I'm Not in Love, I Promise (Peterick)

4: Rock and Roll Can Wait; Save Pete Wentz

[this chapter is kinda long but it's important so please don't hate me also I'm sorry I'm inconsistent with updating but i edited this so many times it's ridiculous]

(Patrick's POV)

I grab my keys off the table and rush to my car. Pete lives like 15 minutes away which isn't too bad but theres always an extra 5-10 minutes of traffic. I'm a tad overdressed, wearing black pants and a nice white button-up shirt, not having changed since I got home. It's almost 10 by the time I get there. I hope he hasn't done anything dumb.

I know something is wrong. I would never drive at this time of night, unless it was an emergency. Which is weird because I have no proof of this being an emergency at all. Everything I'm doing is because of an assumption that Pete's in his house ready to make possibly the biggest mistake of his life. I just don't know what to expect. I don't want to think about it too much.

I finally get out of my car, now in Pete's driveway and jog to the front door as I take a deep breath. I knock slowly but loudly.

"Pete?!" I say in a raised voice. "You okay, man?"

No answer.

His car is in the driveway. Suddenly, hear a crash inside the house. It sounded like glass breaking. Okay, now I start to panic.

Not caring who hears me, I start banging on the door. "Pete! PETE!" I tell hoping to god for an answer besides another god forbidden shatter sound. "Go the fuck away!" I hear him nearly scream from inside. It shocks me that he actually spoke but I have no time to think about that right now.

"please Pete! Just unlock the door! I wanna talk to you! I'm begging you, whatever you're doing, stop right now, dammit!" I practically scream. I'm about to either start screaming again or break the door down when I hear a click sound coming from the other side. I see half of Pete's tired face on the other side. He looks awful; almost like he's been crying. I notice the only rings he wears now are the ones under his sleepless eyes.

"What the fuck do you want?" He asks sourly as he walks into the house with me and I shut the door.

"Why the hell wont you answer any of my texts?" I ask, this time a little more calmly but still extremely agitated on the inside.

"Does it look like it's any of your fucking business?" He says. He's in a mood again. I almost forgot about those. "Considering my best friend just broke what appears to be a vase on the floor, looks like a mess, and just went through a divorce, I'd say it looks a lot like my business," I argue.

"I thought you weren't my friend anymore," he says. I take a stressful deep breath and rub my face down with my hands before looking back up at him. I see something on the coffee table out of the corner of my eye. It's a bottle of pills, but they aren't his normal prescription. They're much worse. And the bottle is half spilled and tipped over.

Seemingly ignoring his last remark, I walk straight to the pill bottle and grab it just to get a slight idea of what's going on with Pete, without even looking at him as he stands there. He's tried this once before... he's actually done it about 5 years ago, but it was our friend who took him to the hospital and saved him as I wasn't in the area. Stupid me.

The pill bottle I'm staring at says 'Brintellix'. As soon as I see it, I look up at Pete. I don't know what to say. I'm angry at him. So, so angry. But I feel terrible for the poor guy. But he's an idiot.

"Why?" Is all I manage to say, his eyes locked with mine from the other side of the room. "Cause if you can't bother to help me through rough times, why wouldn't drugs be able to?" He says. His word are petty and laced with a sort of venom. He's pissed. He's totally under the influence of something. I'm not sure what else, but it's probably something I'd have trouble pronouncing the name of.