Patrick P.O.V.
Ring Ring Ring...
I woke up and grabbed my phone on the table. The name "Meagan" lit up the caller ID.
I tapped the "answer button" and put the phone to my ear. "Hey, Meagan. What's up?" I said.
I heard a sniffle from the other end. "P-Patrick. It's P-Pete, h—he-he," she could barely get out before breaking down sobbing.
"Oh my god, Meagan. What happened?" I asked, already grabbing my keys and dashing out the door.
"P-Pete, I f-found him in the b-bathroom. H-his wrist, th-they were all b-bloody, and his Xanex b-bottle w-as empty next to him. He d-doesn't have a pulse. He's d-dead."
*****
My eyes snapped open and I sat up quickly, winching as the bandages pressed against the fresh cuts on my stomach. I stumbled out of bed and ran to the kitchen. I saw Elisa sitting at the dining room table with Declan.
"Patrick, h-" she started to say.
"Where's my phone?" I cut her off.
She furrowed her brow and pointed to the kitchen counted, where my phone was sitting.
I ran over and picked it up, quickly dialing Pete's number and putting the phone to my ear, much like I had in the dream. I knew it was a dream, but fuck, I needed some reassurance.
"Patrick, what's going on?" Elisa asked, worry dripping from her voice.
I ignored her and focused on the dial tone coming from my phone. It rang a couple times before I heard silence.
That second was the longest second of my life. My mind started to go dark. Oh my god, it wasn't a dream. Pete's gone, why i—"
"Hey, 'Trick. You okay, feeling better?" Pete's voice drifted to my ear. I let out a breath of relief.
"Yeah, I—just—uh—making sure... never mind," I stuttered out. Elisa looked at me like I was insane, which I probably was.
"You sure you're okay, man? Need me to come over?" he offered.
"N-no, it's fine. Just another rough dream," I responded, hoping he would drop it.
I already heard him grabbing his keys. "I'm on my way," he said, then I heard him tell something to someone, probably Meagan.
"No, Pete, you don't have to. I've already bothered you enough—" I didn't finish before he protested.
"You're never a bother, little man. Be there soon," he said before hanging up.
I sighed and put the phone down. I felt small arms wrap around me. I winced as the touched my cuts. Elisa took her arms away and said, "Sorry, baby."
She gently pulled me to the dining room table and I sat down. I kissed her cheek and smiled.
"What was that? What was you dream about?" she asked, setting a mug of coffee in front of me.
I grabbed the coffee and took a sip. "Just another nightmare, not important."
"Patrick, if you're having nightmares, it's important. Are you sure you don't want to tell me about it?" she said.
I sighed. "It was nothing. P-Pete just sort of... died. I just—I needed to make sure..." I drifted off, feeling uninvited tears fall.
She stood up and walk over to the chair next to mine. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders and I hugged back, pressing my nose into her neck.
"Aw, honey," she crooned. I quietly cried into her shoulder for several minutes. We both looked up when Declan made an upset noise. He pouted and stuck his arms out. He wanted to join our hug. If only he knew that some hugs trap sadness inside of them.
I wiped my tears away and stood up, walking over to Declan's high chair. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and heard his little giggle, which brought a small comfort.
Elisa and I got dressed and it wasn't long before I heard a knock at our door. Elisa went to change Declan and I answered the door.
"Hey, 'Trick. How you feeling?" Pete asked when I opened the door.
"I've been better, I've been worse," I answered, opening the door wider and letting him in.
He walked in and made his way to the fridge, opening the door and pulling out some orange juice. "Mind if I have some?" he asked. "I kind of left in a hurry."
I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and handed it to him. "You know, you didn't have to come," I said.
As he poured the juice, he said, "Yes, I did. Patrick, I can't do anything without knowing you're okay. Please let me help you."
I sighed and nodded. We walked to the living room and sat down on the couch. Pete put his feet up on the table, quietly sipping his orange juice.
"So, Dr. Wentz, any questions?" I said.
Pete chuckled, then went serious. "What was up with that phone call this morning? You sounded... scared."
I looked at my hands and played with a loose string on the flannel I was wearing. "W-well, I just, I—um—I had a—and—"
"God, Patrick, slow down. What happened?" Pete interrupted.
I took a deep breath then started explaining. "Well, I had another dream—nightmare. It was, um, well, I got a call from Meagan and she t-told me that you ki—died. And I woke up and I wasn't sure if it was real or not and I was freaking out and I had to make sure that it was just a dream and—"
Pete cut me off by wrapping his arms around me. "Okay, 'Trick, that's enough. I won't make you go on. But believe me, I'm not going anywhere for a long time."
I nodded into his shoulder.
"Please don't," I whispered.
