"Hey, do you have any Tylenol," Brendon asked him. Patrick shrugged and motioned for him to check the other room. Brendon walked over, pushed on the black door and stared around the darkness of the room. The shades were pulled shut and there were no lights on, which he found weird for the middle of the day. He walked forward, heading in the direction of the bathroom, but tripped on something half way there. He looked down to see a foot, attached to a leg that was attached to...Pete?
"Holy shit," Brendon muttered to himself as he kneeled down next to Pete's body. He nudged his shoulder, but Pete lay still. Brendon shook him harder even though he had a feeling he wasn't waking up. "Shit!" he exclaimed. Brendon first walked over to the light switch to help him see what was going on. He walked back towards Pete to discover him sprawled out, clad only in his underwear, a bottle of pills a few feet away from him.
"Fuck!" Brendon yelled. He rushed over to Pete quickly, trying this time to get him to sit up. He only then realized that Pete was lying in a small pool of vomit and Brendon gagged at the sight. He quickly rushed to the bathroom to grab a cloth to wipe Pete's face. He stared at Pete in total wonder as he cleaned the crusty puke off of his cheek. What would cause someone to do this? Brendon saw Pete's arm twitch suddenly and his hand come to his head as he groaned.
"Pete? Are you okay?" Brendon asked him. Pete let his eyes open, squinting in the light. His head was on fire and he wasn't sure why Brendon was wiping his face or why he was sitting on the floor. Suddenly the only thing Pete thought of was Ryan.
"Where's Ryan?" Pete asked Brendon. He looked at Pete funny.
"Um...why?" he asked. Pete shook his head. He shouldn't have said that.
"Shit, Brendon. I'm in trouble," Pete grumbled. Brendon shook his head as he stood up and sat down on the bed behind Pete.
"Why are you in trouble?" He asked of him, sighing at the whole situation. Pete sighed too, not sure if he should be telling anyone this, let alone Brendon.
"You can't tell anyone, promise?" Pete asked, slowly standing up only to fully collapse on the bed next to Brendon. He nodded down at Pete, extremely curious as to what was going on with him.
"I think I'm in love with Ryan." Brendon didn't do it on purpose, but his mouth fell open. Come again?
"Don't do that. I'm serious. Maybe I don't love him, love him, but I do feel something funny when I'm around him, something I haven't felt in a long, long time," Pete said. He was staring at the ceiling and was still feeling pretty fucked up, the ceiling looked like it was breathing. Brendon sat awestruck. Such news...
"You should tell him. I mean it!" Brendon added when he saw the look on Pete's face. "I see the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching him. There's something to what you're telling me. He's been really distant and spacey lately too. You're probably a good explanation as to why," Brendon offered. Then he had a thought, "Is this what the overdose is all about?" he asked looking at Pete. Pete shrugged in response.
"Don't do that Pete!" Brendon exclaimed jumping to his feet, "you were passed out in your own vomit! Ryan isn't worth killing yourself over," he added. Pete scoffed at his statement.
"Ryan is a perfect reason to kill myself. Just like everything else in my fucked up life, it's just extra shit I don't need on my brain, Brendon! I don't need this shit! I can't be gay, you surely can understand that!" Brendon nodded at Pete's comment but still didn't understand why he was trying a permanent solution to a temporary problem.
"Well, how about instead of attempting sucided again, you talk to him. Like I said, I know Ryan well enough to know there is something much more to what you are telling me. What can it hurt?" Brendon said, standing up off the bed and watching Pete's eyes roll back in his head. Pete was merely thinking it over; he just didn't want to deal with it then and there. His head was killing him