Oh no! Is Pete really going to die?! D:
“P-Patrick?” he said questionably. I threw my arms around him light enough that I wouldn’t hurt him. I had to lean over the bed to hug him, but I didn’t mind.
“Oh Pete, I’m so happy to see you awake!” I said happily.
“Yoursquishin’me, Tricky...” he said in a muffled voice.
I pulled away. “Oh..sorry.” I replied.
Andy beamed, “Well, how are you, Pete?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t remember what happened and I feel like shit. Do I have a hangover?” he replied.
“Well...actually you probably do. And...I’ll tell you what happened. We got into a car accident, Pete, and you’re really hurt. You have 3rd degree burns on your arms and legs and a few broken ribs. One of them punctured your lung...” I said sadly.
Pete looked down at himself and tried lifting his arms. He examined the bandages and looked back up at me.
“Did you get hurt, Patrick?” he asked quietly. I noticed that his breathing wasn’t so good...probably due to his punctured lung.
“Only a broken arm and some stitches...no big deal...I’m fine.” I said. I took Pete’s hand and kissed it.
“I’m sorry, Patrick.” he said.
“No, Pete, don’t be. Nothing is your fault, it’s all my-”
I was cut off by Pete’s lips against mine. After a few seconds I pulled away breathlessly.
“Pete! You shouldn’t sit up!” I exclaimed worriedly.
He smiled a bit, “Well, it didn’t look like you were coming to me anytime soon.”
I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Well, you could’ve just asked, you greedy thing, you.” I replied, poking his nose playfully.
Joe walked back into the room. “Pete!? You’re awake!” he exclaimed.
“Well, I was only asleep not in a coma, Joe.” Pete replied. Sometimes Pete amazed me. He was in excruciating pain and yet he still found time for sarcasm.
Joe held his hands up in front of himself and smiled, “Whoa, sorry!” he said jokingly. I laughed. I LAUGHED!
“How ya’ feeling, Petey Boy?” Joe asked.
“Not good.” he said, getting serious again.
“Do you need a nurse?” Andy asked through a mouthful of food.
“Yeah...” Pete replied.
Andy stood up and hurried out of the room to look for a nurse. Pete's face got a sour look to it and he clutched his mid-section.
"Pete, are you ok-"
My sentence was broken by a loud coughing spell from Pete.
"Aw shit...Andy better hurry up!" Joe shouted, standing up.
Pete's throat sounded raspy as he gasped for air.
"Pete! Are you okay?" I asked, putting my hand on his back. He stopped coughing as Andy entered with a nurse but his breathing was still strained.
The nurse scurried over to the equipment Pete was hooked up to and made a few adjustments, and Pete seemed a bit more at ease.
"Ughh..." he moaned. The nurse refilled his IV and left.
"Oh, Pete...I hate seeing you like this...it's killing me." I told him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.
"No...it's okay...Patrick.." he said between breaths. Pete didn't look like he was getting better. My lip began to tremble and I felt hot tears swelling in my eyes.
"I'm going to stay in this room with you until you're better, okay? I promise." I said, sniffling and trying hard to choke back the tears.
"But don't you have to go home sometime?" he asked. His tone snapped my heart in two.
"Oh no, Pete. Don't worry about it....I'm fine...you-you just lay here and get better, okay?" I replied.
He nodded and layed his head back on the pillows, closing his eyes. "Patrick...am I allowed to have regular food?" he asked after a few minutes.
"Uh...I don’t know." I replied, taking a seat. "Why?"
"Because...I want some cookies. Chocolate chip cookies..." Pete said, and although his eyes were shut he was still grinning.
I exchanged a glance with Andy.
"I'll call Pete's mom and tell her." Andy told me, nearly laughing.
When Mrs. Wentz got to the hospital with her husband, she took Pete's condition pretty bad also. The doctor was scheduled to come in and explain the situation to them soon, and I was eager to listen in. I was worried about Pete.
Mrs. Wentz fixed her smudged eyeliner in the mirror...it had messed up and dripped down her face when she was crying.
Pete had fallen asleep in the meantime. The pain killers he was getting were probably five times stronger than the ones I was taking for my arm.
Suddenly the doctor entered the room, "Hello, you must be Pete's parents...and you...Pete's friends?" the doctor asked. Joe, Andy and I nodded in unison. Pete's parents just looked pleadingly at the doctor.
"Alright, well I'd like to tell you a bit about Pete's condition. You see, he had a punctured lung, which makes it difficult to breathe even with the artificial lung. He has five broken ribs, and they're completely shattered...we had to put in fakes. Most of his internal organs were bruised which is quite painful for him and unhealthy for his organs of course. His arms and legs are severely burned, we're going to have to have a procedure done to remove the dead, excess skin. It will be painful, but it must be done. We don’t even know how well of a chance...how well of a chance he's g-got."
My body became rigid.
"W-What did you just say?" Joe asked.
"Well, things aren't looking good for him...and...I wouldn't say he'll-he'll...make it." the doctor repeated.
I looked at Pete and tears seemed to burst from my eyes. "NO! No, no, no, no, NO!!!!" I screamed, kicking over a garbage can as I made my way to Pete's bedside.
Joe shoved the doctor up against the wall. Mrs. Wentz cried out. I barely heard Joe's muffled growls, "You listen here,
Doctor Do-Little, you're gonna do EVERYTHING you possibly can to help Pete, you hear me?"
I wasn't watching what was going on, but I heard Joe drop the doctor and then he left the room in a hurry. Joe collapsed into a chair and scowled. Andy stared at the floor. I buried my face in Pete's sheets and sobbed harder than ever. Pete couldn't be dying...this couldn't be happening! What was I going to do without Pete!? I couldn't live without him...not without his smile every morning when I woke up...not without his suggestive grins, or his sarcasm, or stupid comments. Not without his insight, or his kisses, or anything that had to do with him.
"Peeete..." I sobbed, "Don't die, Pete, /don't.../"
I heard Mrs. Wentz sobbing into her husband's arms.
Suddenly everything that Pete and I ever did together flooded back to me. The old days, when we'd play small venues with the band and do stupid stuff...crazy stage dives...party nights. Or when we first got signed to Island Def Jam...
When Pete first got his dog, Hemmingway...Or when we all went to Mexico for the first time....and me and Pete had first truly confessed how we were madly in love with each other. Then the following night we...we...
I remembered that had been our first time together there in Mexico and I sobbed even harder. My whole body shook violently; I was being so loud I thought for sure Pete would wake up.
What hadn't Pete and I done? There was too much to name...
I lifted my head and looked at Pete's face. It was bruised and he looked slightly different due to the cuts on his face, but I didn't even care.
Andy had drifted over next to me, putting his hand on my shoulder.
"Are you going to be okay, Patrick?" he asked. I shook my head violently. Andy backed off a bit, and I continued to sob. Pete shifted and awoke.
I stood up and walked to the other side of the room. Pete probably looked confused.
"What's Patrick doing...?" Pete whispered.
Andy replied quietly, "He's just...worried."
"Worried about what?" Pete asked.
Andy didn't answer, lost for words.
I spun around, "Tell him, Andy. Tell him how this is all fucking my fault! Tell him how the doctors did everything they could! TELL HIM!!!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, tears cascading down my cheeks.
Andy looked upset, but Pete looked worse.
"What-what are you talking about, Trick?" Pete asked, his eyes soft. I walked to his bedside slowly, wiping tears from my eyes.
"The doctors don’t think what they're doing is enough to keep you alive. they say you don’t have much of a...chance." I blurted out.
Pete looked shocked. I couldn't look at his face. His expression was so sad I couldn't bear it. He looked as if the sun as never going to shine again. Like everything was lost.
I turned away. I couldn't live without Pete, there was no doubting that.
"Patrick...would you-...would you sit with me?" he asked.
I couldn't deny him, no matter how much it hurt to look at him and think that any one of these days he might stop breathing.
I nodded and walked over to his bed. He beckoned me to lean in closer, and he kissed me.
"I love you, Patrick. Don’t ever forget it, even if I'm gone." he murmured.
Joe and Andy and his parents seemed to be filtering out of the room.
"How can I live without you by my side?" I blubbered, tears staining my cheeks more than ever.
"You're the most amazing person in the world...you can do it. I'll be in your...memories." He choked out. I knew he was upset, but he wanted to be strong for me. I wanted to be strong for him, but I felt no strength, only loss.
"I love you, Pete. I love you so much...I'll miss you. I can't live without you." I told him solemnly.
Tears filled his eyes, and he kissed my cheek. "It's better me than you, Tricky. You've got your whole life ahead of you." he replied.
"It's no life without you." I muttered, blinded by even more tears.
"Oh, Tricky...think of me everyday...I'll be with you. And you'll still be able to look to the clouds and know I'm watching over you..."
I sobbed lightly, and he wrapped his arms around me awkwardly, as it was hard to do while sitting up in bed.
He shushed me and rubbed my back. Everything was going to change. Pete was going to die.
The next day, Pete was in a lot of pain. the doctors had to peel away all the decaying skin where he'd gotten burned. I couldn't watch, the look on his face was too gruesome. Afterwards, I brought him some apple sauce and sat by him. I wasn't leaving anytime soon. Even if I did, I thought I must be getting to look like a zombie. I hadn't slept and had eaten little. My face was a full time mess of tears and my cheeks had gotten a dry red look to them from all the salt teardrops and crying. Dark bags hung under my eyes. I also hadn't shaved in a week. I looked bloody horrible to say the least.
Pete shoveled the apple sauce in, looking like a starving bear. He smiled a little. I had to smile back, no matter how much my head was clouded over with worry.
"I was really hungry..." he giggled.
"I could tell." I replied in a whisper.
He was quiet for a minute. "Listen...Patrick....enjoy the moment. If I'm dying tomorrow or whatever...live it up. Don’t worry now, worry later." he said.
I thought about it, "I'm sorry, Pete! It's just that I can’t stop thinking about how horrible it is." I said sadly.
"I'm not afraid to die, Tricky." he said. It was then that I realized that this whole time, I'd been thinking about myself. I hadn't even put into my mind the fact that this had to be more scary for Pete than it was for me.
"I-...I didn't even think of it that way. I've been too selfish to realize that you were or weren't scared." I replied.
"It's okay, Patrick. I'm selfish sometimes too." he laughed. How was he so happy?
"Aren't you afraid of not knowing where you're going? Aren't you too attached to life to be okay with...dying?" I asked curiously.
"No. I know I'm going to heaven, Trick. And of course I love my life...I love you, I love my family and my friends and my fans...I love everything about life but apparently it's my turn to leave. I don’t mind it...sometimes you just have to be strong. I've lived awhile, Tricky...but...I'll miss you most." he said. Sometimes it felt like the only thing my body could do successfully was make tears.
"I'll miss you too, Peter." I told him, my voice cracking.
"Don’t cry again, Tricky. You'll make me cry. We're supposed to be happy now, remember?" he said. I nodded.
"Sorry." I said. He hugged me. I kissed him and he lifted his hand to wipe away my tears. He took a piece of notebook paper from the tablet on the table next to us and a pencil. In big, sloppy, cursive, he scrawled three words:
I Love You.
Then he signed his name underneath, drew a scraggly heart, and handed it to me.
"You can keep this. But you have to make one for me." he said.
"W-what is it?" I asked, examining the note.
"It's a valentine. Don’t you know that today is Valentine's Day, Tricky?" he asked, smiling brightly. I actually had no idea that it was Valentine's Day.
"It is?" I asked.
He handed me a piece of paper and still smiled, "Yes! Here...make me one before I feel bad." he said. Well, I knew Pete was only kidding about feeling bad, but I still wrote him one too.
I scribbled it quickly and handed it to him. It simply said; I love you always. - Patrick.
Pete grinned, "Thanks Patrick."
"You're welcome. Thanks for mine." I replied. He nodded and put the note on his bedside.
Sometimes little things can make you happy, and Pete knew all about that.