The Theory of Music and Color Destruction~ A Patrick Stump Fanfiction

Chapter 7~ it's not so bad.

I wiped tears out of my eyes before walking into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. "Hey , Tricky." I smiled. 

"You get a good night's rest?"

I bit my lip. He knew I spent last night crying and remembering. "Why don't you ever say what you mean right out. It's a right not everyone can have. Why abuse it?"

"Sometimes saying things right out can hurt."

"I was thinking last night." I shrugged.

"Thinking doesn't mean crying in the dark, ready to scream. You were remembering."

"Maybe I was."

"And maybe you should talk to someone." He shrugged right back.

"And maybe not."

"I hate it when you get like this."

"Ditto." I stared him right in the eyes. We had a staring contest, but there were so many words behind it. "She was my best friend." I stated.

"It was like any other normal day. Sure, she had been acting weird lately, but it was fine. I went over to her house, like I usually did that time of day. I don't even remember what I was over there for, we were just always there. 

"I knocked on the door, and she didn't answer. I knocked louder, and there was still nothing. So, I opened the door. I still remember everything so vividly. When I walked in, she was right in front of me, hanging. her face was blue. Her eyes were dull, they had no shine to them, and they were slightly bulging out. Her tongue was flopping out of her mouth. She just swayed there, the wing slightly moving her body, making an almost silent creaking noise. I didn't even know what to do, I stood there, barely breathing. Her mother walked in, and screamed. She covered my eyes, but it was too late. She led me down the stairs and called 9-1-1. I sat on the couch for a week. I finally went home. My mother didn't even know that she had died."

I took a deep breath and grabbed fistfuls of hands in my hair. "I still see her. All the time. I could paint an exact picture of it, even to this day. If I were normal, I would be fine. But I had to see the colors. She took all the colors from me. And I hate her for it. Now all I see is black and white. I can't see any of the colors because of that goddamn girl. She took everything from me. My friend, my family, my colors, my personality. She took it all. And I can never get it back." My hands were curled in fists. 

Patrick looked at me, his eyes sad, and dark. "I'm so sorry." He whispered. 

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. And besides, I'm over it."

"Then why are you crying." He whispered. 

I wiped my tears, and Patrick wrapped his arms around me.