Patrick
May 2nd
little trigger warning
I didn't go to the funeral.
Ms. Wentz wanted me to speak about Pete and carry the coffin, but I couldn't.
It was an open casket.
Pete's instruction, apparently.
Gerard told me that he had makeup on that was in the form of the moon. He thought of himself as the night, I guess.
Gerard also said that it was a beautiful ceremony. Flowers and dead roses—also an apparent instruction of Pete.
These 'instructions' were in his mother's note he gave her.
Not gave...I mean he was dead when she got it.
His funeral was April 28th. A Saturday, and the first time I wasn't eager to see Pete. Because he's dead.
It's baffling why he did it.
I never saw the shift in mood that would suggest he wanted to die.
Or maybe I did.
I guess I was wrong.
I've been out of school the past few weeks, Gerard and Frank coming over after school everyday. And on weekends they'd stay sleepover.
Today's Wednesday. 3:14 pm, and I'm waiting for them to get here. I've already hid my blood-covered scissors and put on a sweatshirt to hide the evidence I ever let those scissors touch my skin.
My wrists are wrapped up now.
I can't believe he's actually gone.
I want to just punch him in his stupid face scream at him, asking him why he left me; why he left Dallon, and Brendon, and Bob, and everyone else. What the hell was he feeling?
I feel like I should've been there more, but as someone who's attempted back in the summer gap before freshman year, I know that I shouldn't be thinking that because it's simply not true. I tried.
But goddamnit I guess I wasn't good enough.
I bang my head in my desk and hear a 'click' from the other room. I can hear the door opening and a few people shuffling in. The door is slammed closed, and silence graces the apartment. Well, except footsteps, that is.
There's a knock on my door, and I mutter a weak, "Come in..."
My throat is scratchy, and raw—I haven't spoken in awhile anything over a whisper. Normally Gerard and Frank just walk in.
But when the door opens I see two faces that certainly don't belong to Gerard and Frank.
"How'd you-"
"Gee gave us his key. Him and Frank are in detention today for uh...I'll explain later." Dallon says lightly.
Brendon walks in behind him, and closes the door. I look at Brendon for a moment, his face contorted with emotion.
"I'm sorry..." he says.
I stand up frantically and grab him, pulling him into a tight hug. He immediately hugs back and starts crying into my sweatshirt. I squeeze him and loose it as well.
This is the first time I've cried over him.
Dallon walks over and wraps his long-ass arms around us both. He's tall and shit, so he can do that. His head right above ours.
"Fuck..." Brendon mutters.
Dallon hushes him, kissing the top of his head.
"I...." my voice is shaky, "I miss him..."
