*TW* I Love You *TW*

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A/N: I was really sad when I began writing this, but I'm better now, thankfully. I'm sorry this was so sad, I just needed a way to vent and writing just happened to be there. I couldn't read this over, I didn't want to be sad again, so sorry for any mistakes. If you want a part 2 comment or message me. Love y'all ~ Bailey

Tw: suicide attempt, bloody razors
Please be safe guys

Patrick can't take it anymore, but Pete gets there just in time to help him. As much as he could, at least.

Edit: ok, so being the smart one I am, I forgot to check when I actually wrote this, but I just edited it and I'm almost crying. I know some people like sad stories, so hope you enjoy. I might do a part 2, it kind of needs one tbh, but you guys tell me!
Anyway, sorry if you cry...

{Pete's POV}

I just got a text from Patrick saying: 'I wish you could stop me, but I don't even want you to see me right now. I love you, but even that can't stop this. I'm so sorry Pete. It isn't your fault, please remember that.'

I didn't even bother to brush my hair or put a shirt on, I jumped out of bed and bolted to my car to drive to his house.

When I arrived, I almost pushed the door down trying to get in. Once I got to upstairs, I could hear muffled crying. I knocked before opening his door.

The scene before me was horrific. Patrick was sitting on his floor, leaning against the side of his bed with two pieces of paper beside him. He had a bloody razor in his limp hand and tear stained cheeks.

I ran over to him and grabbed the razor out of his hands, setting it on the nightstand near us. I hugged him tightly and tried to find a pulse. I finally found one, but it was weak. Very weak. I fumbled for my phone and called 911.

(Pete: underlined: 911: italics)
Hello, 911, what's your emer-

Hello! Hi! My-my boyfriend, he's b-barely alive. He's d-d-dying...

Calm down sir, what's your address? We will get an ambulance out as soon as possible.

1972 Chesnut Drive (*I made that up*)

Ok, sir, I need you to stay with me, can you do that?

Yes

What happened to him?

He-he tried to k-kill himself

Does he have a pulse?

Yes, but it's very weak

Alright, is he awake?

I don't think so...

Ok, well, try to wake him up

Ok...

"Patrick? Patrick? PATRICK? Please wake up baby." I shook him, no response. "Baby, baby, please wake up, I need you." He opened his eyes slowly.

"Pete?" He choked, his voice quiet and small.

"Yeah it's me, buddy, stay with me please?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He's awake now

Good, try to keep him awake until we get there, ok?

Yes ma'am

I'm going to hang up now, alright?

Ok, goodbye. Thank you

No problem, your boyfriend is going to be ok

I hope so

"Pete, what happened? Why are you crying? Why does my arm hurt so- Oh..." He looked at his blood stained arms with fear. "I'm sorry..."

"No need to apologize... I still love you, baby. You were hurting, that's all. Now, there's an ambulance on the way, can you stay awake until they get here?" I asked, stroking his fluffy golden strawberry hair.

"I don't know Pete... I'm really tired. I just want to sleep." He replied, resting his head on my shoulder.

I lifted it up immediately, holding it so his eyes were level with mine. "No Patty, I wish you could sleep, but you can't. Not right now baby, you need to stay awake. So-so we don't lose y-you."

He started to cry. Silently tears rolled down his face, making his cheeks glisten in the light. I heard the sirens in the distance, but I didn't really care. All I wanted was for Patty to be alright, I didn't want him to have to go to the hospital, I wanted him to undo everything he just did so he could be alright. But you don't get what you wish for, so when I felt the paramedics hand on my shoulder, I let them take him away. I let them put him in an ambulance. I followed the ambulance, not even in my own mind. I couldn't wrap my head around it.

Once I had parked, I happened to glance over and saw the two pieces of paper that Patrick had beside him when I got there. I must have grabbed them before we left. I decided to bring them to the hospital to read when I was waiting.

What I didn't know was that the papers were suicide notes. One addressed to me, and one to his parents. Mine read:

Pete, as much as I love you, I can't help but feel this way. My brain is tired and my eyes sting with tears. I always feel sad or empty or both. I'm weak and ugly and need to die. I thank you for everything you did for me, everything you went through to keep me happy. I'm sorry it wasn't enough. I'm sorry you'll have to live with my death, but just know one thing, it is NOT your fault. It's mine. I hate myself, I let everyone make fun of me, I let it get to me. Even though some people might be able to push past everything, I just can't. It's too painful. It hurts. So much. I need to let go and get away, and unfortunately, it had to be this way. Maybe there are other ways to have gotten away from it, but I just can't see them. I love you Pete, and I always will, I just won't be here to tell you. Goodbye. ~ Love, Patrick

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