(Pete's POV)

At the moment, I couldn't think of anything better than being in bed. Balancing that sweet spot between sleep and consciousness. Where I could almost hear everything going on around me but it was hazy. Like I wasn't sure if I was dreaming the sounds.

My body felt too heavy to be moved without help. Even my eyes were weighed down with the hope that more sleep would come if they refused to open.

And then that feeling settled over me. The one where you can feel someone's gaze on you. I forced my eyelids to flutter open. The initial burn from the sunlight made me shut them immediately. That second was long enough for me to get a glimpse of the face directly in front of mine. The baby blue eyes staring at me.

"Good morning." My voice was gruff. I cleared my throat. "You fucking creep."

Patrick's giggles were the perfect cure for morning grumpiness. All the sleep began draining from my body. I knew there was no way I was going to get more dream time. Still, my eyes remained closed.

I could feel Patrick's warm breath on my face as he moved closer. His dry lips brushed against mine in a close mouthed kiss.

"I love you."

And wow. That was way better than my good morning greeting.

"I love you too." I said because it was what was expected now. Because I meant it.

He sighed. A low and satisfied sound. It washed over my face. "Say it again."

"I love you?"

"Again."

I opened my eyes and found Patrick's closed. "I love you." My lips touched his." I love you." I mumbled against his mouth. "I love you."

"One more time."

"I love you." And before he could beg me to lay there all day and repeat it until my face turned blue, "I have to get to my room and shower."

"You can shower here." His leg crossed over my middle. Trapping me.

"All of my clothes are at the hotel."

"You've worn my clothes before." Patrick lifted up on his elbow. "You want to see Tyler, don't you?"

"Yes." I admitted because I didn't want to lie to him anymore than I already was. "We didn't part on... the best terms. So I want to apologize."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." He nodded. Removing the weight of his leg. "Go. Apologize. Come back."

"I will." I rolled out of bed. Barely catching myself when I reached the edge. Patrick watched me search for my disregarded clothing around the room. I playfully turned my back to him. Feigning shyness as I slipped on my boxers and pants.

"Your shirt." He called.

I looked over my shoulder and saw him holding it up. I grabbed for it and tugged it on. "Thank you."

"Be safe."

"I will." Leaning down, I kissed his forehead.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"I love it when you say that."

****    ****    ****    ****    ****    ****

As soon as I walked in I cursed myself and Tyler for forgetting to place the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the doorknob. The spotless room was evidence that the cleaning staff made their rounds. The empty alcohol bottles that scattered the floor were cleared. The beds were made. The room smelled like cheap air freshener.

My suitcase was placed on the center of my bed. Tyler's was no where in sight. Now that I thought about it, none of Tyler's things were anywhere. His jacket wasn't on the back of the chair. His shoes weren't lined against the wall. There was no pot of that disgusting coffee brewing. No signs of Tyler at it.

So he moved out of the room. Big deal. Tyler was a well known drama queen. He was petty enough to rent another room just to scare me. Maybe even move to another hotel.

But I needed to be sure. With one final glance around the vacant room, I left out the door. Taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator to the lobby. The woman at the front desk -her name tag read Sarah- smiled up at me.

"Hello."

"Hi." I winced at how frantic my voice sounded. "I'm Pete Wentz. I'm in room 112."

She typed a few things into the computer. "Ah, yes I see you."

"I need to know if my-"

"Your roommate returned his key this morning."

"Shit."

Her practiced smile faltered. "He also left this for you." Her hand disappeared  under the desk and came up holding an envelope. "He says he didn't want to leave it in the room and have housekeeping accidentally throw it out."

"Thank you."

Of course Tyler would do something like this. Did he think this was the 1800s or something? He could have texted me. Left a voice mail. But no! He just had to leave a note. Make it more personal.  More complicated.

The elevator ride up felt like a lifetime. The paper weighed heavily in my hand. Anticipation was building in my stomach and making me feel dizzy with every step to our -my- room. It was better to treat this like a band-aid. Just rip it off and get it over with. My eyes scanned the length of words on the sheet. Taking in the elegant script before I began reading.

Pete,
I hate you. I swear to all that is holy I hate you so much for making me do this. I hope you're satisfied. Because I don't think I'll ever be happy again. I hate you and I love you so much. But then again, everyone does, don't they?  A part of me wants you to get so sick that you literally die again, and of course be brought back to me as before. To scare your stubborn behind into coming home. To coming back to me. So I can take care of you again. So I can watch you regain health and strength. Nothing on Earth has ever given me greater joy than that. But a part of me wants that miracle you talked about to happen. To have you suddenly wake up cancer free and live your life exactly as you want it. Even if that means without me. As long as you're happy. Your happiness is so much more important to me  than mine. Ain't love a bitch? Pete, my love, my best friend, my miracle, be safe.
~Tyler

"Fucking drama queen actually left me."

Even as I grumbled the words as nonchalantly as I could, my hands began to shake. It was a challenge to pull my phone from my pants, but I managed. I typed on Tyler's name. My breath stuttered when his contact picture appeared on the screen. The animated voice was instantaneous.

"The number you have reached is no longer in service-"

My finger pressed the red end button on the screen before the computerized woman could taunt me any more.

Briton! He and Tyler were friends. Maybe he had the number. Wait, did I have Briton's number? I couldn't remember. Why was it so goddamn hot in here?

I wiped my face and realized it wasn't sweat. I was crying. Pressure began building behind my eyes. Strong enough to be the blame for the moisture trailing down. My blinks became rapid in an attempt to stop the flow. But all it proved to do was blur my vision more.

And then it happened.

The fucking twitch.

Harder than the ticks I'd been hiding from my boyfriend and friends recently. Violent enough to shake my body in its entirety. My hand clenched around the phone. Hoping it would somehow ground me. My fingers refused to unbend from the device.

Shit! Shit! Think. Think.

Clearly, I wasn't going to be able to dial a number or scroll through a contact list. My thumb pressed down hard on the home button. The two beeps that followed gave me a small amount of hope.

"What can I help you with?"

"Siri." The strain in my throats made the word painful. "Call Patrick."

"Calling Patrick, face with heart shaped eyes."

"Pete?" He answered as my legs started to buckle.

"H-Help me."