I'm sorry, but I have decided that there will not be a sequel to this story. In a few chapters, it will be the end.

Dedication to takingmyhoplessheart because she read this all in two days and I did just take her heart away. Also, an apology to all of my readers who are emotionally stable because of this story. I'm sorry, but there's more to come.

"Mr. Stump?" A receptionist walked into the waiting room. The five of us jumped from our seats. "He's out of surgery and is allowing visitors. He's in room 301."  As soon as I heard the room number, I sprinted out of the waiting room, the others close behind. I reached the elevator and repeatedly hit the up button, in hopes that it would magically come faster because I hit it more than once.

"Skye, relax," Pete said. I turned around to face him and took a deep breath. I wiped my eyes, not even realizing that I had been crying again. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I didn't know what to say. The only thing that I knew was that I needed to see Patrick. He was alive, and that was enough to keep me from falling to the floor.

The elevator opened and we all crammed in. Joe hit the button for the third floor, but the elevator would not move fast enough. When the doors finally opened, 301 was directly in front of us. The door was open, and we all walked in. The bed was separated from the rest of the room by a curtain, and there was a nurse standing in the room.

"Is he okay?" The five of us said almost in unison.

"Well," The nurse began. "The surgery went well. He was shot in the head, and the bullet barely missed his brain. We were able to remove the bullet, and there was no brain damage. He also broke three ribs, and nearly punctured his lung. The bad news is that in order to speed up his recovery, we had to put him in a medically induced coma." And then she walked out, like this was stuff she said every day.

I involuntarily let out a whimper and fell into Pete's arms. A coma? We took a step closer to the bed and Joe pulled back the curtain, and I let out another involuntary whimper.

I couldn't look, yet I couldn't help but stare. A blood-soaked gauze was pressed to his forehead. His glasses were gone, and his hair was stained with blood. There were scratches, scrapes, and bruises all over his face. There was an IV in his arm, which was in no better state than his face. I couldn't see anything else, and I was glad I couldn't. This wasn't Patrick. It couldn't be. There had to have been some mistake. Right now, he was at home, watching baseball highlights, waiting for us to come home.

But this was him. There was no mistaking his dirty blonde hair, and his childish face. But now, I could never hear his laugh, or his voice, or see his blue eyes or feel his body pressed to mine or his lips on mine.

"I need a minute." I croaked and walked into the hallway. I leaned against the wall and let my back slide down it as I broke into a sob. It's crazy to think that just 6 hours earlier, I had told him that I loved him. I had felt his lips against mine, but I feared that I would never be able to again.

The one thing we can never get enough of is love.

And the one thing we never give enough of is love.

I walked back into the room and sat in an empty chair next to his bed. I grabbed his hand and didn't say a word. I was no longer hysterically crying, but the tears continued to flow freely down my face as I let out a sob every now and then. Brendon was nervously pacing on the other side of the room, on the phone with someone who I couldn't tell. Pete was sitting on the ground, hugging his knees, sobbing into them. Joe was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the bed. He had his elbows on his knees,  his head in his hands. Andy was next to him, staring blankly at the wall. I couldn't imagine what they were going through. Brendon was one of his best friends and had known him for years. The rest of them have been his bandmate for god knows how long, and I couldn't imagine what they were feeling right now.

We sat in silence, with the only noise being the occasional sob and the steady beating of the heart monitor.

And then the monitor went flat.

"No!" I screamed and shot up from my chair. No, no this can't be happening. He can't be dead.

Everything else was a blur. The only thing I could remember was someone calling for a nurse, and I was crying and screaming. Someone, I think it was Andy, had to drag me out of the room because I refused to leave Patrick's side. I was taken into a hallway, and I caught one last glimpse of Patrick's face before nurses and doctors swarmed the room, shutting the door behind them.

I was standing blank-faced in the middle of the hallway, processing what had just happened.

And suddenly, all the pain hit me at once.

The pain I felt now was the same I had felt the night when my father passed. The memories came flooding back, hitting me like a wave.

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I walked into the office, seeing my mom crying, with my siblings beside them. They looked confused. When she saw me, she stood up and hugged me.

"Mom, what's going on?" I asked.

"Y-your father has cancer."

-----------------

She screamed. She smashed her bottle on the door, sending glass shards everywhere. I heard crying from upstairs. Goddamit guys, shut up, or she'll kill us all! She turned to face me. I could picture her like she was in one of those Saturday cartoon shows, with her nostrils flaring, veins sticking out, and smoke coming out of her ears. She brought back her bottle and slashed me across the arm.

"How the hell were you going to feed me?" She hit me again with the bottle, this time in my nose. I stumbled backward as my hand flew up. I pulled it back to reveal blood. Not just from my nose, but my arm was bleeding non-stop. I heard her open the pantry.

"Everything in here is expired! What are you trying to do, kill me?" She laughed. "You can't just get rid of me yet, poor Skye darling." She punched me in the gut as I doubled over. She kicked me repeatedly in the shins until I fell to the ground, where she kicked me several times in the ribs. And just for good measure, she dropped her beer bottle on my head, and I finally passed out.

-----------------

"Patrick, please go to your room. Please." Pete begged.

"Why should I?" Patrick yelled. "Maybe I should just go to the roof, and jump, right? Because nobody wants Patrick fucking Stump, everyone would be better off without him!"

"P-Patrick, t-that's not true." I sobbed, looking him in the eyes.

"Shut up, you bitch!" Before I realized what he was doing, he threw the empty glass bottles at us. H had missed, hitting the walls on either side of us. I was screaming, and he fell to the ground.

-----------------

I felt my heart being torn out of my chest. Everything I had come to love had been taken away from me. I hadn't noticed when my knees had collapsed, and I fell to the floor, my head slamming into the ground. But the pain that my head felt was nothing compared to my heart. There was a dull throbbing in my head, but my heart felt as though it was being stabbed. All I wanted to do was to curl into a ball and die.

How was it that it seemed like it was just yesterday when I thought I reached the end, when all hope was lost, things began looking up? The light found its way back into my eyes, my voice was louder than before. The pulse I lacked had found its way back, my heart was pieced back together.

But the leaves must fall, the sun must set. Just as Rome turns to ruins, everything must end.

And if it ends today, well I'll still say that you shine brighter than anyone.

But I suppose a fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.

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"Skye, Skye, wake up!" Pete was violently shaking my body. I hadn't even realized that I had fallen asleep. Was this all just some terrible, horrible nightmare?

"Is P-Patrick..." I stammered before trailing off.

"The nurses were able to get his pulse back. They took him off of the medicine that put him in a coma, and he should wake up anytime in the next few days." He said, a slight hint of enthusiasm in his voice.

I sighed out of relief and sat up. I pressed my back against the wall and let my head fall back. I closed my eyes, not able to do anything else.

"Well, are you going to get up?" He asked.

"I-I can't f-feel my legs." I stammered. "I c-can't get u-up." He sighed and picked me up. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my head in his shoulder. All that I needed was a hug right now. From Patrick.  As soon as Pete let me down in a chair next to him, I fell asleep. That's all I wanted to do right now. By sleeping, I wouldn't feel anything. I wouldn't have to face what was happening around me. And more importantly, time would go by faster. The more I slept, the more time would go by, and the sooner it would be until I saw Patrick. Until I saw his blue eyes. Until I heard his mesmerizing voice. Until I could feel his lips on mine. Until I could feel his love.

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"Damn, Skye, how much do you sleep?" Pete said once I had finally woken up. It was dark outside, but other than that, I had no clue as to what time it was.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"It's after midnight. With a little money, the hospital let us stay here overnight." He said.

My eyed widened. "You bribed a hospital?"

"Being famous has its perks." He winked. "But that's beside the point. We're going to grab to get something to eat, do you want to come?" He asked.

I looked over at Patrick, who was still unconscious. "Nah, I'll stay here. Hospital food sucks ass, anyway."

He chuckled. "Alright. Give me a call if you need anything."

"Thanks, Pete." 

I turned back to Patrick and held his hand once again. "H-hey Patrick." I gulped. "They say sometimes people in a coma can hear what's happening around them, so, uh, hi. I really don't know what to say, but I really need you right now Patrick. Pete needs you. Andy needs you. Joe needs you. Brendon needs you. We all need you. We all love you. I just- I love you so fucking much, Patrick. If you can hear this, give me a sign. Squeeze my hand or some shit that happens in romance novels. I just need you." I cried. Nothing happened. I let go of his hand and buried my head in my own.

I don't know how long it was, but I heard someone from the door clear their throat. I expected it to be a nurse or Pete or someone. But no.

I turned around to see a girl about Patrick's age with long, black hair, accompanied by the last person I wanted to see right now.

My mother.

I'm emotionally as unstable as you are.

I've used three quotes in here that are not my own, and I do not take any credit for. Everything else is my own, and is my work. I have seen one story that is an exact copy of my plot. I never thought I would say it, but it's illegal to steal others work. So please don't do it.

"And if it ends today, well I'll still say that you shine brighter than anyone." – Brighter, Paramore

"But I suppose a fire that burns that bright is not meant to last." – Allegiant, Veronica Roth

"The one thing we can never get enough of is love. And the one thing we never give enough of is love." – Henry Miller