Can I call you Trick?"

Patrick smiled and laughed. "Why not?" he said.

"How are you doing, Trick?" I asked.

"I'm doing well," Patrick said. "I'm on my dinner break, but I have to go back to Tea Monkey after I'm done. I just came to Fall Out Bros. to see if you'd be here."

"I'm always here," I said. "I eat at Fall Out Bros. almost every day, even when I'm not working. I love pizza that much."

"That's honestly kind of impressive," Patrick said. "I don't know if there's any food that I like quite that much. My mom makes delicious pumpkin squares, but I couldn't eat that every day." There was a sweet moment of silence, and I admired how cute Patrick's red sweater was. It was out of season, but somehow, it made him look even more adorable. "I've always wondered why the music in here is so loud," Patrick said. "I can hear it all the way from Tea Monkey sometimes."

"You can blame my boss for that," I said. "Billie Joe is obsessed with punk music."

"That's not a bad thing, but sometimes Tea Monkey customers complain about it," Patrick said. "I don't mind too much though."

Patrick took a bite out of his pizza while I asked, "How's everything going at Tea Monkey?"

"It's fine," Patrick said. "How did you like the America's Suitehearts blend that I sold you a while ago?"

"It was amazing, just like you," I said. It was a lie - I still didn't like green tea, but the lie was worth it just to see Patrick smile.

"Thanks Pete," Patrick said, blushing. "I'm glad you liked it."

"You're welcome," I said. "It didn't hurt that a really cute barista sold it to me." I was a nervous wreck, but I didn't care. All I wanted was for Patrick to like me back, but I knew that he never would. The truth hurt worse than anything I could bring myself to do to him.

Patrick finished off the last of the pizza and said, "I should probably head over to Tea Monkey. I'll see you later, Pete."

"See you later, Patrick," I said. I waited for another few minutes before Joe told me that my pizza was ready. I took the box, put it in the trunk of the DeLorean, and drove home, still thinking of Patrick.

When I got there, I immediately devoured the pizza. Then, I put my headphones on and dreamed of what it would be like to cuddle with Patrick. I envisioned his blue eyes, his soft lips, and that adorable fedora perched on top of his head. Why can't I just tell him how I feel? I wondered. There had been a few good opportunities, and I had missed all of them.

My mind drifted to the recording session, and I felt a pang of guilt. I should never have told Gabe that he sounded too much like an overly positive motivational speaker, even though he totally did. I wasn't thinking when I said that, but now I knew that I could never let my guard down. I had to be careful about keeping Gabe's visions from coming true.

With my headphones still on, I was wearing black on the outside, because black was how I felt on the inside.

I looked at the next vision on the list. It was Dallon ordering an extra large mango and pineapple smoothie. I wasn't quite sure how to prevent that one, but I figured that it could wait until the next morning. I was pretty sure that the smoothie shop was closed for the night anyways.

I felt horrible about making so many of Gabe's visions come true over the last few weeks. It made me feel sick when I thought about how badly I had failed him. I had been a terrible friend. Who was I kidding? I was still a terrible friend, but I promised myself that I would change. I would be better to Gabe, no matter what it took.