The Last Of The Real Ones // Patrick Stump

10. The Darkness Gets Bigger

I drove across Chicago to Patrick's house, hoping and praying that they wouldn't notice I was gone.

I know pete wanted to introduce us to producers, but I honestly cared more about Patrick right now, considering everything he's been through.

Maybe he needed someone to talk to, at least.

I pulled up at Patrick's house, and got out of the car, brushing my hands on my jeans nervously.

Why was I suddenly getting so anxious? I felt fine around him before, even knowing that I had a crush on him as a teenager.

Unless that crush came back.

I shook away my anxiety, taking a deep breath and walking up the steps to his door.

I rang the doorbell a couple of times, and waited.

There was no answer for about five minutes, so I rang it again.

And then, guessing that the doorbell was broken or something, I knocked.

And still no answer.

I sighed heavily, making my way back to my car, and starting up.

Back to the other side of Chicago, I thought.

I hoped Patrick was okay. Was he in there? What if he was hurt? Or kidnapped?

I began to jump to conclusions in a panic.

"What if he's dead?" I asked myself, my eyes widening.

That's me. Jumping to conclusions.

When I made it back to the studio, Pete was outside, leaning against the building.

I walked up to him, mentally cursing myself.

"Emma!" Pete Said. "Where the hell were you?"

I bit my lip. "I went to check on Patrick."

He sighed in relief. "I was worried.." he mumbled, his cheeks turning red the slightest bit. "How's Patrick?"

I sighed. "There was no answer."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "No answer?" He asked. "Patrick's got no where to go. He has to be home."

I felt anxiety rise in my chest. Was it true? Was he dead?

He rolled his eyes. "The drama queen was probably just ignoring you."

I was a bit shocked by the tone Pete used. He seemed super annoyed with Patrick at this point, almost angry.

Maybe he was done being sympathetic, since Patrick clearly didn't like that?

However, I didn't really like it. These two were best friends, and I was in the middle of it.

I just hoped they would stay friends after all this, if it ever ended.

"Drama Queen?" I asked quietly.

Pete shook his head. "I'll go talk to him later." He said. "I have a producer for you to meet."

After meeting the producer, and talking for literally hours, the band and I went back to the house, ordered dinner, and just sat around.

At the time we were watching The Office, starting it from the beginning.

It was on the basketball episode when I got a phone call.

"I'll be back." I Said to the band, getting up when I saw it was from Pete.

I went into the bedroom, hitting the answer button and bringing the phone to my ear.

"Pete?" Pete began to ramble, and I stopped him, "Pete, What are you talking about?"

My eyes widened when Pete finally spoke clearly. "You did what?"

Patrick's POV

I had heard the doorbell ring when Emma came.

Of course. I knew it was Emma.

Thanks to this app I have where I can watch whoever comes to my front door.

Anyways, I wasn't in the mood to answer the door. I knew Pete just wanted her checking up on me.

What did he think I was going to do, kill myself? I was fine.

Besides, after our fight, why did he even care?

So I didn't answer, and I finally heard her drive away.

Then, after dinner, the doorbell rang again.

And kept ringing over and over again.

Sadly, my phone was dead, so I couldn't check who was there, and they clearly weren't going to stop ringing the doorbell.

I groaned, getting off of the couch and going over to the door, unlocking it and opening it.

I was immediately shoved, nearly falling over.

"What the hell?" I Shouted.

Pete stepped into my house, shutting the door. "What the fuck, dude?" He asked. "Are you really that egotistical that you couldn't answer the door? We care about you, okay? You've gone through shit!"

I honestly didn't know what to say. This was really unexpected, having Pete literally push his way into my house. And egotistical? I wasn't egotistical. Just tired of being checked up on like a two year old.

"I'm not egotistical!" I protested. "I'm just not a child! I don't need to be checked on every five minutes!"

"I'm worried, okay?" Pete Said. "I've seen what can happen to people who go through stuff like you. Patrick, you lost your wife, and your kids. She took your family from you."

"D-Don't!" I Shouted.

"Don't What?" Pete Asked. "I want you to face it, Patrick. Stop hiding from it."

"Just don't!"

"Listen to me, Patrick!" He said. "I'm here for you, Okay? I want to be here for you. You have to accept what's happened, and actually cope instead of hiding out."

"Maybe hiding out is my way Of coping." I Said. "Did you ever think of that?"

"We Want to help you." Pete Said. "I want to help you."

I shook my head. "I don't want your help." I said.

I immediately regretted it.

Especially when Pete punched me.

I had never been punched like that in my life. Correction: I had never been punched in my life.

And from Pete, one of the strongest guys I know, it hurt, a lot.

The force was hard enough to knock me to the ground, where I lifted up my hand and held it to my heavily bleeding lip.

My breathing became unsteady. I was trying to hide the fact that I was about to break into tears.

Pete's face fell. "Patrick.." he said, swallowing. "I-I didn't mean.."

"Get out of my house." I Said between gritted teeth, my voice breaking a bit.

"What?" He asked quietly.

"Get out!" I Shouted.

He looked at me once more, before turning and running out the door.

I finally broke down, covering my face with my hands as I sobbed loudly.