//PATRICK\\

Mom sits on the couch, staring at me, anxiously. Brendon is on my right, and to his right is Sarah. Pete is on my left, Gerard and Hayley sitting on his side. So many people are at my house. I don't like it. Mom has set up this whole thing that she calls 'group counseling'. It's really just us hanging around for a few hours after a few busy days. All our parents are on a first name basis, now, which, again, I am uncomfortable with. Too many things are happening too fast. I'm recognized on streets, now. They even did a story about us on the news. It's all still sinking in. There are really just three things keeping me sane: my journal, my friends, and Pete. He's practically moved in. He stays the night a lot, and people will not stop messing with the fact that he's here. There are so many stupid innuendoes coming from Brendon's part of the program. Asshole.

The worst part is that people from everywhere are contacting us. Hell, even celebrities are contacting me on Instagram and Twitter and I do not like it. Most days I just wanna throw my phone away. To say the least, I don't want these things there because I don't want to be reminded of it. It's a scary thought. It's scary to think you could have died. It's scary to think that everyone that has ever showed me any acceptance could have been hurt, physically and emotionally from some random kid.

Knock
Knock

My mother stands to open the door. That's odd no one really ever shows except for the usual few. You already know who. But when she opens the door, I'm caught off guard.

Mr. Howell stands there, his arm in a sling, and a black leather jacket covering his shoulders. He is wearing all black, though his converse seem to be smudged with sand. Little raindrops are caught in his hair as he cringes against them. He stares at my mother for a moment, before he looks behind her into the living room. We're all staring at him, but he doesn't seem strong enough to say a word. "May I come in?" His voice is soft, tired even. "Im sorry to barge in like this but..."

"No, no, hon it's alright. Come on in." She gestured inside, letting him pass. The sound of thunder rumbles as she shuts the door, making him jump. I've never seen him so... Afraid. His hair was obviously dirty before it was dampened by rain. His fingers shake. He pulls off his jacket and his shirt is soaked.

"Mr. Howell," Brendon narrows his eyes. "You look... You look horrible."

"Yes, yes. I'm aware." He doesn't look up. His gaze is focused on his trembling fingers. He's dwelling. "Please, I'm fine, and it's just Dan for now, okay?" His shirt is soaked and his nose is red as a cherry.

"You want some tea?" Mom whispers to him. He simply nods.

It's alarming, to say the least. Here's a teacher that we all look up to. Here's a teacher that we are supposed to go to for help. Here's a teacher who is afraid as hell.

Here is a human being. Here is a person who had been through so much. Here is a human being on the brink of tears because of the past week. Here is a human.

He's lost weight. He looks like a lost puppy. He probably has a cold. He is about to cry. Who are we to judge?

Brendon stands, pulling a blanket from off the couch and draping it around him. This... This is Group Counseling. "Brendon, I am fine. Thank you."

"Hey, Dan," the words feel foreign on his tongue, and I can see the little cringe he makes when he says the name. "no offense, but shut the fuck up and let us take care of you."

That makes Dan smile the slightest bit, but he still doesn't look up. He sighs, running a hand through his wet hair. "There were three of them."

"What?" I draw my eyebrows together, holding my breath.

"In my class.. Three people opened fire." He tries to muster a laugh to cover up everything he is hiding. "I watched three of my best students, actually, try to murder the entire school... And I was their first target." His hand instinctively goes to a wound on his shoulder. A little, dirty bandage sits on it. "I could have done something."

"You couldn't have," Sarah smiles, softly. "None of us could have stopped it." Her dark brown hair falls just below her shoulders. "Hell, I'd have probably tackled one of them to the ground to stop 'em, but that's now. We were afraid."

He gives her a soft smile, letting his hair fall into his face. He shivers. It's slightly cold in here, but it must be freezing to him.

"Here," Mom hands him a mug. She smiles and sits down with the rest of us. I swear you could cut the tension with a knife. No one knows what to say. No one knows what to do, so we just sit there and let him stare at his shoes.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so... Well, like this." He gestures to his entire body.

"None of us have taken this any better,"Gerard interjects. His hair has its roots showing now, which is mostly because he's too damn lazy to re-dye it. He rubs his tired eyes.

Dan sniffles, but his eyes aren't teared up at all. He just seems sick. It almost seems like he's let himself go. Maybe he's just tired.

"Did you walk here?" Brendon questions, considering the weather. He is right to do so, because it's pouring out there.

"Yes, I did. Why?"

"Why walk here in this? It's practically dumping the ocean on everything outside," Gerard whispers. He places a hand on Mr.—Dan's shoulder, being careful not to touch the nasty bandage slightly peeking out from his collar.

"It wasn't this bad when I left." He insists, flinching at Gerard's touch.

"Does it hurt?" My mother asks him, gesturing to his shoulder.

"It's fine."

"Would you please stop saying that?" Pete whispers, staring at the teacher. "You obviously came here for help. You can't just say everything is fine. Not in our situation, you can't. The fact is, we are here now. If you want help, you need to ask." He draws his eyebrows together. "I... I don't know where that came from. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Dan actually cracks a smile for a split second. He turns back to my mom. "Uhm, yeah it does a little."

"Looks like you need to change the bandage. It's practically begging for infection." She stands up. "Come on. Let's go fix that for you." She leads him down the hall and into our bathroom.

I turn to Pete, staring into his eyes. "Hey, Pete."

"Hm?"

"Never apologize for something you didn't do."

Jealousy

Turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies

Choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay

Destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes

'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside

--a/n--

New phone who dis

Oi it's been too long

You guys are superhuman for putting up with my hiatus

Hey guys I got an iPhone 6S so I'm v happy but I'm tired and it's so hard to find good sad destiel oneshots so Ina make up some in my brain while sleeping.

Sorry for not updating. School is evil and now I have like 4 frickin research projects plus this assembly in organizing for Jared Padaleckis Always Keep Fighting campaign so I'm really busy. Still it's been almost a half a year so merry Christmas I'm tired

Sad Dan loves you

I love you my Carcrashovercastyoungbloods