Is This Really What You Want? (Multiple Ship FanFic)

The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide is Press Coverage (Pete's POV)

I had just woken up in bed with Patrick beside me. Another day I get to love that little weirdo. God, I really do love him a lot. I got up quietly, making sure not to disturb Patrick, which didn't work so well... I tripped over the edge of the bed, somehow getting my ankle hooked on the wheel, and yelped as I fell onto the floor.

"Pete?!" Patrick asked as he shot up in bed.

"Down here," I said as I groaned.

"Pete!" Patrick shouted again as he jumped out of bed and ran to me. "What happened?"

"I was attempting to be quiet while I got out of bed, but I seemed to have misjudged the length of the bed and hooked my ankle on the wheel and twisted it and fell," I explained.

"Baby," Patrick said. "You gotta be more careful."

"No shit," I said. "Now, can you please help me up?"

"Oh yeah, sorry," he said as he grabbed my arm.

He sat me up on the floor, but that's as far as I got before I cringed my face in pain.

"What? What's wrong? What did I do?" Patrick asked.

"It's not you," I said as I left a breath out. "I-I think I broke my ankle. It hurts like a bitch even with the slightest little movement."

"Well, we're going to have to get you up somehow and then we're going to go to the hospital," Patrick said.

"Please, anything but the hospital," I complained. "You know I hate them."

"I know, but it's for the best," he said.

I groaned and then we somehow got me onto the bed.

"Fuck!" I yelled.

"I'm so sorry!" Patrick said.

"It's not your fault," I said. "I already told you that."

"But I hate to see you hurting," he said.

"I'm sorry baby," I said.

"Just come on," he said. "We're going to have to figure this out somehow."

"Why does your bedroom have to be on the second floor?" I asked.

He just gave me a small smile and rolled his eyes. I don't know how we managed, and it took us a good half hour, but we managed to get me downstairs and into the vehicle. I was ready to cut my leg off at this point because there was constant pain shooting up it. God, Pete, you're so clumsy. Patrick got in a few seconds later and he drove to the hospital. I groaned in response when I saw the building.

"Oh calm down," Patrick said as he laughed. "I'll be right back."

He got out of the vehicle and went inside. I could kind of see inside and I could see that he was at the front desk explaining what had happened, I assumed anyway. He came out shortly after with a wheelchair.

"Thanks," I said as I chuckled a little.

"Not a problem, baby," he said as he helped me out of the vehicle and into the wheelchair.

Well, that hurt, but we managed again. He wheeled me inside and they said a doctor would be with me shortly. Patrick wheeled me over to the waiting area and that's when we saw someone we didn't expect to see.

"Dallon? What are you doing here?" I asked, getting his attention.

"Oh, god," Dallon said.

"Dal, what's wrong?" Patrick asked as he sat next to him.

Suddenly, we heard another familiar voice and looked back. Spencer and Ryan were walking towards us.

"Brendon is going to be fine," Spencer said. "They were getting his stabilized when we left."