Oh Nostalgia (Petetrick)

The Aftermath Is Secondary.

Patricks POV (ay ghost/spirit/angel/thingy POV)

"Hi Patrick" said Pete.

"Well, aren't you happy to see me?" I asked him, laughing a bit.

"Of course I'm happy to see you.. if it really is you.." he shook his head, "I'm just confused is all."

I nodded, "Me too. I saw myself die and I saw you with me and my family and the guys, I was here the entire time I was hurt. I don't know. I don't know why you didn't see me until now, we just never crossed faces I guess."

He started crying again. "Hey! Hey! Hey! No love it's okay!" I walked over to him, he stepped back at first but then loosened up. I wrapped him in a hug and rocked him back and forth a bit, remembering how he always liked that. "I love you. And I'm back now. Let's go figure this out okay?" I whispered. I felt him nod in my shoulder, he pulled away and took my hand, leading me towards the door.

Okay. First question. Can other people see me?

Nope.

Everyone gave Pete weird looks and a few people have walked into me, not knowing I was there. "Yeah um, Pete? They can't see me, I think you should let go, for your own sake." I whispered. He shook his head and pulled me into the bathroom and into a stall.

"We need to figure this out." he scream-whispered.

"I know we do!" I whispered back.

"Okay okay. Here let's start little. Can you feel this?" he dug his nails into my hand.

"Dude! Agh let go!" I shouted as he let go of my hand.

"Okay," he chuckled a little, "okay you feel pain. How about this?" he pulled me in and kissed me. "How was that?"

"It was nice," I blushed.

He laughed. "Okay this is good so far. Take off your hat."

I made little whiney noises and stomped my foot, refusing to take it off.

"Aw," he giggled "you're so freaking cute." he took my hat and turned me around. "You're healed. No more gash. How do you feel?" he asked, leaning on the little bar for handicaps.

"I feel wonderful!"

"Good." he grabbed my hand again and dragged me out if the bathroom and out of the hospital.

"Where are we going?"

"Spencer's."

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Pete's POV.

'I am so happy he's back. He's healthy and happy. I'm just thrilled. I'm sad other people can't see him, but I also feel special that I'm the only one.' I thought as I drove onto Spencer's street.

We drive up to Spencer's house and got out of the car. Patrick knocked on the door before me, probably checking to see what would happen.

"Hold on!" Someone screamed from inside.

Spencer opened the door and stared blankly at me. He was shirtless and wearing crappy Nike shorts. His hair was messy and he looked really tired. "Can I help you?" he asks, sounding annoyed. "Can we- I, can I come in?" I asked him.

He opened the door further and walked away, mumbling something like 'dude I don't care.' or 'food I comb hair' We walked in and sat on the couch. Patrick sat next to me and rested his head on my shoulder. Spencer came back in and sat next to me. On Patrick. "WHAT THE FUCK?" he screamed, standing up. Patrick frantically got up and ran into the corner. I heard him laughing while Spencer tried to figure out what happened.

About two minutes later he calmed down and sat back next to me. "You okay, dude?" I asked him with my hand on his shoulder.

"No. No. NO" he stood up, "NO PETE. MY BEST FRIEND DIED AN HOUR AGO. HE FELL DOWN THE STAIRS, BROKE HIS BACK, CRACKED HIS SKULL AND DIED. YOUR HUSBAND IS DEAD. IM NOT OKAY. BUT YOU SEEM TO BE JUST FINE. WHAT THE FUCK DUDE? DID YOU EVEN LOVE HIM? BECAUSE IF YOU DI-"

I stand up, "SPENCER I LOVE HIM. I STILL DO. HES STILL FUCKING OKAY. JUST SHUT UP DUDE HES FINE! ALRIGHT? CALM DOWN, YEAH?"

"PETE HES DEAD. HIS WAKE IS TOMORROW AND HIS FUNERAL IS THE DAY AFTER. HES DEAD. HES IN THE HOSPITAL MORGUE RIGHT NOW. BECAUSE HES DEAD."

I motioned for Patrick to come over and he did. I held him in front of me, sighing. "Spencer reach your hand out for a sec?"

"What? No why?"

"Just do it." I sighed again.

He slowly reached a hand out and touched Patricks ear, quickly jerking it back. "The fuck? Pete what the fuck is in my fucking house? Did you fucking bring it here? Dude!"

Patrick looked down. I gave him a sympathetic look and turned back to Spencer, who was rubbing his eyes and pulling his messy hair.

"It's Patrick."

"Hi Spencer!" Patrick screamed.

"Get out of my house, Pete."

"Wha-"

"Now."

I left with Patrick and sat in the car.

"Why did we go to Spencer's anyway?" Patrick asked me. I shook my head, "Spencer has had a crush on you for like two years, dude. I feel like if you really love the person who dies, you can see them after, but maybe I was wrong. Spencer liked you a lot, so I know if I was right he'd see you." Patrick nodded, sitting back into the seat. "Radio?" he asked. I shrugged and started the car so we could listen to music. 'Miss Jackson' came on and Patrick started dancing, singing along. "Panics on the radio now? I thought they stopped after Sins!" he exclaimed. I just sat there. I turned the radio down and turned to him. He stopped dancing and looked at me, confused.

"You're dead, Patrick."

"I am."

"No. You are dead. You are not living. You are not sitting here in front of me."

"I am, he isn't."

"Who isn't?"

"The old Patrick isnt. Patricks old, scarred, used body isn't sitting next to you, I am. The fresh, new, alive Patrick."

"Right."

I turned away and put the car in drive. "Where to now?" Patrick asked.

"Brendon and Dallons."

()()()()()()()()()()()

k i might quit this. I don't care anymore. should I quit this? comment? pm me? message me? just be like Gracie you suck

or like Gracie don't stop that shit

please? k