Pete's POV

I caught Patrick's wrist before he got to his car door. He jumped back, startled. It was getting easier and easier to scare the guy. On a normal occasion, I would've messed with him. Now, this was kind of a different story.

"When did you think of that?" I asked him.

"Oh," he stuck his hands in his jacket pocket and looked at the ground, "It just - kind of - came to me in there... I'm sorry, I-"

"No," I cut in, "It's a great idea, I just wish you would've talked to us first."

He rocked on his feet, back and forth, and stayed quiet.

"If we want to get enough money, we'd better start planning now. My schedule's open if we want to do shows. Andy?" I turned to him.

He nodded, "Yeah, I've always got time for Fall Out Boy."

All eyes turned to Joe. He too looked down at his shoes and blushed a little, "Uhh, yeah I can probably make time. For Leah."

I glanced at Andy and Patrick and decided against saying something, "Want to go plan something over at my place?"

They nodded and agreed before getting in their cars. Their cars were close behind me. I could see each of them in my mirror.

When we got there, it was strictly business. Since Patrick came up with the idea, and it was his girlfriend, I let him take control. He had come up with venues close by, so we wouldn't need to travel too far from her.

We picked out a few songs from Save Rock & Roll, but saved a big gap for older songs. The four of us each picked out a few songs that she liked, just under half of Infinity on High and Folie á Deux. I mentioned something about new songs, but agreed with Patrick in the thought that we weren't quite ready for that.

Once we had places to go and songs to sing, I grabbed a pen and paper and started writing. I always say something to the fans, whether it be a simple "thank you for coming" or a long, drawn out speech about inspiration. Talking about Leah, that was different. She's real, tangible. I can see her, feel that she's here. What would she want me to say?

Patrick leaned over my shoulder and started reading, "That looks good."

I smiled, "Thanks. You want to say something?"

He tensed up, "I don't know, I don't want to... have a scene in front of them."

I pat his shoulder, "Aw come on, you'll be fine. They'll love it. She'd love it."

He thought for a while and then nodded, "Sure, I'll come up with something to say." I handed him a sheet and tossed my pen over.

I turned the tv on, the Simpsons was ironically on and we all laughed hysterically watching it. Patrick was still scribbling away on his paper, nearly to the bottom.

"You need more paper?" I chuckled and asked him.

He was still focused, "No- almost done."

I nodded slowly, "Okay."

Joe's phone started ringing and he left to go answer it. Andy watched him as he left the room and then looked to me. I think we were thinking the same thing.

He's been a little off lately, not himself. We all are at a loss, with Leah gone, but it wasn't just her. There was something else. Something was wrong; something he was hiding back.

When I snapped back to reality, I noticed Patrick was done, "You wanna share some of that?"

"Sure..." he smiled and sat up straight. I muted the tv and turned to him.

He transitioned from song to speech. For a while, he seemed okay, talking about fans and how thankful he was to have so many amazing people in his life. Then, he went on to say that one girl showed him the meaning of that, to love someone and to love himself. Leah. She had a bigger impact on his life that I'd thought. He talked about camping and a little bit of their relationship- since it wasn't much of a secret anymore. He ended with something I never expected from him. He's always been an extremely talented guy, but I never suspected that such a small person could have such an affect on his life.

"You may not be able to see her here with us, physically, but she is. She's one of you, standing in the crowd. She's singing along to our songs like each and every one of you. And she needs help. She needs to be saved, and that's what we do best. We save her and we save rock and roll."

"Wow," I thought out loud, "That's awesome. Where'd you come up with that?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, the ideas just keep coming today."

I smiled, "Keep it coming, baby lamb, keep it coming."

I drove the boys and I out to the studio after picking up some food. We rehearsed some of the songs for the next show, in a few days. It felt weird playing them again, songs from before our hiatus. I haven't seen those notes in a while. I hope I don't screw it up.

Towards the end of our song list, The (After) Life of the Party was highlighted. Patrick stared down at the paper. His hands were shaky, it showed when he lifted up his paper. He was nervous, nervous to talk about his girlfriend in an endless sleep cycle... Scared that she might not wake up... that she might leave him.

This song meant a lot to me, but not as much as it means to him now. I remember writing the lyrics to this song. This was when I really started noticing things about life.

Life sucks, no matter what's happening. You'll hit a positive point in your life, but what comes up must come down. No one wants to see your downfall, especially if you're famous and in a band like this. They'll call you names and demote you. It stings and leaves a permanent mark on you.

My downfall was my addiction to drugs. It wasn't anything huge, it was depression pills that I overdosed, but I felt horrible for it. I realized what it was doing to me during this time. My friends, the boys, and my family wanted little to do with me. I was basically kissing them away with every extra pill I took. I lost Ashlee, I lost my whole image on life and rode the train down.

I went to a sort of pre-rehab place where they treated me like family. They helped me through my minor addictions and I came out a fresh, clean, new soul. It really helped.

In this song, I talked about what could and did happen. Some people think it's fun to be high or do drugs. They think maybe it'll make them cool or popular or whatever. It does nothing good for you. I wish I never took those few extra pills that night. I regretted everything I did and said to everyone and anyone. I thought maybe it would rub off on people.

Patrick, obviously saw this differently. Leah was his drug. She was a healthy one, but had nasty side effects on the poor boy. The hope that maybe she'll wake up is hungry and you feed it, leading yourself on. With every second, he's wasting his time. He's thinking about her nonstop when he could be with her. Why is he even working? Shouldn't he be with her?

That was the thing. He knows what I wish I did back then. He knows of his addiction, and not to Leah, to his false hope. Patrick's lead himself on for so many things and he's lost so much confidence because of it. I can't stand to see him like this, he's such a great guy. He doesn't deserve any of this. He can't go through what I did.

Fumbling around, he started rehearsing, talking to the wall in front of him. He could barely speak, lost for words even though they were right in front of him. With an embarrassed face, he closed his eyes and covered himself with the microphone; yet again, completely defeated.

I couldn't bear it anymore, "Bud, are you sure you want to do this? One of us could say it for you."

He pulled himself together and I saw how he held his tears back. His voice faltered as he started talking, "No, I'm alright. I can do it. She'd want me to man up and do it anyways."

I nodded, "Okay, just don't hurt yourself."

He nodded back and put his paper down, "Let's just go to the next song."

I watched his back through the next song. We'd completely skipped the song and moved on to It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Don't. Patrick was trying so hard to hold back and pretend like everything's okay, it's his weakness. It's the worst thing you could do, especially when you're him.

Hiding does nothing but kill you slowly inside. You start feeling sorry for yourself and it gets to be too much. That's when I turned to pills to help me. I know Patrick would never do that to himself, but there's no doubting what can come out of depression.

It can't be long before he cracks again and who says any of us are going to be there to pick up the pieces?