Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Cobwebs On My Zipper
Warm sunshine had fallen through the window and lay across my now-dried out face. Simply judging from the intensity, I could only guess it was around ten and I needed to get up. It didn't help that I needed to be into work by 10:30.
Forcing my peepers open, I was forced to shut them again quickly...stupid sun. Changing my tactic a bit, I rolled from the sun's impending gaze before I opened my eyes.
None of my memory bank had kicked in as I sat on the warm, fluffy bed rubbing my eyes but I didn't mind since most of last night left an ookie feeling in my stomach. Jason, Patrick's breakdown, Pete's phone call...
You know you broke a promise last night you little bitch...
To Pete or to Patrick?
Remember? The hotel bathroom, the nightm--
Yes, yes I remember. You don't have to bring it all back.
Apparantly, I do.
...
"Pete, when this twisted world and everyone in it turns away from you, come to me. I'll be there for you. Yeah, it's lame and cliché..."
STOP!!
You'd like me to, wouldn't you? But you broke a promise last night you little bitch.
WHAT? What the fuck was I supposed to do?? Patrick had chosen last night to have a damn breakdown and I'm supposed to ditch him 'cause Pete's feeling ookie?!
Pete needed you.
So did Patrick.
Pete needed you.
Pete was probably just lonely!!
Pete needs you.
For the second time that morning, I opened my eyes but lay there very confused. I was still in the same bed but this time, the clock aross from me read 10:20.
Cursing I jumped from the bed but stepped on something that definitely wasn't supposed to be on the floor and left to join it.
For the fourth time, some cheesy ringtone rang through my phone and I grabbed it from the shelf just to open it hurriedly.
"What?"
"Um, hello, 'Jess'?"
"...Yes?"
"This is Jess, correct?"
"Yes..."
"My name is Sergaent Clement and this morning a Walgreens employee called me and said there was a car parked outside his store for just over twelve hours."
"..."
"Jess?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Continue."
"So me and some of my men are investigating and it seems a male, mid-20s, black hair, tattoos all up his arms, overdosed last night on some anxiety medicine in his car. Do you know the man?"
My face had lost all trace of pigment as I sat on the floor holding the phone with shaking hands to my ear.
"Ma'am?"
"Y-y-yes, I-I know him."
"An ambulance just picked him up and is rushing to St. Margaret's hospital. Can you be there?"
"Y-yes. I-I-I'll be there."
I closed the phone without an answer and sat in the now-freezing room staring at the window. His words played over and over and over and over with each growing in volume until I clasped my hands over my ears and pressing until it hurt.
Pete needs you...
I jumped up and grabbed whatever jacket was laying on the couch. Throwing on a pair of shoes quickly, my mind raced like an epilectic seizure.
"PATRICK!!!!"
My vocal chords felt violated as I screamed throught the house.
With each decending stair I felt increasingly sick.
He met me at the last stair with a dishtowel over his shoulder,
"Yes, my sweetie."
"P-P-Patrick...we-we need to go. NOW!!"
"What? Where? Wait, wait, let me finish breakfast. Aren't you hungry?"
With each new second, I felt as if Pete was dying.
Patrick trumped back to the kitchen where he continued making pancakes.
"No! Patrick, no breakfast. We have to go!!"
"But, Jess--"
"Patrick, Pete o-overd---Pete tried to kill himself and we have to go!!!"
I was almost at the point of tears, please, Patrick.
Patrick's entire happy aura shattered into a thousand shards of glass before my eyes and the tears fell from my eyes. With a shaking physique, he turned off the stove and followed me to my car.
We went from 0 to speeding in less time than I could count and I tossed my phone to a paralyzed Patrick.
"C-call Joe, Andy, Melissa, everyone."
He nodded silently, torturedly as he fiddled with my phone.
"Joe? Joe? Dude, we need to be at...where, Jess?"
"St. Margaret's."
"St. Margarets, now. I don't care what you're...Joe! Seriously, be there. What happened, you wanna know what fucking happened? Pete tried to kill himself, dumbass. Fucking be there. Of course bring Andy."
It was usually a 15 minute drive but I'd cut it down to 6 minutes. Almost forgetting to lock the car, Patrick and I ran into the hospital in our pajamas and stopped panting at the reception desk.
"Pete, Pete Wentz."
"Our friend...he was just brought in, he overdosed."
"Could you two be a little more specific?"
"Black hair, tattoos..."
"He was brought in by Sergaent...Sergaent...fuck...Sergaent Clement!"
"You mean our latest John Doe?"
She flipped through several papers and over several clipboards like a damn snail as Patrick and I almost hyperventilated right there.
Calm down, Jess, concentrate on...Doris. Yeah, her nametag said Doris. She was pretty plump with small, crescent glasses that sat on her nose and sported an unattractive shade of magenta. Her hair was obviously a dyed red and had a very round shape to it...
"You can't see him, yet. He's in the ER to get his stomach pumped right away. Take this and go to the waiting room right outside the ER down the hall and on your first left."
Grabbing the clipboard loosely, we ran down the hall and to our first left where we were greeted by an empty waiting room. Realizing that there was nowhere more we could rush, we slowed down considerably and sat down on the cheap couch.
Patrick drummed his fingers nervously on his thighs and bit his lip.
"Calm down, Patrick. We're gonna have awhile to wait."
Sighing, his shoulders drooped so far down.
"It's just...the last time he did this was such a nightmare. And...and I thought he was getting better. He was happy. He had Melissa and was smiling a lot more. Even if he wasn't, I never thought he'd do it again."
"Well--"
"And...it feels like. I don't know. It feels like I failed."
"You failed? How?"
"Because I'm his best friend! I'm supposed to help him be happy and when he does these things...I just feel like I'm not a good friend; not even a good person."
"Patrick, you're a great---"
"What happened?"
Trohman, Andy and Rebekah tore through the door into the bleak waiting room panting.
It took two minutes to recap the whole story but it took thirty seconds for it to sink in.
The waiting room grew tense and heated within no time. I swore I could hear them cutting open Pete. I swore I could hear them making a mistake. I swore I could hear him dying.
Feeling sick, I-I had to get away from all these sounds. Silently, I left the waiting room and shut the door behind me.
The walls and the people around me were sterile and made no effort to cover it up.
Trying not to infect anything, I drew out my phone and dialed Melissa's number.
"Hello?" Her voice was deep and had a tone of depression I wanted to get away from.
"Hey."
"...Look I don't really want--"
"Mel, you should come down to the hospital."
"What? Why?"
"P-Pete would want you to be here."
"I don't...I don't think so."
"Of course he would."
"Didn't he tell you?"
"He tried to kill himself."
"...What?"
"Last night, Pete tried to kill himself."
"Look, I gotta go."
"What? You gotta be here! He's gonna want to see you when he wakes up."
"He won't."
"Why? Why do you say that?"
"Look, Jess, last night, Pete and I broke up. I gotta go."
She hung up before I could register the information.
"WHAT??" I screamed at the phone.
Forcing my peepers open, I was forced to shut them again quickly...stupid sun. Changing my tactic a bit, I rolled from the sun's impending gaze before I opened my eyes.
None of my memory bank had kicked in as I sat on the warm, fluffy bed rubbing my eyes but I didn't mind since most of last night left an ookie feeling in my stomach. Jason, Patrick's breakdown, Pete's phone call...
You know you broke a promise last night you little bitch...
To Pete or to Patrick?
Remember? The hotel bathroom, the nightm--
Yes, yes I remember. You don't have to bring it all back.
Apparantly, I do.
...
"Pete, when this twisted world and everyone in it turns away from you, come to me. I'll be there for you. Yeah, it's lame and cliché..."
STOP!!
You'd like me to, wouldn't you? But you broke a promise last night you little bitch.
WHAT? What the fuck was I supposed to do?? Patrick had chosen last night to have a damn breakdown and I'm supposed to ditch him 'cause Pete's feeling ookie?!
Pete needed you.
So did Patrick.
Pete needed you.
Pete was probably just lonely!!
Pete needs you.
For the second time that morning, I opened my eyes but lay there very confused. I was still in the same bed but this time, the clock aross from me read 10:20.
Cursing I jumped from the bed but stepped on something that definitely wasn't supposed to be on the floor and left to join it.
For the fourth time, some cheesy ringtone rang through my phone and I grabbed it from the shelf just to open it hurriedly.
"What?"
"Um, hello, 'Jess'?"
"...Yes?"
"This is Jess, correct?"
"Yes..."
"My name is Sergaent Clement and this morning a Walgreens employee called me and said there was a car parked outside his store for just over twelve hours."
"..."
"Jess?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Continue."
"So me and some of my men are investigating and it seems a male, mid-20s, black hair, tattoos all up his arms, overdosed last night on some anxiety medicine in his car. Do you know the man?"
My face had lost all trace of pigment as I sat on the floor holding the phone with shaking hands to my ear.
"Ma'am?"
"Y-y-yes, I-I know him."
"An ambulance just picked him up and is rushing to St. Margaret's hospital. Can you be there?"
"Y-yes. I-I-I'll be there."
I closed the phone without an answer and sat in the now-freezing room staring at the window. His words played over and over and over and over with each growing in volume until I clasped my hands over my ears and pressing until it hurt.
Pete needs you...
I jumped up and grabbed whatever jacket was laying on the couch. Throwing on a pair of shoes quickly, my mind raced like an epilectic seizure.
"PATRICK!!!!"
My vocal chords felt violated as I screamed throught the house.
With each decending stair I felt increasingly sick.
He met me at the last stair with a dishtowel over his shoulder,
"Yes, my sweetie."
"P-P-Patrick...we-we need to go. NOW!!"
"What? Where? Wait, wait, let me finish breakfast. Aren't you hungry?"
With each new second, I felt as if Pete was dying.
Patrick trumped back to the kitchen where he continued making pancakes.
"No! Patrick, no breakfast. We have to go!!"
"But, Jess--"
"Patrick, Pete o-overd---Pete tried to kill himself and we have to go!!!"
I was almost at the point of tears, please, Patrick.
Patrick's entire happy aura shattered into a thousand shards of glass before my eyes and the tears fell from my eyes. With a shaking physique, he turned off the stove and followed me to my car.
We went from 0 to speeding in less time than I could count and I tossed my phone to a paralyzed Patrick.
"C-call Joe, Andy, Melissa, everyone."
He nodded silently, torturedly as he fiddled with my phone.
"Joe? Joe? Dude, we need to be at...where, Jess?"
"St. Margaret's."
"St. Margarets, now. I don't care what you're...Joe! Seriously, be there. What happened, you wanna know what fucking happened? Pete tried to kill himself, dumbass. Fucking be there. Of course bring Andy."
It was usually a 15 minute drive but I'd cut it down to 6 minutes. Almost forgetting to lock the car, Patrick and I ran into the hospital in our pajamas and stopped panting at the reception desk.
"Pete, Pete Wentz."
"Our friend...he was just brought in, he overdosed."
"Could you two be a little more specific?"
"Black hair, tattoos..."
"He was brought in by Sergaent...Sergaent...fuck...Sergaent Clement!"
"You mean our latest John Doe?"
She flipped through several papers and over several clipboards like a damn snail as Patrick and I almost hyperventilated right there.
Calm down, Jess, concentrate on...Doris. Yeah, her nametag said Doris. She was pretty plump with small, crescent glasses that sat on her nose and sported an unattractive shade of magenta. Her hair was obviously a dyed red and had a very round shape to it...
"You can't see him, yet. He's in the ER to get his stomach pumped right away. Take this and go to the waiting room right outside the ER down the hall and on your first left."
Grabbing the clipboard loosely, we ran down the hall and to our first left where we were greeted by an empty waiting room. Realizing that there was nowhere more we could rush, we slowed down considerably and sat down on the cheap couch.
Patrick drummed his fingers nervously on his thighs and bit his lip.
"Calm down, Patrick. We're gonna have awhile to wait."
Sighing, his shoulders drooped so far down.
"It's just...the last time he did this was such a nightmare. And...and I thought he was getting better. He was happy. He had Melissa and was smiling a lot more. Even if he wasn't, I never thought he'd do it again."
"Well--"
"And...it feels like. I don't know. It feels like I failed."
"You failed? How?"
"Because I'm his best friend! I'm supposed to help him be happy and when he does these things...I just feel like I'm not a good friend; not even a good person."
"Patrick, you're a great---"
"What happened?"
Trohman, Andy and Rebekah tore through the door into the bleak waiting room panting.
It took two minutes to recap the whole story but it took thirty seconds for it to sink in.
The waiting room grew tense and heated within no time. I swore I could hear them cutting open Pete. I swore I could hear them making a mistake. I swore I could hear him dying.
Feeling sick, I-I had to get away from all these sounds. Silently, I left the waiting room and shut the door behind me.
The walls and the people around me were sterile and made no effort to cover it up.
Trying not to infect anything, I drew out my phone and dialed Melissa's number.
"Hello?" Her voice was deep and had a tone of depression I wanted to get away from.
"Hey."
"...Look I don't really want--"
"Mel, you should come down to the hospital."
"What? Why?"
"P-Pete would want you to be here."
"I don't...I don't think so."
"Of course he would."
"Didn't he tell you?"
"He tried to kill himself."
"...What?"
"Last night, Pete tried to kill himself."
"Look, I gotta go."
"What? You gotta be here! He's gonna want to see you when he wakes up."
"He won't."
"Why? Why do you say that?"
"Look, Jess, last night, Pete and I broke up. I gotta go."
She hung up before I could register the information.
"WHAT??" I screamed at the phone.
Sign up to rate and review this story