Where We Started [Joetrick]

10. Au Revoir

Joe Trohman:

I stood in front of the mirror that hung on the back of the main door of Patrick's dorm room. "Stupid monkey suit," I mumbled under my breath.

There was a knock from the other side of the door, and it opened slowly.

Patrick stuck his head in. "Are you ready?"

I stared at my reflection, a rumpled suit and haunted look stared back. "As ready as I'll ever be." I replied quietly.

Patrick walked into the room. "You look handsome." He picked up a bowtie and looped it around my neck.

"Thanks," I said unenthusiastically.

Patrick tied the tie around my neck and took a step back. "There, you almost look like a gentleman." 

When I didn't react to his joke, he looked at me with worried eyes. 

"Joe-"

"I don't want to talk about it." I akwardly broke his gaze and chanced a look back at the mirror. "Let's just go, we don't want to be late." 

Patrick stood by, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Are you sure that you're okay to go?" 

"I have to go." I shrugged my jacket on. "I owe Pete." I headed for the door. 

Patrick caught me by the wrist. "What do you mean you 'owe Pete?'" He asked quietly. 

"Nothing." I turned to him, trying to portray a convincing, calm demeanor. 

"Joe." He pressed cautiously. "Please, talk to me."

"I knew that Brendon was drunk," I said quietly, my eyes fixated everywhere but Patrick's eyes. "But I still let him drive, Brendon may have been the one driving, but I let him get behind the wheel." 

Patrick's hand rested on my cheek lightly. "Look at me." 

I met his eyes reluctantly. 

"Listen to me," Patrick pleaded. 

I cocked my head to the side to demonstrate that I was listening. 

"You did not kill Pete," He said slowly. "This is not your fault, his death is not on your hands. You cannot blame yourself. You raised the question about Brendon's ability to drive. He insisted-"

"I could have done more!" I shouted, making him jump. "I should have done more! If I had maybe- maybe Pete would still be alive, and I wouldn't be wearing this stupid suit, and I wouldn't be on my way to his funeral until I was at least 80!" Hot tears stung my eyes. 

Patrick wrapped his arms around my waist. "Joe," he said sympathetically. 

"He had a life! He had a boyfriend and a future and it was thrown away because of one drunken night!" I buried my face into his hair. "And I could have done something, but I didn't. I didn't and now my best friend is going to be lowered into the ground in a wooden box."

My chest ached with the pain of regret, and I clung to Patrick tighter. His response was instantaneous, he held me tighter, mumbling calming words. 

"We're gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay," Patrick mumbled. "This is a really shitty chapter of your life, but keep reading. I promise you, it's going to be okay." 

The odd thing was, if I didn't think, I could almost believe him. 

Brendon Urie:

I stood - well sat- on the outskirts of the graveyard and watched the funeral procession. 

"Why are you all the way out here?" Ryan walked up beside me.