FicWad

The phone rang. My dad glanced at it over his newspaper. I sighed and let my hand curl around it before answering it.

"Wenz residence," There was rushed breathing.

"Ev," I blinked, trying to place the long lost voice with a name.

"P...Patrick?" I asked- my heart racing. My dad placed the paper down and stared intently at me as I lightly frowned.

"Why are you calling, Patrick? I thought," Patrick cut me off.

"It's different this time, Ev," I knitted my eyebrows together.

"What do you mean?" I asked. I would have never thought that it was what Patrick whispered next.

"Pete's in the hospital,"

----------

My stomach churned with the unknown fear of what lied beyond the door. The balls of my feet stung with pain as I paced the small two feet walls. Extra footsteps started towards the last room in the ER.

"Evie, god," I glanced up to see Joe; even more tired looking than me. We met half way in an overly large hug, my lungs already starting to contract with heaving tears.

"Shhhh," His hand constantly rubbed my back, my entire face hidden in his shoulder.

"I..." I gulped, slightly pulling away. "I don't see why he would do this,"

My voice lowered into a whisper as his thumbs ran under my eyes, my eyeliner staining them slightly. He smirked faintly before hugging me again, swaying me from side to side.

"Have you gone in yet?" he asked.

I closed my eyes.

"No," I mumbled.

Joe frowned and held me away from him for a moment.

"You really need to, Ev," I looked at the closed door and took a deep breath.

"I'm not that strong," I whispered. Joe held my shoulders tightly.

"Do it for him," I glanced back up at him before nodding.

"We'll see," my hands twitched slightly as the door closed behind me, my heart picking up an awkward pace.

I hated hospitals.

They ruined lives, no matter what.

Most of the time, people came here to, well, die.

As bad as that sounds, I was so scared.

I maneuvered over to sit down in a random chair next to his bed, just watching his chest heave up and down with hospital help. My hands met my face and I ran them up, not wanting to look at him.

"God," I breathed. "Fucking dumbass," I mumbled.

I rested my head on the space between his forearm and the edge of the bed, my arms wrapped around my head. I didn't hear the door open and really didn't expect an arm to wrap around my back, lightly rubbing at my shoulders.

"How you holding up?"

Andy.

I blinked hard and pulled away, shaking my head as I hugged him from the chair next to me.

"Horribly," I sighed, closing my eyes. "Five months," I whispered, my fingers curling around a strand coming from my shirt.

"We need you to know you didn't cause this, alright?" I pursed my lips and nodded.

"Whatever you say," I mumbled.

----------

Chicago.

Supposedly, there's a light on.

/Somewhere/.

But that's something Pete said.

Maybe I'm home.

Maybe this is where I was meant to stay all along.

Maybe...maybe I'm a wreck.

I didn't like the fact they had Patrick take care of me like some kind of five year old, or dog. I mean, he had a family to be taking care of.

Why not Joe, or Andy?

I didn't like the fact I was brought back here because of the selfish act of a one Mr. Wentz. But I couldn't go that far on that subject, after all, it was my decision to come down here or not.

I guess I really did care.

But...why did he leave last time?

And if this whole situation really was about us then it really proved he was a total wreck. Patrick glanced over at me as I looked over the bridge illuminated by many lights.

"I remember," I mumbled. "When Joe told me we were a group of emotionally fucked up friends," Patrick lightly smiled, folding his arms and resting them on the cement barrier lightly covered in snow.

"I remember when I first met you and Pete," I felt my cheeks flare.

"Everybody thought we were married or something," Patrick's eyebrows twitched up.

"You guys should be," I lightly smacked Patrick.

"Stop," I whispered. Patrick nudged me.

"Come on Ev," he paused. "Who's the first person you met and hung out with in Chicago?" I blinked at him.

"Joe?" I raised an eyebrow. "So basically I have to..." I paused and creased my eyebrows together. "Marry Joe?" Patrick opened his mouth to say something before slapping his hand to his forehead.

"Never mind that," I laughed at him.

"I know you're trying to prove a point, Patrick," he rolled his eyes.

"Why did this whole thing start, well, you and Pete," I looked away, my lips skewed to one side.

"Andy," I whispered.

Patrick frowned.

"Yea," he mumbled.

My eyes glazed over.

"This really is all my fault," I muttered. Patrick's eyes widened before he moved to wrap me up in a hug.

"No," his voice got muffled by my hair. "God damnit, I'm a horrible counselor," I laughed lightly before pulling away.

"If Pete's ok, I'm..." I frowned at Patrick as he already started to pout. "I'm probably going to go back home," I whispered. Patrick knitted his eyebrows together.

"But..." he took a deep breath. "What about us?" he asked. My heart pinged with guilt.

"I'm torn," I mumbled and held my head in my hands, frustrated. "Family and friends," Patrick's hand rubbed my back.

"Sorry," he mumbled. I forced a smile.

"Saying sorry is over rated," I whispered.

We shared a look, Patrick emitting a confused glance while I tried to see what he was really thinking. Patrick jumped slightly and moved his hands from the bridge to his pockets where he pulled out his phone.

Text message?

I chewed on my bottom lip nervously as his eyes darted over it. Upon closing it, his hand tugged at mine.

"Come on, let's go," he mumbled. I widened my eyes.

"What's going on?" I asked. Patrick turned and looked sternly at me.

"Pete's awake,"