//PATRICKS POV\\

I shut the door to my house and slide down the wall in tears. My head hurts, I'm covered in bruises, and all I wanna do is curl up in a hole and die.

I can't be mad at Pete. He was defending himself. His mistake was calling Bryce a coward. Everyone knows not to mess with Bryce. He's hospitalized 9 kids. I'm pretty sure Pete had to get a splint on his nose. Poor kid. He tried.

"Patrick?" Ugh. Mom's home. She can't see me like this. She can't, but I can't avoid her, so I just stay put, mainly because I'll scare the living shit out of her if she can't find me. "Patrick, you alright?" I can tell she sees me now. A) she seems close, and B) you can hear the worry in her voice.

"No," I squeak. I lift my head, exposing the cuts and bruises that litter my face. The slight difference in light makes my headache worse. I squeak in pain and lower my head again. "No, I'm really not."

"Patrick, sweetie, who did this?" I feel her warm arms wrap around me, making me feel safe, and secure.

"Does it matter?" I counter. My voice cracks the slightest bit when I say that, because it does matter. I just don't know who to blame. I'm terrified at this point. Should I blame it on Pete, even though it wasn't his fault? Or Bryce, although I'm terrified of what he'll do if I tell.

"Patrick, I know you don't want me to know, but please, tell me who did this to you," Her voice is almost melodic, but she sounds about as terrified as I am. "Please, hon."

"Fine. It was Bryce," I whimper. "Bryce did it. The entire school knows, so it's not a big deal." My voice is determined, but it wavers with every word that flies out of my mouth. I'm shaking, now. Probably for an unknown reason. It isn't out of fear, though. I don't know what it is.

"Okay, sweetheart, but if he lays another finger on you, you tell me," She demands, brushing a tear off of my cheek. I nod and she gives a smile. "I can call Bren. See if he wants to come over?" She asks and I nod again.

"Thanks, mom." I sigh as I push myself up and run up to my room. I ignore the burning in my legs as I climb the stairwell, awaiting the soft embrace of my bed. As soon as I'm up there, I find my notebook in my hands.

I'm coming apart at the seems
Pitching myself for leads in other people's dreams
Now buzz, buzz, buzz
Doc, there's a hole where something was,
Doc, there's a hole where something was

Fell out of bed, butterfly bandage, but don't worry
You'll never remember, your head is far too blurry
Put him in the back of a SWAT car
Restrain that man
He needs his head put through a cat-scan

That's all I could get on the paper before my mother knocks on the door, "Patrick, Brendon is here," She smiled, letting my tall best friend squeeze past her. he struts his way to my bed before plopping down beside me. "Let me know if you need anything." Mom smiles, and we nod.

"Alright spill." Brendon gives me a serious look after mom is gone. He's like this, sometimes. Like I said, assertive. To be honest, I have no idea what he's talking about, but I am intrigued.

"What?" I ask, throwing him a Come from the mini-fridge in my bedroom. God, I love that thing. It's filled with grapes and ham and shit.

"Okay. A) You're spoiled, and do not argue with me on that one," he laughs, taking a swig of the coke. For a second, I stare at the can, wondering if I were the can and Brendon were Pete... Woah trick, slow down. "And B) You've been acting weird ever since you met Pete this morning. Talking more, being more human." Brendon sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, which is covered in about 3 cans of hairspray to keep it upright.

I blow out a puff of air before nodding, "So? Pete's a cool, interesting...." I'm losing track of my words at this point, My mind is taking over, "....cute, funny..... Oh, shit. Did I just say that out loud?" I ask, holding a hand over my mouth. No, no, no no.

"YOU DID AND I CALLED IT!" Brendon jumps up, spilling a little bit of coke in the black carpet. "You like Pete! Just so you know, he's best friend approved." Vrendon keeps giggling while I watch him do some odd dance.

"Please, don't tell him," I beg, clenching my hand into a fist. "I'm 97% sure he'll hate me." I gaze at the floor when I say that, my face turning almost purple.

"What about that 3% probability?" Brendon questions with a chuckle. "Oh come on. Patrick! I'm pretty sure he likes you too!"

"How do you know that? You just met him!" I growl, making Brendon's hands fly up in defense.

"Patrick, I can tell. I can see it in the way he looks at you, the way he smiles when you're around him. Even if it was just one day. He likes you, Patrick."

"I hate it when you're right." I sigh. I glance up at Brendon, giving him a small smile.

"It's my specialty," He grins. He glances down at his watch and shoots up like a rocket. "Oh, shit! I've gotta go. Figure this out !" He smiles, running out the door.

He leaves me sitting there. There, on my bed, thinking about one thing, and only one thing.

Pete Wentz.

You could be your own spotlight
You could be your own spotlight
You could be the star
You could shine so bright
You could be your own spotlight

Could he? Or did he need Pete to help him achieve that?

--a/n--

It's so short omg. I'm sorry I'm updating at 3 am so I'm tired plus I'm sick.

I'm addicted to updating this book tbh.
I had an idea that involves a three syllable word, and you're all gonna hate me when I write the 'idea' chapter. Vi•ol•ence

Did I do that right? Eh

The attachment is a part of my ROLEPLAY on KIK that I'm super proud of.

PLZ leave feedback

I love you my Carcrashovercastyoungbloods

-Emily aka foblvr