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

Chapter Twenty Two: I Can Feel The Pressure

||Patrick Stump|| First Person||

When my eyes open painfully slowly, my light coloured lashes unweaving themselves in the web they've become accustomed to, the first thing coming into focus is the ceiling. I stare up at the ceiling of the apartment, the colour a clean white in contrast to the colour of the walls. I suck in a deep breath of air and hold it, feeling kind of like I'm expecting something but not knowing what quite.

Then the sharp thud explodes behind my eyes and I'm slamming them closed, inhaling sharply and groaning in pain. It felt like someone smashed a large rock into my face. Hangover?

"Whoop, there it is." I match the voice to the face of Hayley Williams, who is leaning over me and shrugging her shoulders. "A bottle of hard liquor will do that to you."

"Ugh," I grunt in imminent pain. "I haven't gotten this drunk since the recording of Pax AM Days." I was drunk for the entire recording of that thing, along with the fact that I recorded a lot of the vocals on the street.

"Yup." Hayley pops the P in the word. "Do you remember last night?"

I squint my eyes and tilt my head to the side, biting my bottom lip. "No, why?"

"Does this-" Hayley holds a flattened out but still crumpled piece of paper to my face, "-ring a bell?"

"Should it-?" I'm about to go on before I suddenly gasp, shooting up before I regret the decision and clamp a hand over my mouth, heaving in the back of my throat while my head pulses irregularly. "Cole," I mumble between my hands.

"I'm guessing you got in a fight from the dent in the wall, empty liquor bottle, and the fact that Cole is fucking missing while you were busy getting drUNK OFF OF YOUR ASS!" Hayley yells at me, as if the idea isn't getting through to me. "I can't believe you would let her go! And I can't believe you would get drunk with Maya upstairs!"

"I'm- I- I'm not her mother!" I stutter, my voice weak. "I can't just force her to not go somewhere."

"You-" Hayley jabs a finger at my forehead, the headache intensifying, "-are stupider than I thought."

"I'm-"

"No, as a matter of fact, don't speak!" I hear Pete shout as the front door slams shut aggressively. I flinch and pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself. He materializes when he comes into view. "Because nothing will excuse the fact that you let her go!"

"Pe-"

"Shut up!" Pete screams at me, his tan face red as he stands next to Hayley's crouching form. Pete looks stressed is such an understatement, like saying that the fiery pits of hell is like a summer's day. She slowly straightens up, putting a hand on Pete's shoulder in an attempt to console him. I know well enough that Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III just doesn't work like that.

"Pete," Hayley says softly, trying her luck in calming him down. Pete ignores her pleading, his hand grabbing the collar of my shirt as he pulls me up to my feet, the fabric bunching up in his angry fist. It's a matter of seconds before he's shoving me into the wall. "PETE!" Hayley shouts in dismay again.

"You-" Pete is pissed most definitely, but there's also this pain to him, this sadness, "YOU ARE THE REASON."

"Pete," I whisper softly, my voice not quite working well enough for me to project it like usual. My breath comes out in quick breaths, my fingers trembling at my side as Pete clenches his jaw and balls his hand up to a fist. I know what's coming, and I genuinely don't want this to happen. "Pete, don't."

"Don't what?" Pete seethes, his voice filled with malice, and Hayley is background noise now to Pete, a distant buzzing that he isn't necessarily paying attention to. I flinch again under his intense glare, gnawing on the inside of my cheek. "Don't what, Mr. Patrick Stump?" He spits the words like they're poison, like my name leaves a sour taste to his mouth. That crushes me heart just the tiniest bit because this is practically my blood.