Keep Me Out Of Trouble (FOB FanFic ft. Brendon Urie)

Chapter 8

"Patrick! Patrick! You better not have-" Pete lowered his phone away from his ear and saw that his friend had ended the call. "Goddammit!" He shouted, throwing his phone to the side and pounding the steering wheel. He was sitting in his car in the parking garage of the hospital, Patrick having called him just as he was about to get out to go see Brendon.

"Hey! No swearing," Saint muttered from the back seat, crossing his arms. Pete looked back at him through the rear view mirror and rolled his eyes. He snatched up his phone and pushed open the car door, getting out and helping his son out of his car seat. The father and son held hands as they made their way into the hospital.

Saint and Pete reached Brendon's room and found him sitting in his bed, the television suspended from the ceiling in the corner of the room on and the sound coming from the remote by Brendon's bedside. The bassist knocked on the door and the singer looked over at him, a smile appearing on his face.

"Hey, Pete!" He greeted, "Come on in."

Pete smiled in return before guiding Saint into the room. Saint's hold on his dad's hand grew tight as the two approached Brendon's bedside, Pete sitting down in the chair and pulling his son up on his lap. "How are you feeling?"

"Never been better," Brendon retorted sarcastically as he lowered the volume down on the TV. "What about you?"

Pete shrugged his shoulders, not giving him a verbal response.

"What brings you by?" He questioned, picking up his cup of water and sipping it through his plastic straw.

"I just wanted to talk to you about...the incident," Pete replied, his voice low and hush. Brendon choked on his sip of water.

"What about it?" He asked, coughing a few times to clear his throat.

"I just...I know Patrick is the one who...you know," The bassist made a stabbing motion with his hand, not being able to verbalize what he wanted to communicate.

"Stabbed me?" Brendon said for him, "Yeah...I can't believe the little motherfucker would do that to me, especially after what he did to my wife..."

"No swearing!" Saint chastised. The singer looked down at the little boy and stuck his tongue out, causing the boy to do the same.

Pete rolled his eyes, "But he didn't, Brendon. And you know that."

He sat up straighter, "What do you mean he didn't? Of course he did it, Pete. I don't know what the fuck I did to deserve it, but he's out to get me!"

The guitarist couldn't help but laugh at the singer's remark. It was like he and his new wife were trying to act as if they didn't know Patrick at all. "Well maybe it's because you took his place in his band and convinced his wife to divorce him all so that she could marry you and then pregnant get with your baby. I'm just taking a wild guess there, but maybe that's why."

"You let me into your band, Pete," He reminded him, "It's not like I pushed him out of the way and took over. You let me in."

"I-I know, but-"

"And I can't help who I fall in love with. You know all about that with Meagan right?"  Pete's face dropped, Brendon smirking, knowing he'd hit his nerve. "You met her at that stupid bar and took her home, giving her the best night she'd had in a long time. Little did you know that she was engaged..."

"Brendon, do not involve Meagan in this."

"But I have to. Because you and I are the same, Pete, in such a way that we followed our hearts, doing whatever we needed to do to be with the person we were really happy with. Only difference between our stories is that you knocked her up first."

"Oh my god, it...it was you," Pete stammered, standing up and setting his son down on the ground. Saint glanced up at his father, confused as to what was going on.

"What are you talking about?"

"You did this. You killed Sarah."

"What?"

"Oh my god, you killed Sarah." Pete ran his fingers through his hair and began to pace, "You killed her so that you could be with Elisa and not have to worry about Patrick being in the way, right? And that's why you pinned it all on him too, right?"

Brendon chuckled nervously, "Pete, I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do, Brendon. Because you're the one behind all of this. You killed Sarah yourself but somehow made it seem like Patrick did it. And then to cover up the truth from ever getting out, you played the victim - getting everyone on your side, getting them to believe your sob story, and then incriminating Patrick for a crime he didn't even commit. Well guess what Brendon? I'm not on your side, I never believed you, and I'm going to expose you for the lying phony that you are. You just watch me."

"You go do that, Pete," He retorted, sitting up so he was closer to the bassist, "But I just hope you realize that it's not going to do anything. Patrick already served his time, and it's only a matter of time until he serves his next. Because once I get out of here, I'm telling everyone that it was him who came into my dressing room, stabbing me with your knife." A devilish grin grew on his face as Pete's eyes doubled in size. "Oh yeah, I know, Pete. How? I don't think you deserve to know that, but you go tell the world what I did and I'll make sure that your life gets ruined too. Because we go together or we don't go down at all."

Pete was struck speechless.

"So keep your mouth shut and play along, Pete. Because I'm the puppeteer here, and you're my puppet. You all are."

"You bastard!" Pete screamed, jumping on the bed and gripping his hands around Brendon's neck, slamming him back into the mattress. "You fucking bastard!" Saint shrieked in horror and ran out of the room as his dad choked the singer.

Nurses rushed into the room and quickly detained Pete, forcing the man out of the room and out of the hospital, kicking and screaming.