Light My Way Back Home •Patrick Stump+Fall Out Boy•

Chapter Thirteen: The Things I Think I Love Will Surely Bring Me Pain

||Cole Wentz|| First Person||

Every night, it's the same thing. The same annoying beat of my heart, matching with the sound of my unfortunate pulse, working so hard to keep me breathing; keep me alive. You know how when you go to bed at night, and then there's that moment where you get comfortable- the pillow in the perfect position, your blanket delivering just the right amount of warmth, and your head pressing into your pillow? The same moment when you hear the beat of your heart, thudding in your chest, buzzing as the blood is being circulated? And you take deep breaths, mainly because you thought about how easy it is to stop breathing, so you inhale these large gasps of air until you forget that you might stop breathing, and your lungs take in the air automatically? Every night. But Patrick's company makes it better. Thinking about how someone else is there, breathing to stay alive, keeps me going. I don't know how I survived the night before he came.

"Here, let's go." Patrick gets to his feet and crouches down in front of me, his back turned to me. I clamber to my weak feet and wrap my arms around his shoulder, jumping up onto his back. His hands hook underneath my knees as he pulls me up higher. I can't help but remember how the night before Elisa came on tour with us, he gave me a piggy back ride to our hotel room. I smile slightly and press my nose into his hair.

"Are you sniffing my hair?" Patrick asks in between giggles. I laugh into his shirt, biting my bottom lip.

"Have you been using my shampoo?" I ask him, considering his hair smelt really good.

"Maybe," he admits, the flush on his neck amusing me to no end.

We stay like that; Patrick carrying me easily back to the lot where the tour buses are parked in. When we get to the Fall Out Boy bus, I hop off his back and almost lose my balance. Patrick laughs at me and unlocks the bus door, pulling it open and letting me in. When we're in, we lock the door after us and push open the broken sliding door, entering the front lounge. We make our way to the bunk area where I slide into my bunk after kicking my sneakers off.

"I'll be right back, okay? I'm going to call Joe." Patrick tells me, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. I nod and pull my duvet up and over my head. I squeeze my eyes shut and barely listen to Patrick talking on the phone. Soon enough, true to his word, Patrick returns, about to go into his own bunk before I stop him.

"Can you... can you stay here? At least until I fall asleep." I ask hesitantly. Patrick blushes crimson before nodding.

"I'll stay the whole night if you want me to." He tells me, slipping easily next to me into my bunk.

"I'd like that." I whisper, pressing my head into the crook of his neck. He smiles into my hair and wraps his arms around me, holding me close.

"Hey, sweetie," I hear a soft voice say, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the mopped hospital tiled floor. The strong and persistent smell of antiseptics invades my nasal passages. The sound of letters combining to formulate words which conjunct into sentences startles me, and it takes me a short moment to comprehend it. My eyes are barely open, the lids parting slightly as I try to make out white from white from grey. I can't focus on anything but what's in front of me, but I can sense the presence of someone. Probably my nurse. "How are you feeling?"

"Wh- wha-? Time?" I whisper slowly, the words trying to push around the mouthful of what feels like cotton in my mouth though there is nothing there. My tongue is dry and my throat is raw. My head lolls to the side and rests on my shoulder, where I study the nurse dressed in a baggy shirt and white pants. My eyes avert to the shoes she's wearing, white tennis shoes that are obviously the cause of all of that squeaking. I refrain myself from making a comment on how annoying they are, keeping my energy.