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

Chapter Twenty Six: Get Up, Johnny Boy

||Cole Wentz|| First Person||

Luke is doubling over, gasping in pain from whatever I did to him. I stare at him through heavy lids, my clothes drenched in scalding hot water and my body as heavy as lead. My fingers rest on either side of me, my pointer finger stroking the wet surface of the porcelain bathtub, trying to soak up some sort of strength to get out and get to my brother and Hayley. But my limbs refuse to make the effort to push myself up and out of this tub. I feel like I just might die here.

And I would have been fine with that.

If it wasn't for the fact that I'd die while Derek lives.

If it wasn't for the fact that Hayley and many after her would suffer because I dropped out when I couldn't take the pain anymore.

"Patrick," I whisper to him. The room is dark except for the street lights shining through the blinds on the windows. My back is to him, his arm draped loosely over my waist, my eyes trained on the little light shining through the window. "'Trick?"

"What's up?" He whispers from behind me. One of those sleepless nights.

"I can't sleep," I tell him, twisting over onto my side. I tilt my head up to look at him, and he has this sleepy smile on his face as he looks down at me, his eyes glazed over.

"What do you need me to do?" He asks me seriously, his fingers drawing lazy patterns in the skin exposed from my shirt riding up.

"Sing?" He clears his throat, as if to say he can't, and I laugh lightly. "Okay, can we talk?"

"Of course," he smiles cheekily at me.

"What's up?" I ask him, and he sighs.

"I'm so sorry that we haven't been spending as much time together... you know how work is." Patrick apologizes, pecking my lips lightly with a kiss.

"I knew what I was signing up for," I giggle lightly, tucking my face into Patrick's shoulder.

"Signing up for? Was there like 'Date Patrick' tryouts?" He says jokingly.

"You have no idea," I say easily, making him laugh.

I inhale deeply, my bones rattling in my body as I grab the shower head that is now spurting cool bursts of water, spraying it over at Luke, who flinches. I look at him and wrap both hands around the shower head, drawing it back and swinging. When he drops from the blow to his temple, I let the metal clang against the bathtub, grabbing the ledge as I raise my soaking wet self out of the pool of water mixed with blood. I step over his body, my movements slow and sluggish as I drag my feet past the mirror, past the door to the bathroom, and then out into the hotel room. I glance at the phone in the corner, knowing that it probably has a screwed up screen that wouldn't work. I limp my way to the open front door, holding onto the wall as I head down the hall, head for the elevator, go down, down, down to the lobby. I stop at the elevator door after I exit the shaft, and that's when I hear the first gasp.

"Oh my God!" Someone screams, and then my vision twists and tilts, and I'm stumbling and falling face first into the tiled hotel lobby floor. "Someone call an ambulance!" Hands are on my back, someone carefully rolling me over so they can see the front of my body. I was a sight to see.

"No, no." I whisper. "Call my brother..."

"Patrick!" I laugh, shoving his arm lightly. He laughs loudly back at me, slapping his knee.

"Sweetheart," people are frantic at this point, speedy chatter accompanied my high voices and managers trying to calm everyone in the inn down. There's a group of people surrounding me now, and I want to tell them to fûck off because they're breathing all the air in this place. "What happened to you?"