Patrick's POV

It was 3AM when I got the phone call. I'd been preparing for this phone call for the past 14 days, but I didn't expect it to be now. I wasn't ready, but apparently, she was.

I scrambled up and answered on high alert.

"Patrick?" Pete asked, "You should probably come... Now..."

I tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to me. My thumb hit the screen to end the call and I held my hair, trying to stay calm. My breathing started increasing rapidly and I didn't know what to do.

If this is it, I don't have time to waste, sitting here being worried about it. I grabbed Emily's keys and my glasses.

Did I have time to wake her up, though? Yes. She's Leah's best friend. She needs to be there as much as I do. I at least owe her that much, even if it will be forever awkward with each other.

I rushed into her bedroom, giving her shoulder a shake before she woke up grouchily, "What is it..."

"Leah. Car. Now," I said, feeling guilty about it later, but it was enough to the point where she got up and ran out the door with me.

I jam the keys into her car and fly down the road towards the hospital. Emily holds on to the door as I turn the corner. Being rushed and worried aren't a good combination with my driving. I've been arrested before - not for bad driving - but it's worth it if I want to get there fast.

I turn the car into an empty space and run, nearly tripping, into the hospital. With Emily close behind, I sprint through the halls, all the way to the ICU.

When I get there, Pete's watching in the window, tearing up behind his glassy eyes.

I turn and press my hands up to the glass. My quick, unsteady breaths create fog marks like the ones on glasses that I used to draw smiley faces on.

A nurse rushes past us out the door and I take only a second to look back at her.

"Blood O2-!" she shouts at a medic in the hall, "We've got internal bleeding in room 357."

My eyes flashed back to Emily's apartment, then to Leah's room number. 357. I spun around and looked to Emily. She was thinking the same thing I was.

A monitor's consistent rapid beeps brought me back to the window. I pressed myself up against it, trying to be as close to her as I could in possibly her last moments of life. Doctors and nurses are surrounding her, pumping at her chest, frantically waving a flashlight in front of her eyes, holding tools and fiddling with the tubes connected to her face. Nothing looked like it was doing any good. They seemed so rough with her, it made me realize what little they could do and how small of a chance they had of waking her up. I didn't blame them for their roughness. I would be too.

There's so many wires and tubes and they entangle around her body like a fish net. There's one down her throat, attempting to breath for her; one down her nose, keeping her stomach empty; one in her vein, hydrating her; and too many to count wired to her head, trying to detect her brain activity. Little spots where they shaved her head had specially colored tubes flowing to a machine on the floor. Most of tubes, however, lead to her chest, glued to her heart, recording the beat. Her tightly shut eyelids showed pain like I've never seen before. There's small, round bruises all over her body that I didn't notice until now. She's looking worse and worse by the day, but still beautiful, locked away in her permanent slumber.

I struggle to choke back a sob, it ends up sounding like a hiccup by the time its escaped my mouth. Emily walks to my side and leans her head on my shoulder, rubbing my back with her free hand, wiping her tears with the other.

I watched Leah hopelessly, knowing perfectly well that there was nothing I could do. It's not like the fairy tails I grew up with where the prince waltzes into the castle, planting a kiss to wake her up. I can't shake her awake, no matter how hard I try. Nothing will work. I'll just make it worse.

It hit me harder than I thought. Leah won't wake up. She won't ever go on tours with us. She won't ever get to hear the new album. She won't ever get to live together with me, or have any kids, or become an author like she dreamed that she would. The love of my life could die today, right in front of my eyes, and I'm just as helpful as the doorknob to her room.

I can't stop her.

A lady, looking a little older than 20, picked up a phone, dialed codes, and started talking, "Code Blue in Trauma. Code Blue."

Pete came around the other side of me and put another arm over my shoulder, letting his head hit mine. I watched, inhaling sharply over and over again.

I recognized Doctor Reynolds over Leah. He lifted up her hospital gown and rubbed green salve over her stomach. He lifted up a tool, probably taking an ultrasound.

He pulled it away and growled, "She's got fluid... When was her last surgery?"

Another nurse opened a clipboard, finding her information, "Her last surgery was last night with Doctor Ben. He's still on call. Could he have missed something?"

The doctor looked to Leah and brought his hands to his forehead, looking completely unsure of what to do while her monitors went crazy around him, "Let's get her back there."

Immediately after their order, everyone took part in detaching her from the bed, leaving the wires and tubes dangling over the ground. Once that was done, they held the edges of the blanket under her, "1...2...3-" and she was lifted onto a gurney.

The doctor started pushing her out, holding a tank over her mouth. Leah was rolled out in front of us. I watched her with my heart threatening to pound out of my chest. For a moment, I just wanted to pause the world, staying here with her. She wouldn't die or feel pain if I could just put a pause on life. Sadly, that's not the way the world works. They kept pushing, past us and through the halls.

A nurse with dark, smooth, chocolate skin and long brown hair stayed back, fighting to keep back emotions of her own. She nodded towards Leah and I lead the chase after her.

Her gurney was pushed into a surgical room, and they didn't have the time to close the window in a life-death situation like this. I held myself back against the window and tried to slow my wheezes down.

A medic put tape over her eyes.

"To keep them from drying out," the nurse that followed us said once they caught up with me and their breath, "Your eyes are typically open a little in a surgery and you can't blink or close them, so we tape them shut for her."

"That was her," she continued, "Leah just shut down. I was with her when it happened. She may be asleep, but she can still make decisions. It's her choice to stay. At her rate, it could take another month for her to wake up and she could possibly get mild amnesia - forgetting events and people in her life. What I said still stands. If she has any fight left in her, she needs to pull it out now. She's in control if she stays or if she goes."

Amnesia? No. She can't forget me. Can she? No. Not us. I can't build a relationship like this up a second time, especially if her heart's not in the same place as mine.

But the nurse seemed to have a little bit of hope that she could fight through this, "It is healthy for comatose patients to listen to the sound of their loved one's voices - or in this case - singing or music. So long as you don't say anything to upset her, I think she'll stay in a smooth condition while you're here."

A medic came bursting out of the door, glancing from the nurse to me, Pete, and Emily, "We're losing her," he said and gulped, "Whatever you want to say, say it now, because I don't know if she'll make it through this."

The sob building up for the past few minutes found it's way out. I let the tears stream down my face, confident that I had lost her this time. She's a goner.

Pete looked to me with wild eyes, "Sing to her... It always worked before..."

I turned to the glass, keeping my eyes on her chest, failing to lift.

With the shakiest voice I've ever had, I poured my heart to her, "They say the captain goes down with the ship. And when the world ends, will God go down with it? Miss Flack said I still want you back-" I said and forced myself to stop, even though I'd built up to the chorus.

Doctor Reynolds looked from Leah to me and then twirled his finger around. The medic who came out asked for more, "Keep going, it's working..."

I let it all out, singing to the glass that was separating us, "I've got troubled thoughts in the self-esteem to match. What a catch, what a catch. And all I can think of is the way I'm the one who charmed the one who gave up on you- who gave up on you..."

Pete was started to cry behind me. I knew how much this song meant to him and how it meant for the fans for him to publicly announce that he wrote it for me. I was honored, and thought maybe Leah would hear the song and be healed.

Little did he know, she was listening

The team of people in blue scrubs breathed a sigh of relief as Leah took a staggered breath in and out on her own. It was just enough for them to start working on her. The nurse with us smiled weakly, putting her hand on my shoulder before leaving.

The window darkened as someone closed the shades. As my eyes wildly searched for a hole I could look through, my breathing increased tenfold.

"You promised," I turned to Pete and said, "You promised she'd be okay..."

Pete looked at me guiltily, "Patrick... It's not like you can predict these things. I didn't know for sure-"

"Then why did you promise me?" I said slowly and turned my eyes to the ground under us, blinking the tears flowing from my eyes away.

He kept crying himself. There were rare occasions where I'd see Pete cry. Once was when he wrote me What a Catch, Donnie, another during his stages of extreme depression, and now. Those are the only few times I've ever seen such an amazing man like Pete cry.

"I-I just wanted to see you happy for once," he confessed, "I wanted you to be worry free, even if it was just for a second. I'm scared you might try something you'll regret. I love you too much for you to fall into my footsteps."

I caught myself before having another episode again, looking into the reflection of my face on the window. My stormy, dark-green eyes subsided into their normal, sea-green color. I hold my head in my hands and walk in tight circles until I've had enough standing, waiting, and pacing.

I marched out of the Trauma Center and out into the halls. Vaguely, I heard Emily and Pete talking about me under their breaths. Pete offered to drive me home, even though I'm perfectly able to drive myself.

He did end up dropping me off at my house. Trying to lift the mood, he rolled down the window and called out to me, "Patrick-"

I turned towards him, waiting for what he had to say.

"You might want to change out of your ninja turtles," he said and reversed out of my driveway, smirking.

I looked down and ran inside, not to change, but to call someone that I haven't heard from in a long time.