Rain

•Epilouge•

Pete sprints to the goal, juggling the ball between his feet. The stands are screaming, the announcer counts down the clock. He needs to make this goal, fast. He's trying to push out any cheering or screaming, any other person behind him. He just needs to get to the goal. He's tiring out, he's been running the entire game. The noises around him flood back in, attracting his attention. So close, he just needs to aim...

"GO PETE!" Patrick screams from the stands, not caring who stares.

Pete's energy spikes. He focuses back in and kicks his foot forward, the ball flies through the air before gliding into the goal. The goalie falls to the ground in defeat.

"PARKDALE WINS! PARKDALE WINS STATE!" The announcer screams.

Pete's team rushes around him, screaming cheering. The stands are going nuts too, people tossing their food and drinks, people jumping down to the field to run to their kids.

"PETER WENTZ, NUMBER 20 KICKS THE SCORING GOAL." The announcer shrieks, still in awe.

Pete's team congratulates him and one another on a strong victory. It's the first time in years that the soccer team has made it to state, let alone win it. The group begins to disband to grab medals and trophies. After a group picture, the team runs to the stands and to their families, showing off their awards. Patrick runs to Pete and tackles him into a bear hug.

"I'm so proud of you!" Patrick squeals.

Pete laughs. His hands are on Patrick's back, holding him still. Pete can feel the cinched skin, just below Patrick's mid-back. There's only 2 major scars from the incident 10 months ago. When Patrick was still in the hospital, two of the blisters became infected and ended up leaving scars. One on his back, the other on his thigh.

"Thanks Pattycakes." Pete pulls away.

"Let me see!" Patrick grabs the trophy and runs his fingers over the words State Champs.

"Cool huh!?" Pete giggles excitedly and holds his medal out for Patrick to see.

Patrick hands the trophy back and steps forward, grabbing the medal. It also says State Champs. This time, it has a little soccer ball on it, still the same gold color as the medal.

"I want to takes a picture!" Patrick pulls out his phone and holds it up to Pete.

Pete laughs and holds up the trophy, flexing his muscles a little bit.

"You're so strong!" Patrick pokes Pete's arm, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "Don't tell me you're pulling a Jason..."

Pete grabs the fedora off Patrick's head, putting it in his own. "Yeah right."

Just after his discharge from the hospital, Ryan began questioning Patrick on the story Jason told him. There were many plot holes. All Ryan was told is that Patrick knew something that no one else should know. Pete remembers the darkness cloud in Patrick's blue eyes. He tells them the entire story...

Patrick walks into the bathroom, the boys locker rooms have the cleanest stalls. While Patrick isn't a germaphobe, he'd appreciate for there to not be shit on the walls...just saying. Patrick pushes open the first stall and jumps back. Jason is sitting on the toilet, staring at him with wide eyes. Jason wasn't using the toilet though, no...he had a syringe...

In his arm...

"Oh my god." Patrick whispers, backing away.

Jason stands, shoving the syringe into his backpack, which sits at his feet, and walking to Patrick. Patrick yelps as Jason grabs his arm.