The Last Of The Real Ones // Patrick Stump

11. Nobody Wants To Hear You Sing About Tragedy

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

"Pete?"

"Emma, I-I did something.." Pete mumbled. "I did something really stupid.."

"Pete, What are you talking about?" I stopped him, trying to get him to tell me what happened.

"I-I hit Patrick..." he said quietly, his voice laced with guilt.

My eyes widened. "You did what?"

"I hit Patrick.." he said again. "Really hard. H-he was bleeding, a lot.."

"Where are you?" I Asked.

"Back at my house.." he said. "He told me to leave."

"I'm going over." I Said, Walking over and picking up my purse.

"Emma, I really fucked up.." he mumbled. "I'm so stupid!"

"Pete, don't say that.." I Said. "I-I'll talk to you In a bit. I need to see Patrick."

"Okay.." he said quietly.

It was silent after that, so I hung up.

I walked out to the living room, then over to the front door, putting my shoes on.

Of course, Susan lifted up her head. "Where the hell are you going?" She Asked. "It's dark."

"I have to pick something up." I mumbled.

"We just went to the store." She Said.

I sighed. "Do you wanna know the truth?" I Asked harshly. "Pete and Patrick are going through a major rough patch, and I'm the only one Patrick will talk to! And fuck, I'm going to admit it; I'm in love with him! And now something's happened, and I need to go bring Pete and Patrick together before Fall Out Boy doesn't exist anymore!"

Susan looked incredibly surprised, as did the others. But they didn't ask any questions.

I turned, running out the door and over to my car, where I got in, starting it up.

It began to rain on my way to Patrick's house, but I wouldn't let it slow me down. I was going to get to Patrick's house, before anything else major had a chance to happen.

After I got there, I parked my car, getting out quickly.

I ran up to the door, ringing the doorbell a few times. There wasn't an answer, but the door was still unlocked, so I opened it and ran in.

Patrick was sitting at the kitchen counter in the dark, holding a full glass of alcohol that didn't seem to have been drank from, in his hand, which he was just staring at.

"Patrick?" I croaked out, stepping into the kitchen.

He didn't move, or anything.

I sat in the chair next to him, reaching over and sliding his glass away from him.

"Patrick...are you okay?" I Asked quietly.

He looked down, beginning to sob quietly.

I reached my arm around him, pulling him closer to me as he cried.

"What happened?" I Asked gently.

I knew that Pete had hit him; I just wanted the story from his perspective.

"P-Pete hit me.." he whimpered quietly. "Really hard.."

"Can I see?" I Asked, still keeping my voice gentle.

He nodded, then turned his head a bit.

The entire left half of his face was bloody and swollen, already a dark purple.

I winced.

He was right. Pete hit him: really hard.

"Oh, Patrick.." I mumbled, brushing my fingers against his face gently.

Even the slightest touch made him wince.

"I'm so sorry.."

He swallowed, taking a breath to compose himself. "I-it's my my fault.." he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "The truth is, I need you guys.."

He suddenly broke into tears again.

"I-I lost my wife...and my kids.." he sobbed. "My kids were my life...I may never see them again."

I pulled him close to me, and he laid his head on my shoulder, sobbing quietly.

I rocked back and forth ever so slightly, trying to calm him.

He had been through so much, more than anyone should in such a small amount of time.

He lost his whole life.

He was in love with his wife, and she left him, taking his kids, whom he loved so much.

I didn't blame him for crying. If it was me going through what he had, I'd probably be screaming.

I hesitated, then lifted my hand up, running my fingers through his soft reddish-blond hair.

He buried his face in my neck, and I froze.

I didn't know what to do, so I just kept running my hand through his hair.

Finally, realizing that he was probably uncomfortable here, I whispered, "Do you wanna go sit on the couch?"

He nodded slightly, and I pulled away from him, getting off of the chair. We both made our way into the living room, where we sat on the couch.

I pulled him back over to me, so he was laying his head on my shoulder.

I stayed the night with him, because he fell asleep like that.

He slept so hard, as though he hadn't slept in days, which might've been the case. He looked so peaceful as he slept, like he didn't have a problem in the world.

It hurt me to know that it was the complete opposite.